Across a Sea of Stars

by Michael E. Gonzales

  Cris's uniform was still airing out, so Tarnus provided Cris one of his shirts to cover himself with. Of course, it swallowed him. Cris found a length of rope, tied it about his waist, and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. Tarnus had also provided Tattie a shirt. Rather than button it, she overlapped the front and closed it with one of Tarnus's leather belts she'd cut down to fit her tiny waist.

  She had combed her hair out to dry. Her legs were, of course, visible, and she had wrapped the shirt around herself rather tightly; nevertheless, it gaped open, now and then, just above the buckle. Cris tried very hard to remain the gentlemen.

  Tarnus had noticed the sudden change in Cris's demeanor when Tattie entered the room and smiled broadly to himself.

  "Cris," Tarnus bellowed, "is not our Tattie the very image of perfection?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, look at her, man! How can you answer without soaking in her radiance?"

  Cris looked up. She was just sitting down across from him. He figured he must look like a deer in the headlights. She returned his stare, cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. "What?"

  "What? What?" he responded, feeling quite juvenile.

  "Shut up and eat," she said, then ignored him.

  "Oh, come now, my orbrena, is not Cris a handsome man? Look at his physique." Tarnus pulled the huge neck of the shirt down over Cris's shoulders to expose his chest. Cris pulled it right back up and gave Tarnus a dirty look.

  "I've seen it," Tattie said. "Now, stop it, Teaoh. Sit down, I am hungry."

  The food was delicious, the fact that everything on the table was alien to Cris, notwithstanding. The meat was very different in taste and texture to any he had ever eaten before. He'd noticed this in the tower, but was too distracted to pay much attention. The fruit and vegetables bore no resemblance to anything he was familiar with in either appearance or taste. The wildflower wine was also quite remarkable. As Cris started on his third glass, the conversation picked up.

  "Tattie move—uh, moves so quietly through the woods—quieter than a breath of wind.” Whispering, he continued. “She moves like poetry. I enjoy following her—I mean she's really something from behind—uh, wait…she’s a wonderful leader—"

  "All right, Cris. I take it you liked the view," Tattie responded, quite perturbed.

  Cris took another swallow of the wine. "I'm sorry."

  "I think you've had enough wine, Cris," Tattie insisted.

  Tarnus laughed and said, "Im vin da et verytes."

  Cris's head jerked up at Tarnus's comment. "What—what was that?" he demanded.

  "It is the old tongue, Cris," Tarnus said, "it means—"

  "In wine, there is truth," Cris interrupted, his head bobbling on his shoulders a little.

  "Yes, how do you know this?"

  "On earth, there’s an ancient language, now dead, called Latin. The saying in Latin goes, in vino veritas."

  "Perhaps there is more to our story than even we know," Tarnus said slowly.

  Tattie reached across the table and took Cris's hand. "Look at me, Cris."

  Cris looked into her eyes. "Tattie, you hab green, green eyes."

  "Teaoh, Cris is bibi."

  "Is he?"

  "Cris." Tattie shook his hand to get his attention. "Time for bed." She spoke loudly, as people will do to someone in their cups.

  "Oh, God," Cris said under his breath, and then quickly finished off his glass of wine.

  "Shall I carry you, my boy?" Tarnus offered.

  "No—no I'm fine…just fine, thank you."

  Cris stood and bobbed out from behind the table. Tarnus guided him to the back room and put him into the bed. "Sleep and dream of blue wildflowers," Tarnus said and left the room.

  Tattie stood there with the candle, looking down at him. "Can you hear me, Cris?" she asked softly, but in a stern voice.

  "Yes, no need to shout."

  "I am going to lay down now, Cris. You are to stay on your side of the bed. Do you understand?"

  "What make―makes you tink—hey! I hab en a per flict gentlemen, ave I not?"

  "Wine tends to make men amorous."

  "Not this man! I have no desire—"

  "So, I'm not desirable, is that what you're saying?"

  "Ah—I did ant stay that."

  "You said you have no desire."

  "Oh, but I do!"

  "Just as I said, you stay on your side of the bed or I will hurt you, understand?"

  "Roger that. This is Bravo White Sox. Out!"

  And Cris closed his eyes. He felt Tattie climb into bed next to him, and after a while, she placed her hand on his chest.

  ○O○

  Cris awoke before dawn to the sound of Tattie humming that odd tune, and the now-familiar smell of one of Tarnus's fish and fowl breakfasts.

  His leg was a little sore, and, as he sat up, he discovered his head was a little sore, as well. He reached for the elixir of Geldneth Nordthok and took a long drink. The soreness at both ends was very quickly relieved.

  He rose and dressed in his tattered uniform, tied up his boots, and headed for the main room. Tattie had just finished packing her backpack and Tarnus was setting the table.

  "How are you feeling this morning?" Tattie asked.

  "Just fine, why?"

  "Just asking."

  "Come, the two of you, and eat before your departure," Tarnus said.

  "Departure?" Cris asked.

  "Yes, Cris, remember, we're headed for Emer Alda."

  "Oh—yeah—that's right."

  "You do want to return to Earth, don't you?"

  "Sure."

  "Don't you?"

  "I said yes."

  "Is that what you meant by ‘sure’? That word is far less definitive than a simple yes."

  "Okay, then—yes. Is that better?"

  Tattie squinted, turned, and went to the table.

  "I am already missing you both," Tarnus said.

  "Yeah, you'll get your bed back and there will be quiet in your home once again," Cris said.

  "Are you implying something, Cris?" Tattie asked. Clearly, this last statement had upset her.

  Cris had a clever remark all ready to go, but when he looked into her face, he came to the conclusion that he much preferred her smiling at him than being angry with him.

  "If I imply anything, Tattie, it is that he will be denied the pleasure of your sweet voice within his walls."

  Her countenance changed, and she smiled at him coyly. The feeling of warmed blood coursed through him, making him wonder how she did that—every time.

  At last, Cris and Tattie stood at the door to the hut to say goodbye.

  Tarnus walked up to Cris. "Here." He handed Cris back his pistol and his magazine.

  "How did you know I had kept the ammo?"

  "Look at these eyes, Earth man…very little escapes my attention." He then leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "You'll note Tattie has the same eyes, and she is even more attentive than I."

  "Thank you. Thank you for everything; I owe you, and your niece, my life, sir."

  "Cris of Earth, I have a feeling we will be seeing one another again, and I feel the formation of a bond that will last a lifetime. So, remember, boy—the name is Tarnus, just Tarnus."

  Tarnus then turned to Tattie. "Orbrena, I have a gift for you." He ducked into his hut and returned with a massive bow and a quiver full of arrows. "This, my child, is Archtomb, she is my old war bow. In her quiver, you will find the last of my war arrows and all my remaining hunting arrows. Too long has Archtomb slumbered here. I feel her rest is ended, and in your care, she will once again find work."

  "Thank you Teaoh. I will care for her as my own."

  "She is yours, now, child. It is my great desire that you never have to shoot in anger, but we both know that to be a forlorn hope."

  "Tarnus," Cris stepped toward the hulking man, "come with us."

  "My heart would put me at your side, son, and together we would face the hordes of Caval Du Mal and spil
l much blood. But my body is wracked, ravaged from years of service to my king. I would be of little use to you on the field. But from here, I might just play a role.”

  "Tarnus," Cris looked up into the eyes of the hulking man, "you and I both know that there's still a lot of fight in you, you are by no means done."

  Tarnus's eyes twinkled and his lips curled into a small smile. "Be off you two—care for one another, and remember, the horn of Nether calls to all."

  Tattie threw her arms around her uncle's neck and kissed his cheek, she whispered something in his ear and he smiled back.

  Cris and Tattie turned to face the road through the valley when behind them Tarnus called out, "Orbrena, I approve your decision!"

  She smiled and waved.

  "What did he mean, he approves your decision?" Cris asked.

  "He means—he approves of my involvement in your quest."

  "Uh-huh."

  Tattie just kept looking ahead, and smiled.

  The valley before them was still in the shadow of the surrounding forested hills. The path led gently down along the valley's east, or Ekalden side, the air was clean and cool, and the crops filled the air with a sweet scent. The sky was the bluest Cris had ever seen a sky. The woman at his side was a great guide and ally. Cris then noticed that Tattie had changed her clothing.

  "Hey, where are your leathers?"

  "I am afraid the smell of the meesaria leaves had soaked in, Tarnus had to burn them."

  She was wearing heavy canvas trousers that were all but painted on her. The cotton shirt must have been the one Tarnus had loaned her last night based on its size. Even with it fully buttoned up, it was still quite revealing. She had rolled the sleeves up just above the elbows, as she'd seen Cris do. About her waist was the same cut down, wide leather belt she'd worn at dinner. From it, she hung a water bottle, a leather pouch, and her large knife. She had slung the backpack over her shoulders. Some of her hair was loose and hanging at the side of her face. Cris was drinking in her beauty, particularly her figure, when she caught his eye.

  "What? Did I spill something on myself?" She began to examine her shirt.

  "No, no. I'm sorry…you're fine."

  "What were you looking at, Cris?" She had a tiny smile on her lips.

  Cris studied her a moment. "You know damn well what I'm looking at."

  "Well, stop. Be mindful of the road, we're out of the hamlet and danger abounds."

  "I'll say. Can't you close that up any more?"

  "Does my body disgust you?"

  "Far from it. You are a distraction, that's all."

  "A distraction? Well, I'm sorry to be a burden to you."

  Cris started laughing, followed immediately by Tattie, and Cris felt the warmth return.

  "It's fortunate your uncle keeps trousers there in your size."

  "I had left them there. I stay with him when I hunt those woods. Cris, look!"

  Up ahead on the trail stood a cloaked and hooded figure where a moment before, there was none. Cris retrieved his pistol, slapped in the magazine, and chambered a round. The figure did not move, he stood still, looking out at the fields to their left. As they approached, Cris began to recognize details, it looked like—

  "Mag'Osnik," Tattie cried out, "Vemde, Cris!"

  "Wait!" Cris quickly grabbed her arm. "Why doesn't he turn to recognize us?"

  "Because, Cris," Mag'Osnik's voice boomed out, "I already know who you are."

  ○O○

  The Mag'Osnik turned around and waited for the two to run down the hill to him.

  "I just knew I'd see you again," Cris said.

  "How are you, Tattie?" Mag'Osnik asked.

  "Som im laco apearto claude." (I am in the land of the open heart.)

  "How nice. Et epse est im ten abris?" (And he is in the dark?)

  "Atiem at, neuprey inotoet, no cekus." (Yes, but I have just learned, not blind.)

  "I'm standing right here!" Cris quickly pointed out.

  "I am sorry my boy. I bring sad news, difficult to hear."

  "What?"

  "All the Parenmerians in Gala, the town you came to that first day, have been gathered unto Kurat Vara, to await execution.

  "My God." Cris suddenly sounded every inch the soldier. "What intel—er—information do you have on this place, and the situation of the people?"

  "Kurat Vara is Caval Du Mal's fortress home when he is here on Nazer. It sits on the lone hill of Kreneo on the plain of Dort. When he is in residence, he is guarded by three thousand slave warriors controlled by the will of Bruckna, the Sorgina of Mord Telent. Caval Du Mal is currently on the world of Kalob, much to the misery of the people there."

  "What about the people of Gala, how much time do they have?"

  "The executions will begin during the ceremony of Lumvelhas, at midnight on the night of the two full moons, thirty-seven days hence."

  "I guess they are being starved and tortured, eh?"

  "Oh, no, Caval Du Mal likes his victims healthy and alert when they suffer his various deaths, for which he is quite famous."

  "Various deaths…what kind of deaths?"

  "Slow, painful, and almost always innovative."

  "How do I get to this fortress?"

  "Cris, hear me—you must not stray from your path, do you understand? You must push on to Emer Alda. I have seen the light of hope for all if you get there; without you, I see only shadows and death."

  "But I owe those people—"

  "And you have time, Cris. But you must get to Emer Alda first and foremost. That is the only true hope for your friends."

  "Okay, Mag, I'll—"

  "Promise me!" Mag'Osnik's face was deadly serious.

  Cris paused as he looked into the old man's eyes. "Yes, I promise. Thirty-seven days?"

  "Yes, and know this, that in addition to Caval Du Mal's soldiers and those seeking to collect the reward for your head, Sorgina Bruckna has agents abroad seeking you out. All who befriend you risk death."

  "Mag'Osnik," Tattie said, "my Teaoh Tarnus provided us aid and shelter since the day of our arrival."

  "Fear not, I shall warn him. I think this evil news will outweigh his dislike of me. I have work suited for a former Captain of the Guard. He will be happy to see me once again. Now, fly—and do not dally.”

  Chapter 13

  The Cave of the Dark Moon

  As Cris and Tattie walked on in silence, Cris's mood darkened. Tattie allowed time for reason to overcome anger before she spoke. When she saw his ears no longer red, she decided to address him.

  "The Parenmerians from Gala saved your life?"

  "Five of them, directly. One paid for his kindness to me with his life within an hour of the act. I'm sure everyone in Gala knew I'd been there, and who helped me. Not one must have spoken, so all are now condemned. I have to get them out of there."

  "You will keep your promise to Mag'Osnik, will you not?"

  "Yes, damn him. I will keep my word."

  Suddenly, Tattie stopped and grabbed Cris.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "There, smoke rising above the wood line on our right."

  "I don't see it."

  "I see, Cris. I see. Vemde." She darted into the near woods. Cris ran, too, but she was well ahead of him, waiting behind a tree as he arrived.

  "I smell wood smoke," he said.

  She turned and pressed her lips to his right ear. "There are four, armed, cooking. They chopped wood."

  Slowly, they advanced on their target, Cris with his pistol in hand and Tattie readying Archtomb. Tattie moved about six meters to Cris's right. Again, she moved with total silence, no snapping twigs, no rustling of leaves.

  Closer and closer they drew, until Cris could see them through the trees. He glanced over at Tattie, he could just see her white shirt; otherwise, she was invisible. She had stopped, so Cris stopped as well.

  He could hear them talking.

  "He's gotta Geldneth woman whit ’im now."

  "Zat rot? Oh, Thugn
y, mine ole friend, ah've had three since last moon, day buck real nice."

  "If day git away dou ya cawn't ketch 'em!"

  The four laughed.

  They were average height, though two were exceptionally thin with long arms, grayish dirty looking skin, and faces that reminded Cris of gargoyles. The other two looked like regular humans. All were lean, drawn-looking men. They were unwashed, and their clothes were filthier than any Cris had seen on Nazer.

  They had chopped a considerable amount of wood, the amount of ash in their fire pit spoke to the great length of time they had already camped here, and near the fire stood a great pile of wood awaiting the flames. As Cris watched, they all started to laugh again, and that was when the attack came.

  Tree branches shot down like lightning. One of the men was instantly impaled—a branch shot between his shoulder blades and exited below his sternum.

  Another was grabbed by five or six tree limbs and literally pulled apart. The third was grabbed by roots that shot up from the ground, his feet were entangled, then a root wrapped about his head and squeezed until his head popped like a grape. This all happened in an instant. The fourth man, one of the long limbed gray fellows, was fast enough to leap up and run. He was headed straight for Tattie. Her arrow pierced his neck completely. He fell to the ground gurgling, the blood gushing from his mouth. Tattie walked up, withdrew her knife, and ended the man's pain. She wiped the blade off on his clothes.

  Cris stepped out from around the tree. Patting it, he said, "Thank you." He then walked up to Tattie.

  "Wow, you were right about the trees!"

  "I told you the Avory are not to be trifled with. More importantly, they waited for us to arrive before they killed this filth."

  Cris glanced down at the strange gray fellow at their feet. "Tattie, you are bad with that bow and blade!"

  "I thought you'd be impressed with my marksmanship." Tattie sounded offended.

  "Oh, girlfriend, I most certainly am!"

  "Then what was bad about it?"

  "I'm sorry, it's a manner of speech on Earth. In this context, bad means good—real good."

  "Your language is very strange."

  "Yeah, sometimes."