by Jack Challis
As the pace slowed to a leisurely saunter, Blodwyn soon started to relax; she felt safe in the open and thought nothing of dallying while picking some lovely sweet-smelling, purple wild flowers growing between the rocks. She pondered on some bright red crystals embedded in the rock – “were they un-cut rubies?”
Suddenly, finding herself straying well behind the landing party, Blodwyn turned to catch up; a faint waft of air on the back of her bare arm made her stop and turn. One of those giant flies they had just seen in the succulent forest, now hung silently hovering in the air right behind her! It was as if the giant fly was about to settle on her back. She quickly turned to face the large insect. Anything that approaches silently from behind should not be trusted, she knew. Facing the giant fly she began to walk backwards as quickly as possible but soon realized… that if she fell she would be vulnerable.
The insect became more insistent, trying to get behind her; all the while those large compound, insect eyes were fixed on her. She realized she was being left behind by the landing party: she needed their protection. Seeing a stick in the sand she picked it up and fended off this aggressive and persistent insect; but the large fly was extremely quick. In trying to follow the large fly as it speedily circled her, Blodwyn began to feel dizzy: “was this the insect’s intention… Was it waiting for her to become dizzy and fall?” she wondered.
If only the little Sisling was with her. She decided to place her back against a large rock with a slight protecting overhang; this forced the large flying insect to remain hovering in front of her: but she was rapidly losing contact with the landing party. Blodwyn studied her antagonist. It was huge for an insect – over a meter long. Its large head was diamond shaped; she could see her reflection in the dozens of small compound eyes. She then noticed something very strange indeed. This insect was holding one of the large round leaves in one of its forelegs – but what for?
What seemed like a long red tongue hung down from the fly’s hidden mouth parts. My God! It was not a tongue. It was a stiletto shaped, sharp, pointed proboscis, used for piercing: deep into flesh. Now, she knew this giant flying insect was a biting, bloodsucking horse-fly that wanted to drink her blood! She called out – would anyone hear her – no. The landing party had turned a corner and was out of earshot by now.
“What if more of the massive blood-sucking flies arrive?” She worried. Blodwyn began to feel rather faint. She wondered if it could have been due to the intensity of those massive staring, unblinking lidless eyes?’ This was definitely not the time to pass out. Blodwyn took several long, deep breaths.
Now she knew why the strange-looking cattle had such large powerful tails. Then to Blodwyn’s surprise the large blood-sucking fly landed on four feet. The insect then adopted an up-right, humped-back walking position: although it was six-legged. The mottled-winged bloodsucker looks up at the burning sun. Then with one thin insect arms it held the round leaf over its large head: as a parasol. Could this creature be intelligent? The Stabasade was intelligent – something she was about to find out very soon.
Zander the Galla Quall was only half right in his quick analysis of these creatures, in that these large insects did not like the sun.
Suddenly the large fly started making strange, punctuated, clicking noises: “was it trying to communicate with her?” She wondered. With its spare hand the giant fly offered her a brilliantly shining, polished, red stone. Then began making the clicking noises again – it was trying to speak to her – she wished she could understand and reply. Perhaps if Blodwyn knew what the Stabasade was asking she would soon change her mind!
‘Take this blood-stone,’ the Stabasade was saying, ‘I can hear your blood rushing…you have much blood…come into the shade of the forest…let me drink …I will leave enough blood for life…take this blood-stone in payment…let me drink your warm, red blood!’ The Stabasade moves closer… its thin arm out stretched, offering her the red stone; like some persistent street vendor.
Blodwyn held out her hand to take the dazzling ruby – it would have been worth a fortune back on earth… then on sudden impulse quickly withdrew it.’
‘Keep away you…you over grown horse-fly,’ threatens Blodwyn, lashing out with her stick: it broke on the blood-sucker’s hard keratin outer shell.
‘Damn you!’ Shouts out Blodwyn, ‘you are not going to suck my blood… until I am a dry empty shell!’
Five hundred paces from Blodwyn, an Ida Jaade warrior turns and notices that she was missing; slowly he comes back for her. On seeing the situation he drew his short gladius sword. To her surprise the Stabasade did not take off in fright but approached the Ida Jaade warrior: “was it now trying to communicate with him?” Yes!
The large bloodsucking Stabasade again held out the red blood-stone as if now offering it to the Ida Jaade warrior. All the while the creature made the clicking sounds, as if continuing to speak in some strange tongue. The Stabasade continues:
‘Give me your captive…the pale, soft skinned one…in return for this precious, red blood-stone…I need to drink deeply of warm blood… before I lay my eggs… my time is near!’
Of course the Ida Jaade warrior did not understand this communication but he cautiously held his thick scaled hand out and took the ruby stone from the stick-thin, hooked hand of the insect. But when the Stabasade considering the deal done… moved to collect his purchase, his blood donor; ‘the pale thin skinned one’ Ida Jaade warrior plunged his gladius sword into the creature large humped thorax, with one quick thrust. The Stabasade fell to the sand mortally wounded; with only one of its wings beating, buzzed around making a perfect circle in the sand, just like a giant dying house fly.
‘Come!’ commands the Ida Jaade, throwing away the red stone. Blodwyn quickly picked the gemstone up and caught up with her rescuer.
Chapter Seventeen
The Narib Gols
When a sly sinewy, dark-tailed Narib
attaches to a Gol’s broad back, like a clinging vine;
the naive Gol has no choice;
the clinging Naribs commands to obey
No soil is turned, no dead branch pruned;
no gathering of the golden hay. If left in place
too over long: the two bodies will entwine!
Back safely with the landing party Blodwyn felt such a fool allowing herself to fall behind, she hoped that Zander had not noticed her absence; if he did, he did not mention it.
Several Ida Jaade warriors scouting in front of the group stop and sniff the still afternoon air suspiciously, for these tepid-blooded, reptilian aliens have keen noses.
‘Sir,’ says one of the Ida Jaade scouts, ‘we are picking up a scent of strange life-forms to our left.’
The whole group stops. Turning, they regard a high bolder-strewn ridge above them. An Ida Jaade warrior receives a warning communication from the Time-ship, in concealed orbit above.
‘Sir! Admiral Sebus informs us that many primitive life-forms are hiding behind the ridge and keeping pace with us.’
‘Summon them,’ says Commander Zander.
‘Show yourselves,’ shouts the Ida Jaade Centurion Valus, ‘we come in peace.’
Slowly a group of large humanoids begin to descend the ridge; the warriors are armed with primitive bows, arrows and clubs held at the ready. The humanoids are much larger than normal humans. Their eyes are very far apart, giving them a placid, bovine look, Blodwyn thought. A long tuft of wild-rabbit colored hair began on their foreheads in a widows peak and ended on the nape of their necks; like a Mohican cut.
She noticed something very wrong with three of the humanoids in the group: they each had two heads! Apart from a normal head, another smaller darker head seemed to be growing out of the humanoids’ necks. This head was very deformed: the back of this head was elongated.
‘Commander Zander,’ exclaims an Ida Jaade warrior; his crest springing upright in alarm, ‘some of them are freaks – double-heads!’
Zander, the Galla Quall remains calm, h
is large dark liquid eyes much more efficient than those of the Ida Jaade warriors – who rely mainly on their acute sense of smell and sharp ears.
‘They are two different species,’ says Zander, ‘one is just mounted on the back of the other…very strange. We found both types of sculls in the cave on Nemesa during our first visit to the Fourth Quadrent… these two life-forms must be prey species of the predatory Nemesians.’
The strange group cautiously approaches, the flint-tipped bows of the large humanoids drawn taught with thick muscular arms.
‘You have nothing to fear,’ announces the gentle voice of Zander the Galla Quall, ‘please… lower your weapons.’ But the weapons of the group remain at the ready.
On closer observation Blodwyn notices three small, sinewy and dark alienoids with cylindrical chests, were firmly fixed to the backs of three of the big humanoids. All these small beings had over-elongated heads, making their small naked bodies look even more deformed. This, combined with their sneers, their pale reptilian-split pupils and small sharp teeth gave them a very sinister appearance.
“Were these life-forms some kind of external parasite,” Blodwyn wonders?
Closer-up, she could now see the three small sinister creatures were legless! Their thin bodies ended in four, snake-like prehensile tails which seemed to suffice as legs. Two of these tails were firmly wrapped around the large humanoids’ bare shoulders for lower body stability; the third tail was wrapped around the humanoids’ thick neck:
“Was this tail for control of its humanoid mount?” Blodwyn Ponders. The last of the four tails hung down the humanoids’ backs, flicking from side to side impatiently!
Each of the mounted, small sinister creatures held a thin, sharp, polished iron spear in one hand, in a position ready for throwing; they occasionally placed the pointed tips in their mouths, coating the point with saliva. With the other hand they griped a wide tuft of wild-rabbit colored hair that grew down the nape of the big humanoids for upper body balance.
Blodwyn wondered why the sinister, small beings showed signs of coming from the Iron Age, while the large humanoids appeared to still be in the Stone Age. One of the small alienoids slyly leans forward and whispers in the humanoid’s ear. The big humanoid then speaks:
‘You lie to us!’ shouts the oldest of their number.
The natural red crests of Ida Jaade warriors spring upright; they indignantly step forward, drawing their short Roman gladius swords at this insult.
‘The Galla Qualls and the Ida Jaade do not lie – that is an insult,’ shouts the Centurion. The gentle wave of the Galla Quall’s three-digit tentacle calms the excited Ida Jaade warriors.
‘We are the Galla Qualls and the Ida Jaade from Quilla Prime… from a distant Quadrent,’ Zander announces.
‘We are the Gols,’ answers the senior Gol, some kind of Elder. The small deformed creature whispers in this Gol’s ear. The Gol Elder changes his answer.
‘We are the Narib-Gols,’ he corrects himself.
‘Why do you carry a Narib on your back?’ asks Zander.
‘We work for the Naribs…in return one day they will give us the magical secret of iron,’ answers the old Gol Elder.
‘What work do you perform for the Naribs?’ Zander asks.
‘We provide meat for the Naribs from our animals – for they can only eat flesh – we are vegetarian.’
‘Then… you have little livestock left to give,’ says Zander. ‘What are you building in the distance?’
‘That is a stony bridge from the rocky ground across to the grasslands,’ answers the Gol Elder, ‘when the bridge is finished we will build rocky paths into our villages for the Naribs.’
‘When all work is finished,’ adds another Gol, ‘the Naribs will give us the magical secret of making iron.’
‘Our warriors also protect the Naribs from the Nemesians,’ pipes up a Gol female, ‘Nemesians have a taste for the flesh of Naribs…they…’
All three small Naribs hiss threateningly at the Gol female who then holds her tongue.
‘And what do the Naribs give you in return?’ asks Zander.
‘They advise us, supervise us – they have much knowledge,’ answers the Gol Elder, ‘when our work is finished the Naribs will give us iron. Our plough blades will be much sharper. We can then return to our fields, tend our cattle, orchards and hives and grow crops more efficiently.’
‘I see,’ answers Zander, ‘it is hardly a symbiotic partnership. You will soon have nothing left…what will you then give the Naribs?’
‘Our agreements are not your business,’ hisses the Narib on the Elder Gol’s back, unable to contain himself any longer.’
Zander addresses the small malevolent creature that is a Narib.
‘We Galla Qualls do not tolerate any form of slavery or exploitation…I believe your species have a sinister objective!’
‘You have slaves,’ screams the enraged Narib, ‘These reptile people.’ He points a thin crooked finger at the Ida Jaade warriors.
Valus the Centurion answer the accusation.
‘We owe our lives to the Galla Qualls – we fight for and serve them willingly.
‘You lie,’ hisses the sneering Narib. ‘You are slaves of the big eyed one – serving him – because he is cleverer than you – he has secrets that you do not.’
‘Release all the Gols immediately!’ demands Zander.
The small Narib ignores the order and whispers again in the Gol’s ear; the Gol seems reluctant to relay the message of the hideous little Narib, but is clearly afraid;
“Was it pressure from the small Narib’s sinuous tail wrapped around the humanoid’s neck?” Blodwyn wonders.
‘You must leave this planet,’ says the Gol Elder ‘…you are not welcome….we are happy serving the Naribs.’
‘We are on a quest,’ answers Zander, ‘we want nothing…only information… for which we will pay with Antares gold ducats.’
The Gol is about to speak…but then clutches his neck grimacing in pain! The small, dark, grotesque Narib on his back wrenches the Gol’s head around with thin wiry arms and whispers in his ear; the Gol Elder speaks.
‘We have no need of gold – you cannot plough the ground with gold – iron is much harder,’ answers the Gol, ‘iron is more valuable than gold here – only the wise Naribs have the magical secret of making iron.’
The filter that suffices as the Galla Qualls’ mouth turned up in a faint smile.
‘Who leads the Naribs?’ asks Zander.
The three Naribs on the Gol’s backs remain silent however all the Gols turn and look at the Narib riding on the Elder Gol’s back.
‘His name is Nargg,’ says a female Gol, gaining confidence, ‘I just want to take my children home – the Naribs are starving us – they wont allow us to tend our fields and protect our cattle from the Stabasades.’
‘Why do you starve the Gols, Nargg…why is the making of iron a secret?’ asks Zander ‘…it is a simple procedure…the Gols should benefit from it… they are still in the Stone Age.’
The Narib’s face floods with rage; his hanging sinewy tail lashes the Gol Elder’s back in anger.
‘There will be plenty to eat for the Gols,’ hisses Nargg, ‘when the rocky bridge is finished. Then we will give the Gols the magical secret of iron.’
‘I believe when your species has finished with the Gols… you will have other motives. Release all the Gols… let them return to their villages immediately,’ orders Zander the Galla Quall.
The small Narib’s face now twists in rage, his split pupil eyes narrow.
‘Kill the big-eyed one first!’ screams Nargg, ‘then kill all the lizard men.’
Instead, the Gol warriors lower their weapons. In one quick movement the Narib leader throws his small iron spear at the Galla Quall. The Centurion Valus quickly parries the spear before it embeds itself into the soft jelly-like body of Zander.
An Ida Jaade picks up the iron spear and sniffs it,
‘Commander
Zander – this spear is tipped with poison – the Narib’s saliva!’
‘Now I understand your power over the Gols,’ says Zander, who then nods to the Centurion. Valus places his short sword to the scrawny neck of the Narib and demands,
‘All Naribs untwine your tails and climb down from the Gols’ backs,’ the Ida Jaade demands.
The three Naribs hiss, angrily and refuse to dismount.
‘I will cut your throat – if you do not obey,’ exclaims Valus.
‘We will only dismount on rocky ground,’ says their small, grotesque leader, Nargg.
‘You will dismount now!’ orders the Centurion, or I will take off your evil head.’
Blodwyn watches as the three Naribs reluctantly untangle their snake-like prehensile tails from the Gols bodies and throats; awkwardly, they slip to the ground.
The Gols rub their necks in relief. Reaching the ground the three Naribs find it almost impossible to move over the short smooth grass and sand, where their squirming, snake-like legs could find no purchase.
The group watches as the sinister Naribs struggled to reach the rocks, cursing and hissing in anger. After much effort the Naribs finally reach the rocky ground; their ungainly struggle for movement on the grass and sand soon turns to the sinister, silky and rapid movements similar to that of a fleeing octopus under water.
All the while Blodwyn could see the Naribs serpentile leg-tails were constantly searching and probing for a crevice big enough to make their escape into; again, just like a fleeing octopus. Almost before the Naribs reach the large rocks and the accompanying crevices they are pulled back by three of the Ida Jaade who then pin them down underfoot.
‘Fools!’ shouts Valus to the Gols, ‘can’t you see why the Naribs need the bridge of rocks and the paths of rocks into your villages – they wish to enter your villages – they cannot move over smooth ground.’