Eon

Chapter 17

There was a fog drifting across the white lands. The dust that intermingled on these desolate plains were raised by the wind which bled into the fog creating a white, wispy essence that marched forward unabashed. The Insurgents raised their arms to block the coming aggression as they headed towards the forests. The Cheson did not relieve themselves of the dust. They continued without irritance, staring forward with their dark, slanted eyes, welcoming the white fog as it clung to their bodies. The procession continued on like this for a time until finally the party wrenched themselves into the forests to hide themselves in the crevices of the enveloping entity.

Mason fell against one of the trunks of the colossal trees and began to cough violently to rid himself of the dust that clung to his iron and cloth suit. He peered into the shifting visage of the forest. One of the Cheson approached him, his body all white but his eyes black like obsidian. Mason turned to the alien and then looked away, for there was still a fear in his heart for these strange creatures. The Cheson did not seem to notice Mason's inner-thoughts as it pointed towards the deeper parts of the forest with one long, wiry white-arm.

"The Silent will come soon, human," the Cheson said in his monotone voice. "They will tell you of the happenings of the forest. Tread lightly."

The other Insurgents began to mirror Mason, patting themselves down, creating little white clouds that circled through the trees.

Mason did not reply to the native. He peered forward and began breathing heavily as the air was thick with perspiration. He could see little in this dim but he was sure that there was something moving inside the forest. He turned away and begun to clean the intricacies of his rifle and then stopped as he heard the crunching of leaves nearby. The Insurgent shot a glance towards the origin of the noise, his rifle raised and the stock nestled within as he aimed down the sights, each ensuing breath controlled and with conviction.

There, standing within the falling leaves and drifting miasmas, was a Silent Cheson. Its eyes were white like marbles and were the only discernible aspects that were not clothed in rags. It teetered close to Mason, its entire form like a phantom for there was no order to his image, only rags and those marble eyes. Mason eyed the Silent carefully and then nodded once.

"You're the informant?" Mason asked.

The Silent did not seem to hear the Insurgent. It turned towards the others who had not yet spotted the newcomer. These Insurgents peered through the herbs and others fiddled with their rifles absent-mindedly.

"There is a patrol that winds its way down a open path not far from here," the Silent finally said as it turned its attention to Mason. "They are armed and prepared to fight. We have been doing our best to deter them, but we cannot fight them. Our numbers are not enough and we do not have alien weapons. They will be here soon."

"How many are there?"

"Ten," the Silent replied, and then submerged back into the darkness of the shadows of the trees. Mason's eyes widened upon seeing such trickery. He shook his head, composing himself to focus on the task ahead. He went to the Cheson who had approached him before. The Insurgent's demeanor must have given him away for the Cheson immediately nodded and then turned to his own without saying a word.

"Alright, listen," Mason said to his own who had turned to their leader with eager faces. Mason took in a deep breath. "There's about ten of them out there. I'll be following the Silent." He focused on the Cheson. "Once you see the Casks, follow our lead. We will point you towards specific destinations. You will go to those destinations and then you will wait for my command to open fire—two short whistles. If we do this right and are not seen the Casks will be dead before they realize they are under attack."