F. Wilson - The Tery

"Look at me," Jon said in a low growl, his face a hand's breadth from the captain's.

Ghentren's eyes, already wide with fear, widened further with shock at the sound of coherent speech from the tery's throat.

Jon stared at him. A bloody haze closed in on him, narrowing the world's population to two individuals, the captain and himself. Nothing else existed at this moment, nothing else mattered. He could feel within his body the arrows that had killed his father, feel across his throat the bite of the blade that had cut off his mother's life. How he’d hungered for this moment.

"Do you remember me?" he hissed into the captain's terrified face.

Ghentren's mouth worked but no words passed the lips. He shook his head: No, he absolutely did not remember the beast that held him by the throat.

"Remember the two teries you killed near a cave when you were working for Kitru?"

He wanted Ghentren to remember. He must know why he was dying.

The captain shook his head again.

"Your archers killed the male and your swordsman nearly beheaded the female — remember?"

Still no light of recognition in the eyes.

Jon was appalled. Did it mean so little to this man? He had forever changed Jon's world, made it a dark, lonely and fearful place by killing the two people he had loved most, and Ghentren didn't even remember it! What sort of creature was this?

"And the son, the young tery who charged you with a club — remember what you did to him? Remember how you chased him and sliced him and left him for dead?"

Jon caught an impression of movement out of the corner of his right eye. The girl, still cringing in he corner, was rising slowly to her feet. He ignored her, and brought Ghentren's face closer to his own until their noses almost touched.

"He did not die!"

Ghentren remembered something now. It showed in his eyes along with a kind of disbelief that this could really be happening, that this beastial creature could actually be in his own quarters, speaking to him, threatening him. Jon acted to erase all doubt by tightening the pressure on Ghentren's windpipe.

"And what is more, I am not the dumb animal you thought. I am a man ! And I have come to collect on a debt — in kind!"

Horror and mortal fear of a slow, agonizing death accentuated the terror already distorting the captain's features. Jon hoped he was feeling what his mother felt as she saw Ghentren and his men charge into her home with drawn swords.

More movement to Jon's right — the girl was edging the wall toward the door. He was about to reach for her, to thrust her back into the corner, when the man in his grasp did something that took the tery completely by surprise.

The captain began to cry.

Tears rolled from his eyes as his body jerked with deep, pitiful sobs. Jon released him and watched as he sank to his knees and tried to beg in his choked voice for mercy. His pants were soaked with urine down both legs and he shook with unconcealed terror.

Feeling as if he had been doused with icy water, Jon took a backward step and regarded his nemesis. The red haze had melted away, as had the rage. He was aware of the woman somewhere in the room behind him, bending toward the floor, but his mind was filled with wonder at his own stupidity.

Was this the man whose death was to restore the balance? Was this blubbering, groveling creature even worth slaying?

What a fool he had been. Risking Tlad's life and bartering with the lives of all the Talents just to put an end to the days of one man. Tlad had been right — Ghentren wasn't worth it. He was scum. Jon's right hand felt unclean now after touching him…

Turning to go, he caught a blur of movement behind him. Before he could react, the back of his head seemed to explode. His knees gave, and as he fell he saw the girl standing there with the heavy wooden stool in her hand. He tried to rise but Ghentren was up and had grabbed the stool from the girl. Jon saw him raise it, saw it descend, felt a crushing blow to his head, then saw nothing…but he could still hear the captain's voice.

"You think you're a man, do you? We'll have to find a fitting end for a hairy piece of dung like you."

Jon felt another blow, and the voice faded away.

…pain in his hands and in his feet…can't move them… the cool night air on his face…opening his eyes and looking down on a cheering, jostling crowd of troopers…and beyond them, others…all watching him…a loud gong echoing through the darkness…

…wood against his spine and against the backs of his outstretched arms…he looks right and left and sees spikes through his palms, nailing him to the wood…the same with his feet…and there's rope around each of his arms to keep his considerable weight from sagging too much and ripping free of the spikes…

…he hangs outside the fortress on a cross of wood…

…a voice below, taunting him…Captain Ghentren…the man he had spared stands safe now below…

"Are you awake, tery? Good. I don't want you to sleep through this. We're honoring you, in a way. You think you're a man, so we've raised you up like one. Feel the spikes in your hands and feet? That's the way a human heretic dies. Pretending to be human makes you a heretic. But since you're really a tery, we can't just leave you hanging there."

…there's kindling below, around the foot of the cross… Captain Ghentren puts a torch to it and steps back…

"See this? Fire. That's the way we rid ourselves of filthy teries."

…no hope of escape…no one to save him…he sees that now…and resigns himself to what must be…

…light flickers off the faces of the men circled below…Ghentren the parent-slayer grins up at him…his features joyous and hate filled as he cheers the flames upward along with the others…

…men…humans…he had so wanted to be accepted as one of them…

…one of them?…why?

…look at them…look at their glee in the face of another's agony…why had he wanted to be a man at all?…better to have stayed a tery forever…

…and then he remembers Tlad and Komak and Rab…and Adriel, of course…it was their acceptance he had craved…they were the humanity he had sought…

"I AM A MAN!" he shouts to those below as the heat builds…

Suddenly there is silence…awed…shaken.

"I AM ONE OF YOU!"

…someone laughs, nervously…then another…a stone flies out of the darkness and lands on his right shoulder…then laughter and jeering all around…and more stones…

…he has to close his eyes now…the heat is too much…the fur on his legs is burning, but the pain seems far away…the Talents…he failed them…now Mekk will get the weapons and exterminate them once and for all…they counted on him and he failed them…what can they do now?

…the pain comes nearer…each breath seems to contain flame…thoughts run together…

Am I dying as a man or as a beast?…does it matter?…does anyone in the laughing darkness out there know that a man is dying up here?…does anyone care?…will anyone remember me?…does anyone who knows me know that I am dying?…will the Talents curse me and hate me for failing them?…not Adriel…please don't let her hate me…please let someone remember me fondly after I'm gone…

Please let someone say, just once, that here was a good man…

All became pain and confusion, and soon the pain passed beyond all comprehension…

…leaving only confusion.

Jon was late.

The ominous sound of the gong made Dalt uneasy. Jon could have been back and forth to Ghentren's quarters three times by now. Faintly heard laughter drifted in from the far end of the alley as Dalt waited under the grate. A passing voice shouted something about "a special burning."