by Ronan Frost
"What is it?"
The Vizier took a deep breath before plunging. "I feel action must be taken against the Starmen." He saw Orlin was about to speak, and cut him off. "Yes, I know that the Council prohibits such action but I see my people fall beneath the boot of an oppressor."
"You know the Council will never permit this!"
"But we must act before the rebels do something rash and get us all into trouble."
"We must act?"
"The way the rebels are going about their attack is wrong. It would be suicide to assault full frontal. Besides, I feel strongly that all killing should be avoided. We need to intercept the rebels before the blood of many flows."
"You want to move the Starmen's ship onwards?" asked Orlin. "That may be possible. We would have to think of a way to persuade them that they are needed elsewhere."
"Either that or make their ship take them."
Orlin's brows rose in surprise. "It needs considering, of course. You realise that if word of this reached the Council there would be an uproar. The members of the table are very eager to avoid all forms of violence."
"This is why I confide in you, my friend. My plan needs to be kept under tight wraps for another reason. If the Starmen learn that we are turning against them it would be disastrous."
Councillor Orlin was silent, so the Vizier continued.
"We need someone to actually carry out the task. There is only one race who can, with enough courage and ability to act quickly; the Eloprin."
"The Eloprin!" Orlin was taken aback. "Indeed, this is unorthodox thought, Vizier." He kept his emotions in tight check as he spoke further. "The Eloprin cannot be trusted. We haven't seen one of their kind for many years."
"Rifts can be mended."
"Well, of course. But you know as well as I what has happened in the past. The Eloprin are born in the forest and that shall always be their home. They ignore our Council and live a life of ignorance. They are intellectual heathens!"
"Yes, I realise that," said the Vizier. "But their strength and skill would be an asset. I intend to reach them myself."
Orlin was speechless for a moment. "You what? You realise that many missionaries have attempted to carry Abas' word to the Eloprin, and none have come out of the forest alive! This is suicide."
"I must carry the word for aid, and I also must guide the hand of the savages to do our work."
"Do you intent to keep this wild scheme of yours from the eyes of the Masters?" The Masters were the twelve wise men who taught the Religion and ruled the table of the Grand Council, and thus governed the land. Their wisdom was never doubted and their word obeyed without question.
"It is necessary that only a few of us know about this," pursued the Vizier. We have little choice, my partner. We must do something before the rebels do it for us."
Councillor Orlin nodded slowly. "I will put it to thought."
The Vizier was anxious. "Please do not be long in considering. Time is of the essence."
Orlin cast the other a scathing look. The Vizier was not only going against the sacred Masters, he was hasty; something the Currach were not by nature. It usually took years for a decision of such magnitude to be made, and here was this man asking for a quick answer.
"I will put it to thought," repeated Orlin slowly.
The Vizier nodded his acceptance. "That is well, my friend. But we are missing the performance. It is reputed that this is a admirable play."
The conversation ended, the two Currach turned their attention to the play below, but could not enjoy the festivities for the heavy thoughts that lay upon their minds.
Chapter Two
Hunter.
As to moral courage I have seldom met with the two o'clock in the morning courage: I mean unprepared courage.
Napoleon Bonaparte, Memoirs.
Capac Fletfod peered through the dense leaves trying intensely to pierce the gloom. Then suddenly the sound came again, a slight rustling in the trees and scurry of movement.
Capac signalled to his companion Huso Mshod. Capac whistled softly; his communication disguised as a bird's chirp. He moved his hands, signalling to Huso to circle around to the right. Huso motioned that he understood with a similar hand signal. Despite his solid burly build Huso moved with panther-like stealth and suppleness.
The two moved silently through the undergrowth, a shadow among shadows. These were creatures know as Eloprin, their large eyes and slightly elongated skulls reflecting those of their distant cousins, the Currach. Capac wore little to clad his slender form, a loincloth strapped to his waist by a belt of leather from which hung a pouch fashioned from the pelt of a small animal. His face and body streaked with the sap of Redwood to disguise himself among his surroundings. The long bladed hunter's knife in his right hand glistened wickedly in the dim light as he advanced, using his free hand to pull aside vines to allow passage.
Ever since the Sunlords arrival life had been hell for the hunters. The name "Sunlords" was coined from that very first day when the invaders had come on chariots straight from the burning sun. Indeed, the craft they travelled on rode on fire and the weapons they carried spat great terrible heat. Many Eloprin believed this strange powerful race to be offspring of the Great Sun God.
And now Capac was out for revenge.
Capac's quick eyes were unceasing in their activity, his controlled breathing silent. His heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears, all senses strained to the utmost as he advanced towards the noise. He took every step carefully to make sure a twig did not snap beneath a leathery sole.
Both Eloprin froze in mid-stride as a voice shattered the jungle stillness. The tongue was alien to Capac, harsh syllables drawn out into meaningless garble. It was strangely metallic and hissing with static. The chilling voice cut suddenly and a rustle of movement erupted from the undergrowth, a Sunlord appearing apparently oblivious to the Eloprin's presence until he almost stepped upon him. The Sunlord's yell of surprise rang out as he dropped the small device he carried.
Capac reacted quickly. His knife flashed in flight - a split second later it had buried itself into the Sunlord's chest. The Sunlord spun with the blow and struck the ground face down.
Barely had the Sunlord fallen had another emerged Capac looked wildly about for weapon as the second Sunlord advanced, weapon levelled.
This strange device suddenly unleashed fire! Capac's lightning reflexes saved him from certain death. He buried himself into the leaf strewn ground just as the trees behind him lost their bark in a shower of splinters. Huso, still concealed in the forest, came to his rescue. His hefty axe swung in a wide, fluid arc that crashed into the side of the Sunlord's head. With a blow that would have split an ape's skull the Sunlord fell to his knees. Huso did not relent. Strike after swift strike hailed down. The axe used for splitting heavy wood was devastating to its victim.
Capac scrambled to his feet, amazed that the Sunlord still moved. He gasped as he glimpsed silver beneath the bloodless wounds Huso had inflicted.
Huso stood back, satisfied that his prey had fallen. Capac watched with dread as the silver creature clawed the ground and struggled to stand. It slowly drew its hands and knees under itself and shakily regained its footing. Capac backed up, his eyes never leaving the apparition before him. Its head was battered into an egg shape and great chunks of flesh hung from its cheeks, revealing a silver metallic structure beneath. Nothing could take such punishment and still stand, but this thing did.
Capac's hands clasped about a branch at his feet. He swung the crude mace with all the might he could muster, fearing pumping strength into his veins. The blow connected solidly. The length of dried wood hit the silver Sunlord across the knees with a solid crack, pivoting it in the air as its support whipped away. Sparks flew from wires that gaped from the broken kneecaps as the Sunlord fell, arms grasping. Before it hit the ground Huso's axe swung and intercepted its head in mid flight, the Sunlord's head snapping backwards as it collided with the blunt face of the axe.
/> It collapsed like a beast with a broken back, fingers twitching tenaciously. Strange noises emanated from the pulped remains.
"Labion...to Mother, nati-" Sudden static cloaked the rest of its words.
Haunted, Capac spied about for a weapon. His eyes fell upon a large rock and his hands grasped about it. He strained to lift it high above his head, then cast it down upon the silver Sunlord.
A shower of sparks greeted him. The two Eloprin fell back shielding their eyes from the fountain of light and electricity that spilled from the Sunlord's skull.
Long seconds passed and nothing moved in the jungle. Gradually the birds picked up their song and life resumed its course. Capac at last dared to approach the silver Sunlord, muscles tight and ready to spring away.
He leapt into the air when a last burst of whining static came from the Sunlord, like an electronic death rattle. It silenced with a grinding of gears.
Huso took a step backwards as his mind worried over the fear that evil spirits were still active in the Sunlord.
"What is it?" he asked of Capac.
Capac shrugged and hunkered down next to the motionless droid. Its skull had been battered beyond recognition. Capac grasped Sunlord's brown artificial hair to pull up its head, exposing its face. Capac almost dropped it again in surprise. The droid's eyes had fallen from their sockets and black oil wept from them. Wires still clung to the eyeballs, holding them like dangling beads. The skin on its scalp had been peeled back to reveal a silver surface. As Capac watched a final burst of electricity passed through the android, making its mechanical lips twitch.
Capac dropped the head. He stood and brushed his hands at his side in revulsion.
"This one seems a normal Sunlord," said Huso as he examined the body of the first victim. Capac had forgotten about it, and rushed over to its slumped form. It still bore Capac's knife in its throat as it stuck awkwardly from bleeding muscle. Withdrawing his blade, Capac noticed the Sunlord was built of flesh and bone. Blood ran over the surface of an short barrelled rifle trapped underneath the corpse.
Huso prodded the gun with the tip of his axe. "Is this a fire-maker?"
Capac hauled the rifle free and examined its odd shape. He put the butt of the rifle into his shoulder as he had seen the silver Sunlord do, but it was made for the Sunlord's hand, almost twice as big as Capac's, and as a result did not sit right upon his shoulder. After a few moments puzzled examination he gave up trying to operate the fire rod. He tied a short length of vine to both ends and slung it securely over his shoulder.
"Maybe the Elder can figure it out," he commented to Huso.
Huso nodded, but his attention was elsewhere.
"What are these Sunlord's doing here?"
Capac's brows furrowed. "Let's have a look."
Capac advanced and Huso followed closely. "Careful," he whispered.
Capac pulled aside the fronds of a large palm, revealing a makeshift camp between the trees. An inflexible plastic dome sheltered a multitude of boxes of equipment and several flashing machines. Dirt samples in glass containers lay upon a bench alongside scientific apparatus. In the centre of the small bench was a box with attached hand-piece. The logo on its grey metal surface read;
Frontier Research Team: Bio-Fuels Division 14d.
The Eloprin could make nothing of this camp and quickly lost interest after a cursory examination.
"The sun is setting," observed Huso. "It is time we were getting back to the tribe."
Capac nodded. "Remember this location for we shall return if the Elder finds the machines useful." He hefted the rifle at his side. "Maybe we can use these like the Sunlord did."
Huso picked out a landmark, relating their position to the peaks of three hilltops. Like a silent wind the hunters left the clearing and disappeared into the undergrowth as if slipping into a glove.
The hunters discussed their encounter as they walked.
"Do you think that the silver Sunlord was speaking to someone?" asked Huso.
Capac thought hard. "I think those noises we heard were like speech. I think the Sunlords have the ability to project their voice to those far away."
"They work strange and powerful magic," muttered Huso.
Capac glanced sharply up. "But they are not invincible. They die like normal men."
Huso paused as he skirted a fallen log. Regaining his fast paced forest walk alongside Capac he continued.
"Yes, they all die like normal men. Except for the silver Sunlords."
Capac shivered. "I cannot explain them. They are perhaps the greatest threat to us."
"I will not rest until all Sunlords lie at my feet," cursed Huso.
"You have valour and strength my friend, but not tact. I prefer the strategy of war. We make a good team."
Huso grinned. "The Sunlords we took care of didn't stand a chance. They are so big and so fatty. They are just no good in the jungle."
"Then we stand a good chance against them," laughed Capac.
Huso quickly sobered. "I think they will come now that we have killed two of their number. They may come in great force like they did when they destroyed our village."
Capac grunted. "Let them come."
The conversation lulled into silence. The only sounds as hunters ducked through hanging vines and towering trees was the gentle rhythm of naked feet slapping the humus. No more words were spoken on the long trek back to the tribe. Each hunter was content to mull over their own thoughts, their feet finding their own path through the trees. They moved with stealth that the city dwelling Currach would look upon with envy and amazement as they crested hilly countryside and leapt small streams. The Eloprin moved lightly from shadow to shadow with deeply embedded hunter's instincts.
An hour later they at last reached their makeshift camp. The tribe had relocated itself and a number of temporary shelters were rigged between the trees. As soon as they came in view Capac sensed something was wrong. Tension hung in the air, the voice of many speaking at once shattering the forest stillness. Exchanging worried glances the two hunters increased their pace.
Then the camp came into full view. Huso gasped at the bustle of activity surrounding the group of tents.
"It may be the Sunlords," said Huso as he held his axe at the ready. They were fast approaching the camp and details became clear.
It did not seem that the tribe was in mortal danger. Some children ran from tent to tent, not in fear but excitement. There was a gathering of villagers around the Elder's hut in the centre of the clearing and many jostled for a better look.
The returning hunters were greeted by their former tutor, Lopare. The old grey haired Eloprin had been a hunter twenty years ago and now taught the old ways to the young.
"Capac, Huso, my sons!" he cried. "Good to see you back." He gasped as his eye caught on the rifle at Capac's side. "You carry a fire-spitter!"
"It is dead and in our control," soothed Capac. "But tell me, old one, what is happening here?"
Lopare grinned toothlessly. "It is one of the Others, one from the City."
"You mean a Currach?" Capac was dumbfounded. He remembered the race but the last time one had been seen was many years ago. At the time the strange Currach had tried to teach the tribe something he called the Religion. Capac remembered the Currach had disappeared soon after in the forest, never to be seen again.
And now the Currach were back. Could it have something to do with the Sunlords?
Capac made his way to the Elder's hut and made presence known. As a chief hunter he granted a high standing and respect.
"I, Capac Fletfod, have returned."
All eyes turned towards him and the babble of voices stopped. The voice of the Elder emerged from the confines of the wicker hut constructed of bamboo-like reeds.
"Capac, at last, come forward. I have need of your council. All others leave now, go to your shelters, your monkey chatter is a disgrace to the Eloprin race."
The crowd slowly dissolved; the villagers moving reluctantly but fa
st enough to avoid incurring the Elder's wraith. They knew he needed space to think and if he wasn't given it some heads would roll.
Capac unslung his knife and the rifle and lay them on the ground at the entrance to the hut, showing respect by not carrying weapons into Elder's abode. He bowed his head, pulled aside the leather door flap and ducked through. His Eloprin eyes needed very little time to adjust to the dim light as he stood for a moment surveying the room. A cooking fire in the centre of the hut illuminated the interior with a flickering yellow light, the air hot and stuffy. A wall of pots and baskets were stacked up against the walls and various sacred emblems were piled unceremoniously nearby. A movement caught his eye, and Capac focused to see Elder sitting upon a weaved cane chair attending to a prostrate form that lay in the sleeping furs.
Capac raised a palm in greeting. The Elder returned the gesture.
"I have been expecting you. As you can see, we have a visitor."
Capac hunkered down and peered into the furs. Contained within the folds was a very unusual creature. Its robes were brightly coloured yellow and blue like those of a parrot, the layer of mud on them doing little to cloak their gaudiness. It was flabby and fleshy, a feverish sweat beading on its forehead.
"Will it live?" he asked.
The Elder rocked back on his heels. "Nobilor's hunting party came back with him a few hours ago, and he was in a bad state. Nobilor says he found the creature unconscious by a water pool, and decided to bring him back. He was shivering incredibly."
"Swamp fever," put in Capac.
The Elder nodded. "I wrapped his wounds and gave him some O'lorl root and broth, but without the medicine man I don't know what else will be of help."
"How is Forneak developing? He was the medicine man's apprentice, perhaps he could offer some advice."
"I've seen him already. He had not finished his training when the medicine man was killed. The boy was no help. Here, he is stirring."
The Currach mumbled in his feverish sleep, his hands waving weakly to ward off unseen foes. As he rolled over Capac saw one shoulder wrapped tightly in blood soaked hides.