When I got a closer look at the weird creatures who had captured me, I saw they were in no respect human. If anything, they resembled in their tall attenuated forms and jerking, many-jointed stride, gigantic insects like the praying mantis. Whether or not they were true insects, according to the technical definition of the word, I must leave to whatever scientists may one day peruse this document I now inscribe. Suffice it to say, they more closely resembled insects than any other form of life I could think of.
They stood about seven feet tall and were impossibly slim and skeletal. Like many true arthropods, their lean bodies were clad in an external horny coating like chitin. This segmented exoskeleton was a uniform silver-gray and exuded a sharp but not unpleasant scent which I eventually identified as the harsh metallic odor of ants―formic acid, I believe it is called.
Like many terrene insect forms, the Thanatorian arthropod has a body composed of three major sections.
First, the head, which is a horny and all but featureless ovoid like a slightly elongated egg, sharply pointed at the smaller end. These heads have neither nose nor nostril, insofar as I have been able to observe, and the mechanism of the mouth and jaw is concealed on the underside of this casque-like ovoid and too complicated for me to accurately picture in words.
They have two eyes, one on each side of the head, and much larger than the human, but without whites. These do not seem to be the usual faceted, compound eye structures I have seen in magnified drawings of insects. They are black, glittering, and devoid of any expressiveness. In order to blink, the arthropod uses two horny translucent membranes, one descending from the upper rim of the eye case and one rising from the lower, both covering the eye completely.
The insect creatures have no ears, or at least no external ears, and I have never been able to understand just how they manage to detect sounds. But they do have two long, slender, tapering and jointed antennae or feelers which extend from just above either eye, curving backwards gracefully over the skull. For all I know, these may be sensitive to the vibrations of sound.
Instead of necks, they have a jointed tubular structure composed of two rings, wherewith their heads are fastened to the second portion of their bodies, the thorax, which is a smooth, glistening, upright ovoid larger than the head, and shoulderless. From this two long arms with multiple joints extend. Their arms are twice as long as human arms and have an extra joint, like a secondary elbow. Slim and tapering shafts of chitin, these arms look like bare bones, ending in very long, thin, splayed, segmented fingers. There are four of these fingers, the central pair being about four inches longer than the outermost and innermost fingers, which are also of equal length. They have no thumb, but as the fingers have six joints each and are capable of extreme flexibility, they are able to handle objects at least as easily as do our human hands with their opposing thumbs.
The thorax of the arthropod―the upper chest, you might call it―is joined by a narrow banded waist to the abdomen, a long tapering spindle-shaped structure which thrusts out behind the legs. These hind limbs also have an extra joint like those of the forelimbs, and end in four-toed, or -clawed, splayed feet. In the case of the feet, three widely separated toes are thrust out in front and the fourth toe, like the spur on a bird's foot, extends to the rear. These multiple-jointed hind limbs are oddly constructed. The first segment (you might call it the thigh) thrusts forward from the hip joint, ending in a knee joint; the second segment, the lower leg, thrusts sharply backwards, ending in an ankle joint, from which a third segment thrusts forward again, ending in yet another ankle joint, to which is affixed the enormous, splayed, clawlike toes.
These hind limbs, with their multiple joints and odd articulations, strongly resemble the structure of a dog's hind leg. The arthropods run with incredible swiftness; their great hind limbs send them bounding along in springing leaps. They also use these limbs most peculiarly in war. The Yathoon warriors go armed with most unusual swords, in addition to the great black war bows. These whip swords, as they are called, are not unlike the fencing epee, but are of amazing length―a good sixty inches of finger-thin, very flexible steel, ending not in a point but in a bladed barb like an arrowhead. They use these swords very much like whips, and the wound inflicted by the lashing blow of that bladed barb is a terrible one. In battle, the arthropods leap suddenly into the air like great grasshoppers, their long ungainly arms bringing the whip-sword down in swift, lashing strokes that are very difficult to parry and can best be avoided by hopping backwards or to one side. A duel between two Yathoon warriors―and I saw many such during my internment among them―is a bewildering scene of leaping, agile figures bounding several yards into the air, the whipping needle of their swords whistling through the air shrilly.
Yet for all their height, agility, and speed, the arthropods are less strong than a human being. This is due to the nature of their musculature. In human anatomy, our inner skeletons serve as a solid structure against which our muscles are anchored, giving leverage. But the insect creatures have no internal skeletons ―their external crust of horn serving to hold them rigid. The muscles of the arthropods, then, are anchored rather flimsily to the inner walls of this exoskeletal crust, which gives them nowhere near the muscular leverage or, thus, the strength of men.
Whether or not they are truly evolved from insects I cannot say. But, if I recall correctly, terrene insects have no lungs, their under-thorax containing small perforations through which oxygen enters their system. The arthropods of Thanator have genuine lungs, for the segmented plates of the thorax expand and contract rhythmically, held together by a hard but flexible gummy substance like cartilage, and their thoraxes swell and diminish to the breathing of inner lungs. It might well be they are not insects at all, but that some form of crustacean life acted as their evolutionary ancestors. I can but give the data I observe
I lack the knowledge to interpret it scientifically.*
For the duration of my captivity I remained in the possession of the warrior who had captured me―the same male who had led the hunting party and whose bow had slain the yathrib there on the slope of that hill. I soon learned that the insect creatures had a language, and that my owner was known to them as Koja.
My position among the warriors of the Yathoon (as they call themselves) was difficult to explain. I was a prisoner, but not exactly a slave; I was permitted to wander where I would in the camp but not allowed to leave its perimeter, which was constantly guarded.
Koja was a komor or chieftain among the Horde. His rank was earned by his prowess in war rather than by any nobility of birth. His position in the hierarchy of his clan was very high, and his retinue was princely.
This retinue, or household, to which I now belonged consisted of a dozen young cadet warriors and twice that number of servitors. The cadets were not his offspring, but youthful warriors of the clan who were in his service to learn from a warrior of the greatest distinction the arts of combat and hunting. It was not unlike the system used in the terrene Middle Ages, whereby the younger sons of a noble house would enter the service of another lord, thereby receiving knightly training and schooling in the gentle arts of courtesy, chivalry, and honor. The cadets lived with Koja, served him, assisted in his hunting parties, and wore his markings.
The camp area reserved for the retinue of Koja consisted of some twenty tents of black felt, arranged in a double circle with the largest tent in the very center. Koja himself dwelt in the central tent, together with his hoard, or treasure. As to my position in the band of Koja's retinue, I think I was considered more a possession than a captive, and in this connection I should explain that, among the Yathoon, rank and position were recognized not only on fighting skill but also on the basis of wealth. The arthropods use no medium of exchange such as coinage, but the retinue of each warrior chieftain protects his hoard of treasures. These are not what we would call treasures ―gems or precious metals or even artworks are valueless to the Yathoon―but what we would consider a collection of curios. Rare shells, oddly shaped or colored stones, weirdly twisted .bits of wood, bright feathers, the skulls of beasts―these constitute the "treasure" guarded by a Yathoon chieftain. The tents of his retinue resemble a jackdaw's nest, or the hoard of a packrat. And it was with wry amusement that I came at length to realize my true position, as a prized possession, or amatar, of Koja.