Strange Land (The Young Ancients Book 15)

by P. S. Power

  World of the Young Ancients:

  Strange Land

  P.S. Power

  Orange Cat Publishing

  Copyright 2014

  Chapter one

  "This be the place... Miss." The man, who was small and pale compared to Sara didn't make eye contact. His blue eyes fought not to meet her own decently hard, to tell the truth. It was part of the way of these people, as far as she could tell. They didn't look at you, if they were men. Almost as if they wanted you to know first thing that you just didn't measure up.

  The Tellerand. The religious zealots of the world. A whole land of people who took their beliefs so seriously that they lived it in every moment. Worse, most of them insisted that you do the same. Live their beliefs, as if that made any kind of sense? What if you simply didn't want to? Or thought they were wrong?

  Sara had an answer to that one however, and had for quite a long time now. Weeks. Longer than that.

  If you didn't want to convert to their one god system of belief... They kept after you until you did. Daily. Sometimes more than that. Even the relatively nice man next to her, Roget, would casually drop hints into conversation several times a day.

  About how peaceful and connected to the All High thrice daily prayers could be, for instance.

  She bit her tongue on the matter. It was rude to try and insist that others change to your beliefs. In Noram. Even in the new lunar colony of Harmony it was considered poor form. There were no rules against it, but everyone knew that you shouldn't force your ways onto others that way.

  No one had ever really explained that to these people, it didn't seem.

  That wasn't the current problem however. At the moment Roget was just worried, and let that show by not making any kind of meaningful connection with her. He looked away, at the ragged coastline in front of her ship. It wasn't her space craft, though she had that with her, in a special pocket of her all black tunic. Right over her left breast, near her heart. It was a bit lumpy there, but everyone had agreed that no one in Tellerand would stare at her in that particular location too hard.

  Today she was standing on the deck of an actual water going vessel. One made of magic, which made sense, but designed to look like an actual sailing ship with three masts and billowing sails. They were lovely sheets of cream colored canvas, but none of it was real. It was an illusion, if a solid one. A thing that with a thought, and a tap on the bit of metal Terry Baker had given her had created a vessel that would have been worth tens of thousands of golds if it had been made of wood and pitch, the way it seemed. Instead it was worth about five times that.

  The boy, who was only twelve, had given her a lot more than that however. Magics that no one had ever heard of, for her to use in any way she saw fit, to help the backwards and stubborn people of this land. They were suffering and he was, young or not, the Ancient of this place. Their immortal watchman, who was supposed to look out for their well being.

  It wasn't as if he hadn't been trying either. This was actually the tenth attempt to get food into the troubled and beaten down land. The third for Sara herself. At first Prince Gerent had tried, but when he'd flown in the people in the area had thrown rocks, fearing the magic he was clearly showing. Finally, after a full year, the weather from the shifting patterns of the world hitting them with crop devastating storms and droughts to the point of starvation, the giant man had worked out a way to sneak some food in. It was essentially being smuggled in along the coast at the moment. The women, and some of the tiny and innocent seeming men, from Afrak, were doing most of it.

  The people of Austra too. Even though no one could pay them for it. They got that these people needed help, and for some reason wouldn't take it.

  Everyone felt the Tellerand were a pain in the ass, it was true, but no one wanted to see them die under the weight of their own silly religion. One created by a single man, in order to hold them into a relatively peaceful servitude. Not that you could tell them that. They just wouldn't hear it.

  Roget pointed, still not looking at her. As if she was going to judge him? He'd been asked to leave the land of his own people, since he was a saint. One of their kind who could turn on the magics of Noram, Harmony or Vagus.

  Not make it. Nothing that advanced. He could simply bring himself to tap an activation sigil, and focus enough to allow the things to function.

  So he had, at what seemed to be real personal cost. Using a healing amulet to save several villages from the Gray Plague. Thanks to Roget and others like him, who'd been told they were required to give such service if they had the talent for it, about half the people had been saved. The rest died choking on fluid in their lungs. Horribly drowning in their sleep. Many refusing to take the healing even as they died in agony.

  Then, when it was over, and their old Ancient, the Black Man had died helping to save them all, the saints had been shunned and treated as if they were almost evil for their wicked magical powers.

  Now that was all coming back for the rather plain looking fellow next to her. It was pretty clear to her. There in his eyes, somber as he cleared his throat, a single finger still indicating the coast.

  "It looks like we are being welcomed. They do not hold in their hands weapons with which to kill, or produce harm. We... It is the custom here for people to put the ship to anchor, then go to the beach in a small boat. At least that is how I always heard of it. I was, I must fear, never a seafarer. Miss." He winced when he said the last word, but kept doing it.

  She was the Captain of the ship and should have been addressed as such, but Roget just couldn't get himself to do it. No matter how hard he tried, the word just caught in his mouth. Because she was a woman. That was a problem, with his kind. They didn't let women lead very often. Ever, as far as she'd seen so far.

  It was also why she was there. The one place they did let women take the lead was in food preparation. Managing the winter stores, too.

  They could get these people things to eat, but it was too slow, sneaking them bits and pieces in the night. They needed to set up more openly than that if anyone was going to survive. This last year almost nothing had been gotten in as far as crops. Anywhere. It was less of a challenge in the other lands, since they could all just use magic for it. There were six kinds of devices that would turn rock, dirt or water into food now. Even in Soam they ate now, and that place had been hit so hard by radiation from the nuclear attack that had devastated the Earth that it was still a bit hard to know if the remaining population could live for much longer, or ever have children again.

  The healing devices helped, but it might not be enough.

  Sara didn't smile, her face going blank, since people from Tellerand had to be handled carefully. She also didn't make eye contact with her small friend. If the rather shy seeming man could be said to be that yet. Honestly, she'd really tried to be there for him, but the man barely seemed to understand she was a real person too.

  Looking over at the clutch of real sailors they had, she picked out the First Mate, who was from the same place Roget was, more or less. Tellerand, but a different portion of it. He was different, basically being a pirate. Still short, but stocky of build from all his work on various ships over the years, and the fact that he'd never starved like a lot of people had been doing. No, he'd gone to Noram and just ate the good food that came from the magical devices. It made sense and had been free, so he grabbed hold of the chance when it came, keeping himself well and healthy.

  "Laroque, drop anchor, and set up a skiff. We need a group to go and meet some people." Glancing at the hard looking man, she winked. He didn't look away or act like she wasn't in charge though. It was her ship, as far as he was concerned, whi
ch made her the boss.

  "Make to Anchor! Prepare skiff one!" This got shouted and then repeated, with people scurrying to get that done.

  They might have been thieves and rapists, but when she'd walked up to them in the Public House in Warden, and offered them real work that paid better than stealing could, they hadn't waited to try and do her first. Well, one man had. Laroque had stabbed him. Just in the arm, which she'd then healed using an amulet. It was why he was the First Mate now. If the others didn't do what he said, he'd cut them. True, they'd live through it, but it still hurt.

  She waved at the man next to her. Her guide for the mission. Roget had been a priest, before it had turned out that he was demonic enough to be able to use magic like he could. The poor, clearly good, man hadn't been totally prepared for what came after that.

  "You're with me for this. Do you have a plan? Terry said I shouldn't ask until we were about to get there. Do I have to sleep with the headmen of this village or something?" She knew that the man wouldn't understand her meaning. He spoke Noram standard well enough, and she could manage in Tellerand, having a few years of practice now, which wasn't the problem in this case. To him sleep was just a thing that you did at night, and didn't have a sexual connotation. So she explained in a way he might get. "Trade my virtue, for the right to feed these people?"

  If it was needed, she would, of course. It was her duty to see that Tellerand had enough food to live on. If that meant sucking off half the village elders here, and taking the other half into her behind, Sara would. Really, given how sketchy Terry had been about the whole thing, and embarrassed, she kind of figured that it was the real plan. It was cute, how shy he was about things like that. As if sex were slightly naughty, instead of just a thing to draw people together? A fun way to spend some time, or to make certain the next generation got born.

  Roget was much the same way, it seemed, since as the other men ran and got a tiny boat ready to be lowered over the side, he turned a deep red color. Like Tor did when he was embarrassed. She was too dark for that kind of thing to really show, herself. Most of the other men didn't bother with it, but the one next to her made up for it.

  The man actually stammered at her.

  "Um... No... Captain. The... The new High Prayer Leader, Terrance the Pure, he..." It was odd, but the man, who had to be at least thirty, actually cried. It was a subtle thing, only a single fat tear ran down his light skin. Leaving a wet track that was barely noticeable under the dim gray sky. Even the hardened men around him didn't look at him, after noticing it. Trying not to see a thing that might shame him? That was the kind of thing she could understand, at least. "He wishes you to... Beg them to take the food. To throw yourself to the soil and lament, wailing and humbling yourself before them, as one might before the grace of the All High. I told him that it was too much to ask of anyone, but he remained firm on the subject. Forgive me, for uttering such vile words."

  That meant the man thought this was serious enough to be worth punishing Roget for simply saying the words, but not so much that he was really going to try and kill the other man over it. Not that it would work anyway. Roget was from the Moon now, which meant he had a really high end shield on him, all the time. Everyone from that place had at least one of them. Sometimes two or three, just to make certain they never had to go without. Very few people left on Earth could really harm Roget as long as he was careful. Not physically. That just left all of the emotional garbage that a person like him carried around to damage him.

  She waved a hand at the hardened First Mate.

  "No need for that. We can't stand on pride. Not given the state of things here. If I have to beg these people to let us help them live, then I will. After all, isn't that what the All High would want? That we do whatever is needed to make sure that his people have a chance? No matter how much it hurts. No matter what it costs us in the end?" She didn't really know that was the case, and was actually asking, but all of the people from Tellerand nodded. The few that were from Vagus just kept working.

  One of them, who was very hard looking, if a nice golden color, and wearing magical clothing in bright colors of red and blue that looked like soft cotton, glanced over at Laroque.

  "The Great Brother, leader of your land, requires it of her. It is what will be done." Then, as if that settled the whole thing, he went back to work.

  His name was Sam. Which made six men she knew by that name, being that it was one that every single land had, except the Antarctic. Though, that place only had one person now. Four. There used to be three others, but they'd all died in the last several years. Two of them saving the rest of the world.

  Laroque made a face and glared at Roget, but did put his blade away. That was a sign that he understood, even if he didn't want to see his Captain crawling around and begging. Sara had to admit it wasn't her first choice of things to do either. Nothing else had worked yet though, and it was pretty certain that just handing out food wouldn't do the trick. If they wanted to get these people the help they needed then someone, probably her, was going to have to try a different way of interacting with them.

  Her First Mate looked down at the deck, his face confused.

  "I don't know nothing about that. If'n the Captain says it's the right way, then we go and beg like puppies for scraps. I can't say I like it. We could just kill a few and tell the rest to fall into line or else they'll have a taste of the same." Then he shook his head, negating the words. "Except the stubborn bastards won't do it, even then. They'd let themselves starve first, prayers to Him on their lips. Fools. This is clear on His way o' getting them help. Sending folk off o' the Moon above to bring to them. From His own heaven in the stars."

  There was a lot said in a few words there. The first thing was that the First Mate had spoken of Him in an almost reverent tone. He wasn't a brilliant man, but he clearly wasn't a believer either. Still, there it was. The words held no sense of mocking or patronizing, either. When he said them he pretended to believe, even if he didn't. Probably because he didn't think anyone would be able to hear him if he did otherwise. Not among his own people.

  She would need to do the same, she thought. It was going to leave a bitter taste in her mouth, lying about something a whole people held so dear, but she nodded.

  "Don't worry men, I won't make you crawl on the ground to get these people to do what's needed. I'll do that part. That's my part in this. No need for all of us to get dirt over our clothes. Terry didn't ask for you to be shamed in this." No, just her. The only good part about it was that the boy was probably one of the last people on any world that would have asked such a thing, if he wasn't willing to do it himself. Everyone knew how noble he was. In the old meaning of the word too. The real one.

  He just couldn't go and do it yet. So he sent... Her. A person that had only met him a few times.

  What she'd said got everyone to be nearly silent as they loaded on to the little magical boat, that looked exactly like a wooden skiff. It even had oars, which were used to row the thing to the sandy beach. For all intents and purposes it was a thing that couldn't be told for what it was. Honestly she wasn't certain that all of the men going with her knew that it was magical at all. They were good at ignoring things like that, the people of Tellerand.

  If so, that was fine with her.

  It was mid-afternoon, but there was a heavy cover of cloud to keep it from being too warm. The scent from the water was musky and a bit sour, since too many things had died in the normally life filled waters in the last months. On the shore was a collection of people, waiting for them. They'd started a small fire and stood around it. The smoke billowed whitely as they stared. Mainly men, but a few dark clothed women in long dresses were waiting near the back. There was a young girl there too, who was passing around what seemed to be cups, with water in it.

  Sara knew it had to be that, since these people didn't have anything else to drink. They'd be lucky if even that was clean and pure.

  On the whole they were a somber looking
crowd. Dour and humorless. The clothing wasn't horrible, but it was all a bit run down looking. All black or gray too. With one exception. A single woman in a brown dress who stood off to the far side, away from the rest of the people. No one looked at her. After the first glance even Roget turned his face away. If the other men did, Sara couldn't tell. Most of them just worked at what they were doing, holding an oar down and keeping the strokes timed to the others.

  A gray bearded man wearing a heavy looking wooden cross around his neck on a simple rope, held up his right hand, waving to them when they got close enough to be heard. The pounding of the salt water against the sand made it hard to make it all out.

  "We welcome you strangers. Are..." He looked up to the heavens, his face going a bit strange. More so than was polite really. Disgust played on his lips, and he seemed nearly scared for some reason. "Are you the people... that come with food? We're close to having none. We have good clean water, given us by the All High. We will share that with you. If you have need, we might part with some small bit to eat, but... I fear we truly don't have much."

  Given that his second line to them had been asking if they were the ones smuggling food in, Sara had to bet they didn't have much left. Still, this man was offering what they had to them, or part of it. Even though it would clearly be a hardship. They were all thin enough that missing a meal or two would really hurt. No one told the man to shush however, or looked angry about his offer to help them, if it was needed.

  Sara didn't wait, jumping out of the boat directly into the water. Her clothing was black, and she wore trousers, which was probably a mistake, given who she had to talk to, but did keep her from drowning as she paddled to the shore. The others followed in the boat, she noticed. Probably showing they were sane. Then, she was the tallest person there, and could walk her way in from a good bit further away than the others could.

  The last bit of the trip took some effort, and the salt water made her eyes burn.