Sunlord

by Ronan Frost

  Forcing his movements to remain steady and efficient Ashian tried to ignore the gathering band of k'lockri he had attracted. His broad forehead glistened sweat, and for the first time since joining the company of the eloprin felt truly alone.

  The k'lockri, growing tired of toying with their prey, finally moved in for the kill. A silent cry caught in his throat. He numbly reached up, knowing he could not vault himself upon the higher branch in time to avoid the predator.

  Another hand snapped closed upon his wrist and Ashian's hand responded reflexively to tighten the grip. Startled, Ashian was yanked up just as the k'lockri sped past below.

  "Capac!" sighed Ashian, swinging a leg over the bough and pulling to an upright position.

  Capac held a stout length of wood held like a quarterstaff, ready to fend off any attack. "Keep moving!"

  "Shaun's fallen."

  Myshia dropped into sight. "He will live." There was a tone of certainty in her voice, as if she knew what the future held.

  "Move out this way," commanded Capac, indicating towards the end of the bough. "Time to change trees."

  As the three climbed out footing became irregular and uncertain. Thin flexible branches covered in narrow leaves replaced the firm footholds near the trunk. Between Myshia and Capac, Ashian focused his attention upon keeping his grip.

  "Capac! Above you!"

  The forester snapped around too late at Myshia's warning. The k'lockri had dropped within striking distance and easily fended off Capac's blow with one claw. Capac twisted the makeshift staff in his hands, already knowing in his heart that the creature's other claw would claim his life a moment later.

  Powerful and vaguely familiar emotions surged within Myshia. Some part of her mind was able to channel a little of the raw flooding power, directing it as river banks would a flash flood. Images snapped flashbulb quick in her mind's eye - the birdman and the screams of a child before the searing heat of a bonfire.

  Howling sudden pain the k'lockri stumbled, knocked about-face as the bolt of sparks disintegrated its claw. The beast fell, the bloody stump outheld like an alien thing.

  Ashian saw things only as a brief blur before the narrow branch sagged and snapped beneath them. All three fell in that one instant. Their climb had brought them out from the trunk and they now fell through the leaves of a neighbouring tree.

  Ashian was aware of the slapping branches against his body, slowing his descent and gradually swinging his course closer to the trunk of the other tree. He landed heavily upon his back, drawing a grunt to his lips.

  He lay still for a second, splayed hands questing over the flat surface beneath. He had expected water, but it seemed they had fallen on a vast slab of ancient, carved stone.

  Soon after there came a second thump, and Ashian knew that Capac had fallen close by. Myshia hit the slab moments after - managing to land upon both feet and retain her balance.

  "What the hell is this?" growled Capac, picking himself up. He stepped backwards, eyes glued to the worn but still distinguishable cyclic patterns engraved deeply upon the stone. Ashian's hail attracted his attention away.

  "Over here. There's an opening."

  Exchanging confused gestures, Capac and Myshia hurried over to the currach's side. As they moved they kept a wary eye on the surroundings, knowing that the k'lockri would be sure to catch up with them soon. Ashian knelt before a low mound of rubble where a tree root had burrowed through the stone. Giving reluctantly to the ravages of time, the stone had crumbled away under the power of the growing purple-leaved vegetation.

  "These markings, they look familiar." Ashian bent closer and traced a finger along the badly damaged hieroglyphics. "I'd say this was once a temple of the Ansarii. I've never seen their writing so well preserved."

  "Fascinating." Capac's tone suggested that he had concerns elsewhere as he hunkered down and put his back against a smaller of the boulders. "I think we may be able to get through here."

  Ashian stepped back a little, allowing Capac room to roll the boulder free. His mind still awed with the chance discovery it took a direct command from Capac to snap out of his stupor.

  "Currach! Give me a hand here or we'll be k'lockri meat."

  Still mumbling intellectual ravings Ashian dug his nails into the porous rock and aided Capac to lever it away. Myshia picked up the quarterstaff Capac had dropped and rammed it downwards to further open the cavity. A few seconds later they had cleared enough debris away to see darkness below. The temple was obviously a below-ground structure - but just how deep it reached was anyone's guess. Capac picked up a small pebble at his feet and dropped it into the hole. They waited in tense silence as incredibly long moments passed before, finally, the resulting splash came distant and faint.

  "It's a cavern." The forester's eyes narrowed as he gazed into the well of blackness. "The water at the bottom is shallow."

  Ashian cast a quick glance at the misty forest, knowing there was nowhere they could run from the combined threat of pyrons and k'lockri. "Do we have a choice?"

  Nodding, Capac readied himself. Feet either side of the ragged hole, he paused, suddenly shocked to the core at Myshia's growing expression of pain. Ashian was there in an instant, flinching instinctively as he felt Myshia's flesh was as cold as ice.

  "That place reeks of power." Myshia drew her hands across her cheeks harshly, as if pain could pull away the strange sensation settling in her mind. "It's the Ansarii - they are the source of my power."

  Ashian took a step backwards. The Ansarii was the name given to the ancients who had dwelled upon the earth many thousands of millennia ago. A few strange artefacts had been discovered and documented by currach scientists but many mysteries shrouded the Ansarii. Apart from a ruins scattered about the county there was absolutely nothing known about the strange, almost alien race.

  A distant keening wail snapped his mind alert. Ashian knew that if they did not take cover within seconds the k'lockri would discover their scent once more. He whipped around and met Capac's gaze. Holding it for a moment, Ashian nodded firmly.

  Filling his lungs with a deep breath Capac balanced his weight over the edge and leaned forward. The next moment he disappeared, falling feet first through the unknown.

  Ashian turned to Myshia. She smiled reluctantly, a gesture the currach had not seen for days that instantly warmed his heart. Myshia started forward and sat upon the lip of the hole, legs dangling in.

  As if caught by a sudden grasp she looked upwards, teeth clenched. "It's so cold."

  Ashian was torn by fear of both the unknown in the temple and the beasts in the swamp. A closer shriek echoed through the fog, and in that instant Ashian knew there was only one choice.

  "Go," he said simply.

  Myshia dropped without another word. Blinking, Ashian realised he was alone. It took a few precious seconds to scramble towards the hole. Suddenly a thought stuck him.

  What if there were pyrons in the temple?

  His heart beating wildly in his ears Ashian edged closer, finding he did not have the courage to throw himself through. Perhaps he could try and find Shaun, he thought. He couldn't be far away.

  But in his mind Ashian knew that such an effort would be futile: he would last no longer in the swamp than they had in the trees. They had tried calling for Shaun, but there had been no answer. All logic pointed to the only escape route yet still the currach hesitated. Something did not settle right in his stomach and he could do nothing but watch his iron-bound form wait as seconds ticked past. His legs were in the hole, the air stuffy, the rock gritty and ancient beneath his palms.

  Claws clacking against rock brought his head about as a k'lockri landed, crouching like a spider before breaking into a sprint. The beast ran upon all fours, clicking a tattoo like a galloping horse. The sight startled Ashian into action and he pushed forward into the cavern.

  Gravity snatched hold of his body and pulled with surprising severity. Hands outstretched to ward off passing rocks he fell, pinwheeling arms a
s he tumbled. Foul air rushed up his nasal cavities, the air coal black and cold. Ashian tried to scream but he found his lungs were empty of air - and he could only hold his heart in mid-beat as he fell faster and faster...

  Landing came unexpectedly. His left ankle twisted sharply and gave way and his side hit water. The water was shallow, as Capac had predicated, and littered with sunken boulders. A blow caught the currach across the back and his neck snapped forward, his arms raised protectively.

  It seemed an eternity before conscious cleared. Coughing, wincing as he felt bruises along the lengths of his forearms and shins, Ashian struggled upright. Ashian blinked hard in a futile effort to detect light, but even the opening through which he had fallen was the merest of pinpricks way above.

  The sounds of movement momentarily startled him before he realised it was either Capac or Myshia emerging from the knee-deep water.

  "Capac?" he tried.

  "No, it's me," came Myshia's voice from the intense blackness. Her voice was hollow and distracted. "I think I'm alright."

  "Where is Capac?"

  "Here." Rhythmic splashes approached as Capac stumbled forward through uncertain terrain. "It seemed we made it okay."

  Ashian moved closer to the voice, reaching out to touch Capac's chest to reassure himself that the voices were not emanating from empty space. With his other hand he quested in the darkness, fingers splayed until he found Myshia's hand. He then drew his companions closer together, speaking in a whisper, a little awed at the echoes his voice threw from the obliviously huge cavern. "We've got to stay close. If we lose each other in this darkness we'll never find each other again."

  Capac grunted an affirmative. "Who knows how the Ansarii constructed their temples - there could be a thousand catacombs under our feet."

  The implications of this comment struck home. Ashian knew no intact Ansarii constructions had ever been discovered; all were levelled mounds of rubble destroyed by time. This structure, hidden deep within the swamp, had survived the countless ages. Who knew what secrets she held intact.

  "This water stinks." Ashian reached down and scooped a little of the cold, slightly viscous liquid in the palm of his hand. "Undrinkable. We'd better find a way out before we die of thirst."

  A noise made Capac spin and crouch, calling for the others to be silent. His command was instantly obeyed, and in the deathly silence the sound of something scrambling over the rocks came again. Its scampering motions disrupted pebbles, making a tinkling noise as they bounced down and finally plonked into the shallow water, echoing about the entire cavern.

  "What do you think it is?" whispered Ashian, still crouched over and not daring to move, the dark water dripping from between frozen fingers.

  "We need a light." In the inky blackness Capac removed his outer tunic and, guided by touch alone, began to tear the woven fibre into strips. He had managed to retain the stick he had used as a staff, and wrapped the fabric around the end of it. He tore off strips that had not fallen into the water, retaining those only slightly damp under his fingers. He moved quickly and silently, keeping a keen ear cocked but the creature advanced no further.

  "Do you think the k'lockri managed to get in here?" Ashian's voice rang with traces of fear and uncertainty as he faced the unknown threat.

  "If this will light we'll soon find out." Capac fumbled with the drawstrings on the pouch strapped to his waist. Opening the small pouch he withdrew two rocks of about size and length of his little finger. The flint was a tool used often by hunters in the forest and was as much a part of him as his knife, used in lighting fires to cook food, for warmth, or to chase game towards traps. Holding these specially crafted rocks in the palms of his four-fingered hands he drew them sharply together.

  Ashian fell back, blinking as dazzling afterimages flashed on the insides of his eyelids. The spark Capac had created had seemed as bright as the sun to the currach's sensitive dilated pupils, but it had died quickly. Capac scowled as the sparks faded into lifelessness. He drew the rocks together again grumbling, "This is not going to w-"

  The end of the stick held between Capac's legs suddenly burst in ferocious life. Flame licked hungrily over the bunched rag, devouring it. Instantly all fell back, and only Capac's quick reaction arrested the reflex to drop the burning torch into the water.

  The darkness fell away into sharp shadows like an army retreating behind the cover of pillars of rock. Ashian's currach eyes adjusted in time to see a small furry animal scurry away in fright, its tiny clawed feet skidding over the half-submerged rubble in its haste.

  Ashian doubled over and laughed. It took Capac and Myshia a second to catch on and soon they too joined in the laughter. Capac watched the mouse-like creature dart into what was apparently its burrow. The skidding and plonking of pebbles seemed insignificant, whereas in the darkness their imagination had twisted it into something more sinister.

  "Looks like we survived that one," grinned Ashian, regaining his breath. He looked up, and returned Myshia's smile. Winking slyly, he said, "That Abas we've got Capac to protect us from those things."

  "You'd better believe it," Capac in mock severity.

  Weak with exhaustion Ashian sunk his back against a large boulder and exhaled a heavy sigh. Every inch of his flesh hurt with bruises and scratches but it seemed he had avoided major injures. These thoughts lead him to his companions, and remembered abruptly his companion who had fallen.

  "Shaun." Ashian sat bolt upright. "Do you think we can find him?"

  * * *

  Evening was falling upon the swamp.

  Shaun shuffled sideways in the cramped confines of the hollow and peered out the narrow gap between two roots. He could see the mists darken upon the water as the greyness slowly turned into darkness. He held the minigun across his lap, primed with the safety off. The pyrons had attacked him three times, their powerful jaws ramming against the small opening. A quick blast from the minigun directly down its gullet had persuaded the reptile to move away, blood gushing from a wound that exited the back of its wedge shaped head, but Shaun knew the rest still lurked out of reach, waiting with a patience only a predator can have.

  His discovery of the hollow had been accidental and had saved his life. Soon after falling from the tree the pyrons had converged and a wild 360 degree spray had kept them at bay for a few seconds. Hope low in his heart, Shaun had backed away, the water sloshing around his knees. Then his foot sunk suddenly as footing gave way underwater, his boot buried in mud. Spinning, he had seen the small shelter created at the base of a tree had roots twisted down, forming a primitive wooden cage. It had been a tight fit, and with only seconds to spare Shaun had squeezed through the roots and into the mosquito ridden shelter.

  Squatting the insects as they swarmed irritatingly before his face Shaun allowed his guard to relax and the heaviness settle in. It had been a long time since he had rested, and in this position he could afford to snatch a just a few minutes.

  The swamp was bathed in ghostly midnight shadows when he started awake, suddenly aware he had slept longer than intended. A coldness permeated his bones that even the torn helicasuit could not ward away.

  Rubbing his eyes and shaking his head he sat upright as much was able, peering into the mists. A rustle of quick movement caught his eye, and he knew the pyrons were still out there and active, knowing their prey would have to emerge sooner or later.

  Shaun cursed the reptiles in a vocabulary only a space marine could have learned. The nearest of the pyrons shuffled forward like a crocodile and sunk into the water, but this was the only reaction Shaun's shout drew.

  Still muttering Shaun sunk his back between the roots, resisting the impulse to scratch his face where a thousand insect bites swelled. He simply lay there for a long time, shivering and listening to the eerie sounds of the forest. Finally his gaze wandered up, and through the gap in the roots and the canopy of branches saw small pinpricks of the stars appear and disappear as clouds passed overhead. From here they seemed so distan
t and he knew he could very well die before the Federation arrived.

  In those cold moments shouted his companions' names until he was hoarse, but his cried were not returned form the mists and it was obvious his friends were far away.

  It wasn't until late in the night that a sudden bass rumble shook through the earth. Unexpected in its terrible ferocity, sending the waiting pyrons bolting into the water and racing for cover as a bright searchlight stabbed through the branches. Suddenly, before he could comprehend was happening, the beam settled across the hollow and the night blazed like the sun.

  * * *

  The blinding light faded after a perfect white climax.

  Captain Ryson Lockhart was momentarily stunned as the explosion of light faded into a rapidly diminishing sphere. Despite the computer controlled reduction in brightness, the intensity upon the holographic display was enough to stun those aboard the Scoipre.

  Loriena flashed a broad smile. "It's the Federation!'

  The display now showed a narrowing streak like a comet flash past, its tail catching up to the head as it slowed.

  "Pull us in behind," barked Lockhart heartily. "Big Brother is here at last!"

  General McMillan stroked the edges of his stubbled jawbone, the other hand behind his back as he strode over the bridge of the Federation Deepspace Cruiser, the Berana. His second-in-command stood to attention at the General's approach. Stiff with military discipline McMillan ordered his officer to be at ease.

  "Sir," the young officer began, "do you think this move is wise? Attacking the planet with only three battleships seems suicidal."

  The General shook his head. "The Admiral has ordered it, and oor duty is tae obey."

  The officer pulled McMillan aside and whispered almost conspiringly, "But more than half our fleet remains in dock at Krake! I can't see the sense in the Comitia's order to send us here with such forces."

  "Unless yiv an Admiral's insignia under that vest ah'd advise ye back tae yir station," said McMillan levelly, his New-Scot accent growing heavy. He knew that their role was that of but a pawn in the battle with the Hartrias, yet he was prepared to accept demands of council that directed all troop movements - the Comitia. Although a General, he had no choice but to stifle qualms and go into attack with only two accompanying battleships.