There is an expression, among humans, that an individual “wears his heart on his sleeve.” The cultural subtleties behind that expression, the product of a species for whom emotional dissemblance is physically easy, would puzzle a gukuy. All gukuy “wear their hearts on their sleeves”—on their entire bodies, in fact. Humans, of course, also express their emotions involuntarily. They burst into tears; they laugh; those with little melanin in their skins even turn pale; or red. But these involuntary reactions are a pale reflection of the rich pallette of a gukuy.
Hence, two significant differences. Gukuy are far more straightforward than humans in their recognition (including self-recognition) of their emotions. And they are far more sophisticated in their understanding of the subtle complexities of those emotions.
Combinations of emotions which, to a human, are a murky blur, are like crystal to a gukuy. A human warrior, in the midst of battle, experiences a confused combination of emotions (fear, rage, indecision) which he does not perceive clearly himself. Not at all at the time, and poorly in the aftermath.
But to the gukuy, these emotions are not a murky blur. A human observing a gukuy battle would see a vast and kaleidoscopic rippling of colors across the serried mantles of the warriors. Blue and red predominate, of course; for a battle is the epitome of rage and fear. But the ochre hues of uncertainty and indecision are often seen, as well. Gukuy battle leaders learn early to gauge the colors of their opponents. A sudden great surge of ochre across the mantles of the foe signals that the moment is perhaps right to press home the attack. And always, of course, the battle leader looks for the wave of scarlet which indicates that the foe has been beaten into pure terror. The time has come for rout and destruction.
Red; blue; ochre—those, the principal colors of a battlefield. But there are others as well, seen more rarely.
Gray is one. Gray is the “natural” color of a gukuy’s mantle. A gukuy whose mantle remains gray in battle is one of those unusual gukuy who have learned to master their emotions even under extreme stress. It is an ability which is given a name in every gukuy language. It is always respected; never more than on the battlefield. Such a warrior is invariably a veteran, and a mistress of the art of war. On occasion, tinges of yellow will ripple across such a warrior’s mantle. Contempt for the foe.
Black is another. Black is the color of implacability. Not the absence of color, as is the gray of self-discipline; but the sudden suffusion of all color in a ruthless determination to accomplish a task, regardless of cost.
The color is never seen in pure form on a battlefield. Pure black is the color of executioners, not warriors amidst the clash of arms. But it is not uncommonly seen in combination with blue. Never red, or ochre, or even pink. Such warriors are feared, for they have cast aside all fear and caution. They may not be skilled in battle, but they will sell their lives dearly.
And there is another color which is seen on a battlefield, on only the rarest occasion. It is the most feared of all colors.
Green. Color of love, and tranquillity.
It is never seen alone, nor as the predominant color; but rather as a gleam beneath the black and blue of implacable fury. The three colors combine into a hue which has no name in any human language. “Dark cobalt green” is the closest approximation in English.
It is the color of those rarest of all warriors, whom the Utuku call ghaxtak and the Kiktu kuopto. Centuries earlier, on Earth, a culture had flourished briefly which had a name which was strikingly similar. The victims of that culture had gathered in places of worship, crying out: “From the fury of the Norseman, dear God deliver us!”
They were called berserks, and they were the most famed and feared Vikings of all.
Since the first moments of the battle, that color, which the Kiktu called kuoptu, had suffused Guo’s mantle. It had never wavered since. Even now, as she rested and waited for the signal to begin the retreat, the color on Guo’s mantle did not even fade slightly.