by Dante King
I performed the touch and release sequence several more times, and each time, the two craft grew closer together. The screams and shouts from the ground drew my attention away from my efforts. Several buildings were on fire, but instead of fighting the blazes, the townsfolk had left their stalls and homes, and they were now watching me in awe.
“Grab some buckets!” I yelled down to them at the top of my lungs. “Fill them with water! Form a chain! Pass it along and douse the fire! Save your town!”
They turned their heads up to me and hid behind nearby structures, some of them actually holding each other for mutual support.
Yaltu appeared from her hiding place in the mass of terrified lifeforms and began issuing orders. Skrew helped by kicking folks in the ass until a burly humanoid kicked him back. The bearded human sent Skrew hurtling out of sight, then started directing his fellow locals into a rapid line. Yaltu gestured, and a pack of the townspeople raced to their piles of wares.
The people caught on to Yaltu’s intention and formed a bucket brigade to extinguish the buildings already on fire. When a few of them broke from the formation to try to wet buildings that hadn’t yet caught fire, Yaltu scolded them and dragged them back into line.
A few more turns of my craft, and I was close enough to the other to perform a leap. I drew Ebon, drove it through the center of the computer, felt it drop from under me, and gave the blade a twist before I launched myself at the other craft. The jump was long, but I’d aimed it perfectly.
I felt like a bird soaring between the two armored vehicles. The breeze was cool on my face and dried the sweat from my arms. But when I got close enough, the heat the craft reflected from the ground bathed me in a sweltering cone. I felt perspiration immediately start to pour from my skin, but I wasn’t burned.
Almost immune to fire. That was good to know. I whispered a thanks to the Lakunae as I went to work.
Without a human pilot, the craft had no way of knowing when or how it should take evasive measures. It either hadn’t noticed me, hadn’t recognized me as a threat, or wasn’t sure what to do about it. I cut the computer completely free, gripped it in my spare hand, and rode the silent craft as it descended. When it got close to the ground, I jumped and landed a second before the craft slammed into the ground and exploded in a cloud of metal and fire.
I held the heavy computer in my hand and waited as I watched the treeline, trying to be patient. Skald was the typical bully. He’d use whatever weapons and tactics he could to control as many people as possible. He’d also be stupid and see if he could hold on to the power he’d acquired.
I knew exactly what he’d do next, so I waited.
The townsfolk were making progress against the fires. I could help them, but that would leave my back turned to an enemy who hadn’t left the field yet. The people needed the experience, anyway. They needed to see what they could accomplish when they worked together. Regardless of their species, each of them had a role to play in their mutual defense.
Then I saw it. Skald brought his severely damaged but still flying hovercraft above the treeline. Though I couldn’t see his face, I imagined him screaming at the scene and pounding his little furry fists against his control board. I decided to end his tantrum by throwing the computer at him.
He saw the arcing hunk of metal a moment before it hit him. It struck his craft, but instead of destroying his ship, I’d sent it spinning away. A second later, the tip of one of his stabilizers clipped a tree branch. Smoke billowed from his vehicle as he tried in vain to steer it back on course.
Then the canopy of the forest swallowed him up like a carnivorous predator.
Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty aliens were laid carefully in the road while each species mourned the dead in his, her, or its own way. The mourning ranged from shrill, yet musical, screeches to pounding of chests to throwing dirt into the air while whispering strange-sounding incantations. The people, as I came to think of them, were united, possibly for the first time in their lives.
I watched as the people embraced and mourned together. Even Skrew got into it, though there weren’t any vrak among the dead. His way of comforting mourners, though, involved a lot of face-licking, which some of the species took minor offense to. Others avoided him at all cost, and I wondered if he was really trying to help, or if he just really liked to lick faces.
Skald might have survived. But it wouldn’t do him any good, not on a planet like this one. Even if he had squirmed away from a burning wreckage, he’d be hunted down by the people of Madomar, traveling bandits, or a local predator.
I figured it small consolation for the people who’d died here, or all those who’d lived under his tyrannical rule.
While the funeral ritual continued, I considered the past few days. My thoughts returned to Shesh. Unlike the other aliens I’d met on this planet, he had seemed honorable. I reached beneath my shirt and pulled out the amulet he’d given me.
“Spirit-Watcher,” I echoed.
I examined the light-drinking item. How had Shesh described it? A lens into another realm? Something like that.
When I brought the device up to my eyes, the world changed. No longer did I see things in color. Everything became black and white, with a few shades of gray between them. Lines connected similar things, shapes appeared around others, and symbols began to scroll across the bottom.
Surprisingly, I could read them. Ambient air temperature. Parts per million of dust, which consisted of 93 different types of pollen, 17 different minerals, and dander from at least five furred animals. Each of them was being tracked. Each of them had been assigned a number. Each had a trajectory marked.
When I felt my balance beginning to give out, I pulled the device from my face and caught myself before I fell over. “That’s something I’m going to have to get used to,” I said aloud.
It was a heads-up display. A HUD. It didn’t require a power source. It wasn’t connected to any computer I could recognize. It was self-contained and fed more data into my brain than I was used to absorbing. The visual input alone was enough to make my head spin as the angles and information filled my vision.
The HUD was sophisticated to a degree I couldn’t understand since I wasn’t a scientist or an engineer. I tried to imagine what Federation scientists would do with the tech if they could even begin to understand it, let alone recreate it. Such a device would change the tide of the war against the Xeno.
Instead of having to rely on huge ship-board computers to do calculations, track the enemy and provide data, each pilot could do it themselves. I doubted those who hadn’t been “blessed” by the Lakunae would be able to handle so much data, but the toughness and tenacity of my species should never be underrated. We were fierce, dangerous, and inventive. We’d find a way to make it work, or die trying.
The hunter, Shesh, had told me it was magic and that it showed the spirit realm or some such nonsense. Of course he’d say that. He didn’t know what a HUD was. He must not have known what he was looking at. He had no anchor to base his observations on. To him, everything he didn’t understand would seem like magic, especially a HUD with so much information.
The combined effect of the funeral and staring into the Spirit-Watcher made me lightheaded, and I found myself questioning a lot of my beliefs about things I couldn’t understand. It didn’t last long. I figured those philosophical questions were better left to other men and concentrated only on the flames of the funeral pyres.
Ten minutes later, the fires were out. Several of the older townsfolk walked around their half-burnt warehouses, inspected the damage, and doused any hot-spots they found. A good breeze could carry an untended ember into another building, and they’d be starting all over again. The trees that had caught fire were far too green to burn for long, but the scar the battle had left behind would last years. For some of the townsfolk, it would last the rest of their lives.
They looked as if they were shocked by the damage and the lives it had taken. I hadn’t g
otten the impression that the people of Madomar gave a shit about anything except their own profit. but their ability to leave aside pettiness in favor of dousing fires, rebuilding, and mourning suggested I might have misjudged them.
“Thank you,” a frog-faced kakul said before taking my hand and licking my palm. I resisted the urge to recoil and wipe my hand on my pants.
“Yes, thank you,” said another creature. She looked human, except her eyes were halfway down her cheeks, and her nose was too high.
Soon, I had all the survivors gathered around me, even those from further into the town who had seen what was happening but hadn’t joined the battle for one reason or another. Some, I was sure, were too frightened. Others were elderly or showed evidence of old wounds that would have made helping all but impossible.
Yaltu pushed her way through the crowd. Her vertical pupils were wide, and her lips seemed redder than usual. When she reached me, she pressed her mouth to mine in a gesture that seemed to be universal to all humanoids.
Her breath was sweet, her skin soft, and her body warm.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You saved Madomar from Skald. The other towns under his rule will also be glad for your help. They are all in your debt. I am in your debt.”
“I don’t need to have anyone owe me anything,” I said.
I almost wanted to tell her that she was the reason why Madomar was attacked, but that wasn’t what she needed to hear now. I didn’t know why Skald had been so intent on finding her, but I hadn’t been willing to just hand her over. Skald had been responsible for the damage to the town, not Yaltu.
The people were cheering and surging to get as close to me as they could without crowding too much. But all I saw was Yaltu, and all I heard was her voice. Everything else seemed to fade into the background; it had become nothing more than a soft breeze pushing leaves across dry grass. My head felt light, and I wondered whether I was being influenced by some kind of drug. Was it Yaltu? Was she doing something to my head?
“Who are you?” I asked. “There’s something you’re not telling me. You’re a leader of some kind. Skald wanted to flush you out so badly, he was willing to destroy this whole town to do it.”
She didn’t answer, and though she kept her arms around my shoulders, she leaned away from me.
“What is it you’re not telling me?” I insisted.
Her answer was a glance over each of her shoulders and a soft shake of her head. Whatever secret she was keeping wasn’t one she seemed willing to share, at least, not in front of all these people. I decided to drop it. For now. I’d get my answers later.
“Skald is dead! On to Brazud!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Let’s take the entire city!” Several others cheered in response. It was a kind of cheer I recognized. It was bloodlust. They were ready for a fight and didn’t care if they died in the process.
I gently pushed Yaltu away and looked for the person who’d yelled the battlecry. It was a tall human, nearly as tall as me, with a long beard and shaved head. The scars on his arms, face, and hands suggested he worked with hot metal. A blacksmith, or something like it.
“It’s not time for that,” I said.
He frowned and ground his teeth together. “What do you mean it’s not time for that? We have you, our champion. You could bring down all of Brazud, and the king who rules it.”
I didn’t want to bring an army of people who couldn’t even fight with me to a city I knew nothing about. For all I knew, I would be leading them to the slaughter.
“People,” I said to the townsfolk surrounding me. They grew quiet and hushed each other. “Skald has been defeated!” I had to wait for their cheering to quiet enough so that I could speak again.
“If he’s alive, he will return with ground troops, maybe some Enforcers. If you leave to go on this war-party to the city, your town will be unmanned. Those left behind won’t be able to defend themselves against the force Skald will bring with him. Is that what you want? Do you want to hand him an easy victory?”
A murmur drifted among the people. The consensus was that they hadn’t even considered that Skald might still live. I doubted that was the case, but I also needed to convince the people that they were better off staying in Madomar.
“So, what do we do?” the bearded man asked. “Just sit here and wait for him?”
“No,” I replied. “You take the wrecked burners apart. You use what you can and create new weapons for your people. You defend Madomar and your own interests.”
“It’s a good idea,” he said after a moment.
“You need to think smart. And I’m not sticking around to help you fight a war,” I said. “What is your name?”
“I am called Bijorn.” He added emphasis to his words by pounding a fist against his broad, barrel-like chest. “I am the smith.”
“Good,” I said as I began counting off items on my fingers. “You’ll need to find people like yourself, leaders who can not only take orders but can tell people what to do and have them obey. You’ll need weapons, people to disassemble the burners, food, physical barricades, traps, and as many weapons as you can craft. Do you know what catapults are?”
Bijorn nodded.
“Good,” I said. The crowd had quieted, and everyone was listening intently. “You know your people. Organize them and get them building your defenses as quickly as possible. If Madomar is to keep itself from the clutches of someone like Skald, you’ll need all of it and more.”
He nodded, but then his expression grew dark. “I have been working on something,” he said, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. “But it’s missing a key piece. A fex.”
“A what?” I asked.
“It is called a fex.” Bijorn held up his thumb and forefinger and peered at me with one eye through the gap. “They are about as black as your sword and perfectly round. If I had one,” he said with a laugh, “I could teach Skald’s troops a powerful lesson. And it would be a lot of fun.”
A fex, my mind whispered. I knew what it was. The description was unmistakable. I could feel two of them in my pocket. They were power sources. I reached in and froze when a screamed whisper from far away burned a fiery path through my mind.
No! The fex is of us! We are the Lakunae! You must gather our artifacts. You must bring them together. You are our avatar. We will bring peace. There will be peace in your universe.
The pain wasn’t physical, but it hurt. I had a vision of huge, angry tentacles reaching at me from the Void to slap the fex from my hand. Their rage was expansive and seemed to fill my own universe with a storm of unseen fury and hatred.
Why are they so pissed? I wondered. If I need to come back for it, I know where it will be. I have no doubt Bijorn will do what he says. I also have no doubt he’ll allow me to have it back when he’s finished with it.
I reached into my pocket and handed Bijorn one of the orbs. The screaming, hissing sensation in my mind vanished.
“You had one?” he whispered. “Where did you find it?”
“Soldiers,” I explained. “They were able to melt or burn anything that got too close to them. If any show up, you’re going to have to find a way to trick them. Or drop something really big and heavy on top of them before their plasma shield has time to burn through it.”
“With this,” he said as he held the fex close to his face, “that won’t be a problem.”
His grin turned his weathered face into a twisted sea of deep wrinkles. I almost felt sorry for the force that would arrive.
An alien child tugged at my shirt and held out a small bag. “Take.”
I took the offered item and untied the strap holding it closed. Inside was a small, sparkling mountain of tiny gold rings.
“Those are nearly all the pings we could scrounge together,” a tall, elderly female human standing next to the child explained. “We have enough to get us by, but if we are successful, our defenses will make Madomar a powerful center for trade.”
I opened my mouth to protest when
Yaltu quieted me with a gentle touch. Her expression implored me not to refuse. In some human cultures, gifts were considered permanent. To return them was an insult, so I thanked the woman and child.
Another child came forward with a larger, kidney-shaped bag. Inside, I found foodstuffs, some of which looked edible. A funky smell wafted from a few bundles wrapped in brown paper. I’d offer Skrew those when we were out of sight. He bounced from one foot to the other and back again as he clapped his hands together and accepted bags, baubles, and boxes on my behalf.
Yaltu leaned close and whispered in my ear. “You may refuse if it is too much for you to carry. Simply tell them that you're burdened with their generosity. It will make them happy.”
I did, and several giggled, beaming with pride at having weighed me down with gifts. I could have carried 10 times as much if my arms were longer, but it was a good way to escape and avoid carrying so too much.
Skrew looked at the shiny gold bracelets lining three of his four arms and waved the empty one at me. I shut him up with a look that promised a slow and painful death if he countered my statement. He received the message loud and clear.
“Skrew thanks people, yes,” he said with a bow. “We thank people.”
With that done, I turned to leave but stopped when a thin tentacle hooked my wrist. It belonged to a short, stick-like creature with a hard-looking exoskeleton and four blinking eyes. The tentacle, which might have been a trunk, extended from the front of its face. It spoke through the appendage like a soft trumpet.
“I have one more item,” it said. “One thing that came to me from traders recently. From Brazud. I believe it may belong to you or your kind. The trader said he bought it from another in town. I only received it two days ago. He invited me to his store. His name is Bada-dabu. You can find him in the center of the city near the long spire that speaks the time to our eyes.”