The Chronicles of Amon book 1 LINK

  Chapter 5.

  The day dawned grey and dismal. The monsoon season had begin. The air was heavy with humidity, smelling musty, full of decay.

  Sef had risen before the dawn, unable to sleep, and returned to the large clearing, the site of yesterday’s talks. He sat down, knees pulled up to his chin. His arms encircled his bare legs. His head hung low.

  His thoughts were jumbled, in disarray, filled to overflowing with worry. He had become an unwilling mediator, the fragile link between two incompatible cultures. How could the two races coexist? What could he possibly do to facilitate a seemingly unreachable compromise?

  What of his father? How could he translate the expectations of the Tal in a way that would convince the simians that indeed there was hope for coexistence? More importantly, how could Sef convince the Tal to live in harmony with each other, let alone with the simians? They fought among themselves almost continuously.

  For years he had struggled with this unwieldy challenge. From the birth of the first of his father’s seed until this day he had struggled in vain to rectify the wrong his father had committed, while his father continued, oblivious to anything other than his own gratification.

  Now, as Tal and Simian began to gather, Sef knew that this would be the last opportunity. Either there would be reconciliation or there would be strife.

  Chief was the first to emerge from the shadows. He carried with him a long wooden staff, the symbol of his leadership. Following close behind, others of the Tal came into view. Each of them had shorter sticks, as big around as Sef’s arm, which they used like canes, thumping the ground ominously as they approached and came to a halt a few yards into the clearing.

  At the other side of the clearing simians began to assemble, reluctant to move into the open. At the far end of their ranks, Sef’s father emerged, his lame arm dangling at his side as he inched his way forward, narrowing the gap between himself and his human son.

  “We have come as you wished, my son,” he signed with his good hand. “We are prepared to accept your decision, regardless of what it may be. We desire peace with our Tal brothers. We bare no animosity toward them and will do what is necessary to coexist.”

  “What does this old one say?” Chief said in a loud voice.

  “Our father is here to make peace with the Tal,” Sef said, deliberately reminding that the old simian was the father of them all.

  “He and his people are prepared to. . . .”

  “We care nothing for the words of a Sim-un! They are not Tal. They are stupid! They do not speak! They do not even WALK!” A murmur began among the Tal. It grew louder as Chief continued to speak.

  “And YOU!” Chief pointed his staff at Sef menacingly. “You are hu-muhn. Not Tal. You speak for the sim-un, but NOT for Tal!”

  The crowd behind him raised their voices, matching and surpassing his rant. They began stamping their clubs against the ground. Across the clearing the simians began shuffling nervously. Sef’s father began backing up, signing frantically.

  “What have we done?! They grow angry and we have done nothing!”

  “Be calm, father!” Sef turned toward the Tal, raising his hands, trying to calm the rising chaos.

  “You speak NO MORE!” Chief yelled before Sef could speak. He raised his staff, shaking it defiantly as he continued.

  “You speak always, but DO NOTHING!” His defiance encouraged the others to move forward, thumping their clubs and raising their voices.

  “Now WE SPEAK NO MORE! Now we DO!!”

  With those words he swung his staff around once, pivoting at the center of it’s circular path, adding momentum. With a loud crack it made contact with Sef’s head. His skull exploded on impact. As the staff continued it’s arc, what remained of the head was severed, leaving Sef’s body to fall to the ground.

  Roaring in unison, the Tal charged forward, trampling the lifeless form under foot as they charged toward the simians.

  Awestruck, the clan scattered, screaming in panic. The Tal fell upon the stragglers in wild rage, swinging their clubs with abandon. Thuds and cracks were accompanied by stifled screams and wild roars as the mayhem advanced. The few who managed to escape fled into the trees. Many of them fell to their doom, either killed by the fall or beaten to death by the advancing Tal.

  Sef’s father stood frozen, watching in stunned silence as his clan fled before the wild horde. Slowly he turned to gaze in horror at his slain human son’s body. Where the head should have been, a thick browning pool melted slowly into the ground. Flies immediately began gathering for the feast. A few feet beyond, standing over the lifeless form, Chief glared at the old simian.

  “Now, FATHER!” he spat. “You will join him and the others of YOUR KIND!”