Chronicles of Aria Prime, Episode One

by AJ Reissig

  Chapter Seven

  In the town hall, Nash felt like an adult visiting a preschool. The central table was long, but far too short for someone of his height. Nor could he fit in the chairs, as his hips hung up on the arm rests. He finally gave up on the chair and sat cross-legged on the floor. The structure looked like something from the Middle Ages. Rough brown plaster walls, still showing trowel and swirl marks, supported a burly timber-framed roof. Beefy ceiling ties stretched dangerously low for Nash, who struck his head several times on beams. Along the south wall, glowing red-orange embers and low flames filled a massive fireplace, large enough for three villagers to enter.

  After sitting with the town council, a young woman brought out a pitcher of wine and a wooden tray loaded with loaves of bread. Nash was handed a plate with a thick slice of the heavy, coarse bread smeared with butter. The bread, still warm from the oven, had a flavor similar to rye and the sweet butter only heightened its taste. The wine was dark and far too sweet for Nash’s taste. In respect of his hosts, however, he forced small sips down.

  “Tell me,” Nash began, “as I said earlier, my people and I are strangers to these lands. What do you and your people call yourselves? My people are called humans.”

  Lockskin scrunched his nose. “Hu-mon? That’s a strange name. We are tillers.”

  “I see,” Nash said. “And are there other villages of tillers?”

  “Certainly,” another at the table said. “There are three towns within two days walk, several farther out. Another one near the Digger Kingdom of Fjall.”

  “Who are the diggers?” Nash asked.

  “They are big people like you,” a councilman replied.

  “Not so tall,” another added.

  “But taller than us,” still another said.

  Lockskin held his arms out wide. “Very big in the shoulders and chest. Big, long beards. They are master blacksmiths and miners. Their entire kingdom is carved out of solid rock in Kolen Mountain. Fierce warriors they are, too.”

  Nash rubbed his chin. “Do you have any contact with them?”

  “They keep to their mountain realm, but we do trade with them. Their metal goods are far better than anything our blacksmiths are able produce.”

  “And what do the diggers get in return for their metal crafts?” Nash asked.

  “Cloth and the fruits of the field,” Lockskin replied.

  “The diggers couldn’t farm if their lives depended on it,” a pale and gravelly voice said from behind.

  Everyone at the table turned toward the entry to see a wizened old man leaning on a cane in the doorway. His head was nearly bald, and what little hair remained was pure white. His face was narrow, with a long straight nose; hollow cheeks and high cheekbones accentuated his thinness. A thin goatee of white flecked with gray highlighted rather than concealed his thin lips and elongated chin. These features, when combined with his large and slightly pointed ears gave the appearance of an elf-like creature from a fairytale.

  “Master Trewin,” Lockskin said. “If I had known you wished to join us, I would have sent a strong lad to help you to the town hall. I know your condition makes travel difficult.”

  “I led this council when most of you were an itch in your father’s pants. Seems to me, I shouldn’t have to be invited when the council has a guest in their midst.”

  Lockskin smiled. “Of course, sir. You are always welcome at this table.”

  The old man grimaced and nodded his head, then advanced toward the table. An ornately carved cane aided his slow stiff stride, while the expression on his face told well the pain each step brought. He took a seat directly across the table from Nash and proceeded to squint at him. After a moment, he said, “Looks like we need a bigger chair.”

  Everyone at the table laughed, including the old man.

  “Colonel Nash,” Lockskin began, “this is Wilan Trewin, the former Chief Councilman of our town.”

  “Currently our elder statesman,” one at the table added.

  “He is,” Lockskin continued, beaming. “We refer all of our deeper questions to him.”

  Trewin smiled a crooked smile. “They do. They do indeed.” He cleared his throat, and continued. “On to more important matters, we must discuss the events of earlier today.”

  “What do you mean?” one of the councilmen asked.

  “Colonel Nash may have run off Kallack and the rest of the drogs—”

  “Excuse me, but what is a drog?” Nash asked.

  “Those creatures that held us hostage this morning,” Lockskin replied.

  Trewin glared at Nash. “As I was saying before I was so crudely interrupted, what Colonel Nash did today was a noble thing, but he may have caused us more harm than good.”

  “In what way?” one of the councilmen asked.

  “Do you believe Kallack will stay away from this town? He’ll be back, and with far more soldiers.”

  The room fell silent, leaving only the crackling of the fireplace. Nash leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin on the cup of his hands. He looked up at Trewin.

  “I assume Kallack has been here before. What does he do when he comes?”

  “Steals some livestock and grain, and scares the townsfolk. You’ve probably changed all of that.”

  “Yeah,” Nash said in thought. “Why don’t you fight off the drogs?”

  “Look at us and look at them,” Trewin replied. “They’re twice our size with twice our strength. And unlike you, we don’t have light boxes that make our enemies fall to the ground.”

  “That is a problem,” Nash mused. “Does Kallack come often?”

  “It used to be two or three times a year,” Lockskin said. “Now, it is more like once a month.”

  Nash nodded. “I will offer your village a trade. If you can provide meals and a place for them to stay, some of my people will stay in Vale to guard against Kallack and his horde. In exchange, we would like to purchase some of your livestock, grain, and vegetable seed.”

  “What do you need those things for?” Lockskin asked.

  “My skyship is damaged beyond repair, so my people are building a town around the crash site. But we don’t know these lands. We need to know the weather, what vegetables grow well and which do not. We have no livestock.”

  “It sounds as if a trade would benefit both peoples,” a councilman said.

  “It does,” Nash replied. “Eventually, once my village is established, I may be able to provide you with weapons that will allow you to defend yourself. Until then, my men will protect the people of Vale from Kallack.”

  “That sounds like a deal to me,” Lockskin said. He looked around the table. “All in favor?”

  “No,” one of the councilmen said. All eyes turned to him.

  “He chased off the drogs, but what if he and his people are greater enemies? What then?”

  “Consider this,” Nash replied. “I defeated Kallack with little effort, and yet I offer a trade that benefits us both. If I wanted to take from you, I wouldn’t waste my time trying to barter a deal.”

  “He has a point, Jacob,” Trewin said.

  “Let’s try this again,” Lockskin said. “All in favor?”

  Everyone raised their hands.

  “Then it shall be,” Trewin said. Lockskin cast him a look. “Oh, I’m sorry, Conway. Old habit I suppose. You say that now, don’t you?”

  “Not much point now,” Lockskin replied.

  Nash stood, adjusted his shirt, and held out his hand to Trewin. He looked at Nash’s hand under an arched eyebrow.

  “It is a custom of my people,” Nash said. “You do the same.”

  Trewin held out his hand, which Nash shook vigorously.

  “It is a sign of lasting friendship between people,” Nash added.

  Trewin nodded with a simper and slumped back into his chair.

  Nash returned the smile and slapped the comstrap around his wrist.

  “McBride here, Colonel,” the device buzzed.

  “Maj
or, I have made arrangements for a trade of sorts between us and the villagers. However, they need protection from a band of marauders. Send a ten person security team to this village right away.”

  “Understood, Colonel. Do we need to worry about the marauders at the crash site?”

  “I don’t know, but make sure every crewman is armed, and from this point forward nobody goes off alone.”

  “Consider it done, Colonel.”

  “How are things on your end?”

  There was a momentary pause. “Nothing I can’t handle, sir.”

  “Nash out.”

  As Nash covered the comstrap with his sleeve, Trewin smiled. “I knew you were powerful when I saw you this morning. You sail a skyship, talk to faraway places through a bracelet, and have a wizard as your servant.”

  “A wizard?” Nash puzzled.

  “The dark skinned one. A wizard calls you colonel… that’s power.”

  “He’s not a wizard,” Nash replied with a shake of the head. “He is a human, just like me. All of his tribe have dark skin. And he is not my servant; he follows me of his own free will.”

  The old man stroked his goatee before saying, “If someone follows you freely, then you are even more powerful that I thought.”

  Nash smiled and turned to walk away, but once again bashed his forehead on the low beams of the ceiling. As light snickers filled the room, he cursed to himself and walked to the exit.

  Near the entrance to the town hall, Nash found Dr. Tahoo and Davenport. As he approached, Talhoo pointed to Nash’s forehead.

  “Are you alright, Colonel?”

  “Fine, Doc. Just low beams in there.”

  Davenport grinned. “Not built for giants?”

  Nash shook his head. “No. And I have no idea how such little people built a place with such massive timbers. Hey, Doc, there’s an old man in there, looks like walking is really painful for him. Can you check him out?”

  Talhoo smiled broadly. “A gesture of goodwill?”

  Nash nodded and the doctor entered the building.

  Davenport leaned against the wall of the town hall and kicked a loose stone. He looked up and said, “Security team is keeping an eye on your girlfriend, Colonel.”

  Nash crossed his arms. “Why is she my girlfriend?”

  “Come on, Colonel, she’s pretty hot, and the fact that she can’t pronounce the v sound is sexy. Besides, you’re a starship colonel; they’re supposed to be womanizers.”

  “Guess I don’t fit the stereotype. I’ve just never had much luck with the ladies. Not your kind of luck at least.”

  “One on every outpost. I’m sure the mamas are going ape shit crazy without a regular serving of Drew stew.”

  Nash laughed. “You’re one sick bastard.”

  “Proud of it too, sir,” Davenport said with a wide smile.

  “That’s what I thought,” Nash replied. He looked to the sky and continued. “What do you think… about two hours of light left?”

  Davenport glanced at his computer tablet, then up at the sky. “Maybe a little more if you count twilight.”

  “We can’t make it back to the crash site before dark, so I’ll have a word with the town council about a place to stay tonight. Another thing, keep an eye out; there’s a security detail on its way.”

  “Security detail?”

  “I made a trade with the village elders. We’ll provide security from that little band we encountered this morning, and in exchange these people will help us out with farming and livestock.”

  Davenport stood quietly and rubbed his bottom lip with his forefinger.

  “If you’ve got something on your mind, spit it out.”

  The quiet continued for a moment before Davenport spoke. “Sir, I like to help people out and all, but posting a security team here? For how long? A week, a year? Longer? I don’t see how that helps us out.”

  “They have goods and knowledge that we desperately need,” Nash replied. “They can’t help us if Kallack and his band are stealing all of their surplus. Long term, we need to figure out a way that these people can defend themselves without us.”

  Davenport rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Sir, I hope that doesn’t mean you plan on handing over plasma weapons to the little people.”

  “Absolutely not. But there has to be some kind of weapon we can arm these people with.”

  With a shrug of the shoulders, Davenport replied, “I’ll do some research when we get back, sir. I just don’t know what I’ll come up with.”

  “You always come up with something, Mr. Davenport. That’s why I keep you around.”