Post date: Apr 16, 2016 2:02:04 PM
Caradorynee: Feats & Wagers
#4
There were scant opportunities to acquire bonedoons on Caradorynee.
Trade was common since every species on the planet needed sustenance and goods in some form or another. But not all on Caradorynee had the intellectual capacity to produce anything of value or that which was worth trading.
Thieving was far more prevalent than trade, making Caradorynee’s cities dangerous but incredibly lucrative for those that chose to prey upon the weaker of society.
Competing for the Shegata on the other hand was the most viable alternative for the majority of the population. Thus why the Shegata battles drew so many competitors and why the battles where held so often.
And therefore why gambling on Caradorynee was so pervasive.
It permeated not only the battles but every aspect of daily life. And everything, absolutely everything was wagered on.
Lark as a young man, new to Caradorynee, had competed in the Shegata battles on several occasions. He’d bore the marks of the Shegata so many times that, even centuries later, his body still tingled with the remnants of the pulsing energy the Shegata’s had held within their intricate designs.
It had been the Shegata’s protective energy that had allowed him to work for so long in the Dormoan volcano cone fields where the precious currency of bonedoons were harvested.
The work was back breaking and gruelling. The extraction of the tiny drop-shaped nuggets from the mounds at the base of the numerous volcanoes had taken its toll on Lark’s half Human body. His Dueanian lungs, however, which thrived on the volcano gases filled with hydrogen sulfur and carbon dioxide, had kept him going long past what he’d expected he’d been able to endure.
Lark, exiled to his Dueanian half’s home planet, had been fortunate enough to attain what could only be described as a sizeable fortune before finally calling a halt to the drudgery and danger of the cone fields before it took his life.
In his middle years Lark had tried thieving, for as vast as his fortune had been he’d outlived the wealth of his bonedoons. But his half Dueanian body had failed to maintain the necessary substance, especially the longer he lived on Caradorynee. As each decade passed the less Lark’s Human body was able to function, making it difficult to carry out any sort of stealth activities.
So Lark had turned to trade. Which for the most part had been successful since he was still surviving on Caradorynee where so many of his friends and acquaintances had ultimately perished.
But now, unfortunately Lark’s trade was dwindling. His hands no longer having the strength, or the stability, to crush the hard shells of the carado seeds or to knead the stiff dough of the caradoras which he’d made by the thousands each day.
Oh, he could still gather the seeds, which were similar to that of a pine cone, from the shrubbery-like bush of the carado. And he could still set traps in which to ensnarl the chewqa, the plump bird-like creature that roamed freely and was, when cooked just right, savoury and moist.
It was simply the fact that he could not produce the number of caradoras that the inhabitants of Caradorynee demanded he create each day. Nor could he suffice the insatiable need for Caradorynee’s population to wager upon his yield or on which array of spices he’d subtly added to the delectable chewqa mixtures.
No more did the local people take part in wagering on which of the vast creatures would be the first to taste Lark’s daily masterpieces, or which of them could consume the most caradoras on any given morning.
Therefore Lark had made the decision to make one last ditch effort to wager all but a few of his precious bonedoons on the Shegata battle and on the Human girl.
She was his last hope.
Star burned.
From her hairline at the top of her skull right down to her toenails. The pain was excruciating, like having a root-canal without the benefit of freezing. Yet Star endured.
She’d earlier allowed a trio of female Boogaues to strip her bare and bath her sunburned body, while a male Boogaues attended to the gash on her arm.
None of the four spoke to her, and she rather doubted that they understood her waspish snarls as the females had roughly washed her sensitive ‘lady parts’ or when the male had poked her open wound repeatedly with a device that resembled that of a musical instrument’s tuning fork.
Now Star stood, still naked, on a platform that was raised high above the competitor’s squares.
There were perhaps thirty or more other creatures surrounding her, yet Star was solely focused on her private torment by slowly inhaling and exhaling and counting her breathes.
She knew from watching the other Shegata marking ceremony that the burning of the mark into the flesh of the winners did not last for more than a minute or two.
Her count was up to seventy-three.
Star swallowed and took another breath. She released it. The slight puff of air soothing her dry lips for only a moment.
She could feel the intense burning in her feet begin to lessen. The meaty flesh just above her ankles followed, then in a whoosh the burning stopped and a tingling sensation engulfed Star’s entire body.
A ruckus echoed the end of the ceremony.
Star immediately squatted down and grabbed her tunic-like shirt, that had been laid at her feet. She pulled the garment hesitantly over her head and let it drape down her body.
In her haste to cover up she’d failed to closely examine the mark of the Shegata that stretched along her entire body. There would be time later to inspect the thin line of orange that wove its way around her in an elaborate spider web fashion. Time later too, hopefully, endure a few more of these rituals before the day was done.
©Human in Inhuman Worlds by Janet Merritt