The Sky Woman

by JD Moyer

  Car-En thanked him, and ate everything he offered. The simple food was overwhelmingly delicious, and once again Car-En had to hold back tears. She had a friend (or at least someone who was not threatening her, or actively trying to kill her), and she was eating. “Good?” he asked. She could only nod, mouth full.

  While she ate, Esper continued sharpening the sturdy branch and further explained his predicament. “The giant took my brother east, along the Silver Trail. I followed him for a time, but I could not keep up with his long stride. I dared not shoot him with arrows for fear of hitting Trond, whom he carried across his back like a slain deer. I decided to craft a sturdier weapon, then track him to his home. But I don’t know what the brute has in store for my brother, so we must hurry.” Esper glanced up. “There is still light in the sky. Are you ready?” Car-En nodded, relieved to have someone else take the lead. Acting alone for so long, she had developed decision fatigue. She took a pickled carrot and passed the half-empty jar back to Esper.

  They returned to the trail and continued east. Esper carried the spear, using the blunt end as a walking staff, his bow slung over his back. Car-En readied her rifle, still loaded with sedative darts. Esper asked to hold the gun. Would she teach him how to use it? She promised she would show him, later. “Maybe your weapon will be more effective than my arrow, which he pulled from his belly and tossed aside like a splinter. Though he can be injured. We found his hand – severed from his body – before we discovered the rest of him. How he lost it, I have no idea. A steel blade, no doubt, but who was wielding it?”

  Car-En was skeptical of this ‘giant.’ Just a very tall man, perhaps? But who knew what creatures roamed Earth now? If she had learned anything, it was how little the ringstation denizens knew about the current state of their home planet.

  As they walked, Esper peppered her with questions. What was her home like? How did she descend from the sky? From what material was her clothing made? She answered as truthfully and as thoroughly as she could. Strange as she must have seemed to him, he took her answers in stride. Just another oddity in an odd world, she supposed. But there was something else to Esper, a natural curiosity and keen intelligence. She wondered, not for the first time, what wildstrains he might be harboring in his genome. She considered asking him directly for a saliva sample. But no, they had only just met.

  In turn, she asked about Happdal. What did he know about the history of his own people? He told her about the Ice Trail, the long walk south. Their homeland, which had always been cold, had gotten colder. Summer disappeared entirely, leaving a permanent, barren winter. Nothing could grow in the icy soil. Animals froze to death. Most people refused to leave their ancestral home and eventually starved. But some – Esper’s ancestors – came south on the Ice Trail. They settled in these mountains because the place reminded them of home, before the endless winter. Both sun and snow, hills and valleys, fertile land to grow grain, and mountains laced with metal. Everyone in the Five Valleys came from the Northlands, long ago. But now, most considered the Ice Trail a tall tale. They believed that their people came from the mountains, that they had always lived here. “In a few generations,” said Esper, sadly, “the knowledge of our ancestors will be lost.”

  Car-En nodded quietly. If only he knew how much knowledge had been lost. Should she tell him?

  “Our ancestors are one and the same, long ago,” she said. “I am descended from the people you call the Builders, and so are you.” He looked at her thoughtfully. The idea did not seem to offend him, at least. She continued, “On Earth, most of the Builders died, and most of what they knew was lost. But your ancestors retained more knowledge than most. How to grow food crops. How to work with metals, and make tools and weapons.”

  He nodded. “That is part of the tale as well. Our people held on to the old ways. That is why we survived. That, and our purity.”

  “Purity?” she asked.

  “Yes. Our strong blood. It was part of Mormor’s story.”

  She wondered if Adrian’s ‘Scandinavian traditionalist village’ hypothesis was missing a critical component: racism. She had a vague notion of a significant overlap between Viking-themed historical enthusiasm and extreme right-wing/neo-Nazi sympathies in Corporate Age Europe. European racism and xenophobia had never gone away after World War II; it had simply expanded from Jews and Roma to include African and Middle-Eastern immigrants. During the Remnant Age, the Survivalist tribes had often segregated along racial lines. Perhaps Esper’s ancestors had been no different in that respect. At least Esper himself did not seem bothered by her brown skin.

  She had studied her own ethnic composition in great detail; she had ancestors from nearly every continent. Her appearance (light brown skin, large eyes, small, flat nose, compact body) was the result of a wide mix of origins: South Asian (Indian), North Asian (Mongolian), and a variety of European subgroups. She guessed that Esper’s lineage was similarly diverse, if heavily weighted toward Northern European. Such was the case with every Happdal villager she had sequenced so far. She’d found ancestral traces from Southern and Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Russia, and every other region that had ever sent emigrants to Northern Europe. Esper’s ‘strong blood’ was nearly as mixed as her own.

  Esper was still talking. “…thankfully the Red Brother showed us the way, and we found our home in the mountains. I only wish I could convince the others that the Ice Trail story is real. It’s important that we understand our origins.”

  Understand to an extent, she thought. Perhaps it was better to leave the ‘purity’ stone unturned. “Who is the Red Brother?” she asked.

  He grinned at her ignorance. “A wrathful god. He wields a hammer that can smite any foe. He has two brothers, one brown and one black. The colors of their beards.”

  The Norse god Thor. But who were the other two, the brown-bearded and black-bearded gods? Were they also white-skinned, and pure? Why was she feeling touchy? She reminded herself how little Esper knew of history, of anything really. Mentally, she tried to absolve him of any bigotry his ancestors might have harbored. It was just a hypothesis, after all. Even if true, her own distant kin had indulged in atrocious behaviors at some point in history (her own genomic analysis listed Genghis Khan as a likely ancestor).

  “The Brown Brother is merciful, and believes in forgiveness. Still, he is powerful. He can turn water into wine, and heal the sick. The Black Brother believes in justice above all else. He performs righteous deeds, travels in the night, and can fly to the moon.”

  Thor, Jesus, and Muhammad. Fascinating. In her m’eye, Car-En tagged what had just been recorded. “Polytheistic theology,” she subvocalized. She couldn’t wait to discuss this with Adrian. Realistically, after Academic Conduct was done with her, her research on Earth would be over. But somebody, eventually, would learn from the material she was collecting. This knowledge was invaluable.

  Dusk fell. The river, and the trail with it, continued west, but Esper, after examining some nearby vegetation, led them south into a thick beech wood. “This brute is easier to track than a boar,” he said, as they climbed a steep slope. “We are close to the ruins of an ancient castle – perhaps that is where he makes his home. Long ago, my sister said she saw giants there. We didn’t believe her at the time.”

  Giants, plural. Car-En gripped her rifle more tightly and directed her drones to scout ahead. Her m’eye responded with a DRONES OFFLINE error. Strange. Some local signal interference? She brought up a topographical map of the area; they were roughly fifteen kilometers east-south-east of Happdal, rapidly gaining elevation. She added a landmark layer to the visualization. There were indeed some ruins nearby, less than a kilometer ahead. Scharzfels Castle, constructed in the eleventh century, an impregnable fortress for half a millennium.

  “Do you smell smoke?” asked Esper. She sniffed, caught a faint whiff of burning wood, and nodded. Esper redoubled his pace. Car-En struggled to keep up. As they climbed
the treed ridge she saw stars through gaps in the canopy, and caught a glimpse of the nearly full moon. Finally they crested the ridge, scrambling up a final sheer rock face. Twenty meters ahead was a low stone rampart. Orange and yellow light flickered through cracks in the wall. A bonfire.

  They crept forward; Esper with his makeshift spear, Car-En with her rifle held at eye level. From beyond the wall they heard low, coarse voices. “More than one,” whispered Esper. “Take care, the brute I saw was swift as well as large.”

  Car-En advanced cautiously, a few steps behind Esper, trying to keep her breathing slow and even. Oddly, she felt calmer than during her encounter with the strange white-haired man. Maybe she was getting used to living dangerously. Or maybe she just felt safer in the company of Esper.

  “Eins, zwei, drie!” The deep voices were counting in some Germanic language. The numbers were followed by a peal of loud, wild laughter.

  “Trond!” cried Esper, charging forward. Esper cleared the crumbling rampart with a high leap, disappearing from sight. She heard shouts of surprise.

  She sprinted to the wall and peered over. Trond was lying on the ground near the fire, naked and bound to a wooden spit, the front of his body scorched raw, his red beard still smoldering with flame. Esper was crouched next to him, clutching his spear tightly. On the other side of the fire were three figures. Two were indeed giants, over three meters tall, and immensely wide. The third, a child, was roughly man-sized, with thick, matted black hair. This smaller one roared, revealing a mouthful of large, yellowed teeth, and charged at Esper, jumping over the edge of the fire. Esper met the child-giant head-on, plunging the tip of his spear into its gaping maw. The blow stopped it cold. The beast lurched, clutched at the shaft, and stumbled into the flames. The spear had impaled the back of its throat; it could only emit a gurgling cry, futilely grasping at the shaft with both meaty hands. It collapsed, damping a third of the bonfire with its bulk.

  Esper let go of the spear and jumped clear of the flames. Another giant, a lumbering, topless female, cried out in anguish. She grabbed the child-giant by the ankle and dragged its limp body from the flames. The huge male circled menacingly toward Esper, wielding a massive club. Car-En raised her rifle, aimed center-of-mass, and fired three sedative darts into his chest and abdomen. The giant winced, glanced in her direction, and moved behind the fire, blocking her line of sight. Esper leapt and rolled to the side, dodging a crushing downward strike from the giant’s club.

  Car-En scrambled over the stone wall and circled around the fire to get a clear shot. Esper crouched in front of his brother, who lay limp and seemingly lifeless, his chest singed raw. The giant raised his club to take another swing, but looked unsteady on his feet. The sedative was kicking in. Car-En fired three more darts in quick succession. One missed, but two thudded into the creature’s broad back. He swayed and stumbled, falling to one knee. Car-En fired two more darts, connecting with both. Only two more in the clip, and the remaining ammunition was buried deep in her pack. The brute’s head drooped forward. He dropped the club, slumped to one side, and fell with an earth-shaking thud.

  The female huddled over her lifeless offspring. She carefully extracted the spear from his throat. A stream of black blood gushed from its maw. She whipped the wooden spear, end-over-end, at Esper, who ducked. The shaft struck the stone wall and snapped in two. The giantess tenderly stroked her child’s matted hair, for the moment ignoring the interlopers.

  Giving the female giant wide berth, Car-En joined Esper at Trond’s side. He was badly burned, but his chest still rose and fell shallowly. Esper drew his dirk, cut the tough vines that bound his brother to the long spit, and gently eased Trond’s heavy, limp body into a supine position.

  “Can you carry him?” asked Car-En. Esper nodded. “Then let’s get out of here.” As Esper struggled to lift Trond, Car-En kept an eye on the giantess. Who was she? What was she? As soon as Esper had secured his brother in a firefighter’s carry, Car-En sprinted to the wall and grabbed the pointy half of the broken spear. “This way,” she said, gesturing to the stone ruins of a doorframe.

  “His clothes and sword,” whispered Esper, “do you see them?”

  “Just go!” hissed Car-En. “If she attacks I won’t be able to stop her.”

  They carefully descended a set of ancient stone stairs, then veered north across a grassy hillock. Esper led the way, Trond slung across his shoulders, moving slowly but confidently. Car-En followed, frequently glancing over her shoulder. She activated her thermal vision. The drones were still offline.

  “Can you see in the dark?” she asked Esper.

  “Yes. Can you?”

  “Yes. And I can see great distances as well.” There was no reason to be coy about her technological abilities. Sharing knowledge might help them survive.

  “Eaglesight. I have that as well, from my mother.”

  They continued north into a wooded area. “I’ll need to rest soon,” said Esper. “My brother is heavy.”

  “A little farther, if you can,” she said, looking back. She sorely missed the drones. As they walked she tried to troubleshoot the problem. There was no obvious radio interference. Seeing the long queue of messages from Adrian, a dark thought occurred to her.

  They reached a natural clearing among the beech trees, an island of grasses and wildflowers. “Here,” she said. Esper gently lowered Trond to the ground, grunting with the effort. She leaned over the hulking blacksmith, examining his muscular body. Next to the giants, Trond had looked small, but up close she realized he must outweigh her by at least a factor of three (maybe four, given her current emaciated state). His arms were wider than her legs, his legs wider than her waist. Unlike the giants, Trond was both strong and lean; he resembled an anatomical model, pure muscle stripped of skin and fat. Unfortunately, he actually was missing several layers of skin, especially from his chest and abdomen. Below the waist, his epidermis, though red and raw, was intact (including the skin of his genitals, which, even in proportion to his oversized body, were alarmingly large). His unburned skin was covered in grease or oil, and had a foul, rancid smell. She checked his temperature with thermal vision. It was several degrees lower than it should be. “Make a fire,” she told Esper, “quickly. We need to keep him warm.”

  “Trond is strong,” said Esper. “He’ll be fine.”

  She glared at him. “Please do as I ask. If you want your brother to live through the night, follow my instructions exactly.”

  Esper stared at her, then nodded curtly. “I’ll fetch wood.”

  Car-En removed her pack and retrieved her first aid supplies. She found an antiseptic salve that would relieve pain and accelerate healing. She applied it liberally to Trond’s raw burns. The big man flinched and shivered beneath her touch, but his eyes stayed closed. For the best, to stay unconscious for as long as possible. He would be in a world of pain when he came to.

  Esper returned with a large bundle of dry branches and built a campfire. She would have preferred to stay dark (there might be more giants, or the mother might come after them), but Trond needed warmth. The night air was cool, he was naked, and his injuries would hinder temperature regulation. Blood pressure and glucose levels were the other things to look out for – that much she remembered from her medical field training.

  She retrieved a lightweight reflective emergency blanket from her pack and gingerly wrapped it around Trond. It wasn’t big enough to cover him entirely – his ankles and feet stuck out – but it would help. With Esper’s assistance she arranged her pack and his carry-sack so that Trond was between their gear and the campfire in a pocket of warmer air. Esper removed his boots and woolen socks, and with some effort got them onto Trond’s feet, which were unburned. After a few minutes, Trond stopped shivering.

  “I did not mean to sound harsh or uncaring,” said Esper. “I love my brother. But he is strong. You will see for yourself in the morning.” He sat and rub
bed his bare feet. “Thank you for caring for him.”

  She unpacked her medical kit and took Trond’s vitals. The results were encouraging. His glucose was within normal range, his inflammatory markers were heightened but not dangerously so, his blood pressure was low but in a safe range, and his body temperature was stable at 36.5˚C. “You seem to be right,” she conceded to Esper, who was warming his feet by the fire. “Your brother is…strong.”

  Esper nodded. “He has survived injuries that would have killed lesser men, myself included. Lars once got in a lucky sword thrust while they were sparring. He opened up a vein in Trond’s groin. Never have I seen so much blood, or my brother so pale. Lars fled and hid in the woods for three days and three nights. When he dared show his face, Trond was already back to work in the smithy. But Lars was thin and filthy. Not only a coward, but a poor woodsman.” Esper stood and stretched. “I am going back, to find his clothes and his sword. Wish me luck, sky dweller.”

  Car-En looked up, startled. “Are you crazy? That…creature. The mother. She’ll crush you if she sees you.”

  Esper grinned. “She will not see me. Or hear me. Not with bare feet.”

  Car-En shook her head. “I’ll go. Your brother will need a familiar face when he wakes up. My cloak…. Well, see for yourself.” Car-En pulled up her hood and subvocalized a command. Her cloak matched the flickering shadows of the campfire. Esper’s eyes widened.

  “Impressive! Builder magic. I would like to know how that works. Very well – you go. I will warm my toes by the fire and keep my brother company.”

  “One more thing,” said Car-En. She picked up the bloodied point of the broken spear from the rock where she’d carefully balanced it. She’d carried the broken shaft pressed parallel to her rifle. Now, examining it closely, she found a still-moist patch of congealed blood, untouched by dirt or debris. She handed the spear point to Esper, unwrapped a sterile swab-stick from her medical kit, retrieved a glob of blood, and carefully deposited it into the sequencing compartment of her biosampler. The analysis would take a few hours.