Veiled Planet (Hidden World Trilogy Book 1)

by Teagan Kearney

  In turn, she attempted to summarize human history. "Long ago in our home world we had similar problems and barely avoided destroying our planet." After mastering space travel, mankind had expanded and colonized segments of the galaxy during the subsequent ten millennia until the Eridanus conflict saw the entire species on the point of annihilation. The tragic stupidity of pursuing a course which meant the systematic annihilation of their own species eventually dawned on the winners. Afterward, their leaders named themselves the Triumvirate, and established the laws human civilization currently followed. If you disagreed with the rules, you faced the brunt of the Triumvirate’s power. "Anybody who wants danger or excitement joins one of the Space Exploration or Colonization branches, and their energies are directed toward something constructive."

  "And not destroying yourselves leaves you free to destroy others?"

  Rishi spoke mildly, but his animosity toward her people prickled her pride. Why didn’t they see the advantages they could gain? Why did they view the opportunities available to members of the Triumvirate worlds as a negative? "We don’t destroy. We offer progress."

  "But for us, the progress you offer removes what we have and replaces it with what?"

  "Life is one long process of change. Change is inevitable," Kara quoted from the Students’ Handbook, although even to her the words sounded trite as she rattled off the axiom.

  "Agreed, but there must be a reason to change, and order within that change, not just introducing something new to satisfy some inner restlessness."

  Kara grunted a non-committal reply. This conversation was going nowhere. Her views weren't going to change, and she doubted Rishi's would either. Philosophical debate. Another on the list of subjects she preferred to avoid. She found plants and animals fascinating, and wanted to do nothing else. This far she’d muddled through, more or less ignoring most things she wasn't interested in, and that also wouldn't alter. The irony of her stubbornness wasn’t lost on her.

  That evening the tribe camped around a distinctive outcrop of sand-blasted blackened rocks—the only feature in the flat reddish landscape. Helping to set up camp was becoming routine for Kara. The well was hidden among the small outcrop of rocks and covered with a flat slab it took three men to shift.

  When fetching water with the boys that evening, she tried to scratch the well walls with her nails when Makel wasn’t looking, but the smooth dark metal proved impervious. She was beginning to understand how the Maruts traveled such long distances. She guessed the wells had been dug in the distant past, and descended well below the water table. Maybe the Founders Rishi mentioned had built them? She suspected the route they followed would take them from well to well, each spaced out at a distance manageable by a slow-moving group in a single day. It would be interesting to see if her conjecture was right.

  As the tribe entered the desert proper Kara learned about the sand dance. The first time she witnessed this odd ritual was when they arrived at their camping place for the night. Everyone jumped down from the carts, and instead of unpacking blankets and preparing food, they began to stamp the sand.

  “Come,” Rishi beckoned, rhythmically stomping from side to side. “Dance with me.”

  Dancing was not an activity practiced on interstellar starships, although settled worlds and indigenous peoples loved to dance. New colonies often took a while before developing an activity that appeared to have no reason, other than the pleasure of doing it, as other priorities often took precedence.

  Kara tried to keep the same rhythm as Rishi, but the first giggle escaped before she could control it. She looked up at Rishi, expecting to see his annoyance, but he laughed too, grabbing her hands in his, and swinging her around, all the while keeping time with the thump thump of the tribe’s beat. Just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, the dance abruptly stopped, and the whole tribe leapt back onto the carts.

  “Look,” Rishi pointed at the sand as they peered over the side of the cart.

  Kara gasped as a swarm of slender iridescent worm-like creatures slithered to the surface of the sand and fled out into the desert, leaving long thin wiggly lines behind them.

  “Sandbeasts. The vibrations disturb them, and they depart making it safer for us.”

  “How dangerous are they?” she asked, observing the lines lengthening out into the desert.

  “After they’ve entered your ear and laid their eggs, they die. But as the eggs grow, they eat your brain and you end up insane.” He watched her reaction.

  “In that case, thanks for the dance,” she laughed.

  “Till tomorrow then.”

  The following days merged into a blur. Kara sometimes felt as if she was dreaming, and her previous existence had vanished in a haze of never-ending sweltering desert.

  Dashara led the caravan, and she and Rishi continued behind Ikeya and Yleni at the rear.

  She saw no more signs of protest at her presence among the tribe. Hopefully there'd be none in the future either. She and Rishi hadn’t been alone together since that night in the cave, and she was surprised that the memory of his kiss bothered her—it wasn’t her first, and unlikely to be her last. Yet she was becoming surprisingly accustomed to his close physical presence. They spent all day in each other's company, and each night when he disappeared to attend to the satyrs, she experienced a bizarre separation from him which she was at a loss to understand.

  "Why don’t the men help carry the water?" she asked Rishi as they rolled their uneven way across the hot dusty landscape. She'd puzzled over this strict division of labor. Some tasks she understood being relegated according to physical strength but sometimes even that allocation made little sense. "Wouldn’t it be easier for them to carry the heavy containers?"

  Rishi laughed so loudly that Makel and Masir, absorbed in a complicated game of casting and picking up small stones at the back of Ikeya’s cart in front of them, stopped playing and stared at him.

  "Oh, gradhaig," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, "you say the funniest things. What an idea!"

  He used the word gradhaig quite a lot when there were just the two of them. It sounded like an endearment, but she sensed something in the way he said it that made her hesitant to ask Yleni.

  "Yes, we even allow women the freedom to choose what work they want to do. Can you imagine how revolutionary that is?" She turned away from him. How unkind of him to laugh at her in that manner. Her ancestors had achieved significantly more than his without becoming mired in upholding rigid tradition for its own sake. They’d attained peace without giving up technology and made a reality of their dream of space travel.

  "I’m sorry." He put his hand on her arm. "I know how sensitive you are about these things." Two seconds passed before he burst out laughing once more.

  She shifted away, a scathing answer ready on her tongue, when a cracking noise startled them both. Rishi hauled on the reins, pulling the satyrs to an abrupt halt. He thrust the reins at her.

  "Hold them tight. Don’t let them move."

  She gripped the leather reins tightly; she’d show him a woman could manage a few dumb animals.

  Rishi leaped off the cart and examined the wheels. "It’s the front right wheel. The outer rim has a fracture. We have to stop and fix it, otherwise it'll break."

  Kara looked ahead to where Ikeya’s family, unaware of their situation, continued to move away from them.

  "Make sure you hold them still." He loped off at a fast pace to catch up with his uncle.

  "I heard you the first time," she muttered to herself, but tightened her hold as the animals, disturbed by Rishi’s sudden departure, shifted restlessly.

  "We’re not far from our next stop, and Ikeya will travel on," he told her after he returned, looking at her apologetically. "He has to stay with the group, to make sure everything is all right. If we haven’t joined them by evening, he’ll send men to help."

  "Oh, good,” said Kara, "more men. They’ll sort everything out, won’t they?"

  She had little
time to think during the next hour. They worked hard, removing enough of the boxes and trunks so Rishi could lift and prop up the cart before mending the broken wheel. Kara hadn’t a clue how he'd fix it, but she was determined to show him she could work as hard as he did.

  "Enjoying men’s work, are you?" he teased with a glint in his eye as they dragged a particularly heavy trunk toward the edge of the cart.

  Her back, arms, and legs ached and sweat dripped into her eyes. The heat was tolerable while sitting as they traveled, but performing hard manual labor in it was grueling. She resisted the temptation to drop the box on his foot.

  "My people," she began, but he cut across her words.

  "Your people," he hissed, "are not here. This is not their planet. This is our planet and you are with us now." His eyes blazed at her. "I’m sick of hearing how you and your people are better than us because you have fancy toys!"

  She dropped her end of the trunk.

  He jumped, narrowly avoiding having his foot crushed.

  Pity he’s such a quick mover she thought and began hauling another trunk. She’d understood their conversations to be an equal exchange of information about their cultures. Apparently he’d stored up every remark, assumed she was asserting the colonists’ supremacy, and waited for the moment he could tell her his real feelings.

  Rishi’s face was set, and he issued orders without looking at her.

  She complied, doing her best to ignore the anger simmering below the surface.

  Ikeya’s cart rolled out of sight, and even the dust raised by the tribe’s cavalcade was soon hardly visible on the horizon. Around them, without the noise of the other carts and animals, the wind soughed over the empty land.

  Kara looked around at the desolate landscape, wondering how different would the emptiness of space be from this.

  "Come here." Rishi stood by the lead satyrs. "We need to roll the cart forward and find the crack. I need you to pull them forward, slowly, and stop the instant I tell you. Can you manage that?"

  Kara stomped toward him, not an easy thing to manage on desert sand, but she did her best and took hold of the bridle where he indicated.

  The animal blinked, and she noted the details of the soft gray eyes and thick lushness of its eyelashes as it seemed to regard her with interest. She wasn't sure about the sharp teeth when it peeled back its thick-lipped mouth, but she was determined not to let Rishi see her fears.

  "Are you ready?"

  She looked at where he stood with his hand on the wheel, his gaze intent on finding the fault. What else did he think she was doing other than standing here waiting for his order? She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself saying anything stupid. "Yes."

  “Walk forward.”

  She pulled on the reins and the satyrs obliged with surprising ease.

  “Stop,” Rishi commanded, “I see it.”

  Kara, and the satyrs, obeyed.

  Rishi produced a little pot, and using his knife, he dug out a small portion of the gray substance inside.

  Kara was dying to ask him what it was but pinched her lips together. She wasn't going to be the first to break this impasse.

  "For your information, this is dried satyr fat.” He showed her the contents. “As you can see, it has gone hard." He was unbearably annoying! How could she maintain her animosity when he was being so amenable?

  “Let go of the reins for a minute and pass me a water bottle. Move quickly before the animal notices.”

  She fetched the satyr skin container lying on the seat of the cart, thrust it at him, then grabbed hold of the reins, watching him mix a little water with the fat, and apply the thinned substance to the crack in the wheel.

  "What’s that?" Her curiosity, as ever, overrode her temper.

  "What’s what?" Rishi snapped.

  He obviously harbored a grudge longer than she did, but he paused and looked at where she was pointing. A dark smudge lay along the horizon behind them.

  "Well, what is it?" she repeated, more disturbed by the frown on his forehead than the blot in the distance.

  "A storm."

  "Should I be worried?"

  "Very,"’ he answered. "We call this sort of storm arravata and they travel at great speed. It's looks as if it’s coming this way, and if it is, we don’t have much time before it hits."

  "Arravata? Is that a particular kind of—"

  "I’ll explain later,” he interrupted, climbing nimbly onto the cart, and flinging the few remaining boxes onto the ground. "Move, gradhaig, because your life depends on it. If we are caught unprotected, we will die."

  Chapter Ten: Arravata

  Eastern Desert Proverb:

  Hamarkhis has many faces. The arravata is one of the worst and best avoided.

  As the roiling immensity of swirling windblown sand moved toward them, it spread across the horizon, cutting out the late afternoon desert light. The dense mass of energy fascinated and terrified her, and she could hardly believe the rate it advanced toward them was possible. As the storm closed, she could hear the wind’s howl and see flickers of lightning flaring and striking the earth within the dark clouds.

  Rishi released the satyrs. "They’ll find their way to the camp or not," he said, giving the beasts a hard smack on the rump to get them moving. "There isn't enough room to shelter them. Now, push!"

  Together they shoved and heaved till the cart rocked over, landing upside down with a thump and a spray of sand. Rishi kicked and tore at the back of the driver's seat till the wagon lay flush with the ground. Next he opened a trunk and tossed blankets over the upturned vehicle, covering the top and sides, securing them in place with the smaller boxes. After which he climbed on the floor of the cart—now the roof—and with Kara below, they heaved, shoved, and manhandled the heavier trunks, the ones they’d just taken off, back up on top to add weight and keep the blankets in place. The entrance he'd created by overlapping the blankets faced away from the storm.

  Rishi stood, his hands on his hips, his chest heaving with his efforts, and looked rapidly between the cart and the oncoming maelstrom. "That will have to do. We’ll have to leave the rest of the boxes."

  Suddenly life at the Academy appeared desirable. The region settled by the colonists experienced seasonal disturbances, but nothing as wild and violent as this storm promised to be. At this moment, she’d give her right arm to be back there. Almost. Kara surveyed their refuge, thinking how flimsy it looked. Sure, it was better than nothing, but how much better she’d discover very soon. As the gale approached, the growling thunder made the hair on her arms and neck stand up, and tiny particles of grit pricked the skin on her exposed neck and arms, working their way into her mouth and eyes.

  "Inside, now." Rishi’s voice broke the spell the storm cast over her, and she shivered. She knelt and squeezed herself through the entrance and into the space underneath the cart. Inside, Kara found the height gave barely enough room to sit. Rishi scrambled in behind her, securing the entrance by pulling a box into place.

  "Are we going to be all right?" she shouted over the deafening roar of the approaching storm as he settled himself beside her.

  He leaned in close and spoke softly, his breath warm on her ear. "The wind will be intense, but the storm moves fast. It won’t last too long."

  She glanced around the darkened space, aware of the thin barrier between them and the approaching devastation. The gloomy light was enough to illuminate Rishi’s profile. His mouth was drawn tight. The storm front announced its imminent arrival, spitting grains of gritty sand at them through gaps created as the wind slapped the overlapping blankets.

  "How long is not too long?"

  "No way to tell." He moved nearer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

  She shifted closer, leaning against him, aware of the hard warmth of his body and glad of his strength. What if they didn’t survive and Ikeya and Yleni found them like this? What would her father say? "Are you scared?" She studied him for signs of fear.

  "Of co
urse." He gave a short laugh. "Aren’t you?"

  "Petrified," she muttered, looking at their flimsy shelter trembling with the force of the wind.

  Then the maelstom struck; an unthinking savage beast with vast elemental forces at its command that battered everything in its path. Deafening, booming noises crashed around them as the storm hit.

  Kara shook with fear as darkness descended and the wind tore at their defenses. She didn’t want to die torn apart and battered to death by a freak storm. If they were buried beneath mountains of sand her father would never know what happened to her.

  Rishi tightened his arms around her, holding her head against his chest.

  Kara clung to him; somehow, despite the way he irritated her beyond reason, he'd become the anchor she trusted. From time to time lightning blazed, illuminating their tiny refuge, and the cart shuddered and rattled as the accompanying thunder assaulted their eardrums. With nerves strung tight, they jumped every time the wind slammed one of the boxes they’d left outside into the cart. Rishi held her tight. The onslaught seemed to go on forever.

  Then between one heartbeat and the next, it was over. They remained motionless with her head pressed against his chest, his arm holding her, till eventually Rishi sighed and released her.

  "Come, we must check the damage while there’s still light," he said moving on hands and knees toward the entrance.

  Kara watched his retreating figure, feeling suddenly bereft. What was wrong with her? She wasn't developing feelings for a Marut tribesman, was she? But she’d felt more reassurance in Rishi’s arms in the middle of a horrendous storm than she had for a long time. She wanted to linger, stay wrapped in his arms. It—she—felt right. Blinking away sudden tears she scrambled after him.

  As Kara exited, her eyes widened as she studied the damage. Their survival was a miracle. Of the four solid sweetwood trunks they’d managed to heave onto the top, one remained, and that hung, swaying half off the edge of the upturned cart. The wind had lifted and tossed the other trunks as if they were kindling, and flung Yleni's food supplies and medicinal herbs everywhere. Sand had blown into a high bank that covered and nearly buried the cart.