Terraless

by Thorby Rudbek

  “Athanashal?”

  The far-sighted youth woke at her questioning use of his name, rolling over and looking at her from his bed of grasses, some ten feet way. “Good morning, Eshezy!”

  “And to you, too. How did the alarm system work?”

  He raised his left foot and showed the rope still attached to his ankle. “Nothing tugged on it, all the sleep time.” He undid the knot as he spoke.

  “That’s good.” She looked at Gefforen and confirmed that she was still peacefully slumbering. “You know there’s something out there, stalking us, don’t you?”

  Athanashal sat up and nodded. “And you’re not talking about Rauffaely’s big cousin, are you?” He got up and began to detach the rope from the branches of various bushes in the near neighbourhood, where he had wrapped it – at a height a little greater than a Zilmard – to detect someone pushing through.

  “No. You’ve seen him?”

  “Barely. Just glimpses of his tail, the tips of his ears, his big paws and some more of the prints they leave.” Athanashal confirmed her surmise. “He’s what scared Carranavak – I realised it couldn’t have been Rauffaely.” He smiled as he looked at the cat and the wounded Zilmard, the very picture of domestication and cross-species harmony.

  “Yes, it’s hard to believe at the moment, but he can be a wildcat, too.” She recalled the chaos of the fight against the soldiers in the bakery of Neechaall. “He saved my life by jumping right onto the head of one soldier…”

  Athanashal grinned as he imagined this, then became very serious again. “So, what is it, out there?”

  “Something – or more likely, someone – that Seirchaal has chosen specifically to deal with us. We must be very careful once we leave the protection provided by the many watchful eyes of our scaly-coated friends or he will do to us what I think he did to our little patient here.”

  “Urgh! He must enjoy pain – other people’s, that is. I think we should try one more thing with our new friends; they may need it with him still around. I know it will delay us a little. I think they will find our bows a great help in their defence!” Athanashal started coiling the rope. “If that is alright with you?”

  Eshezy nodded. “Yes, the delay is a price we must be willing to pay, no matter what. See if you can find a small branch – we can use my sword to trim it and I have a spare thread we can shorten.”

  Once finished with the rope he started to walk away towards the forest, then stopped and turned back. “How about the arrows? I think we could use their little pointed sticks; they are straight enough, but we’d need the fluffy, tufty bits for the tail ends. Where do they come from?”

  “Birds!” One look was enough to realise that he had never heard the word before. “I think there must be some here, but I haven’t seen any. They would be up in the sky, at least some of the time – like the sun creature but without the glow and not so high up. Perhaps there are some in the forest.”

  “I’ve never seen anything up there – except the white, fluffy things that float by and the bright light, of course.” Athanashal looked up. “That’s starting to worry me too, now.”

  Eshezy nodded silently. If that creature stops glowing – then it would be completely dark here. She shivered at the thought. And that’s not the only effect… I think it’s getting colder, too.

  Eshezy found it difficult to use her sword as a carving tool, though it was certainly sharp enough. Still, she persevered until she felt the small branch was close enough to the right shape. She compared the proportions of the finished product to her own bow. It looks about right, though I have no idea if it is too stiff, or too bendy.

  She had laid out a number of her arrows and had managed to get a few of the pointed sticks to compare. The sticks were much thinner, lighter and shorter than her arrows and looked to be about the right size for the bow she had created. Yes, it’s a bit less than the height of a Zilmard – that should be long enough. Several Zilmards had sat down on their haunches each side of her, almost like bald, metallic squirrels, to observe her working. One had picked up an arrow and tried throwing it, though he could barely move it out of reach. Then he had politely brought it back and scampered off, as if his attention had wandered. Eshezy had reached the point where she was making the grooves for the twine at the ends of the tiny bow when the Zilmard with the apparently limited attention span returned, carrying an armful of feathers!

  “Oooh! You are marvellous!” There are birds here… somewhere! I wonder where you got so many of them? She took the proffered grey flights and examined one of her arrows again, trying to figure out how to cut the feather to create the fletching she needed.

  “They have lots of those, inside!” Gefforen had been preparing breakfast when the wounded Zilmard had awoken and she had given her the last of the well water, in response to some faint squeals. After that, she had given up on the idea of food and had just held the creature on her lap instead.

  “Really?” Eshezy was surprised, and it showed. “How do you know?”

  “One of the Zilmards – one with a diamond pattern on her silver-green head – took me to an opening around the side and showed me a kind of window that I think they might open on really hot days, not there are any, now…” She tried to put the disturbing realisation out of her mind. “They use the softer ones for the bedding and have the ones like that one you’re cutting in a stack in a corner, almost as if they don’t know what to do with them but can’t bear to throw them away.”

  “Can you get them to give me some of the plant fibres they use to tie their home together?”

  “I’ll try.” Before Gefforen could get up, when she was still thinking about how to move Survivor, the poor invalid, the silver-green Zilmard dropped down beside Eshezy and reached with one dainty paw for the arrow she was holding.

  “Oh! It’s your ‘diamond’ friend.” Eshezy let her hold the arrow, noting how she was looking intently at the fletching. Then she realised Diamond had a number of fine fibres draped around her shoulders and a small piece of broken rock clasped in the other paw. Ah! Of course, if they can build their own town out of pieces held together with fine fibres, then they can probably fletch an arrow better than I could!

  It was getting close to lunch time, though Eshezy had been so fascinated watching the little paws and claws at work that she had almost convinced herself that she had not noticed the passage of time. As soon as one mini-arrow was completed, she stood up and demonstrated the pose she used for archery – using her own bow, of course.

  Diamond called out – just a couple of small squeaks, really, but the response was immediate and specific – and a slightly taller Zilmard with bronze skin and a ‘Vee’ shaped darker patch on his head (yes, she was sure this one was male) came over and picked up the relatively tiny bow Eshezy had crafted.

  Vee tried to copy her stance, but of course his physiology was quite different from her human form and he could not hold the bow high enough to keep one end of it from striking the ground. Instead, he twisted his reptilian wrist so that the bow was horizontal instead of vertical, his ‘palm’ upwards and clearly found this a more comfortable pose.

  Eshezy took aim at the same tree trunk that she had targeted earlier, when subduing Carranavak whilst demonstrating her power and simultaneously indicating how she chose to direct it away from the Zilmards. She let loose, savouring the sounds and placing the second arrow a hands-breadth above the first, the ‘thunk’ resounding solidly in the quiet, restful atmosphere of the Zilmards’ ‘county’. She looked at the strong but diminutive creature, still holding his pose and practicing pulling back on the bow. Diamond placed the newly completed arrow against the claws of his bow-holding paw, resting the centre section between his first ‘finger’ and his second and the tail end between the knuckles of the paw holding his string, again between the first and second finger. She stepped back and took a spot beside Eshezy. By this time a number of other Zilmards had gathered and so had Gefforen and Athanashal, each member of the audie
nce being very interested in this transfer of skills and knowledge.

  Vee pulled back, almost bringing the arrow point all the way back to his paw, and let go. The string sang, the arrow hummed and a moment later the sound of a thud caused a cacophony of squeaks, squeals and cheers, until the eyes of the audience looked for and failed to find the arrow in the tree where they expected and anticipated it had lodged.

  Athanashal had seen what had happened and walked past the tree to the next one, a full ten feet behind it and slightly to the right of it. He made a dramatic gesture, showing the rest where to look and was rewarded with a renewal of the decidedly unmelodic symphony of sound. Once all had seen it, he carefully pulled it free – as it was more than twice as high as the head of the tallest Zilmard – and brought it back to Vee.

  Vee squeaked a polite ‘thank you’ and immediately resumed his pose. This time he aimed a little lower and let go with more confidence. The arrow flew true and hit the original target, a little left of centre, about waist high to a Zilmard. The shrieks and screams were far louder this time and the little archer seemed pleased with both his fast-developing skill and the approval of the crowd.

  Immediately several Zilmards gathered around him, chattering with the usual squeaks and squeals.

  “I hope we will always be a friend to the Zilmards, ’cos you have just made them the most powerful creatures in this area!” Athanashal murmured next to Eshezy.

  “Both things are what Janeesise wants.” Eshezy whispered back. “I trust Her judgement, don’t you?” She looked at him closely, pleased that this time it was she who was evaluating him, and not the other way around. He sees so much; I don’t think he has it all figured out yet, though. And perhaps his ego is a little bruised. I know he has practiced each time we stopped for meals or to sleep and he is not as good as Vee is by his second shot. That one is a born archer!

  “Of course, I do!” He paused, almost dramatically. “And I know what I should do next. I should ask little Vee for tips, man to man!” He smiled as he said this and his joking response softened the impact of his ‘reading’ of her supposedly hidden opinion, though she could barely stop herself from shaking her head in amazement.

  ***

  The day was drawing to its end, though of course this was, as usual, based solely on the determination that it was time for the final meal before ‘sleep time’. Earlier in the afternoon, when they had made their reluctant goodbyes to the assembled community of Zilmards, Vee had accompanied them about fifty feet from the camp until a series of descending squeaks emanating from an unidentified yet clearly authoritative Zilmard somewhere much closer to their town had summoned him back. It was clear that he was disappointed, but Eshezy was not. She did not know when or if they would ever return to his home, and – with the cruel killer still very much alive and probably lurking nearby – he would not be safe travelling back alone, so she was privately relieved that he would not be able to accompany them.

  Though the stalker is probably nursing several sharp stick wounds to his legs, enough damage to make him give up on his torture plans for Survivor. Eshezy couldn’t help thinking about that poor creature, and wondering if it, or more correctly, she, would recover. How do I know with such certainty which is which? There are no obvious signs! And how she would function with just one arm, or forelimb. The Zilmards had to carry her back inside their home when they realised we were leaving, she was still so weak, though she was at least aware enough to open her eyes and look at us before being swallowed up by that most impressive structure.

  Eshezy glanced over her unoccupied shoulder; Athanashal was walking a few paces behind Carranavak again, though he was looking all around for signs of their stalker. I think he is beginning to realise now how dangerous this mission is. I wish he had become proficient with the bow; we have no other means of preventing a close attack… I don’t think I’d be able to stop the stalker with my little sword; I’m sure he is too powerful and skilled for that.

  Gefforen was sticking close beside Eshezy and seemed very subdued by her recent experiences. Perhaps she is more concerned about herself and wishes she had stayed at Fortress. Eshezy surreptitiously observed her young friend as they walked side-by-side. No, that’s unfair. I think she is preoccupied with her worry about Survivor, having held the half-dead creature for most of the morning.

  Ahead, the forest continued to loom on their left, while the grassy plain filled the view to the horizon ahead and to the right. The river was not yet in sight, though a single small stream they had crossed – without so much as getting their feet wet – had provided them with water for their bags, seeming to be clear and safe and fulfilling the impression Eshezy had received previously that water would soon be found, though not in the quantity that she had assumed it would be. The sun creature was increasingly difficult to see, being hidden behind a thin white cloud cover, but despite the tenuousness of the clouds, the light level was now more like that on a heavy grey cloud-covered day complete with rain, or that just after sunset or before sunrise.

  The breeze moving the clouds along continued to pick up, with occasional gusts reaching down to ground level and making Gefforen feel like she needed something more substantial than her tunic and leggings, and reminding her of the strange fur wrap which Eshezy had sported for a brief time. But I think that was a more of a message, a comfort, a secret strength, and not intended for warmth!

  Seirchaal

  Far away – Seirchaal looked towards Terraless again, freed to make such a reconnaissance by the time constraints of the location of the equipment he used so uniquely, illegally and immorally. He wished for more freedom in his scheduling, but perversely, part of him enjoyed the deception he continued each day with his unsuspecting colleagues. There is such a sense of pleasure in my conversations with them – they are so completely witless. I could kill them all, so easily, yet each day I grant them one more day of reprieve as they go about trying to save the lives of worthless, ordinary citizens, using ‘my equipment’ for such unimaginative purposes.

  He thought about the rapidly diminishing light levels in the world he had commandeered. Hmm. Night vision goggles – where can I find some? I will probably need them the next time I visit. He chuckled coldly to himself. I wonder, will my latest ‘gift’ find his targets before the darkness descends, will he still find them in the blackness afterwards, or will the total darkness finish everything off? Either will be wonderful to watch. He checked his chronometer and shut down his viewer reluctantly, knowing that there needed to be time for his disguise to settle back into place.

  Now I can review the first days of ‘Leopard’, my new weapon in Terraless. He turned to another view and watched his latest download. It consisted of rather jerky scenes which began in Neechaall, then moved towards the next town, towards the mountains. Borhanchall! Whoever it is that remains, the trail that Leopard is following, he has remembered the directions I gave to Carranavak and his deputies. That probably means it is Carranavak himself.

  Seirchaal wished he had the time to investigate personally. But that would not be wise, now my ‘weapon’ is loose; I might run into him and have to kill him before he has done his special mission of destruction!

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the Name of She Who has been Named

  Five days of slogging along the edge of the forest through a mixture of grasses, bushes, spindly trees and patches of shrivelled indeterminate vegetation had brought them at last to the river which they needed to cross. It came from the right, along the edge of the trees and veered off into the interior of the forest as it passed their position. Eshezy thought it looked as large as the River Beinkanap, or almost so. Remembering their experience with the flood of water that had almost washed her and Harthangan away, she felt sure that Athanashal would not be able to swim across its rapid flow; she saw only one way of crossing it and that would require the use of two things: the string which her far-seeing and perceptive colleague had spent days preparing by painstakingly taking apar
t the rope, and one more very controversial ingredient: their despised and devious prisoner, Carranavak.

  All ‘the companions’ were simultaneously getting both tired of and accustomed to their life of constant travel. Even their prisoner had become resigned to the routine of each day and the limitations of his shackles, but this challenging barrier would interrupt that routine and the journey which would have to be continued within the dense forest on the other side looked like it would be ten times more difficult.

  “I think we’ll have to use the unique skills of our prisoner.” Eshezy stood looking at the rushing waters with Athanashal and Gefforen. She favoured Carranavak with an expression of distaste.

  “What?” Gefforen shrieked in amazement. “I don’t trust him.” She had been stroking Rauffaely as he enjoyed stretching on the ground, but stopped to look up in amazement.

  “Neither do I. And we don’t need to. Remember: Janeesise is our guide and protector; she will help us.” Eshezy turned from her companions and took a deliberate stance of dominance in front of the ex-governor. “It’s quite simple. I believe that I can stop you from escaping, even though I will be letting you completely free of restraint as you cross the river.” She watched his expression, realising his eyes had regained a little of the gleam that she had not seen for days. He thinks he can outwit me. He’s wrong!