At last, the warrior extinguished the blade and pulled it out of the creature. Though it was mortally wounded, the creature continued to thrash and hiss as it towered weakly above the Protoss. Taking hold of the creature’s splintered rib cage with both hands, the warrior gave a great heave and lifted its massive girth from the ground. Madrid marveled at the warrior’s strength as it flung the dragon-creature over his shoulder. The heavy body hit the floor with a wet smack and lay still.
The warrior made a solemn, signing motion with his left hand, which Madrid surmised was either a salute or a curse. Though his body was battered, he struck a defiant pose that seemed meant to impress Madrid with his courage and valor. However, Madrid only glared at the victorious Protoss as if it had butchered an innocent child.
The warrior’s gaze shifted and fell upon his fallen comrade. He walked over to the mutilated body and knelt beside it. Madrid, with beads of sweat running down his fevered face, strained to see what the warrior intended. Taking hold of one of the dragon-creature’s broken talons, the warrior placed it in his dead comrade’s hand.
“EN TARO ADUN, KHAS IL’ADARE.” A voice boomed in Madrid’s head. Even though the Protoss made no audible sound, he knew it was the warrior’s voice, but he was unable to understand the Protoss language. A wave of nausea rushed over him as the alien poison caused his blood to roar in his ears. Whatever was inside him was reacting violently to the Protoss’s mental presence.
What’s happening to me? he thought. Fearing that the Protoss could hear his thoughts as well, Madrid tried to clear his tortured mind, yet his will wasn’t strong enough to block out the power of the Protoss’s psyche. He watched as the warrior ceremoniously crossed his comrade’s arms over his chest plate. Madrid sensed that the warrior was overcome with grief over the loss of his comrade. The Protoss seemed to wince in pain as he continued to speak.
“Und lara khar. Anht Zagatir nas,” the warrior finished softly. The words had the feel of a prayer or a ritual in honor of his fallen friend. The Protoss turned his gaze toward Madrid, whose body once again began to quiver with fear.
without a sound to give away its passage, another Protoss entered the room with all the grace and power of an earthbound god. Madrid watched as the large Protoss made his way over to the surviving warrior and crouched beside him. There was something distinctively regal about him, something heroic in his proud stature that commanded immediate reverence. Like the warrior, the larger Protoss was heavily ornamented in archaic-looking battle armor, but it was the color of molten silver clouds just before the breaking of dawn. The armor was also inscribed with swirling, cryptic runes that seemed to pulse with power. Beneath the grand armor, the Protoss was adorned with a flowing, midnight-hued stole that reminded Madrid of a priest’s mantle. The Protoss’s face and skin bore the same look as the warrior’s, yet harsh lines and wrinkles around his eyes gave the impression that he was very old, marked by untold years and experiences.
Again, Madrid heard the warrior’s thunderous voice in his head as the two Protoss began arguing with one another. The large Protoss stood up and gazed intently at the paralyzed Terran. Madrid cowered in his combat suit as the Protoss crossed the room and knelt carefully before him.
Reaching out with his huge, scaled hand, the Protoss placed it gently on the Terran’s forehead. Terrified, Madrid shrank away from the Protoss, but was surprised to find the touch was warm. The Protoss closed his eyes and seemed to sink into deep meditation. A strange, tingling energy raced along Madrid’s nerve endings, and he imagined a slight tugging in his brain, as if the Protoss was scanning his body and manipulating the delicate process of his mind.
Madrid found himself unable to scream as terror overtook him once more. This is it, he thought to himself. The Protoss abruptly took his hand away and stood up. He walked back over to the warrior, and they conversed again. Slowly, Madrid began to comprehend the meaning of the Protoss’s thoughts. He had no idea what the Protoss had done to his mind, but it allowed him to understand their thoughts just as if they were speaking his own language.
“This world is lost, Executor!” Madrid hear the warrior say. “Let us depart this place and strike elsewhere!”
The other Protoss shook his head in disagreement. “That is my decision to make, Thuras. I will not abandon this world until all our efforts have been exhausted.” The one called Thuras turned and stared at Mardid, suddenly aware that his thoughts had been overheard. The warrior stood up slowly, holding Madrid in his harsh gaze. Madrid’s frayed nerves finally snapped.
“Go ahead and get it over with, you son of a bitch!” Madrid screamed. The warrior’s eyes blinked in puzzlement. “I know you can understand me!” he spat at the Protoss. “Make your move, you ugly bastard!”
“My business here has nothing to do with you, Terran,” Thuras said coldly. Madrid was surprised that he could understand the Protoss so clearly. He could tell that the warrior was restraining his fury. “You would do well to keep silent in my presence. Unlike some of my comrades, I have little patience for your kind.” The warrior’s threat was unmistakable, and despite his burning fever, Madrid felt chilled to the bone.
“Be at ease, Thuras,” the other Protoss said. “This Terran is afflicted and poses no threat to you.”
Thuras lowered his eyes and bowed respectfully to his superior. “Your pardon, Executor. I reacted in haste,” Thuras said humbly.
“I understand, young zealot. You are wounded and have lost an honored comrade to the enemy. Yet, in your grief, you must remember that we have come here to protect the Terrans,” the older Protoss said.
“With your leave, Executor, I wish to return to the battle outside. There are many comrades to be avenged this day,” Thuras said resolutely.
The larger Protoss nodded to him. “Go then, with my blessings, young Thuras,” he replied. “I will remain here and tend to this Terran. Khassar de Templari.”
“En Taro Adun,” Thuras answered, and quickly made his way outside. The large Protoss turned toward Madrid and held him with his sapphire gaze, and though it lacked the disdain that emanated from Thuras’ burning stare, Madrid found himself shrinking from the mighty Protoss anyway.
“You need not fear me, Terran. I am Tassadar, Executor of the Protoss fleet that has come here to protect you,” he stated in a soothing voice. Madrid gritted his teeth and refused to accept the Protoss’s words.
“Bullshit,” he snapped. “This is just some kinda mind-job you’re pulling. I’ve seen what you’ve done. I lived through it!” The Protoss looked surprised at the Terran’s rage. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m saying! You remember Chau Sara!” he shouted accusingly. “I was there when your damn fleet burned the planet down to the bedrock!”