Await by Viola Grace Page A

training was her least favourite part of being a Walker, but bruises healed, skin sealed and muscle made most of her funeral uniforms look good.
    The shuttle she was on shuddered and her muscles tensed. It was time to guard her charge and earn her pay.
    Monks greeted her, and she loosed her weapons, holding the two long knives at her sides as she floated the casket out of the shuttle. They began a long, droning chant, the metal embedded in their tusks created a soothing vibration.
    Orphia walked at the head of the procession, her body standing in for Arcathan’s. The monks carried him behind her and as she made herself the target, they took on the burden of carrying him.
    With the chant setting the pace for the walk from the tarmac to the lava pit, they passed the first mourners to one side of the road.
    Orphia was braced for the first attack when it came. The chant of the monks was calming her nerves, and her body was ready for action.
    When the battle howl reached her, she continued to walk but met the male’s blades with her own. She was being attacked by an angry boar-man with four arms who topped her by two feet. A Teio outweighed her by a hundred pounds, but the Teio gravity was one third Earth normal. It was a fair fight, and she met him blade for blade.
    Orphia kept in step as she defended Arcathan. The attacker engaged in three ritual strikes, and then it was her turn. She brought her knives down hard and strong on the left blade and grinned as she heard it snap.
    He broke ritual and sliced at her, cutting a red stripe along her shoulder that sent the other onlookers into murmurs of disapproval, but by the time he had realized what he had done, she drove one of her knives into his wrist and disarmed his right hand.
    Two strikes and he was on his knees.
    She wiped the blades off on her long tunic and resumed her place at the head of the procession.
    It was her first blood of the day. Arcathan would be pleased.
    Her arms felt like lead and blood dripped from her clothing and weapons. Neatness had gone out the window after the fifth attempt on Arcathan’s body.
    The monks slid the body into the lava and she turned to face the crowd of mourners and enemies that Arcathan had earned in his lifetime.
    She smiled grimly as the body slowly burned away and the enemies faced her in a final attempt to destroy a little of Arcathan’s honour.
    The dark blue blood that covered her was not her own, and the scent was overpowering. She flicked the blades and the would-be attackers stayed back.
    A gong ran out, and everyone breathed a relaxed sigh. The monks ceased their chant, leaving with a slow and steady pace. Arcathan was gone.
    A male with the tusks that bore the marks of an ambassador came toward her. “Welcome to Teio. I am Ambassador Catheth. Please, join the feast in honour of Arcathan. He was a great male and it was a tragedy that he did not carry on his line.”
    She inclined her head. “I would be honoured to participate in the celebration of Arcathan. May I bathe the blood off and change clothing?”
    “Of course, of course. You are now our honoured guest.” He gestured for her to precede him, but she took a place at his side instead.
    They walked to the great house and those gathered followed in their wake. Orphia noticed the trail of blood she was leaving, but there was nothing to be done about it. Drops of crimson mixed with the dark blue and the colouration caused ripples of comment behind her.
    She smiled grimly. She wasn’t one of them, but she managed to carry out their ritual all the same. Now, it was time for a shower and a bit of a party.
    Her bag from the shuttle was brought to her, and she took a quick gel cleanse that managed to remove the blood from her and leave her squeaky clean. The white gown that she slipped on was a mourning colour for the Teio, as it was for so many species around the Alliance, white for the purity of the soul when the body was dead, the colour of the stars.
    Arm wraps covered