Snatched

by Vijaya Schartz

  Zania raced to the vehicle and climbed inside.

  When the handful of traders rushed her, Zania ducked the rocks and the makeshift clubs that rained upon her. She kicked a foot, an arm, a shoulder. Did these leeches think they could usurp the ride of those who needed it most? In such close quarters, Zania easily overpowered the five hijackers. Then she dragged them two and three at a time and threw them out of the vehicle into a pile atop Coal’s dead body.

  Gray, Raven and Red looked sternly upon the hijackers .

  "This time, you went too far!" Gray yelled indignantly. "The new community that will arise from these survivors has no use for selfish and depraved elements." He motioned to the Freemen, Centurions, Vikings, and Amazons attracted by the commotion. "Since these slave traders and stable owners are the ones responsible for your captivity and your suffering, you may do with them as you please."

  The warriors muttered and cursed under their breath as they grabbed the traders and hauled them forcefully toward the jungle. No amount of groveling and tearful pleading from their former masters could pacify their need for justice.

  Zania glared down at Coal. She yanked her dagger out of his bloody chest, wiped the blade on his shirt, then shoved the body to the way side with her boot. A fresh kill for the hyenas.

  It all happened so quickly that few citizens witnessed the incident. Even less took notice as a dozen warriors vanished into the vegetation with the five slavers, but Zania could still hear the fearful plea of the despicable men. Then human screams eclipsed the loud chatter of birds and monkeys. When the executioners returned, most of the other warriors nodded approval.

  Zania couldn’t feel sad for the death of that rabble. They had shed the blood of thousands of warriors in the arena for profit, and enjoyed the spectacle themselves. Even given an equal chance at survival, they’d cheated and placed their needs above those of the less fortunate. They had brought this fitting end upon themselves, and the world would be a better place without them.

  As for the citizens, most of them remained unaware of the drama. They peacefully selected among themselves the thirty individuals who would board the shuttle.

  Zania watched them carry the wounded aboard the vehicle, then the motherless children. Tears and hugs punctuated their goodbyes. They even elected to evacuate the pregnant woman Morrigan had helped. There was hope for this society, yet.

  When the shuttle lifted slowly, Zania waved with the others, but an unfathomable sadness grew inside her. Since the limitations on the shuttle would not allow her to look for Svend, she saw only gloom and sadness on the horizon.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bracing himself on the makeshift crutches proved more difficult than Svend had imagined. At his first attempt, he stumbled forward and fell, unable to squelch a scream of intense pain. Supporting his weight on crutches with cracked ribs and a smashed leg took more energy than he had left.

  But Svend had to find the camp, so he could rejoin the caravan, or follow their trail from there. He’d spent much precious time searching for suitable bark and branches, then he’d carved and smoothed the parts touching his body. He’d been in and out of consciousness several times and had no idea how many days had passed since the fire and his accident. Five? Seven? Could be more.

  Resolutely, he steeled himself against the pain then propped himself back up on the crutches. Taking his bearing from the sun and the river, he remembered the maps he had followed. He knew where the camp lay, only a few kliks away. With great difficulty, he lurched along, ignoring the pain.

  When he spotted an abandoned beehive overhead, on a low, barren branch, Svend poked at it with one crutch. No bees flew at him. The fire had smoked them out and probably killed them. So, he whacked it to knock it down.

  When it fell, the nest broke open. Svend sat awkwardly, wincing at the stab of pain in his chest. He picked up the sticky pieces of the hive dripping with honey and brushed off dead bees from the honeycombs. After mashing the comb, he smeared thick honey on his scrapes to prevent infection, like the healers of his village had taught him as a child.

  The sweet smell of honey made his stomach growl. He bit into the waxy honeycomb with gusto, licking his fingers and lips clean of the sticky sweetness. A scrumptious meal compared to worms and bugs. His hunger satisfied, he wrapped the rest of the honeycombs in half-burned leaves and hung it on a crutch for later.

  But the pain in his leg became worse. Bone injuries took weeks to mend. How would he survive that long? Still, he had to try. As he advanced slowly toward the camp, Svend wondered what he would find there. Even if he caught up with the caravan, how would he manage the long trek ahead?

  If Gray had any sense at all, the caravan would be long gone, but maybe not. Svend hoped he could gather fruit on the way, because hunting was out of the question. And given his condition, he would likely make a prime target for hungry felines. The idea of being easy prey didn’t sit well with Svend.

  Ignoring the pain, he struggled forward. He had to remind himself of his goal many times, lest he’d be tempted to abandon the march. If he surrendered to the insurmountable obstacles, he’d never see Zania again.

  Finally, by the end of the afternoon, Svend caught sight of the deserted campsite. To the west, the volcano’s new shape had solidified into a black dome of cooling lava rock. The shields did not shimmer anymore. At least, they had prevented the worst before collapsing. He felt glad that this danger had passed, and the citizens were on their way to their new settlement.

  Tears rushed to his eyes. Somehow he’d hoped to find Zania waiting for him. But she’s only done her duty by leaving. Would he have done the same? Probably not. But he couldn’t blame her.

  Upon entering the clearing, Svend noticed that the citizens’ belongings littered the camp. Would he be lucky enough to find an antigravity plate among this jumbled mess? He could use one right now. But he found none. Nor did he come upon a medical kit. Among abandoned possessions, Svend gleaned a blanket and a shoulder bag. He consolidated the water from nearly empty bottles, drank some and organized the rest for the journey ahead.

  He lit a warm fire from the leftover wood. If anyone looked for him from the sky, they might see his camp fire. He still couldn’t believe Zania would abandon him so completely. She hadn’t left any sign, food or encouragement. Did she even think about him? Why hadn’t she searched for him?

  It suddenly occurred to Svend that Dakini and the Gorgon might have killed Zania that fated morning when she sneaked away after Morrigan’s funeral. That would explain a lot. He should have never let her go after the Amazon queen alone.

  How could the gods be so unfair? Yet, Svend had to consider the possibility. The gods had failed him before, and destroyed what he cherished the most... That night, between pangs of pain and fitful sleep, he dreamt of Zania, of what could have been...

  In the morning, Svend reasoned that he had no tangible proof of Zania’s demise, and she might still live. To find out, he had to go on. His mood shifting between hope and despair, Svend followed the road cut into the jungle.

  From the state of the trampled vegetation, it seemed like many days since the caravan had traveled here. How long had he remained unconscious? Too long. Now that the volcano had quieted and the rain had doused the forest fires, the animals would quickly return to familiar hunting grounds.

  Toward the end of his first day after leaving the camp, Svend came upon a fork in the road. The diverging path seemed narrower and less trampled. Why had the caravan separated? It didn’t make sense. Svend kept to the old road. According to the map he remembered, that was the most direct route.

  The road ended ahead as if on a precipice. As he approached the brink, Svend understood why the caravan had abandoned the road. Down below, a lake of cooling lava, black with red streaks and fumaroles, attested to the drama that had unfolded. He struggled to the edge of the abyss and peered into the steaming sea of cooling black rock. Incandescent fissures still hissed, warning of the inferno still raging under th
e dull, hardening surface.

  But when his eye caught something at his feet, his heart beat faster. A small object hung half way off the edge of the drop. Despite his difficulty moving, Svend bent to pick it up.

  A necklace! Zania’s necklace, made of the fangs and claws from the tiger she’d killed the night she'd escaped the bunker. Svend dropped to the ground at the edge of the cliff. Zania had survived Dakini if she came this far. She was alive up to that point.

  But Svend’s joy quickly waned. Knowing Zania, that close to the precipice, in the full heat of the molten lake, she would have tried to save others. And if she’d lost her necklace in a struggle at the very edge, she couldn’t have survived the heat. She could only be at the bottom of the molten lake, along with the hundreds, if not thousands of others she could not save.

  No wonder, the diverging trail looked less trampled. The group had been decimated. Many had perished, and Zania among them.

  All the willpower went out of Svend in one breath. As the sun dipped behind him, shrouding the sinister lake in darkness, he let the tears roll freely down his face. Why would he want to survive when Zania obviously had not? Without her, he had no reason to go on.

  *****

  The shuttle never returned, and Zania only hoped it had made it safely all the way to Amadir by the Sea. Over the next five days, the terrain flattened and the road followed a wide river to the south. In the heat, pesky insects flew all around. Citizens who still had a hat and veil hid their faces.

  This far from the volcano, the forest again teemed with wild life. Hungry tigers circled the ring of campfires at night, and their roar frightened the citizens. By day, crocodiles surged from the river bank and crept onto the road, eliciting cries of terror. But the vigilance of the warriors prevented the worst.

  On the positive side, the wild game also grew abundant. Hunting parties killed a few boars and brought back anaconda, crocodile, and gazelle. Fresh fish also became regular fare. But many citizens still refused to eat meat or even fish.

  Zania sympathized with them. For some reason, the very smell of cooking fish in the morning brought up waves of nausea. Only fruit settled her stomach. Fortunately, the jungle provided aplenty.

  At the end of the sixteen-day march, the road opened on a clearing of broken stones interspersed with vegetation. The thick forest ended there. Green vines and moss covered crumbling walls. One would be hard pressed to recognize an ancient city in this rubble. But Zania knew this could only be Amadir by the Sea. The breeze that blew in her face carried not the smell of the river, but the sting of salty ocean spray.

  "We are here! We made it!" she yelled, a surge of joy filling her chest.

  Warriors and citizens cheered and the smiles on their faces carried much hope. Within minutes, however, the citizens of the caravan realized that this city was just as primitive, dangerous and inhospitable as the jungle behind them.

  "We can make this place into a paradise!" Zania said, brightly.

  When the translators delivered her words, the citizens still looked dubious. But the warriors yelled with renewed enthusiasm. They didn’t mind one more challenge. They knew that with hard work, they could make this place a good home. Nothing like the taste of true freedom to galvanize former slaves.

  Zania strode along Gray and Raven. Together they led the caravan toward the heart of the city. Brush and vines encroached upon the flat stones of the former streets. No sign of human life... The travelers’ faces remained guarded. Could something have happened to the community?

  Suddenly, the ruins came alive. Like a tidal wave, the few hundred citizens evacuated earlier by shuttle emerged from crumbling buildings and ran down the broken street to meet the caravan half way. Their cries of joy at seeing such a crowd told of their high expectations. Zania hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed by the simplicity of communal life.

  The meeting was joyous as the citizens mingled and congratulated each other with strong hugs. But of the five thousand who had started the journey, less than one thousand had reached the final destination. Still, this could be the nucleus of a new settlement.

  After the warm greeting, Gray gathered a small council in the only building with four standing walls, roofed with canvas. He invited the tribe leaders, as well as technicians and engineers and any citizen or warrior with pertinent knowledge.

  The smiles on their faces indicated that hopes ran high among citizens and warriors sitting in the council. Zania heard laughter for the first time since leaving Dagora.

  Before planning the new city, although city was a grandiose word for this project, Gray called for a vote on naming the place. After an animated discussion, the majority of the council decided that it would proudly keep its ancient name, Amadir by the Sea.

  "I’m open to suggestions." Gray’s smile made him look younger. "There is nothing to salvage from the old city. Only building bricks. So we have to start afresh."

  Zania had much experience in setting military camps. "First we need to dig public latrines, and trenches for the evacuation of sewage."

  Gray started a list on a small, worn out notebook. "What about protecting the perimeter?"

  Red the Viking came to attention. "We could build a high fence of sharpened trunks with jutting spears. That would keep the wild beasts at bay."

  "We also need fresh water," a Centurion suggested. "We could build and install a water wheel on the river, and gutters to bring water to the heart of the city."

  A woman citizen waved to speak. "We need a place to bathe and wash our clothes."

  The Centurion nodded. "In my world, we have public bath houses, with a furnace to heat the water, as well as large shallow pools with running water to wash clothes."

  "Good!" Gray kept writing, obviously delighted to accommodate the civilians. After all, they were his people. "What about housing?"

  "We can re-use the bricks to build communal long houses at first." Zania enjoyed this new, peaceful game.

  The Centurion’s face brightened. "I know how to make mortar from sand and ground seashell. We have a beach full of it."

  "We could cover the wide open windows with loose burlap screens woven from fibrous local plants. This would keep out insects and animals while letting the tropical breeze wade through." Zania watched the nods of assent from the council. "Then we can make a kiln to fire more bricks from the river clay for future buildings."

  "We can also fire pottery." The citizen stopped and smiled shyly. "I know how to make dishes the old way."

  "We’ll need metal tools," added a Viking. "I’ve seen much iron among the rubble. My father was a blacksmith."

  "I’m a baker," said a quiet citizen. "If we can find grain, we’ll need an oven to make bread."

  "I’m an agricultural engineer," said a slim, tall citizen with a receding hairline. "I can search for edible plants and grain to grow in our future fields."

  "We have to find suitable sites to dig wells," Raven suggested. "We can’t only rely on water from the river."

  All made valuable recommendations. Not surprisingly, the warriors from less advanced cultures had much to contribute in knowledge and skills. They also meshed well with the technicians and engineers to provide the best level of amenities for the citizens used to more sophisticated surroundings. Their ingenuity, more than their fighting or hunting abilities, earned them the respect of the civilians.

  The discussion went on well into the night, punctuated by a few disagreements. With such a blank slate, the council gave full consideration to any idea, no matter how outlandish. When the meeting adjourned, the leaders had a plan.

  The next morning, even the fruit didn’t settle Zania’s stomach. Nevertheless, she oversaw and advised the teams digging the latrines and collecting the bricks. Iva and Kwan, the two young inseparable Amazons, who had watched over Zania since Dakini’s death, remained at her side.

  Iva, dark and husky, rarely spoke. Kwan, small and feisty, spoke for both of them. Tirelessly, they transmitted Zania’s instructions thr
oughout the community.

  Everyone worked, even the few children, who gleaned unbroken bricks from the rubble and set them into piles to rebuild wall sections. Vikings felled trees for the fence and cut straight branches for roof frames. Women covered the rough frames with tightly bound palm fronds. Centurions cleared the area around the city to plant new fields crops.

  The agricultural engineer suggested reaping the wild grain for seed to plant future crops. Fruit tree saplings from the forest might be replanted into groves. Edible tubers found wild in the jungle could also be cultivated to provide sustenance for the mostly vegetarian population.

  Zania was pleased to see the wood fences and watch towers going up around the city. Sentinels would now see wild animals coming from a distance through the cleared fields. Once all the tasks assigned, citizens and warriors engaged in a semblance of routine. Everyone worked. Everyone contributed. And the citizens felt safer.

  Three days after her arrival, the city bustled with activity. Unable to eat breakfast, Zania walked along the white sand beach, at the edge of the deep blue waves, enjoying the ocean breeze on her face.

  For the first time since she’d been abducted by the Collectors, she felt free. The sand reminded her of home, but as a clone, she’d never really known the deserts of Earth, or the sand demons. Where did she really belong?

  As she glanced toward the city, she saw Kwan coming to meet her.

  The young woman carried a cup of steaming brew and offered it to Zania. "A special tea to settle your stomach, my queen. It helped my sister when she was with child."

  "With child?" Zania frowned in surprise as understanding downed upon her. Could it be? To think of it, she’d not had her period in a long time, but with what happened, she didn’t notice it.