The Book of Zar, Part 2

I sat down on a bench of polished sandstone. There was no backrest, but that mattered not. Today was a warm day, the twin suns of this system shining a welcoming yellowish-red radiance upon this planet, called Krathun. The Sangheili colonized this world centuries ago, and by that time it had grown to become one of the wealthier planets in the Covenant.
The park I sat in was located in a city known as Dezur, and the park was called Thar’s Field. I sat on the east side of the park, facing the center, which was dominated by two landmarks: a natural spring enclosed by a fence, and a statue facing the spring, placed north. The statue was a depiction of a Sangheili in armor not seen for, based on my knowledge, seven hundred years. He wielded an energy sword in one hand and an ancient iteration of a plasma grenade in the other, and was preparing to hurl it at some unseen enemy. No doubt this was the supposed Thar who lent his name to this field. Or perhaps the people honored him by naming the field after him, long after his bones had turned to dust.
Beyond the fountain and the statue were a row of stalls, vendors, and shops, facing the road that divided the park from the shops and apartment blocks. Throngs of Sangheili crowded around the shops and vendors, exchanging currency for goods, generating commerce and such. I watched with mild interest, primarily to pass the time. The moment for decisive action was not yet at hand. The presence of other parties was needed.
The sounds of animal vocalizations filled the air around me. I looked up, and in the canopy of a very young tree, I found a nest, and in the nest an avian creature of bright purple feathers and a deep blue beak tending to its chicks, feeding it the carcasses of small animals. The chicks chirped incessantly at their mother, and I found the sound somewhat soothing, an audible reminder of the proximity of nature, untainted, unspoiled, despite being in an urban setting. A breeze blew in from the south, and I noticed the waters of the natural spring form small ripples, lapping gently on the north shore of the body of water. A bird of similar color to the birds in the nest appeared and landed on the shore of the spring, and drank from its waters. I also took note of the flowers conspicuously planted on the perimeter of the spring, on the inside of the fence, adding a rainbow of colors to the park.
Several minutes passed, and I scanned the continuous mass of people at the shops and vendors. Those that I needed present were not there. I would have to wait longer, but this would undoubtedly draw the attention of peacekeepers. Indeed they would have cause to question me, one who has so far idled, and not said so much as a word to any soul. My very presence, existing yet unknown, would draw suspicion in due course. Firstly, I assumed that the locals could readily discern me as a foreigner. Secondly, I was wearing a sleeveless long coat made of leather and insulated with cloth: a peculiar choice for such a warm day. Thirdly, I was an escaped convict. Sooner or later, my true identity would be discovered for as long as I exposed myself like this, and I would be set upon by the law on sight.
Thankfully, I would not have to wait too long. I spotted the local kaidon, a fellow by the name of Tarok ‘Aksharee.
“There you are,” I said to myself.
“Zar, we’ve spotted the target,” said my comrade, Verth, over our comms. “Prepare yourself.”
“Understood,” I replied.
I allowed Tarok time to walk up the street. He was mobbed by scores of Sangheili, his subjects. They conversed with him on all manner of subjects, with his guards gradually pushing their way through and up the street, perhaps to the temple on the northern end of the park for divine worship.
I awaited the kaidon to approach a stall that sold fried garzu eggs. Closer and closer the kaidon and his guards came to the stall, and closer and closer my hand reached for a detonator concealed in my coat’s pocket. Then, the people enveloped the cart, and then, the guards approached, and thusly, the kaidon walked not more than three paces away from it.
“This was as good a chance as any,” I thought to myself. I pressed down on the detonator’s button once, very hard.
I first saw a sudden flash of light in the middle of the crowd, blue in color. Then, the shockwave and noise. Screaming quickly erupted as plasma melted through armor and clothing, then flesh. Some were incinerated and turned to ash. Others suffered extreme burns on their exposed skin. Many Sangheili were flung away from the force of the blast, and the dead littered that side of the park. I found armor reminiscent of what the kaidon was wearing: charred remains were attached to them.
Admittedly, I flinched when the bomb detonated, quickly going down to a squat. Thankfully, I let go of the detonator and prevented myself from accidentally pulling it out of my coat and revealing it.
Alarm sirens blared as dozens of Sangheili who were unaffected by the blast suddenly unleashed swords or rushed to take up spears or old swords. A few had plasma rifles. This ad-hoc armed mob, confused as to the exact nature of the mortal danger, rushed to the scene of the blast, assisting those who managed to survive but suffered terrible wounds.
Almost immediately, I heard the crying of a solitary child. Females in the distance screamed, and I heard the voices of men shout in panic. Pained groaning, screaming, crying, and pleas for mother could be heard from the blanket of bodies. Quickly the breeze faded and the familiar stench of charred flesh filled the air. Many were repulsed and retched the contents of their stomach onto the ground. Many others did not do so, but were nevertheless disgusted. A handful were completely unaffected. All of these replaced the sounds of the birds, the everyday clamor of a prosperous city, and the gentle breeze blowing against the waters of a spring. And this was nothing but the sound of success to me.
I had heard this described by a wise old warrior long ago as “the awe of horror.” He described it as a sense of complete and utter amazement, bewilderment, and paralyzing astonishment at scenes of terrible violence. A scene can be of the utmost cruelty, a massacre of innocents, the wrongful execution of a righteous man, and one simply cannot bear to look away. They must witness. They must see. They must know.
I witnessed. I saw. I knew. But I found myself entranced. Imprisoned, almost. “Paralyzing astonishment.” So deadly was my act, so violent was my cause, so destructive was my plot. I felt a rush I hadn’t felt since my time on the battlefield against the Humans. That familiar… boost of energy, that surge of spirit. My heart beat with vigor when I shot down my first Human, and I felt it beat again when I detonated that bomb. But I was thoroughly confused, for the targets, and indeed the victims, were not Human, but Sangheili.
I dwelled upon this briefly, but not for too long.
“Target down,” Verth said. “I repeat, target down. Let us away.”
Verth was right. I just blew up a crowd of people and I was less than fifty paces away from ground zero, to stay would be madness. I quickly fled the scene, using the rush of concerned bystanders towards the dead and dying as a handy distraction.
As our team evacuated the planet to report back to our superiors, I could not help but ponder the increasingly active role I was playing in this organization, the Banished. I did not understand our overreaching goal, aside from working to achieve some sort of nebulous free warrior utopia. With all honesty, I did not very much care for whatever overreaching goal the Banished had. They rescued me and gave me a new home, where I could start a new life, and leave the old one of shame, dishonor, and general misery behind.
Thus, I resolved it to myself. If there is violence, so be it. I shall be there as its inaugurator, conductor, and caretaker.
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