Free Trader Complete Omnibus

by Craig Martelle

  Braden looked at the two horses and the cart. G-War was crouched in the cart, on the softest place he could find, the blanket pack of smoked meat, watching as the group passed through the forest and into the grassy plains. Braden thought of them as his caravan. Although he considered them equals, he took responsibility for their health and well-being.

  They continued across the plains in silence. Skirill spent some time aloft, but most of his time was in trees or on rocks, waiting for the caravan to catch up. He hunted while he waited, catching a few ground squirrels, which he ate in single, massive Hawkoid gulps.

  No one followed. No one was ahead. The Hawkoid’s view of the Great Desert showed a seemingly endless waste.

  They pushed on, but wouldn’t make the hills until the next turn. They camped by a lone tree, old, its growth diminished by dry earth and a lack of water. Braden did not make a fire. The ‘cat climbed into the tree, relaxing on a lower limb with all four legs dangling. G-War liked this position. Braden called it the lazy ‘cat. Skirill stayed on the highest branch that would support his weight. Braden hobbled the horses so they could graze on their own. He reclined against the tree and ate sparingly of the smoked meat and cheese. It might have to last for weeks.

  It would be good to get another deer. And maybe even harvest some of the plains grass to fill the cart. It wouldn’t be heavy, but it would come in handy.

  He put some water from the flasks into their cooking pot and let the horses drink. They drank three pots between them. That was three flasks worth. Braden refilled the flasks from the casks and watched as the water level dropped.

  Being a trader, Braden could quickly do basic calculations in his head. At this rate, the water in the casks would last roughly two weeks. If they drank more, which he suspected they would in the dryness of the desert, then it might last as little as one week.

  With Skirill, their chances of finding a water hole, an oasis, were vastly improved. When they reached the last stream in the foothills, they would discuss how best to attack the Great Desert. Braden’s success counted more on his companions than him. He looked at them as they rested.

  One’s true measure could be found in the value of one’s friends.

  24 – Other Hawkoids

  Another uneventful night followed by an uneventful daylight. The cart trundled on, leaving a light scar in the grasses of their wake. Braden’s horse ambled continuously forward, toward a spot on the horizon that Skirill had directed them to. He sat there now, waiting, watching.

  G-War stretched out his senses. He could feel nothing except for the human and the Hawkoid. The Hillcat wasn’t used to such voids, and he expected that the Great Desert would be even worse. He needed to reconcile himself with the quiet or he would go crazy.

  Braden was used to the relative quiet. He heard the horses crunching the dry grasses, scuffing the earth beneath. He heard their leather harnesses slapping, the creak of the cart. The grass swished in the breeze. He felt the sun on his face.

  Where G-War was anxious, Braden was alive. What he felt and heard was the freedom of the open road. This was the trader’s time to relax and enjoy the wonders of the caravan’s journey. He looked at the ‘cat and wished him peace.

  He saw and felt Skirill in the distance as he took off and climbed. He flew higher and higher past the foothills and toward the Bittner Mountains. He flew hard and straight.

  Braden opened his mind, but couldn’t touch the Hawkoid. ‘G, do you know where Skirill is going?’

  ‘Yes,’ was the ‘cat’s short reply.

  ‘Where?’ Braden asked in his thought voice, ignoring the fact that the cat answered his first question without answering the real question.

  ‘The near peaks. He has seen other Hawkoids and is flying to meet them.’

  ‘Are the Hawkoids friendly?’ Braden asked. He had never seen one up close until they met Skirill. Circumstances forced that meeting and enabled Braden to establish their friendship. He hadn’t heard of other humans interacting with Hawkoids. The humans thought they were eagles. They kept to themselves, frequenting areas where humans were scarce.

  ‘No. Hawkoids and humans are not compatible.’

  “But Skirill…” Braden said out loud, now confused. Through G-War, the Hawkoid and the human had talked. Without that, surely Braden would not have attempted to work on Skirill’s wounds?

  ‘Skirill is his own Hawkoid. He breaks tradition. He will confirm shortly that he is not allowed back among his own kind. He is and always will be an outcast.’

  “I didn’t know. I’m not sure Skirill made a good trade. What can we do to help?”

  G-War mentally shrugged. If Braden understood ‘cat logic, the shrug meant that there was nothing to do. Once the choice was made, he dealt with it.

  As Braden thought about it, he realized what G-War had said. “'He will confirm shortly…' you said. You can see the future, can’t you?” The ‘cat didn’t respond.

  25 – Hawkoid Disdain

  Skirill had seen the Hawkoids as they circled near the cliffs far above him. He knew that his own kind barely tolerated him. Hawkoids were intelligent, but they were limited in their ambitions. He was unique and that alone made him stand apart. The others couldn’t think like he thought. They didn’t see the world as it could be. They only saw it as it was.

  He wanted a mate, confident that their offspring would be like him. He could help the Hawkoids become more than just cliff dwellers, hunters of small game. He could help them develop a culture that rivaled that of the humans!

  When he was cast out, he sought the mutie Bear to prove that he was superior or die trying. It hadn’t worked. He failed and almost died because of his arrogance. He was amazed that he had survived. The Bear had frozen his mind, but only until the first slash of that massive paw, then Skirill cast off the mental reins and flew. He flew for all he was worth, but the blood streamed from his wounds and he had lost his vigor.

  That was over seven turns ago. Since then, a great deal had changed. Now, he had firsthand knowledge of how the one with the long braid thought, how he worked. Braden was unique, like him. They could speak without speaking and that helped Skirill learn to talk like a human. Braden accepted him as an equal. He wanted the other Hawkoids to see this and accept him as readily.

  When he saw the flock of nesties, he knew he had to go to them.

  Hawkoids protected their territory, but not from other Hawkoids. They were intelligent enough to know that a war would lead to their destruction. They argued, but never fought. They would challenge each other to duels of dancing in the sky, trying to out-fly one another, weaving intricate patterns, one around the other. Sometimes accidents happened, but they generally ended with one victor, however, a good dance could result in both winning, increasing the respect they received from all who watched.

  As Skirill approached this nesting ground, the parent Hawkoids took to the sky, circling between him and their young in order to establish a boundary which he was not allowed to pass. He honored their request and turned to fly perpendicular. He passed them, waving his wings and bobbing his head in greeting as he continued toward a rocky spire in a neutral area away from the nest.

  The other Hawkoids bobbed their heads in greeting and followed, landing a short way off.

  To a human, Hawkoid language sounded like screeches with clicks. Hawkoids were equally visual and oral. Their language wasn’t just spoken. A screech could mean a number of things depending on how the head and body moved when the sound was made. The clicks covered an even broader range, far more than what humans could hear. The speed of the clicks, the range, and the coordinated head movements helped enrich the quality of the language.

  “Greetings, fellow Hawkoids. My name is Skirill. Thank you for the good hunting below.” Skirill clicked and screeched the ritual greeting, bowing fully at the end to show his respect and deference to their hunting grounds.

  “Greetings Skirill. I am Teeleech and this is my mate, Awkar. The fertile hunting ground serve
s us all.” He ended with a deep bow.

  “Are there any others near? I have flown far seeking my life companion and have yet to be successful.”

  “To the north. There are no more Hawkoids to the south or the west. We have not flown beyond the peaks to the east. They are too high and we don’t wish to get lost on the other side.”

  “Thank you, my brother. My journey will continue then. Before I go, what do you know of the Great Desert?”

  “The barren land to the south? We know little. There is no hunting in the Great Desert. You fly. You get hot. You don’t eat or drink. We don’t go there.”

  “Do you know of any water holes there, no matter how far in?”

  “I have personally seen trees and green, but it was far in the distance and I was already cooked. I barely made it back,” Teeleech said, emphasizing his story with a series of deep bows and wide head shakes.

  “Please tell me where, point me in that direction,” Skirill asked, needing the information. Teeleech went into a long explanation, detailing all the markers he had seen, all the waypoints. He noted that the sands often shift and much could be different. He also begged Skirill not to try it. There was nothing in the Great Desert worth a Hawkoid’s life.

  “I travel with a human and a Hillcat. We have water and food to help us on our journey.” Teeleech and Awkar stiffened.

  “Hawkoids do not travel with humans. They do not travel with the Hellcats. We eat ‘cats,” Awkar said coldly.

  “I’ve never heard of a Hawkoid traveling with a human,” Teelech added diplomatically as he looked at his mate. Awkar continued to shake and bob her head.

  “He saved my life after I fought a mutant Bear. He asked for nothing in return. These humans are more than I ever thought. They can be dangerous and they can be great friends. I prefer the latter and have been rewarded with his friendship.”

  “No, no, no. Hawkoids do not travel with humans,” Awkar repeated forcefully. She was so agitated that she almost fell and finally decided to fly from her perch.

  “Well, that’s that then. We wish you well.” Teeleech launched himself into the air using his powerful legs. He fell smoothly until the air filled his wings and he glided down and away from Skirill.

  “I guess that’s that then,” he said in the human tongue to the empty spire. “I a’ Skirill the Outcast and I will show the hu’an a way across the Great Desert.” He looked after the retreating Hawkoids, despair in his heart at the loss of his people.

  26 – The Camp before the Storm

  Skirill leapt from the rock and angled away from the nest. He fell into a glide, but that didn’t match his mood. He wanted speed. He let his wings fold back along his body, letting his wing tips give him just enough lift. He picked up speed until the wind screamed past his head. He roared toward the foothills at a dangerous pace. Even Hawkoids had limits, and he was pushing them. His wing was mostly healed, but not completely. He risked more injury. He needed to get his frustration under control.

  He extended his wings away from his body a little at a time until he leveled off, then rose gently into a long glide. His wings lifted him effortlessly. He circled once without flapping his wings, coasting in for a flawless landing on the rocks beside the stream.

  The flight from the cliffs was far quicker than the flight up. Despite his side trip, Skirill was still at the stream before Braden and his caravan.

  When Braden and G-War arrived with the horses, Skirill had dragged a few branches to help Braden start the fire. In the foothills of the Bittner Mountains, there was a little bit of everything--woods, plains, wildlife, water, and shelter. Each of them could find something to their taste as they rested and prepared.

  Braden unhooked the cart and hobbled the horses. He set up camp, knowing that they would probably stay there for as many turns as necessary while they planned their attack on the Great Desert.

  Skirill sat on a boulder nearby. His body was massive, bigger than the Hillcat’s. His chest feathers were finally clean and shown a glistening white in the waning daylight. His wings and back were a dark brown, with light brown streaks. His head was covered in short, light brown feathers. On the rock, he stood with his claws spread, talons hooked and ending in needle-sharp points. They were longer than a person’s middle finger. His beak was slim, yet squarish, ending in a fine point, made to penetrate soft flesh. His beak was strong enough to break thin bones, big enough to rip through Braden’s neck in a single bite.

  Skirill watched the human study him, finally ending with a nod in the Hawkoid’s direction. Skirill nodded back. He needed someone to be proud of him. Getting shunned by his fellow Hawkoids weighed on him heavily. His body did not betray his sadness. Maybe the human and the ‘cat would help him bring glory to himself and by extension, all Hawkoids. At that point, he was happy that a warrior with Braden’s inner peace had accepted him into his nest.

  G-War drank his fill from the stream, casually listening in on both Braden and Skirill’s thoughts. The ‘cat was gifted among Hillcats. Most simply linked with their human and then went about their business. G-War’s mindlink was strong. He had trouble in towns where there were too many humans with their chaotic thoughts beating against him. His dalliances helped shore up his defenses and kept him calm. Even with this, he had lost control in Cameron. He hadn’t meant to kill the two men in the square, but something evil hung over the town and made him fight as if he was fighting against the world’s darkness, fighting for his life.

  He liked the calm of this journey. There were moments of excitement, but it was usually peaceful. He understood Skirill’s pain, having left the clutch of his Hillcat litter while still very young. He had run across few of his kind in the last ten cycles. He turned his head until he could see his own body, orange with black dots and one slash back towards his tail continuing down his left leg. He was sleek and long legged. His body was a little smaller than the average Hillcat’s, but he was strong. This made him faster and, in his mind, more deadly.

  Braden had been right. The Golden Warrior could see into the future, but no longer than it took a heart to beat fifty times. It was enough to save their lives, but not enough to change how they lived those lives. He didn’t know their destiny.

  Braden busied himself with getting their camp ready, setting things up and preparing for a relaxing evening, doing little, and most importantly, not doing it on a horse. He wasn’t yet accustomed to long rides. He thought that he might be getting bow-legged and that he had a permanent bruise at the end of his tailbone. He didn’t even have any numbweed to put on it. They needed to rectify that before they continued their journey.

  When he looked up at his companions, they were both looking at each other and at him. He couldn’t sense anything from either, so G-War had his mindlink closed.

  “What?” Braden said, holding his hands up. “What did I do?”

  27 – Bonding

  G-War had so conditioned Braden that whenever he saw the ‘cat looking at him, he assumed it was to highlight one of his many flaws. Skirill bobbed his head in the way that Hawkoids did when they laughed. G-War shook his head has he often did when Braden said stupid things. Pet the nice kitty, indeed.

  “I missed the joke. C’mon, G, let me in.” The mindlink opened. Braden could sense both G-War and Skirill.

  ‘What are you two laughing at? Or should I say, who are you laughing at?’

  ‘It’s so sensitive,’ G-War mocked. ‘Nothing like that.’

  ‘I was thinking,’ Skirill began in his edged form of human thought speech, interrupting the ‘cat. ‘I flew to the cliffs. I saw my Hawkoid brothers there. I asked them about the Great Desert and they showed me where an oasis might be.’

  ‘That’s great! Will it take long to get there? Which way do we need to go?’ Braden’s thoughts rushed at them in a jumble. G-War looked at him sternly. ‘Sorry. Go on, Skirill,’ he said, more reserved.

  ‘Once they learned I traveled with you both, they chased me away.’ Skirill looked down at his t
alons, not wanting to meet the eyes of his companions. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve been chased away. My nesties. My click. I wanted to kill the Bear to show them that I was better than them. That I was the best of them.’ He paused to flex his talons as he remembered the fight that wasn’t a fight. It was him getting mauled and flying away.

  ‘I showed them, didn’t I? I showed that I wasn’t any smarter than they were, even though I told them all that I was. I told them that we needed to develop a culture more like the humans if we were ever to realize our full potential.’ Skirill shuffled back and forth. ‘They weren’t ready for that, and I wasn’t the right Hawkoid to suggest it.’

  He hesitated and looked at Braden. ‘I’ve been shunned by my own people. I’m an outcast,’ he said with a final exasperated sigh.

  ‘So?’ replied G-War. The Hillcat saw things as much more black and white. He saw that Skirill had eaten well since joining with Braden, his terrible wounds were mending, and he was safe. Life was simpler for a Hillcat.

  ‘What G means to say is that we are all outcasts,’ Braden said matter-of-factly. ‘Look at us, Skirill! Look where we are and look where we’re going!’ He pointed to the south to emphasize his point. ‘And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who else has been bold enough to attempt crossing the Great Desert? No one I heard of because if they tried, they died there. But we’re better than that. The world’s never seen a caravan like ours. A Hawkoid? A ‘cat and a human with an ancient Rico Bow? I think that I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.’

  Braden walked as close to Skirill as he could get without climbing the rocks. ‘Ski. You are my friend, and I will do what it takes to protect you. If that means helping you to prove your click wrong, then we’ll do that. If it simply means surviving to see another turn, then we’ll do that, too. What do you think, G? Can you help the poor human and weak Hawkoid survive for just one more turn?’ Braden laughed as he walked toward the ‘cat, who was holding up his furry paw with his mock rude gesture. Braden caught the ‘cat’s head in both hands and rubbed behind his ears. G-War allowed this, maybe even a little longer than usual.