The Gallery
This topic has moved here: Subject: [Novel] True Sangheili (Part 33 available!) ~ 29th July
  • Subject: [Novel] True Sangheili (Part 33 available!) ~ 29th July
Subject: [Novel] True Sangheili (Part 33 available!) ~ 29th July

* * *

"That must have been embarrassing earlier," Sorran noted with a wry smile to Hem, who instantly glanced at his wife and daughter before his pupil that 'please-say-nothing-of-what-happened' look. Ever the respectful one, Sorran acknowledged the look. That didn't mean he would adhere to it though. "Just how hard did your behind smash into the floor?"

Hem groaned, his ears flushing with shame. His wife, she too an elderly Sangheili by the name of Ilia, raised a brow.

"Did you try to best Katoth'ee again, Hem?" she demanded with the tone of one who had seen it happen many times before.

"It was close," he protested, and Sorran laughed a little.

"If you call being disarmed and thrown on the floor within the first two minutes close," he mocked gently, sending Hem into another bout of groaning. Ilia and their only child, a daughter and mother herself named Kym, laughed at his shame.

"You know, Sorran, when in one's house it's rude to embarrass the host," Hem tried to salvage some face. Sorran looked at Ilia, who shook her head and smiled.

"Ignore him, he's always like this whenever he visits. Ever since I first met him and long before that he has been trying to defeat Katoth'ee, and still he has not succeeded," Ilia informed Sorran, before looking at Hem sympathetically and placing a hand on his arm. "Maybe when he's on his death bed, dear."

"Probably not even then," his daughter teased.

Sorran was enjoying himself in Hem's house. His own family had never been like this; what with the death of his mother at birth and the strict, zealous nature of his very conservative father, he'd never really known such a happy household.

Hem and Ilia had been bonded for nearly eighty years, which awed Sorran. What surprised him even further was that in the near-decade Hem had known of the Great Journey's truth, he had never once revealed it to any of his family; as with Katoth'ee, he told Sorran he did not want to burden them with a matter they could do nothing about. Apparently they had first had a son a few years into their marriage, but he had been a sickly child and had died long before reaching adulthood.

Almost fifty years later, they'd moved past the grieve and decided to have another child; from that Kym had been born. She was only 32 years old by Sangheilian orbital time, and, Sorran had to admit he found her very attractive despite being only 25 himself.

Kym had borne two children already, which was rare amongst the Sangheili; theirs was not a race which bore offspring often. One of the young was a boy of seven named Kemyn, a few years away from being taken into the academy for the mandatory combat training all male Sangheili received. The other was a girl of six, Gilyi, already showing the signs of her mother's beauty.

Both were somewhere else in the large house Hem's family owned, engaged in some sort of play. The Huragok who maintained the household was watching over them.

Kym's husband was apparently a major in the Covenant army, drafted in roughly the same time Sorran had been all those months ago. She hadn't heard much from him since enlisting, she hold told Sorran sadly earlier.

"So, how are things with the High Councillor, father?" Kym suddenly asked Hem, breaking Sorran's internal reflections. Hem forced a smile, and Sorran knew he was thinking about Restraint's cancer.

"Well enough," he spoke abruptly. "I worry about him when I am not by his side, though."

"You're always worrying about him," Ilia spoke with exasperation. "Sometimes I think that you would rather be bonded with him than myself."

"Don't be absurd," Hem answered with affection, staring deep into her eyes with love. "My heart is yours, Ilia. Besides, he cannot cook at all."

"Oh, father," Kym sighed with a roll of her eyes as Hem broke away, laughing. "I think you should retire soon, by the way. You're old--"

"Very old," Sorran added, earning himself a cold look from Hem.

"Very old," Kym amended with a small smile. "Too old to be an honour guard. You should be here, with mother and us. The children do not see their grandfather often enough."

"Well, that is why Sorran is here," Hem conceded, taking Sorran off-guard a little. "I am getting too old for this, you are right. In a few years, Sorran will be nearly as good as me -- never quite as good of course, but close enough."

"I'll try take that as a compliment," Sorran answered.

"Maybe then, I can come here and live out the rest of my days under the Sangheilian sun with all of you. There has to be a changing of the guard eventually; Sorran will be that change."

"Well, thank you Sorran," Ilia told him gratefully. "You seem like a fine young man, and Hem has told us so many wonderful things about you."

Sorran looked at Hem with surprise then, and colour returned to his cheeks.

"I probably exaggerated a little," he covered up, earning him a cuff about the ear from his wife.

"There's more food if you want it Sorran, help yourself," Kym told him with a bright smile.

"I'm full to the brim, thank you all the same. It was delicious," he praised Ilia, who glowed a little under his compliments. Night had fully fallen upon San now, and in the distance Sorran could see the bright lights of the city break through the clouds. Hem's house was located but a few miles out; the land was still bountiful amazingly, and some crops and livestock were kept on his property.

"Well, if you'll excuse us," Hem suddenly spoke up, taking Ilia's hand and pulling away from the table. Sorran blinked.

"Where are you headed?" he asked as they both moved to exit the room. A smile stretched across Hem's face.

"I'll tell you when you're older, boy," was all he answered before leaving the room, dropping a very disturbing wink.

"Father!" Kym moaned after him, embarrassment clear in her face. Sorran finally realised what the other honour guard had been implying, and he too adopted a sheepish expression.

"So," he said quickly to break the awkwardness. "Your husband is in the Covenant army, you mentioned earlier?"

At the mention of his name, Kym practically lit up like a Huragok taking apart a machine.

"Yes," she practically gushed. "He's a major; he told me he commands a lance. I am not quite sure what a lance is, though."

"It's a small group of warriors, usually comprised of four Unggoy plus another Sangheili," Sorran informed her swiftly, taking a drink of the sweet-tasting alcohol in his glass, which apparently Ilia had fermented herself from the colourful berries which grew outside. Alcohol that was fermented rather than distilled was rare amongst the Covenant, and Sorran found the taste very different to anything he had tasted before; not unpleasant, though.

"Oh," Kym blinked, looking a little abashed. "I probably should have known that. I don't like knowing too much about the war, though. It panics me, to think of all the things that could happen to him out there."

"It is dangerous," Sorran agreed, before berating himself for not saying something more reassuring. "But the humans grow weaker by the day. So long as your husband his careful, he should not come to any harm."

"I know, it's just--"

Suddenly Kym was interrupted by the screaming of young children as both Kemyn and Gilyi ran into the dining room, both of them holding sticks in their hands and doing their best of bludgeon the other as siblings did. Both of them wore lightly-powered personal energy shielding, standard amongst wealthier Sangheili children to protect them from harm, so the risk of any actual damage was slight.

Even so, Kym moved over to them both and took the sticks from them, given them a reprimanding look. Sorran watched with interest.

"What have I told you of duelling within the house?" their mother asked harshly. Both of them instantly adopted what Sorran assumed were their cute-faces, looking up at Kym with wide, innocent eyes.

"But it's dark outside!" Kemyn protested in a whiny voice.

"Unggoy," Gilyi insulted, before side-stepping a little shove Kemyn tried to give her. Sorran smiled warmly at the sibling-rivalry; he'd always been an only child himself, but had always wondered what it would be like to have a blood brother or sister.

"Stop it, both of you. What are you doing, anyway?" Kym asked them, noting the tin pan Kemyn wore over his head.

  • 08.22.2011 5:23 PM PDT

"We're playing Arbiter and heretic. I'm redeeming my honour by hunting down the blasphemer," Kemyn gushed out; Sorran was surprised the young boy knew such words, Hem's house did not seem all that devoted to religion as some were. He supposed in a state like San they would be taught at an early age. For Sorran himself, almost all his first words had held religious connotations, brought up by a deacon master as he was.

"Well, stop. I told you two to go to bed."

"We did but we heard scary noises outside!" Kemyn told his mother, and Gilyi nodded in agreement. Kym rolled her eyes.

"I told you before, that's just High Charity discharging any excess energy," she affirmed. "Remember?"

Their faces still looked uncertain. Kym threw up her arms in despair, before turning to Sorran.

"Would you mind going with them? I know they'll feel safe if a great, mighty warrior like you goes," she beseeched Sorran, putting emphasis on the 'great, mighty warrior' for the children's benefit. Their eyes lit up as they stared at Sorran, instantly gazing at the blade hanging from his side.

"Is that your sword?" Gilyi asked him with eyes as round as the moons. Sorran rose from his seat, uncoupling the blade from its anchor and lightly touching the rune on its underside.

With a crack, plasma sprang out of the hilt and slit the air it coursed through. Kemyn and Gilyi's eyes grew even rounder if possible, and stared up at the blade with awe.

Hem would go crazy if he'd known I'd activated my sword for the sake of children's entertainment, Sorran thought, remembering the older honour guard's rule: 'if you ignite you blade, you had better well use it. To do anything else does it disrespect.'

Well, the sword would just have to live with that. Sorran deactivated the sword, clipping it back to his side. He found the two children suddenly at his side, pulling his arms along with them as they moved out of the room. He looked back at Kym, who was grinning.

"Thank you," she enthused at him, and Sorran found himself returning the grin. Suddenly he realised what he was doing, and chided himself harshly.

She's married, you idiot, he told himself forcefully. Not to mention Hem's daughter! And what of Savara? She still grieves for you. Would you toss that love aside for the sake of an impossible... crush?

He told himself was just admiring of her beauty, and that was as far as it went. As far as it would ever go. No, as far as it could ever go.

Kym left his sight as the children pulled him out of the room, and immediately started bombarding him with questions as they led him towards the stairs. Sorran smiled, and patiently began to answer them.

I could have had this some day, Sorran thought to himself sadly, realising finally what it was he truly found so captivating about Kym; the fact that she had such a loving and happy family. Maybe I still could; Hem has a family, after all... one he hardly sees. He must have missed so many moments. I could never do that. No, I am Restraint's honour guard, and I serve a greater purpose. Happiness is not the fate the Forerunners have planned for me.

* * *

"Fleetmaster, this is highly unorthodox!" some upper-ranked Sangheili whined to him over the communications channel.

"It is not forbidden. My sub-commander is more than capable of performing," Zharn retorted sharply, knowing that his second was most likely more versed in strategic combat than him. Protocol forbid him from voicing those sentiments with candour, however. "Consider this a test for him."

"Whilst you die at the hands of a demon?"

"No; whilst it dies at my own hands."

"Fleetmaster, your shipmasters are protesting this move of yours vehemently. They seem unusually concerned about your well-being."

"As well they should be. Tell them this is of no concern of theirs; I am throwing myself into this fire. My insurance does not apply."

"I don't understand, fleetmaster."

"They will," Zharn answered with a sly smile, before hearing an indicator that meant they were approaching ground. "Contact me if there is an emergency. Otherwise, do not disturb me until I signal you for pick-up."

"... very well, fleetmaster Thierr'ee. May the rings light your path," the other Sangheili blessed, before the connection died.

The Spirit dropship Zharn had appropriated slowed to a halt as it reached the surface of the planet. The hatch swung open, and with a single deft leap Zharn threw himself out. He landed on the floor with grace, feeling the warmth of the ground; it had obviously been stricken by plasma not too long ago.

Not too far away, he could see the battle. Or rather, what remained of it. Although the Spartan's commandeering of the Scarab had bought the humans time to evacuate a few more transport ships (which had managed to claw their way into the void before the Covenant fleet could intercept them,) eventually the humans had buckled under the Covenant's relentless onslaught and had fallen within the confines of their facility to make one final stand, greatly reduced in number.

That was, save for the demon. Orbital surveillance had shown it fleeing into a cave embedded within the mountainside, a few miles north from Zharn's current position. Zharn did not know what they were planning, but regardless the demon would meet its death at his hand today. He owed it that much, remembering how the Spartan had almost killed Sorran back on Eridanus II.

A lifetime ago, it seemed. Back when the world had been so much simpler, painted in black and white.

Behind him he heard the muffled pounding of several others, as the lance of four special operations Sangheili he had chosen to accompany him on this task too alighted the phantom and placed their feet upon the ground. Their leader moved to meet Zharn's shoulder, peering out at the battle.

"Their defence will not last long," he observed. "Eventually they will most likely destroy themselves, per the Cole Protocol."

"Whether the facility is destroyed by us or by their suicidal ways, the job shall be done," Zharn concluded, before turning back to the Spirit, now hovering. He signalled the pilot.

Five Ghosts dropped from its underside, anti-gravity systems activating just before they would slam into the hard ground below.

"We should make haste," the spec-ops commander suggested to Zharn respectfully. Obviously these operatives were far less mouthy than Ahkrin had been.

... After this is over I should contact Ahkrin, if only to make sure he hasn't done anything stupid, Zharn resolved, feeling the gentle embers of forgiveness blossom within him.

"You are certain you wish to accompany me?" Zharn asked of them all. "I would not command you to go up against a demon; that is a suicide order."

"You are fleetmaster," they answered as one, without a complete lack of hesitation. The commander nodded, explaining further. "We are your warriors, Fleetmaster Thierr'ee. We follow you not out of duty, but honour."

"My thanks," Zharn replied gratefully, still a little awed by statements like that. Not too long ago he probably would have been ignored by these operatives; now they swore their fealty to him. "Then we must hurry lest the demon escape with whatever is so important in those caves that the humans would send their greatest asset to secure it."

* * *

Once the children were within their beds, Sorran began a methodical check of the room to put there minds at ease.

"See? No monsters," Sorran told them with a reassuring smile after he'd completed his search of the room. Their expressions softened a little.

"Uncle Katoth'ee told me the humans drop down in their steel boxes and kill every Sangheili they find," Gilyi spouted out, explaining to Sorran the children's fear. "Do they?"

"... they'll never find Sanghelios," Sorran promised them, unable to commit to actually telling them concretely that the humans never did such a thing. "I think blademaster Katoth'ee was just trying to scare you."

"When I'm older will I be sent to fight them like father?" Kemyn asked inquisitively, round eyes staring up at Sorran with what he suspected was resignation to doing so. Sorran knelt down beside Kemyn's bed, and placed a hand on the young Sangheili's shoulder.

"I'm sure the war will be over within but a few years," Sorran promised. And although he knew he shouldn't have said so, under the child's heart-breaking stare he added: "You will see your father soon."

"Have you fought the humans?" Gilyi asked him, fascinated. Sorran smiled softly at all the questions, shaking his head in a mute lie.

"We honour guards do not get sent to war," Sorran told them softly. "We're much too lazy for that; just look at your grandfather."

That evoked a few laughs from them, and Sorran could tell he had dispersed their fears. He rose up and moved to switch the light off, intending to head back downstairs and spend some more time getting to know Kym and more of Hem's private life, which prior to today he had known very little of.

He stopped in his tracks as he heard a noise coming from outside, though, spinning around sharply. The children had bolted upright, fear etched into their faces.

"That's what we heard before!" Kemyn murmured with a note of terror in his voice. Drawing out his blade and igniting it with intention, Sorran walked slowly towards the window. He saw nothing as he stared outside, and frowned.

Whurrrrrrrrrr, came the noise again, louder this time. It almost sounded like--

Thrusters.

  • 08.22.2011 5:24 PM PDT

Before Sorran could so much as gasp, the camouflaged Sangheili jumper crashed through the glass pane in the room and slammed into Sorran's chest feet-first, sending him sprawling back on the floor. The attacker drew out a rifle, looking around and spotting Gilyi close by. He pulled the trigger.

Suddenly the volley of shots were veered off-course as a tiny object crashed into the jumper, staggering it back slightly. Sorran's hearts pounded as he realised that tiny object had been Kemyn, trying to protect his sister.

"No!" he screamed, bolting up to his feet and moving to drive his blade into the jumper. Too late. The attacking Sangheili, wrestling with the child at his feet had finally wedged his rifle free, aimed it down at Kemyn.

The rifle rattled.

Plasma discharged.

Kemyn was thrown against the wall, violet streaks streaming from his small form.

Seconds later, the Sangheili of seven years collapsed.

Dead.

Gilyi was screaming, and rushed over to her brother. Before the jumper could so much as move onto the next target, Sorran had driven the tip of his sword into the attacking Sangheili's face. The mess was considerable.

All this had taken place within less than ten seconds.

Tossing the corpse aside, Sorran rushed towards the body of Kemyn, knowing he could do nothing. His mind was clouded by grief and shock, and so he didn't think to check for any other jumpers.

A mistake.

Sorran heard the thrusters behind him and tried to dive towards Gilyi to protect her, but before he could even move a muscle he felt a huge pounding in his back, as if he had just been stricken hard by a hammer.

"Kill everyone in the house, then torch it," he heard a voice order without the slightest hint of emotion; it may as well have been an associated intelligence speaking. Sorran tried to move but found himself pinned to the ground by whatever wound had been inflicted upon him.

"The girl too?"

"Yes," that same robotic voice replied without hesitating for so much as a tenth of a second. Dimly somewhere in the back of his consciousness Sorran could hear Gilyi screaming. He managed to move an arm, reaching around his back to where a rifle was clipped to his armour. His hand shook like a building caught in a quake as he did so, eventually collapsing from lack of strength. As he looked down at it, he saw it had come away wet with the purple of blood

Regardless, he strained once more for his rifle, wishing for all the world he could suppress the serotonin in his system with adrenaline and ignore the pain like the Jiralhanae.

As if granted a miracle, his fingers finally wrapped around the hilt of the weapon. He picked it up, finding it suddenly weighed a tonne, and with effort managed to point the barrel at the attacker moving to take Gilyi's life.

Pain! exploded through him as heavy force was suddenly pounded onto his arm, in the form of the one of the boots of the attackers. He saw black, and suspected he would have faded into unconsciousness there and then had the situation not been so dire.

"This one's alive," the faceless assailant remarked to the emotionless voice, almost sounding impressed. "I'll fix that."

Sorran was spun on his back, and stared up at the attacker. He wore a blank, dark helmet which obscured his face.

A few seconds later, he lost consciousness. The last thing he heard before falling into the murky pit were the muffled sounds of gunfire, screaming and cries of pain.

* * *

"Come out of your hole, demon! We have unfinished business, you and I," Zharn shouted through the mouth of the cave, standing exposed.

No reply. Not even gunfire.

Odd, Zharn thought to himself, signalling to the special operations Sangheili all posted at the craggy sides of the entrance to move up on his flank. With the resignation of a dead man, Zharn began to push into the cave.

A hundred metres of so in, the response finally came.

From the shadows, a hand shot out. Gauntleted in forest green, it punched through Zharn's shielding as if it weren't there, wrapping around his belt and using it as leverage to throw him across the stretch of the cave. He smashed into a wall heavily, expecting to be impaled by stalagmites.

It didn't happen. Instead he merely crashed into the unnaturally-smooth wall of the cave, before falling with pain to the ground.

Through half-blurred vision, he looked up and saw the demon make short work of the special operations Sangheili. A flurry of failed blows, knife-strikes and weapon fire came from his lance, each evaded, blocked or turned back upon the Sangheili by the merciless killing machine.

He saw within those deft movements familiarity, and knew for sure now this was the demon who he had thought dead upon Eridanus II; who had nearly killed he, Ahkrin and Sorran. Who had killed countless Covenant soldiers.

And he realised that fighting it was futile. The Spartans were called demons for a reason.

One Sangheili fell, his own sword spun back upon him and lodged within his upper abdomen. A malfunctioning shielding system was preventing the auto-heal function of the combat harness he wore from working properly, frying the small nanobots before they could seal bleeding tissue, administer painkiller and possibly save his life.

Zharn slowly rose to his feet, legs uncertain beneath him as if they were not his. Another of the three remaining spec ops Sangheili met the abyss as the demon grabbed its neck whilst leaping over the eight-foot tall Sangheili with impossible finesse, almost taking the head with him. When he landed on the other side, the Sangheili's neck was bent at an almost mirrored-angle, as if some cosmic jester had placed his head upon the wrong way around.

At that, one of the two still alive finally broke rank and attempted to flee. He didn't even make it ten metres towards the exit of the cave before the demon brought out an M6D, aimed it at the fleeing Sangheili and pulled the trigger, the round puncturing through the weakened shields and tearing through the most tender part of the Sangheili's neck with surgical precision.

Only the commander of the special operations team remained.

With arms like jelly, Zharn fished around by his side for a rifle. His hands met only his pistol, but it would have to do. He drew it out, and fired a few emerald-green bursts at the Spartan. They crashed into the demon's armour, eating away at the toughened plates a little with a snake-like hiss.

The demon's head snapped around to face Zharn, and even through the reflective visor Zharn could feel its rage. Seemingly driven by this anger, it balled its gloved claw into a fist and threw it at the spec ops commander.

Bone buckled beneath the blow in a strike that even a Mglekgolo would have struggled to match. The spec ops commander seemed to fold in two, coughing up blood. He turned to look at Zharn, a resolute look on his face even in death. Then the spark behind his eyes died, and the Spartan's attention turned fully upon Zharn.

"We meet again," it finally spoke, looking around at the four corpses around him. Zharn shrank back against the wall, looking at the exit of the cave. Seeing the body of the one who had tried to flee soon ended that train of thought. "Fleetmaster now? You've certainly risen from the major domo who damn near killed me. But I recognise your face all the same."

"If you kill me, my ships will bury both our corpses in this stone," he informed the demon, who shook his head curtly.

"I don't think so," the demon replied, walking up to Zharn slowly. Although the Spartan was a few inches shorter than Zharn, it made no difference at all to how he was feeling. Through the holes in the green armour Zharn had created through bursts of the plasma pistol (now hanging limply at his side along with his spirit), the fleetmaster could see ghostly-paled skin layered upon dense weaves of muscle tightly.

"Why?" was all Zharn could breath out.

In response, all the demon did was bring out a small stick from a satchel on his person. A flame was struck in the darkness, gently applied to the small wick upon the red stick.

It blazed with a sudden ferocity, casting a red glow upon the walls of the cave. The demon raised a finger, and pointed it behind Zharn at the wall. The fleetmaster turned around, not quite knowing what to expect.

  • 08.22.2011 5:24 PM PDT

Smooth grey walls as frictionless as the vacuum, indented markings and glyphs similar to the ones Zharn had tattooed upon his body.

"We've been finding several of these in infrastructures on multiple planets," the Spartan informed Zharn in a gruff voice, walking towards one, completely confident in his ability to subdue Zharn should the need to arise. "A few months ago the UNSC Spirit of Fire reported finding a place with architecture like this on Harvest. Last known records place them at Arcadia as you laid siege to it, and then they disappeared. What did they find?"

"I am no philologist, demon," Zharn finally interrupted. "Just kill me and be done with it."

"Section 0 have linked the... beings who built all of this to your kind," he spoke, almost to himself. Zharn didn't know what 'section zero' was but it didn't sound good. "Even now I can see on your shoulder glyphs similar to those on the walls. You call them 'the Forerunners', correct? The ones who built this cave?"

He obviously knows already, Zharn realised, and knew that talking could keep him alive, even if only for a little while.

"Yes," he answered.

"And you worship the Forerunners?" the demon asked intently, seemingly genuinely interested by this on a theological level. Zharn was surprised, he had thought the demons to be machinations designed purely for war.

"We do," he admitted.

"But why?" the Spartan wondered. "What is the greater purpose of your religion? How does it tie in to you wanting to wipe huma-- us out?"

"It does not," Zharn growled angrily, noting at the same time how the Spartan had almost spoken as if he were not human. "You are nothing in the eyes of the Forerunners; an eyesore to be eradicated so that the path to the journey can be seen with clairvoyance. When we ascend, you will be left behind--"

"I've heard enough religious ramblings from your kind to last me until judgment day," the demon cut him off wearily. There was a pause for a few moments, and Zharn wondered if this was the time for his death, when finally a command cut through the silence. "Touch the wall."

"What?" Zharn demanded slowly, confused by the request. The demon drew out his assault rifle, motioning with it first at Zharn and then the Forerunners architecture surrounded by stone that had formed over the tens of thousands of years around it.

"Do it."

Wondering if there was some trap in place, Zharn tentatively stretched a hand up to meet the Forerunner architecture as ordered and placed his hand on its surface.

Nothing happened, of course. He kept his hand there for a few seconds, before looking back with a puzzled look at the demon, who was staring at the wall intently.

"As I thought," he finally spoke, before grabbing Zharn by the back of his neck and pulling him away from the wall roughly, almost sending him careening back into the ground. Zharn watched the demon as he then approached the wall with an almost reverential air about him, slowly taking his gauntlet off and revealing a scarred hand with the texture of leather.

"If we are nothing in the eyes of the Forerunners as you say," the Spartan began to say to Zharn with an inquisitive tone lacing his deep voice. "Then explain this."

With that, the Spartan's naked hand touched the Forerunner wall in the exact same place Zharn had moments before.

Except this time, something happened.

Zharn felt his hearts pulsate wildly as blue lights surged out from the wall, their point of origin the place the Spartan's hands had touched. Like waxing vines, the lights wove their way across the cavern, brushing beneath Zharn's feet as they criss-crossed their way across the floor, walls and ceiling.

"There's your clairvoyance," the Spartan had to speak up over the euphoric humming of the cave. Zharn only stared in awe at what was happening around him; in all the thousands of years of Covenant exploring Forerunner installations, nothing like this had ever happened. At the most they'd been able to draw out a faint flicker of life, with the assistance of Huragok.

"I don't understand," Zharn uttered, fear for his life forgotten amidst the wonder of it all.

"Neither do I," the Spartan confessed, before removing his hand. As quickly as they had arrived, the blue lights retreated back into their mysterious source, leaving the cave dark once more save for the faint red glow of the human flare. "But you've helped confirm a suspicion of Ackerson; that we can interact with this... Forerunner technology, and you cannot. Who'd have thought the man would be right for once?"

"This was a trick!" Zharn protested, pressing his hand against the wall in an attempt to emulate the demon's evoking of his lords' marvels. Again, nothing happened.

"Believe what you want," the demon replied indifferently, before drawing his rifle out. Suddenly the crushing reality of the situation Zharn was in returned, and the corpses of the Sangheili already dead returned to his vision. "Either way, I think you know now that your Covenant has not been entirely truthful with you. Interesting."

"Let me walk, demon, and my fleet will not be forced to rain down fire upon this cavern," Zharn beseeched the demon desperately. The Spartan laughed.

"ONI tested a SMAC round on a cavern such as this," he informed Zharn. "Some of the finer details such as glass and electronics were damaged, by the actual structure itself remained intact. I doubt even a glassing would destroy this place."

Facing death, Zharn had only one option left.

He charged the Spartan with a roar, his only weapon surprise. The demon had not expected his quarry to make one last bid for life, and managed to only fire a few rounds of his assault rifle before Zharn lunged for it. A bullet struck him in the shoulder and thigh, but he continued regardless, fuelled by a feral will to live.

The assault rifle was sent flying through the air, towards the mouth of the cave. Both Zharn and the demon looked at each other, before each of them ran for the rifle. Zharn had always been considered fast amongst his people, but even he could not hope to match the demon, whose speeds nearly matched those of a Warthog.

At the mouth of the cave, a blistering snow behind highlighting the sharp, dark curves of his specialised armour, the demon scooped up the rifle and in the same fluid movement levied it at Zharn, stopping him in his tracks.

"Not bad," the demon praised, a little out of breath from the sudden exertion. "But you're no Spartan, split-jaw. Do you know why we're called that, Elite?"

"No," Zharn retorted sharply, not really caring at this point. His last desperate grasp for life had been torn away, and now he was at the end.

"We're called Spartans because like those at Thermoplya over three thousand years ago, we're all that stands between the innumerable hoards and our defeat. And although every Spartan in that ancient battle may have given their lives to hold off those hordes, as I suspect we too will eventually, they bought enough time for victory to be snatched back from the jaws of defeat. As will we."

"You love the sound of your voice, do you not? I care not for it myself," Zharn taunted defiantly, standing tall in the face of the great beyond. The Spartan laughed sharply.

"Whether you like it or not, it's the last thing you'll ever hear. I swore I'd kill you after you threw me from those cliffs on Eridanus II. And when intelligence uploaded images of the Covenant fleet's leader, I knew it was you straight away. I lured you out here to your death, Elite. But before you die, tell me one thing."

"Yes?"

"What is your name?"

"Thierr'ee. Zharn Thierr'ee," the defeated fleetmaster spoke proudly, seeing the sun set in the distance and paint the horizon with blood.

"Die well, Zharn Thierr'ee," the Spartan spoke almost respectfully, before squeezing the trigger of the assault rifle. The rounds smashed into Zharn's chest, each one tearing a little of the life from him and casting it aside.

He felt none of it. All he saw was blood spilling out from him like an ocean, gently carrying him to new shores.

"To the Great Journey," he murmured out with the last of his strength, gazing up at the demon. A golden visor stared down at him like the fiery blazes of hell itself. With deliberation, the Spartan shouldered his rifle with purple hands and let his guard down.

A mistake, as it turned out.

Just as Zharn's eyes were about to close for the last time, something made them snap right back open. The gravity hammer's blade swung into the unsuspecting demon's helmet, nearly cleaving it clean in two. Like an inactive robot which has just been switched on, the Spartan leapt to life and ripped the caved-in helmet off being hitting the floor and rolling away several metres. Steely grey eyes burnt into the Jiralhanae who had just arrived, holding the heft of the hammer in his two hands as he faced the demon resolutely.

"Orpheus," Zharn managed to croak out amidst the warm blood gargling in his throat. The Jiralhanae glanced down at him for a split-second with darting, bloodshot eyes, before returning to meet the Spartan's.

"Leave now with your life," Orpheus told the demon menacingly. "Before you have not even that."

"It speaks," the Spartan mocked with false-surprise. "You must have trained your pet well, Elite... no answer? Well, to be fair you are a little pre-occupied with dying--"

"I heard demons were stoic killers," Orpheus interrupted. "I suppose you're the exception."

  • 08.22.2011 5:25 PM PDT

"Perhaps I'm not stoic," the demon confessed, sizing up the Jiralhanae before him. "But as you can see by the numerous Elite corpses strewn across the floor, I am a killer." Suddenly the demon drew out a pistol, firing several shots at Orpheus in quick-succession. The speed with which the Spartan moved took Orpheus by surprise a little, giving the Spartan the time needed to cross the distance between he and the Jiralhanae.

The Spartans hands too seized the heft of the gravity hammer, wrestling with Orpheus for control. But although the demon may have been as strong as Zharn, and in a display of hand-to-hand combat could no doubt outclass most of the Covenant put together, in a show of brute strength Orpheus came out on top.

His pupils dilated and veins threatened to pop out of his arms as adrenaline flooded his system, sending him into a Jiralhanae state of berserk. The Spartan was pushed further and further down to the floor as Orpheus bore down upon him, canines protuding from his mouth.

Finally, the demon's legs slipped from beneath him and he fell to the floor, heft of the gravity hammer pressed tightly upon his neck. The demon was brought down from god of death to mere mortal as his eyes widened, wheezing as the hammer's shaft was crushed down upon his neck, which threatened to collapse under the weight.

Desperately, the demon tried to kick the Jiralhanae off him. Even through his almost-euphoric state induced by extreme blood loss, Zharn could hear several bones of Orpheus break; none of the pain was felt by the Jiralhanae, though.

Eventually though, even a tree must fall when its support has been completely torn. And so it was with Orpheus, as the Jiralhanae's shattered legs sent his body flying onto the floor. The demon managed to pry himself from the crushing weight of Orpheus, eyes wide and breathing heavily as he recovered from the nearly strangulation. He put distance between himself and the threat, drawing out his weapon to deliver the killing blow.

In doing so, he missed the true threat.

The demon felt the cold hilt of the energy sword press against his back, and tried to spring away. Yet as fast as the Spartan was, he couldn't escape the rush of plasma fired out by the magnetic accelerators embedded within the sword's hilt.

The blade drove straight through the middle of the demon's chest, poking out like some ill-placed third limb. With a startled cry, the demon turned its head to look at the one who had done this.

Steely, cold grey eyes met the dimming eyes of Zharn, whose entire body shook as he struggled to hold the weight of the Spartan.

"You--" was all the demon managed to gasp out hatefully, before his words died in his throat along with him. Life faded from those grey eyes, until they resembled little but ashen pebbles deep-set in harrowed sockets.

Exhausting the last of his energy, Zharn threw the demon's corpse to one side and lay back, facing the ceiling of the Forerunners as he wheezed heavily, droplets of blood flying out alongside breath.

Why didn't you light up for me? he thought deliriously, drunk through blood-loss.

"Zharn!" he heard Orpheus' familiar rumble echo through the cavern, and looked to one side faintly to see the Jiralhanae crawling towards him, visibly wincing with every tiny movement. The serotonin had returned, and had brought with it pain.

"Or-orphe" Zharn tried to reply, but found himself to weak to do so. He saw the Jiralhanae slide into his fading vision, looking down at him with worry personified.

"Gods, you're a stubborn bastard," Orpheus uttered with a strange mixture between a sob and laugh. "Hold on, Zharn. I got here first via orbital insertion but Phantoms are on their way. What were you thinking?"

"My honour," Zharn slurred.

"To hell with your honour, Zharn! I know you feel bad after what Ahkrin did, but this is no solution. Just rest, we can speak when you are well."

"If," Zharn corrected, coughing up more blood. He felt a dull throb in his arm as Orpheus injecting something, probably a shot of pure adrenaline to keep him fighting until help arrived.

So many 'if's...

* * *

  • 08.22.2011 5:27 PM PDT

Sorran awoke to weeping.

'Awoke' was putting it graciously. It was more like he stuttered back to life, like an engine left out in the cold all winter. Every aspect of him ached, and for those first few moments when he regained consciousness there was no thought other than that of the sheer pain.

Then with sickening clarity, the events before his lapse into darkness came flooding back to him. Ignoring the agony, his eyes snapped open and he looked around the room frantically.

The smell of blood was strong, the corpses many.

All the attackers were dead. Each one mutilated grotesquely, as if someone had pounded them repeatedly after death. They were all piled up unceremoniously in the corner of the room; he noticed he was still in the children's nursery.

In the centre of the room, he saw a figure crouched, weeping inconsolably over the lifeless bodies of several people.

"Hem?" Sorran managed to croak out faintly. He saw the Sangheili turn around slowly, face looking at Sorran's with utter despondency and an underlying tone of accusation.

Nestled within his hands were his wife and grandson; dead.

"You let this happen," Hem quivered out, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. Sorran scrambled to his feet, leaving his hearts several hundred metres below the floor. The corpses of Kemyn and Ilia seemed to stare up at him; blood caked their innocent faces, their eyes open and seeming to stare into Sorran with the same burning gaze Hem wore.

"What--" Sorran asked helplessly, unable to process everything he was seeing. Tears welled up in his eyes as he saw Hem, clutching his dead family tightly. For the first time the Sangheili truly looked his age; a frail, broken old man.

"The Covenant have made their move," Hem spoke bitterly. "Truth, Mercy and Regret have finally decided to do away with us and what we know."

"Kym and Gilyi--" Sorran spoke, unable to bring himself to finish his sentence.

"Downstairs," Hem croaked out, not seeming any happier for it. "They are fine."

Sorran felt relief, but it was not nearly enough to combat the horror he was feeling right now as he continued to stare at the two bodies of Hem's family, especially at the lifeless little husk of Kemyn; a young child, cut down before life had even begun.

"Ilia followed me here," Hem managed to get out, tears obscuring his words. "I told her to wait in the bedroom, but she followed. And when I opened the door-- "

He broke off then, breaking into a fresh bout of crying. His shoulders sagged even further as he moaned. Sorran noticed for the first time that the hands he held Kemyn and Ilia tight with were stained deep with folksy; he had obviously been the one to warp the attacker's bodies piled in the corner so.

"I'm so sorry," was all Sorran could manage, guilt mixing in with the devastation and creating a whole new emotion of self-loathing.

"You were here!" Hem suddenly shouted, voice turning into a hoarse scream. Sorran staggered back, alarmed. Through the broken window, he could see the rain crash down outside and wind smash through the trees.

"I tried," Sorran whispered in reply. "Gods, Hem, I tried."

"I know," Hem finally answered with a choked sob. "I know..."

"Hem--" Sorran started, moving to place a hand on the Sangheili's shoulder. It was batted away sharply by a hand which soon returned to caressing the dead bodies in his lap.

"Leave me," Hem told Sorran in a fragile voice. "I need to say goodbye... alone. Go see Kym and Gilyi... oh gods, she saw it, Sorran. She saw her brother and grandmother die!"

With that thought, a fresh wave of tears cascaded throughout the room, each wail another icicle formed within Sorran's hearts. Shakily, he clutched his still-bleeding side and staggered out of the room, which felt more like a morgue now.

He staggered down the stairs, leaving the cries of Hem behind him to mix with the sound of rain and thunder. The lights were all out, but he could faintly see blood fall from his side.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He would need to dress the wound soon. Immediately after thinking that he felt selfish for any thought that wasn't centred around the tragedy here.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, he heard more sobbing. Steeling himself for the worst, he limped into the small room adjacent to the staircase and saw Kym and Gilyi, both huddled together on a small sofa. Both wore the same hollow expressions in their eyes, their faces haunted by the shades of what they had seen. Whereas Hem's grief was loud and unrestraint, this was quiet and remorseful, as if the full impact of what had happened had no sank in yet.

"... Sorran," Kym seemed to whimper as she finally noticed him come into few. He also saw the sad little face of Gilyi meet his, and his heart went out to both of them.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated.

This is my fault... and as horrible as it to think it, Hem's fault for not warning his family of the dangers in his wish to keep them happy.

* * *

The house burned behind them.

A blazing monument to the loss within those obliterating embers, lighting up the night sky like a giant beacon.

"It's the only way to buy us some time," Sorran consoled Hem, as the old Sangheili stared with horror at his home set aflame, with the bodies of Ilia and Kemyn still inside. "With luck, the Covenant will believe we were all killed and died in the fire."

"They deserved burial," Hem uttered with that same hollow look he'd had in his eyes since his grandson and wife were killed.

After an hour of mourning, Sorran had finally much to pry the truth from Hem's grief-locked mind. As Sorran had fallen unconscious, Hem had burst in with Ilia behind him, and she had caught a round in the neck. Death had been instantaneous. With that, the honour guard had gone into a rage of blind fury.

Obviously the assassins hadn't been expecting one so old to put up such a fight. They hadn't been prepared for the merciless killing Hem had exacted.

He'd arrived in time to save his granddaughter and Sorran. But had lost so much doing so. Finally Sorran had been able to convince Hem to save his grief for later; if the Covenant had decided to kill them all upon Sangheilios of all places, then no doubt they were planning on doing the exact same thing to Restraint.

"We can at least save him," Sorran had urged, and with those words Hem had at last snapped back into reality.

Now they were covering their tracks, throwing the dogs that hunted them off the scent for as long as possible.

"I keep a seraph in storage for emergencies... such as these," Hem informed Sorran, motioning for him to follow. Ashes and burning sparks fell gently through the air, dying on their personal shielding. Sorran's side still ached slightly from the plasma fire that had struck it, but he ignored the pain as best as he could.

"What about Kym and Gilyi?" I asked, looking back at Hem's daughter and his only surviving grandchild.

"It's we the Covenant want," Hem told Sorran darkly. "My family are just collateral. If we leave them with Katoth'ee, he will watch over them and ask few questions. The Covenant will focus their attention upon we... and we will most definitely give them something to focus on."

"You can't just leave your family, Hem. Not now," Sorran protested firmly. Kym looked so melancholy, illuminated in the wake of the burning inferno behind her. She held Gilyi so tightly in her arms, as if she were afraid that she too would be lost if she didn't.

"I have to, Sorran," Hem told him. "For now, at least. The Sangheilian constabulary will be here soon; they've already seen the fire. We've got to go now if we've any hope of reaching Katoth'ee's and then High Charity in time. The barrier around Restraint's manor should hold for some time... unlike the pitiful one I had around my own."

"The Covenant will come for the rest of your family eventually," Sorran argued. "Sangheilios retains some rights as an independent sovereign nation but the Covenant will still be hunting for them, regardless of the stigma."

"By that time, there most likely will not be a Covenant," Hem swore, anger clouding his face. Sorran stopped in his tracks then, realising the ramifications of what Hem had just said.

"You mean--"

"That's right, Sorran. The time has come for all to know the truth. We will find Restraint, and then let all know of how the self-proclaimed 'prophets' are hurrying us to our death."

"There will be anarchy--" Sorran tried to argue, but was cut off by Hem.

"Then let there be anarchy. I care not if the Covenant crumbles any longer; it can burn for all I care. Are we in agreement, Sorran?"

Sorran looked once more at the raging fireball behind them, contained by the manor's shielding system. He thought of the small little body of Kemyn within and the delicate corpse of Ilia, both of them no doubt being reduced to ashes by the flames.

He looked then at Kym, and saw only devastation where those beautiful eyes had once been. This was all down to the Covenant. He turned to Hem, and nodded without any reluctance.

"Yes."

* * *

  • 08.22.2011 5:28 PM PDT

High Councillor Restraint, former hierarch of the 'mighty and everlasting Covenant empire' was a pitiful sight, to Ahkrin's surprise. He'd been expecting a scheming madman, perhaps sitting in a throne plated with gold whilst minions reported the latest on his little weapon of heresy.

Such fiction-inspired fantasies soon gave way to reality, however.

Restraint was huddled in mounds of blankets, even in a room as cold as the one he was sat in. His face looked gaunt, his complexion sickly as he frequently wheezed, hacked and coughed. He seemed to almost recess into his gravity chair, as if he wanted to disappear.

Ahkrin was startled by this, and hesitated for a moment.

"I know you are there."

Ahkrin stopped, hearts nearly following suit. He thought for a second that perhaps another was being referenced, but upon looking around the room realised that no other could be the focus of the High Councillor's words. He deactivated his active camouflage resignedly, at the same time silently igniting his blade and placing it inches from Restraint's neck.

"And do you know why I am here?" Ahkrin demanded in a voice as sharp as his blade.

"To kill me, of course," Restraint stated matter-of-factly. "It will be a mercy, to be honest. I would rather die by your blade than let this... cancer take me. What did you do to my guards?"

"They may be wounded, but none are dead," Ahkrin replied, and saw a small smile break across the High Councillor's weak face. "But your Unggoy Jajab; he soon will be."

"Leave him out of this, he knows nothing--"

"More lies," Ahkrin interrupted sharply, eyes narrowing. "I have seen proof of your heresy and your spreading it to others, high councillor. Irrefutable proof."

"Will you allow me to explain in full that which the hierarchs have not told you?" Restraint asked, his voice making it clear he didn't expect Ahkrin to listen. He was right.

"I do not need to hear any of your slanderous heresies, High Councillor. Why not save yourself the trouble and die with dignity?"

"It is a more noble end than you will meet, assassin. Once my honour guards discover who has done this."

"They're already dead, Restraint."

"I doubt that, knowing them," Restraint dismissed without the slightest hint of worry about him, before breaking into a fit of coughing. Ahkrin checked his suit seals in case this 'cancer' was contagious. "Incidentally, I alerted Jajab the moment I noticed you lurking in the room. Which was some time ago. He'll be long gone by now."

Dammit! Ahkrin swore, knowing he would now have to spend likely another day hunting the blasted Unggoy down. Perhaps he could find some clue as to where he went in this manor.

"Either way, he will eventually die. Any final words, High Councillor?"

Restraint seemed to think for a few moments, with a sluggish sleepiness that Ahkrin found staggering in the face of death. At least he decided upon them.

"I forgive you," was all he said. "You know not what you do."

"How touching," Ahkrin ground out with some confusion, before placing his blade against the tip of Restraint's feeble neck. It began to sear the flesh, and he could see Restraint trying not to cry out. "In light of what you once were High Councillor, I, Ahkrin of the house Descol'ee, pray the Forerunners deem it fit to forgive you too."

He may have imagined it, but he thought he saw Restraint's eyes round then with surprise, before the flicker of a smile touched his face tinged with... was that sympathy?

Whatever it was, Ahkrin would not know. In a deft, quick motion, he brought the blade across the High Councillor's neck.

No blood gushed out, the wound sealed by the heat of the sword. There was only a silent release of breath as the life went out from those wide eyes, and a gentle thud as Restraint's thin head fell backwards against the back of his chair.

An honourable death. A better one than Ahkrin had expected.

It's done, Ahkrin thought conclusively, letting his blade fall to his side. He'd expected to feel some kind of... satisfaction at the High Councillor's death, at knowing he'd put a grievous heresy to rest.

Yet as he looked at the still body of Restraint, fragile as glass from whatever disease had plagued him and defenceless, he only felt... hollow.

Sighing louder than he had thought he would, he closed the High Councillor's eyes respectfully and stared one last time at that sardonic smile, frozen by death.

It troubled him. Many things about this whole situation did. Not least the fact that one loose end remained; Jajab, the Unggoy. He had many questions for the hierarchs, and suspected he would receive few answers..

Sheathing his blade, Ahkrin left the High Councillor where he had died. To Ahkrin, the room seemed colder than it had been when he first entered.

Worthy of neither pity... nor mercy.

  • 08.22.2011 5:29 PM PDT
Subject: [Novel] True Sangheili (Part 34 available!) ~ 23rd August

Fantastic... absolutely fantastic. The attack on the family was a twist I never saw coming, and the Spartan, certainly an interesting moment.

[Edited on 08.22.2011 6:56 PM PDT]

  • 08.22.2011 6:55 PM PDT

Omega 019 reporting in sir.

Spartan has been confirmed as 'MIA'.



Why did this chapter have to be so damn sad? It brought an involuntary tear to this battle-hardened spartan's eye.

  • 08.22.2011 9:20 PM PDT

Why hello there.

Microwave ovens are quite large.

WORT, WORT,WORT!

-NUMS!

I see now why it took so long to post. You said long but I didn't think it would be that long, and what's going to happened when Hem and Sorran find who killed restraint, also if Zharn doesn't make it I don't know what I'll do, and where's Savara in all this? Tell her to help Zharn, It's all too much!

  • 08.23.2011 12:07 AM PDT

The Razor.

For the honour of the Mirratord.

Eleven posts? Bloody hell, Connor.

  • 08.23.2011 3:16 AM PDT


Posted by: Mr Evil 37
Eleven posts? Bloody hell, Connor.


You ever going to actually read it, Elliott?

  • 08.23.2011 3:40 AM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
  • user homepage:

I do not appreciate B.Net Group solicitation. If you ignore this and send me an invitation anyway, I will block communications with you.

I present an ode to your work, Wolverfrog:

An Audiobook Version of Part 1.

  • 08.23.2011 5:29 AM PDT

The Razor.

For the honour of the Mirratord.

Posted by: Wolverfrog

Posted by: Mr Evil 37
Eleven posts? Bloody hell, Connor.


You ever going to actually read it, Elliott?


Doubtful.

Posted by: Dream053
I present an ode to your work, Wolverfrog:

An Audiobook Version of Part 1.


Wow. I commend you, sir. That was really well done.

  • 08.23.2011 5:47 AM PDT

I'm... speechless. Really, that's amazing. I can't believe you've taken the time to do that! You actually managed to make the first chapter sound good despite me writing it terribly.

:P

It was pretty surreal listening to that, and absolutely awesome. Thanks so much.

  • 08.23.2011 5:49 AM PDT

Ignore my gamertag. It's actually Dragonzzilla.

Posted by: Wolverfrog
I'm... speechless. Really, that's amazing. I can't believe you've taken the time to do that! You actually managed to make the first chapter sound good despite me writing it terribly.

:P

It was pretty surreal listening to that, and absolutely awesome. Thanks so much.
What Wolverfrog said and HOLY -blam!-AKEMUSHROOMS!

  • 08.23.2011 10:40 AM PDT

Why hello there.

Microwave ovens are quite large.

WORT, WORT,WORT!

-NUMS!

I definitely have an unhealthy obsession with the characters in this story. I thought Zharn was going to die and nearly had a stroke. Now I'm worried about him, WHY!

  • 08.23.2011 1:16 PM PDT

My Screenshots / My Group / Remember to follow the rules or you will get trapped in a box.

Wow it ends there. That is really stupid. I hope the next chapter comes out soon.

  • 08.23.2011 1:34 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

You're lucky I can read averagely fast, otherwise I would've been reading this all night. Bloody hell. This is mind-boggling.

  • 08.23.2011 9:57 PM PDT
Subject: [Story] Halo: True Sangheili (Prologue and Part one up)
  • gamertag: [none]
  • user homepage:

Bungie.net member Since 2001

"A hero need not speak. When he is gone, the world will speak for him"
"You are the last of your kind: bred for combat, built for war. You're the master of any weapon, pilot of any vehicle, and fear no enemy"

Awesome job!

  • 08.23.2011 10:02 PM PDT

By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.


Posted by: theros
I thought it is going to be some boring old post, but it really compensat for ours time. I will posted a link to the article on our blog. I am sure ours visitor will thought that very useful

Car Insurance Parkville
Car Insurance Eustis


I am sure these vistors will tell you to fu­ck off. :)

  • 08.24.2011 4:54 AM PDT

Just got back from the hospital. I nearly died from my brain not being able to take the amount of sheer awesome that is Part 34 of this fanfic.

The family being killed was a very unexpected twist. I also didn't think Ahkrin would actually kill Restraint either.

I can't wait to see what happens next. This chapter was fantastic. I may die of awesome, but keep 'em coming!

  • 08.24.2011 4:00 PM PDT