Fic: The Light and the Silence
Oct. 14th, 2007 07:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bagheera_sanThis is a short chapter, because the last ended with a cliffhanger.
Title: The Light and the Silence (10/?)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clex, but there are other pairings, slash, het and...um... other.
Fandom: Smallville, a couple of DC characters, inspired by the Man of Steel Annual #3, an Elseworlds Superman story called "Unforgiven", of which I posted scans here.
Warnings: multiple character deaths
Summary:
Ten
The web of broad, gently lit streets in the First District stretched in majestic silence towards its centre, the single high spire of the Science Palace, which pierced the sky like a white finger raised in reprimand.
Kal raced towards it with the air burning against his face, all noise drowned out by the rush, and still the sound of shots sat in his neck and resounded in his ears, again and again, mercilessly. But if he was fast enough, he could still be there, and he could snatch the Kents away before the deadly lasers hit their aim –
The amphitheatre at the base of the spire was dark as a pit, the empty ranks silent and deserted. Blue shadows faded to black at the bottom. Kal felt himself dropping, suddenly heavy as a stone, cold as hail. A choked sound died in his throat; he hurtled down, crashing through the rows of seats and fell to his knees in the arena at the bottom, naked granite crumbling under his fingers. Flies buzzed where the stench of blood clung darkly to the floor, a hollow, mechanic sound amidst the quietness. It was the dead of the night, long past midnight, and clawing at the ground with stifled sobs, Kal knew that it had been too late long before he had turned on the TV: the broadcast had not been live, and the Kents had died hours before in this place, their bodies already taken away.
He was sobbing, retching, shivering all at once, and if he could have torn out his heart, he would have.
There was a flapping sound, like a flag in the wind, but Kal didn't lift his head. He felt the pain build in him, crying vengeance, and if they had come to shoot him, he would kill them, would tear them apart until their fresh blood soaked all the stands wet where people had sat and watched them kill the Kents.
A shadow fell over him, and a moment later, someone crouched low beside him, wrapping an arm like a warm wing around his shoulders, a leathery cape like a blanket of night. Kal twisted around and clawed at an armoured chest, hid his face against the sign of the bat.
"They killed them," he forced past the aching lump in his throat. "They killed them because of me."
Bruce made a harsh noise full anger. "No. They killed them because this world is ruled by injustice and fear – they killed them because they're cowards and murderers."
He seized Kal by the shoulders and forced them to see face to face. "They killed them to break you. Do you understand that?"
Kal bit his lip, painfully, and felt his fingers denting the armour over Bruce's chest and probably bruising him, but Bruce didn't flinch, just stared at him wildly, nearly as much despair on his face as on Kal's.
"I… I loved them," Kal whispered, truly realizing it for the first time. Bruce's grip tightened in understanding.
He heard, like a muffled noise behind many layers of tears, the sound of heavy boots beating down stone steps, closing in on them. Shouts, hard and cruel, but they couldn't touch them down here, not with horror and grief hanging so thickly over Kal-
"Are you broken?" Bruce demanded of him. "Will you give up? Will it all be for nothing?"
It hurt even more, but Kal let his hands drop from Bruce's chest and curled in on himself, rocking on the ground, and, yes, he had given up, he had nothing left in him to give, and nothing he had done would be of any consequence save death and despair.
With a snarl, Bruce swept to his feet, the cape hissing over the stones as he grabbed for something in his utility belt and threw it in a wide arc – bat-shapes glinted once in the night and then exploded loudly, bathing the theatre into suddenly flashes of sulphur coloured light. The ranks were streaming with armed guards, bearing down on them.
"Palace guard," Bruce bellowed over the infernal din, and then he jumped over Kal and knocked one of them back with a single kick, grabbing the next and throwing him into the advancing hordes. Kal recognized the seal of the Science Palace on their chest, three circles arranged in a triangle, and there was a strange green gleam to the triangular crests now, like hundred of emerald eyes lighting up in the smoke-filled theatre. More explosions took out a whole dozen of them, and Bruce served kicks and blows left and right, before swooping down again and grabbing Kal's shoulder.
"Run," he yelled hoarsely, "run while you can – "
Kal was still on his knees, and his eyes burned with tears and acrid smoke, and all around him the hiss and bang of lasers sliced through the air. He was blinded and deafened by it, and his heart seemed to have stopped beating.
The next punch hit him square in the chin, powerful enough to shatter bone and yet causing him no pain. "They have kryptonite!" Bruce roared. "This was a trap! Go!"
He shook his head, no, he wasn't going to go, he was going to stand, stand and fight like Bruce, they were going to die here, and - Bruce knocked him aside, shaking off two guards who were trying to pull him down, and then he ducked but just a tiny bit too slow to escape the shot aimed at him, and Kal felt warm blood spatter his face when Bruce whirled around: he had been hit in the thigh and blood was gushing from the wound, way too much of it.
Kal staggered to his feet, and the next shot hit him, square in the chest, sizzling and burning but yet the kryptonite wasn't close enough or strong enough to make him entirely vulnerable. He roared, and simply grabbed for a man. There was a throat against his palm and then it was gone, and maybe there was the snap of bones as he through the man, or maybe it was just his teeth grinding in fury. He brushed against Bruce, and they changed places, back to back now and dancing.
"Get out of here!" Bruce shouted again, and a man cried out in horrible pain as he twisted around his arm, "This is an order!"
"No!" Kal yelled, and it felt freeing, he sucked in air and cried out again, against everything, against the pain, "No!"
He saw the streak of red out of the corner of his eye, turning against it with his arms flung wide to shield Bruce, welcoming the searing pain, but instead he was snatched off the ground and pulled up through the clouds of billowing smoke. Kal kicked and punched his attacker, twisting like a mad animal in his grip, and below him a last inarticulate yell of rage filled the theatre, and explosions went off all at once, giving him a final eerie glimpse of a man moving in a violent dance of death, before it all became fire and destruction, crumbling stone and blazing heat.
They soared higher and higher, and the fireball shrunk beneath them; now Kal hung limply in the strong grip that had pulled him out just before Bruce went down taking dozens of guards with him.
Arms shifted him around and he noticed that they were green and oddly shaped, too long and too many joints, neither human nor Kryptonian. A moment later, he was dropped on the roof of a building in downtown Metropolis. The monstrous arms let go of him, and in the many twinkling lights of the city, Kal saw a tall creature standing above him, green-skinned, a half-way thing between dragon and praying mantis, with eyes glowing orange like coals. Then it shivered and melted into a more familiar shape, dark-skinned arms and a serious face. Finally the skin became the black of a body-suit and over him stood Lady Jan, Lionel Luthor's wife.
Over his shock Kal forgot for a moment the horror he had witnessed. It was easy to push it all away in desperate denial. "What are you?"
She extended a hand to help him up, but he didn't take it. "I come from Mars," she said, her voice unnaturally deep, as if wasn't made by real lungs and vocal chords. "My name is J'onn J'onnz. I used to work for your father, Kal-El. The real Lady Jan has long been dead."
Kal wiped at his face, which was a sticky mess from soot and tears. His breath hitched. "Bruce is – "
"Dead," the Martian said. "He sacrificed his life so you would survive. The world needs you, Kal-El. No one else can do what you can. Lex needs you for his plan."
"They had kryptonite," Kal said, trying to explain: there was nothing he could do, he was useless, lex's trust in him had been entirely misplaced and three people had died tonight for his sake and he wasn't worth any of it. Even as spare parts for Doomsday he would have done better.
"These guards can't be everywhere at once. There's still much good you can do with your powers," Lady Jan replied, as if she had read his thoughts. "They must have expected you tonight. I am sorry for your loss."
"They all died because of me!" Kal stumbled to his feet, precariously close to the edge of the roof. The sharp winds that howled around the skyscrapers at this height whipped back his hair and dragged at his shirt, while the Martian remained thoroughly unruffled. "You were here on Earth the whole time – you had to know this would happen! And you did nothing to save them!"
"The trial was unscheduled. No one could have guessed this outcome. I'm sorry."
Kal didn't want to believe her, in truth, he didn't even care about the answer. The people he had loved more than his own parents were dead. He had no rage, no grief left to throw at the Martian. The dark sky, speckled with cold, faraway stars, was appealing right now – maybe if he rose high enough, he would freeze in the airless void, and would be able to forget.
Flinging himself up into the air was hard, despair dragging at him more strongly than gravity, but then he gained speed, and soon the air grew thin around him and the dark Earth distant. Spreading his arms to embrace the cold, Kal closed his eyes and stopped breathing.
*
Days Kal spent fleeing the dawn in the upper atmosphere, always in the dark, as close as he could get to the stars without suffocating. Then finally the lack of sunlight and warmth and air dulled all sensations, and even the stars blurred and faded. His clothes were stiff with ice, his lashes and brows frosted with tiny white crystals. He felt parched and rigid, and with each passing hour, much heavier. In the end, just as Kal slipped into a sleep without waking, his powers gave out, drained from the lack of sunlight and constant flying, and he fell.
He didn't remember the actual landing, only that there was Earth and dust clinging to his eyes and nose. Overhead and around his crater, huge machines grazed on endless fields, harvesting wheat that grew from horizon to horizon. He lay in the sun, even though its rays weren't welcome, and waited for someone to come. But no human soul showed up all day, and by nightfall Kal finally dragged himself out of the crater he had made and started walking: east, deeper into the night. The machines continued grazing, undisturbed by his presence, making no difference between night and day.
He walked until dawn, and then until dusk again, and still there were only fields. Once he came across a tiny stream, thirst won over blind grief, and he sunk down on the muddy riverbed and cupped water with both hands, gorging himself until his empty stomach was near bursting with water, and he felt sick for a while after he had waded through the stream and continued his endless walk. Wheat gave way to cornfields that stood in straight rows like soldiers, humid in the heat of day and whispering secretively at night. He ate corn straight from the plant, peeling the leaves from the yellow cob and sinking his teeth into the sweetness like an animal, juice running down his chin.
Kal had no aim. He continued walking mostly because it was calming, dulling his mind into a stupor as he trudged on endlessly. He didn't hurry to get anywhere, because he had nowhere to go. The horror of that night was always at his back, so he didn't turn around, just walked straight on towards the ever-receding horizon.
After the cornfields there was a forest, only pine trees everywhere, tall and straight and silent, their needles on the ground softening every sound. Here and there was undergrowth, murmuring with strange animal noises at night, and when he lay down to sleep he woke to birds scattering – unaccustomed to humans, they were unafraid, hopping close to investigate the sleeping giant. Foxes eyed him with curious amber eyes, and deer barely paused to regard him in majestic silence before moving on in their trails. Once he was very hungry, and walked towards a rabbit quivering on the ground, too stupid to bolt; a burst of heat vision killed it. Trails of steam rose from the hot bloody flesh in the early morning chill, and the smell alone made Kal nauseous. He left the carcass untouched and instead found a few handful of mushrooms growing on an overturned pine. He knew they might be poisonous, but he was hungry, and either way he did not care much.
They tasted bitter, but he kept chewing and swallowing. At first they made him tired, so he sat down for a bit, but then suddenly he felt the urge to walk, and walk he did, with sudden purpose, skirting the dancing pines, roving through the undergrowth in a mad chase. From everywhere, faint wispy spectres rose out of the plants and ground, and then there was the wolf, white and panting, her tongue lolling blood-red.
Kal stripped his torn, dirty shirt, and lay down on the bed of pine needles, flinging his arms wide in an offer – he was sure the wolf would eat him, and welcomed it.
*
Hours later, he woke to the glow of a warm afternoon sun, the she-wolf resting a few feet away with her head on her paws. Kal sat up, and looked for his shirt, but he could find only tatters of it, as if he had torn it in his frenzy. He tried to chase the wolf away, his throat hoarse and unable to form real words, but she stayed stubborn, even growled at him when he got too close.
When he resumed walking, she followed him, then suddenly overtook him, almost beckoning him to follow with yips and whines. Night fell, and they walked together, her fur glistening silver in the moonlight. Kal felt dizzy and half-asleep, as if he had dropped into one of the bedside stories Martha Kent had used to read him, peopled with talking animals and youthful adventurers. When he sat down to rest, the sudden onslaught of guilty grief stealing his breath, the wolf crept closer until she could sniff his face and lick his hands with her rough tongue.
By dawn they reached a broad, winding river, and the long-crumbled remains of a road. Kal followed it, feeling the pebbles on the riverbed hard under the soles of his boots, which had worn thin with wear, and the rising sun warm on his bare chest. The she-wolf kept trotting along-side him, and after a long time of darkness and frantic flight, Kal now felt almost peaceful, gentled by the tranquillity all around him.
Title: The Light and the Silence (10/?)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clex, but there are other pairings, slash, het and...um... other.
Fandom: Smallville, a couple of DC characters, inspired by the Man of Steel Annual #3, an Elseworlds Superman story called "Unforgiven", of which I posted scans here.
Warnings: multiple character deaths
Summary:
Ten
The web of broad, gently lit streets in the First District stretched in majestic silence towards its centre, the single high spire of the Science Palace, which pierced the sky like a white finger raised in reprimand.
Kal raced towards it with the air burning against his face, all noise drowned out by the rush, and still the sound of shots sat in his neck and resounded in his ears, again and again, mercilessly. But if he was fast enough, he could still be there, and he could snatch the Kents away before the deadly lasers hit their aim –
The amphitheatre at the base of the spire was dark as a pit, the empty ranks silent and deserted. Blue shadows faded to black at the bottom. Kal felt himself dropping, suddenly heavy as a stone, cold as hail. A choked sound died in his throat; he hurtled down, crashing through the rows of seats and fell to his knees in the arena at the bottom, naked granite crumbling under his fingers. Flies buzzed where the stench of blood clung darkly to the floor, a hollow, mechanic sound amidst the quietness. It was the dead of the night, long past midnight, and clawing at the ground with stifled sobs, Kal knew that it had been too late long before he had turned on the TV: the broadcast had not been live, and the Kents had died hours before in this place, their bodies already taken away.
He was sobbing, retching, shivering all at once, and if he could have torn out his heart, he would have.
There was a flapping sound, like a flag in the wind, but Kal didn't lift his head. He felt the pain build in him, crying vengeance, and if they had come to shoot him, he would kill them, would tear them apart until their fresh blood soaked all the stands wet where people had sat and watched them kill the Kents.
A shadow fell over him, and a moment later, someone crouched low beside him, wrapping an arm like a warm wing around his shoulders, a leathery cape like a blanket of night. Kal twisted around and clawed at an armoured chest, hid his face against the sign of the bat.
"They killed them," he forced past the aching lump in his throat. "They killed them because of me."
Bruce made a harsh noise full anger. "No. They killed them because this world is ruled by injustice and fear – they killed them because they're cowards and murderers."
He seized Kal by the shoulders and forced them to see face to face. "They killed them to break you. Do you understand that?"
Kal bit his lip, painfully, and felt his fingers denting the armour over Bruce's chest and probably bruising him, but Bruce didn't flinch, just stared at him wildly, nearly as much despair on his face as on Kal's.
"I… I loved them," Kal whispered, truly realizing it for the first time. Bruce's grip tightened in understanding.
He heard, like a muffled noise behind many layers of tears, the sound of heavy boots beating down stone steps, closing in on them. Shouts, hard and cruel, but they couldn't touch them down here, not with horror and grief hanging so thickly over Kal-
"Are you broken?" Bruce demanded of him. "Will you give up? Will it all be for nothing?"
It hurt even more, but Kal let his hands drop from Bruce's chest and curled in on himself, rocking on the ground, and, yes, he had given up, he had nothing left in him to give, and nothing he had done would be of any consequence save death and despair.
With a snarl, Bruce swept to his feet, the cape hissing over the stones as he grabbed for something in his utility belt and threw it in a wide arc – bat-shapes glinted once in the night and then exploded loudly, bathing the theatre into suddenly flashes of sulphur coloured light. The ranks were streaming with armed guards, bearing down on them.
"Palace guard," Bruce bellowed over the infernal din, and then he jumped over Kal and knocked one of them back with a single kick, grabbing the next and throwing him into the advancing hordes. Kal recognized the seal of the Science Palace on their chest, three circles arranged in a triangle, and there was a strange green gleam to the triangular crests now, like hundred of emerald eyes lighting up in the smoke-filled theatre. More explosions took out a whole dozen of them, and Bruce served kicks and blows left and right, before swooping down again and grabbing Kal's shoulder.
"Run," he yelled hoarsely, "run while you can – "
Kal was still on his knees, and his eyes burned with tears and acrid smoke, and all around him the hiss and bang of lasers sliced through the air. He was blinded and deafened by it, and his heart seemed to have stopped beating.
The next punch hit him square in the chin, powerful enough to shatter bone and yet causing him no pain. "They have kryptonite!" Bruce roared. "This was a trap! Go!"
He shook his head, no, he wasn't going to go, he was going to stand, stand and fight like Bruce, they were going to die here, and - Bruce knocked him aside, shaking off two guards who were trying to pull him down, and then he ducked but just a tiny bit too slow to escape the shot aimed at him, and Kal felt warm blood spatter his face when Bruce whirled around: he had been hit in the thigh and blood was gushing from the wound, way too much of it.
Kal staggered to his feet, and the next shot hit him, square in the chest, sizzling and burning but yet the kryptonite wasn't close enough or strong enough to make him entirely vulnerable. He roared, and simply grabbed for a man. There was a throat against his palm and then it was gone, and maybe there was the snap of bones as he through the man, or maybe it was just his teeth grinding in fury. He brushed against Bruce, and they changed places, back to back now and dancing.
"Get out of here!" Bruce shouted again, and a man cried out in horrible pain as he twisted around his arm, "This is an order!"
"No!" Kal yelled, and it felt freeing, he sucked in air and cried out again, against everything, against the pain, "No!"
He saw the streak of red out of the corner of his eye, turning against it with his arms flung wide to shield Bruce, welcoming the searing pain, but instead he was snatched off the ground and pulled up through the clouds of billowing smoke. Kal kicked and punched his attacker, twisting like a mad animal in his grip, and below him a last inarticulate yell of rage filled the theatre, and explosions went off all at once, giving him a final eerie glimpse of a man moving in a violent dance of death, before it all became fire and destruction, crumbling stone and blazing heat.
They soared higher and higher, and the fireball shrunk beneath them; now Kal hung limply in the strong grip that had pulled him out just before Bruce went down taking dozens of guards with him.
Arms shifted him around and he noticed that they were green and oddly shaped, too long and too many joints, neither human nor Kryptonian. A moment later, he was dropped on the roof of a building in downtown Metropolis. The monstrous arms let go of him, and in the many twinkling lights of the city, Kal saw a tall creature standing above him, green-skinned, a half-way thing between dragon and praying mantis, with eyes glowing orange like coals. Then it shivered and melted into a more familiar shape, dark-skinned arms and a serious face. Finally the skin became the black of a body-suit and over him stood Lady Jan, Lionel Luthor's wife.
Over his shock Kal forgot for a moment the horror he had witnessed. It was easy to push it all away in desperate denial. "What are you?"
She extended a hand to help him up, but he didn't take it. "I come from Mars," she said, her voice unnaturally deep, as if wasn't made by real lungs and vocal chords. "My name is J'onn J'onnz. I used to work for your father, Kal-El. The real Lady Jan has long been dead."
Kal wiped at his face, which was a sticky mess from soot and tears. His breath hitched. "Bruce is – "
"Dead," the Martian said. "He sacrificed his life so you would survive. The world needs you, Kal-El. No one else can do what you can. Lex needs you for his plan."
"They had kryptonite," Kal said, trying to explain: there was nothing he could do, he was useless, lex's trust in him had been entirely misplaced and three people had died tonight for his sake and he wasn't worth any of it. Even as spare parts for Doomsday he would have done better.
"These guards can't be everywhere at once. There's still much good you can do with your powers," Lady Jan replied, as if she had read his thoughts. "They must have expected you tonight. I am sorry for your loss."
"They all died because of me!" Kal stumbled to his feet, precariously close to the edge of the roof. The sharp winds that howled around the skyscrapers at this height whipped back his hair and dragged at his shirt, while the Martian remained thoroughly unruffled. "You were here on Earth the whole time – you had to know this would happen! And you did nothing to save them!"
"The trial was unscheduled. No one could have guessed this outcome. I'm sorry."
Kal didn't want to believe her, in truth, he didn't even care about the answer. The people he had loved more than his own parents were dead. He had no rage, no grief left to throw at the Martian. The dark sky, speckled with cold, faraway stars, was appealing right now – maybe if he rose high enough, he would freeze in the airless void, and would be able to forget.
Flinging himself up into the air was hard, despair dragging at him more strongly than gravity, but then he gained speed, and soon the air grew thin around him and the dark Earth distant. Spreading his arms to embrace the cold, Kal closed his eyes and stopped breathing.
*
Days Kal spent fleeing the dawn in the upper atmosphere, always in the dark, as close as he could get to the stars without suffocating. Then finally the lack of sunlight and warmth and air dulled all sensations, and even the stars blurred and faded. His clothes were stiff with ice, his lashes and brows frosted with tiny white crystals. He felt parched and rigid, and with each passing hour, much heavier. In the end, just as Kal slipped into a sleep without waking, his powers gave out, drained from the lack of sunlight and constant flying, and he fell.
He didn't remember the actual landing, only that there was Earth and dust clinging to his eyes and nose. Overhead and around his crater, huge machines grazed on endless fields, harvesting wheat that grew from horizon to horizon. He lay in the sun, even though its rays weren't welcome, and waited for someone to come. But no human soul showed up all day, and by nightfall Kal finally dragged himself out of the crater he had made and started walking: east, deeper into the night. The machines continued grazing, undisturbed by his presence, making no difference between night and day.
He walked until dawn, and then until dusk again, and still there were only fields. Once he came across a tiny stream, thirst won over blind grief, and he sunk down on the muddy riverbed and cupped water with both hands, gorging himself until his empty stomach was near bursting with water, and he felt sick for a while after he had waded through the stream and continued his endless walk. Wheat gave way to cornfields that stood in straight rows like soldiers, humid in the heat of day and whispering secretively at night. He ate corn straight from the plant, peeling the leaves from the yellow cob and sinking his teeth into the sweetness like an animal, juice running down his chin.
Kal had no aim. He continued walking mostly because it was calming, dulling his mind into a stupor as he trudged on endlessly. He didn't hurry to get anywhere, because he had nowhere to go. The horror of that night was always at his back, so he didn't turn around, just walked straight on towards the ever-receding horizon.
After the cornfields there was a forest, only pine trees everywhere, tall and straight and silent, their needles on the ground softening every sound. Here and there was undergrowth, murmuring with strange animal noises at night, and when he lay down to sleep he woke to birds scattering – unaccustomed to humans, they were unafraid, hopping close to investigate the sleeping giant. Foxes eyed him with curious amber eyes, and deer barely paused to regard him in majestic silence before moving on in their trails. Once he was very hungry, and walked towards a rabbit quivering on the ground, too stupid to bolt; a burst of heat vision killed it. Trails of steam rose from the hot bloody flesh in the early morning chill, and the smell alone made Kal nauseous. He left the carcass untouched and instead found a few handful of mushrooms growing on an overturned pine. He knew they might be poisonous, but he was hungry, and either way he did not care much.
They tasted bitter, but he kept chewing and swallowing. At first they made him tired, so he sat down for a bit, but then suddenly he felt the urge to walk, and walk he did, with sudden purpose, skirting the dancing pines, roving through the undergrowth in a mad chase. From everywhere, faint wispy spectres rose out of the plants and ground, and then there was the wolf, white and panting, her tongue lolling blood-red.
Kal stripped his torn, dirty shirt, and lay down on the bed of pine needles, flinging his arms wide in an offer – he was sure the wolf would eat him, and welcomed it.
*
Hours later, he woke to the glow of a warm afternoon sun, the she-wolf resting a few feet away with her head on her paws. Kal sat up, and looked for his shirt, but he could find only tatters of it, as if he had torn it in his frenzy. He tried to chase the wolf away, his throat hoarse and unable to form real words, but she stayed stubborn, even growled at him when he got too close.
When he resumed walking, she followed him, then suddenly overtook him, almost beckoning him to follow with yips and whines. Night fell, and they walked together, her fur glistening silver in the moonlight. Kal felt dizzy and half-asleep, as if he had dropped into one of the bedside stories Martha Kent had used to read him, peopled with talking animals and youthful adventurers. When he sat down to rest, the sudden onslaught of guilty grief stealing his breath, the wolf crept closer until she could sniff his face and lick his hands with her rough tongue.
By dawn they reached a broad, winding river, and the long-crumbled remains of a road. Kal followed it, feeling the pebbles on the riverbed hard under the soles of his boots, which had worn thin with wear, and the rising sun warm on his bare chest. The she-wolf kept trotting along-side him, and after a long time of darkness and frantic flight, Kal now felt almost peaceful, gentled by the tranquillity all around him.
