by Ronan Frost
The Elder mused over this. "C'hio, do you have anything to say?"
"I must say that we must not listen to the mad Currach. Yes, our village has been hit hard, but we need to keep our best hunters here where they are needed."
Lopare, the aging tutor, spoke up.
"It is suicide to do as the Currach asks. He knows no forest craft and would be a burden to any hunting party."
Capac opened his mouth to rebuke but the Elder intercepted. He halted conversation with an abrupt gesture. Capac let out his pent up breath as silence fell and all eyes turned to the Elder.
"I have heard your point, Lopare. Our race has fought its own battles for centuries and our tribe has stood as a proud race. But now it is different, the Sunlords make it different. They threaten to destroy us all."
Capac's multi-faceted eyes gleamed in thought. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to embark upon this spearhead mission against the invaders. Ashian would be invaluable in getting them aboard the Fiery Craft in the Sky. Experience as a hunter told him that this was his chance.
"We are fortunate Ashian has come to us," put in Capac firmly.
The Elder paused. "I agree that something decisive must be done. Individual hunting raids are destined to meet with failure if we continue fighting the old way."
"And you propose to fight the new way?" muttered Oiop, one of the wives of the Elder. As a wife she was responsible for nursing the ill and wounded and her opinion weighed heavily in the council. Her views were often ones of common sense and rationalism. "We cannot change so rapidly," she continued. "With those fire breathing toys are people will be massacred."
"But Ashian can work the weapons, and he can teach us," countered Capac.
C'hio came back into the argument. "The Currach cannot kill."
"Exactly. He is useless without our aid."
"Useless all right," quipped Oiop.
A silent pall fell over the gathering. Many long seconds passed as the Elder thought. At last he came to a resolution. "Capac, take those who are willing with you on this journey. Our weakened tribe can afford only three hunters, so choose wisely. Never in my long life have I seen the Eloprin take commands from the Currach but I see mutual cooperation is crucial. We will aid you as best we can and our hearts lay in your success. Bring pride to our tribe Capac, we look forward to the day of your safe return."
* * *
The Vizier was startled from his reverie by a call.
"...ian. Ashian!"
He realised it was his name, he hadn't gotten used to it yet and his mind always seemed to lapse back into calling himself the Vizier. But his childhood name seemed more fitting in the forest environment, the city and his city title left far behind.
He put his empty bowl aside and scrambled to his feet. He made his way through the darkness to the glowing embers of the council fire. The Elder sat alone on a mat, the rest of the tribe dispersed to go about their duties.
As Ashian approached the Elder put down his pipe. "We have come to a decision. Capac and two other hunters are to accompany you along your journey. I hope you meet with success."
Ashian bowed low. "Thank you, Elder."
"Where do you intend to start?"
Ashian stopped in thought. "I have been thinking. If we could go to the place where Capac killed the Sunlords we should be able to get one of their craft."
A wry smile split the old Eloprin's lips. "You just make sure you do your job and rid this earth of those Sunlord scroch. I suggest you go and prepare you things. Take all the food you like from my hut, and get Oiop to help you pack. The party will leave at first light."
"I am in your debt."
The Elder watched as Ashian backed away from the feeble firelight. He put his pipe back to his lips, praying that he had made the right decision.
He knew not how long he sat there mediating in the silent night, listening the sounds of the forest. He was rudely awoken by a voice in his ear.
"Elder, I must speak with you."
His large eyes snapped back into focus.
"Why, Myshia, what is it?"
"I must go with Capac and the Currach."
The Elder was dumbfounded. "What? Are you sure, my child. It may be a suicide jaunt and I don't want you hurt."
"I must go," the supple Eloprin pressed.
The Elder became suspicious. "Has your dream extended? What is your dream spirit telling you."
Myshia shrugged uncomfortably. "I...I saw the Currach's face clearly. In the dream he took my hand and together we floated off into the air, away from the terrible place were the creature had killed my child. I can't explain it, I just have this feeling that I must go with him."
"Well, this is a turn I did not expect," pondered the Elder. "But you must follow your instincts and feelings. If you are sure you wish to risk death, then that is your decision."
"I must go."
"Very well then. I shall talk to Capac."
* * *
Ashian shivered as he stepped through the cool mists of the forest. A pale light of dawn cast a ghostly illumination over the camp, the night chills still present in the air. He was dressed in hides and furs instead of his city robes that were ripped beyond repair. At his belt were several small pouches containing healing herbs that the Elder had given him and shown briefly how to use. He carried no weapons.
He squatted low as he washed his hands in the icy cold stream near the bathing pool. Shivering, he sipped from a wooden mug.
Capac came down to the pool.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Ashian nodded, and polished off the rest of his drink. Noticing Capac's curiosity he explained.
"Its amaroli. The wise men drink it to increase visual imagery, vitality and also gives pain relief."
"Where did you get it? I have never heard of such a concoction."
Ashian laughed. "Get it? Why, it is the mid-part of my urine."
The Eloprin hunter recoiled in shock. "What?!"
"Why are you so surprised? Amaroli is a long tradition."
Capac shook his head. "And you say we are the savages! Come on, its time to go now."
Ashian stood and collected together his pack, then followed Capac away from the clearing.
"Are you sure you know how to use that thing?" asked Ashian as he noticed Capac carried the fire weapon. He had taught Capac how to use it, or, at least, as much as he knew. Neither knew what the digital readout showed rounds remaining and the array of coloured buttons were for auto targeting.
"I know how to make the fire work," grinned Capac. "That's all I need, isn't it?"
Ashian nodded as he recalled the deadly hail of bullets that had torn the practice target into shreds. Few of the villagers had been able to sleep with Capac practicing his aim with the strange weapon.
They arrived at the village clearing where the Elder awaited. Alongside him stood a female Eloprin covered in camouflaging sap and paint. Capac raised a palm in greeting.
"We are prepared, Elder. Where is Huso?"
As if on cue the large burly Huso emerged from a tent, his study axe in one hand. He came and joined Capac and Ashian.
"Who is the third hunter to accompany us?" asked Ashian.
"I am," said Myshia.
Ashian gasped. "You? Elder, she is a female! How can she hunt the Sunlords?"
All within earshot were taken aback. Myshia's eyes narrowed, her stance moving subtlety to become suddenly threatening, one hand upon the knife sheathed at her side.
Ashian looked around in confusion. He noticed the Elder had fallen into silence, his brown eyes raised to the sky as if judging the time of day. "What are you doing, Elder?"
The Elder brought his eyes back to the Currach. "Oh, I was just seeing how long you were going to survive. Not many outlast five seconds after insulting Myshia."
"Its just that in the city the women simply attend the men," Ashian defended. "They hold no high positions in the Council - it is written that they shall not take part in s
uch matters. Their task is the rearing of young..." He died our as he saw how weak his argument sounded.
"Myshia is a very skilled hunter," growled Capac. "With her knife she could slit your guts with one sweep."
Ashian signalled acquiescence, his eyes lowered. "I am no judge. I'm sorry, my city views have no place here."
Capac seemed appeased, but the Elder wasn't quite so sure.
"Are you sure you must go?" he asked of Myshia. "If the Currach doesn't trust you..."
Myshia nodded firmly, her large green eyes set. "He will soon have to learn my trust."
Capac slung his pack over one shoulder, the Sunlord's fire weapon slung over the other. "We have to go now. I want to get as far as possible before the day is out."
They all moved to Capac's command. Huso took the lead, his axe over one shoulder. Next was the female Myshia who, as she passed, threw an imperious scathing look at the Currach who had insulted her. Capac bade the Elder farewell.
"This deed shall be long remembered," he said.
The Elder nodded. "Legends will be made of your journey Capac. You are a brave hunter."
Capac's shoulders squared proudly. Without turning back he made off after Huso and Myshia.
Ashian motioned goodbye to the Elder. "I know many of your tribe are against the Currach, but I hope our success will change their hearts."
"May the forest spirits be with you," called the Elder after him.
Ashian smiled slightly. "My Religion will give me strength, wise one. Someday I will return to learn your teachings. Maybe the rift between our races can be fused."
"I look forward to it. But go now!"
Ashian turned and had to jog to catch up to the rest of his fellows. The rifle at Capac's side caught his attention, and to Ashian's eye every ounce seemed to represent a pound of dead and bloody flesh. The evil weapon of killing weighed heavily upon his mind and invaded his thoughts.
Stepping through the cold mists and towering trees Ashian felt a surge of adrenalin.
They were away!
* * *
Deep in another part of the huge jungle a dirty huddled form clothed in stinking, half cured furs sobbed wild cries of desperation into the towering impassive trees.
Shata-Bera looked deeply into K'iop's eyes as slowly the life died from the old Currach's body.
"Don't die K'iop," moaned Shata, facetted eyes burning with torment. Shata's face was a mass of ugly scars and welts were the fire had scorched and blackened his flesh. These old partially healed wounds covered one eye completely and distorted the right side of his face, the young Currach's now bald head strangely altered to look almost alien. His body had never fully recovered and he walked with a slight limp and was unable to move the clawed fingers of his right hand.
Shata reached out and cradled the head of the Currach who had saved his life that time many moons ago when the Sunlords had attacked his band of rebels. K'iop had nursed Shata through the terrible tortuous period after his burning, soothing the blisters with a mixture of roots and resins to ease the pain. For many days Shata had been delirious in agony, every movement sparking a tearing wave of pain. Even the act of breathing stretched and broke the skin, exposing raw flesh. He had been lucky to escape without infection, and without K'iop's help would certainly never have made it.
In the weeks that past since K'iop taught Shata how to survive in the forest. The old Currach taught Shata all he knew, and now Shata, once a city clergyman, lived off the forest like a native Eloprin hunter.
A close friendship had formed between the two Currach, a bond that gave each courage in face of their predicament. Here in the wild jungles they not only gathered food but hunted Sunlords.
They had found an abandoned Sunlord camp and had raided what seemed useful. A laser rifle lay among the debris, its barrel twisted and battered and its surface marred with deep scratches where a cartridge had backfired. Together they had managed to operate the weapon and Shata had become a proficient sharpshooter.
They mounted several attacks against the Sunlords, most failing due to mishaps and malfunctions of the shonky laser rifle, meaning they had to retreat as fast as possible. But on two occasions they had managed to take out a Sunlord, a small victory against an all-powerful enemy.
Shata's terrible wounds had barely covered over when K'iop fell to a virus. They had been gathering roots in the swamplands when a large insect had stung the old Currach, and the strange poison acted quickly to reduce K'iop into almost total incapacity within hours. As the large orange sun was setting behind the tree line K'iop sheltered in the hut he had constructed in the trees.
Shata brought a bowl of water close with his left hand. K'iop sipped from the bowl, then coughed, racking his ill and frail form brutally. "I'm going, my son."
"Pull through," pleaded Shata. "You'll be all right, you just need some rest."
But Shata knew deep down he was lying to himself; K'iop was dying.
"Do your tutor proud," whispered K'iop. "Avenge the Sunlords for the atrocities done to my people."
"What are you talking about, you're coming with me! We'll do it together, just as soon as you're well again."
K'iop shook his head. "I have never felt closer to death in my life. No, you must go alone. When I am gone..."
Shata would not hear of this. He vainly tried to forced some water between K'iop's lips but the later responded weakly. Night fell, and his breathing became shallow.
By the time the moon was high the old Currach was dead.
Shata's quiet moans echoed through the jungle - sobs of despair and loneliness as his only companion's hand turned cold and stiff in his own.
And then Shata was alone.
* * *
Ashian found his pace slipping as he tried to keep up with the forest Eloprin. It was a long way from the cobbled Churchyard streets and leisurely evening strolls of home where his only exercise was walking across the market square.
Ashian felt so much more secure with his allies company and the towering forest no longer daunted him like it did when he first ventured into the wild in search of the Eloprin. He found himself gazing at birds flying from tree to tree almost meditatively. That was until they hit the wild patch.
"The country gets pretty rugged here, Ashian," called Capac over his shoulder. "We are cutting through the edge of the swamps."
Very quickly Ashian was no longer sightseeing, rather he fought through a tangled chaos of undergrowth as plants ripped and clawed at his passing. Trees were like sentient giants overseeing their domain.
The band of four natives were strung out in a long line as they progressed through the forest. Capac had taken the lead and he selected the most efficient path through the trees. The educated hunter knew what rivers to avoid and where dangerous bogs existed. Following his lead was the female Myshia who clambered over the terrain as easily as Capac. She was unlike any of the women Ashian had known when he was in his city. Whereas the normal women were slumped and obedient Myshia walked with a light step and her wide eyes shone with vibrant, icy pride.
Following Ashian was Huso who made sure the city dweller did not lose himself in the thick vines and suffocating growth.
Ashian found that he alone made more noise that the three Eloprin combined. He tried hard to keep his footsteps from breaking the dead vegetable matter about him, yet it always seemed a brittle stick was destined to be where he stepped. The forest was unyielding; the bushes reaching out to claw his forearms as he passed. The heavy furs were itchy and unfamiliar on his back, and undergrowth caught in his sandals slowing his progress.
It seemed as if they had been marching forever. Ashian began to wonder if they'd ever reach the site where the Sunlords had been killed. The anticipation and excitement had worn of long ago, giving way to weary muscles and a panting breath.
His reflections snapped to a sudden halt as a vine entangled about his foot, his mind reeling as he saw the ground move beneath him. He fell awkwardly amongst a thorny bush and his curse
was loud and vivid.
A hand came to his aid and helped him to his feet. Brushing the heavy wet dirt from his hands Ashian turned to see Huso was his benefactor.
"Are you all right?" asked the hunter.
Ashian nodded. "I'm fine, raich." said Ashian, using the traditional term meaning 'ally.'
"It's just that I'm unused to this sort of travel," he continued. "The last time I was in the woods was when I was a child, playing in the Fringe Forest."
"I can see you're doing your best. You'll soon get the hang of it."
He saw Ashian was ready once again and they moved off. Huso spoke as they walked abreast.
"I noticed many of my tribe treat you with disrespect. They fear you and your race. Many saw it was the city dwellers who brought the Sunlords down from the sun."
"We didn't, we were taken by surprise as much as I imagine you were."
"I see that, and I respect your determination in coming to us. It must have been an arduous journey."
Ashian grimaced at the memory. "If it wasn't for your hunters I am sure I would be rotting in the spot where I fell. I am very grateful for all your people have done for me."
Huso was quiet for a minute. "We will help you to save our race, but are you sure you are able to kill a Sunlord? From what I hear, the Currachs are anxious to avoid all forms of violence."
"Don't stir up the thought," moaned Ashian. "It has been on my conscience these past few weeks, and I have endured many sleepless nights because of it. The only thought of consolation is that it is all for the best in the long run."
"So you don't intend to raise a weapon yourself?"
"I was hoping we could get by without such action, but if something comes up you could take care of it. My purpose is to direct your abilities."
"Yes? And you have a plan, I assume."
"The only way to board the Sunlords sky ship is to take one of their own craft. Hopefully they have more at this site where Capac is leading us. How far away from it are we now?"