Demands of Honor by Kevin Ryan

through the halls, with his people trailing behind him. He picked up a few details on the way:there had been an accident, his father had been hurt.
    What kind of accident could Father have had at a clan meeting?
a voice in his head asked.
    An attack,
he replied to himself. That is what Uncle was going to say. His father had been attacked, probably by an animal. There were predators on their world, but they rarely ventured close to the villages—having learned long ago that they would more likely find death than a meal in Adon’s people.
    But there is no more dangerous predator than Father,
Adon thought.
    Something was wrong.
Father must be badly hurt,
he thought. Adon ran faster for the village. Even if he was hurt, Father was strong. And the green-skins had left more than weapons and mining machines. There was equipment for treating injury and illness. Father would recover.
    Unless he’s already
…, the voice in his head began, but Adon silenced it before it could finish. Finally, he reached the outer residences and raced on to the center of the village where a small crowd was gathering. He recognized one of Gurn’s people there, which made him shudder. Before he could even make an inquiry, he saw movement ahead. Someone was coming. No, not someone—
two
someones—and they were carrying a third person.
    Father
…, he thought, and raced for them.
    As he arrived, Gurn and one of his clan placed Adon’s father on the ground. They did it slowly, almost reverentially. Something was wrong with that. If father was hurt, he needed attention. They needed to move quickly. He might need the green-skins’ machines.
    â€œFather,” Adon gasped out loud as he got down on his knees.
    The wounds were terrible. There were bites on his hands and chest, as well as one on his throat.
    â€œHelp me get him to the mine,” Adon said desperately as he pulled on his father’s arm. There was something wrong. Father felt too heavy, and the others weren’t moving. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Gurn looking down at him.
    â€œHe is dead. I am sorry, young Adon.” For an irrational moment, Adon wanted to kill the clan leader for speaking such a deplorable lie about his father. Gorath couldn’t be dead. The clan needed him, especially now …
    â€¦ and Adon needed him.
    Adon felt his control start to crumble, but he forced himself to his feet and looked at Gurn. The man was wearing a crude bandage on his face. Looking around, Adon saw the clan leader’s other men had also been injured.
    â€œWhat happened?” he asked sharply.
    â€œAfter the clan meeting, we heard a struggle and ran to see your father battling three
quoth.
He fought bravely and we tried to help him. Together, we fought off the beasts, but it was too late for your father.” Gurn put his hand on Adon’s shoulder. “I am sorry, son.”
    Reflexively, Adon shook off the hand and looked up at Gurn suspiciously. His blood was calling out a warning. Then he saw something, a line of blood under the bandage on Gurn’s face.
A straight line of blood
—from a straight wound, the kind made by a blade not a bite.
    His eyes automatically searched out his father’s
mek’leth,
which was lying on his chest. Kneeling down, Adon saw blood there. Of course there was no way to tell if the blood was from the beasts.
    Or was there?
    Yet the sight of his father’s bloody and torn body soon pushed all other thoughts aside, and Adon felt his control disappear. Sobs racked his body as he clutched his father.
    Adon finally agreed to allow his father’s body to be moved from the clearing. Along with Uncle and three of his father’s closest companions, Adon carried his father to their home. Two of Adon’s own companions joined them there.
    He fought down his grief and worked with his uncle to prepare his father’s body. Cleaning his father, he saw that the wounds were