Pools of Yarah

by J Gurley

  She felt no reprieve at his answer. “Do you think it’s my fault?” “Look, lieutenant, you got us down. Pegari died in the crash. She saved our asses. Whitehall died of his wounds. It’s no use dwelling on the past. We’re alive. Just try to keep us alive.” He pushed ahead. She could tell by the set of his shoulders that Anderson was struggling to keep going, but he did not complain. By mid afternoon, the heat was too much for them. They found respite from the heat beneath an overhang of rock. She felt a little guilty as she took a long sip of water. Whitehall’s death had increased their daily water ration.

  She abandoned pursuit during the day, but for two nights, they trudged through the twisted and burned-out landscape, playing hound to Toothless’s hare. By then, she had guessed that Toothless was making for the dome, too. Rescue seemed remote now. If Toothless’ people lived in the ruins of Denver Dome, she doubted they would find help. If they were lucky, perhaps they could steal supplies and hide out until Captain Moore located them, if he managed to overcome the killer satellites. The batteries on the transponder that relayed their location would last for months, but she was certain that she and Anderson could not. The crew of the Baldry would find only their bleached bones.

  She was willing to bet her life that the controls for the orbiting defense satellites were located in one of the domes, but which one. The odds of it having been Denver Dome were one in ten, but it was the only one within reach. If anything had survived the dome’s destruction, the satellite control system would have. It would have been the most protected area of the dome. The problem was that she was betting Anderson’s life as well as hers.

  The sun broke free of the intervening hills and scoured the blasted landscape. By following a deep ravine that led south, they were able to take advantage of the shade for a short while longer. All too soon, the overpowering heat forced them to seek shelter. They crammed themselves into the shade provided by a very narrow cleft in the rocks. It was a snug fit, but both of them fell asleep almost immediately.

  They resumed their journey after dusk, trying to follow the rills and valleys to avoid discovery by Toothless’s men. It took longer, but they could not afford another encounter with her former captors. This was Toothless’s territory, and he probably knew every rock and ridge. An ambush could cost her and Anderson their lives, in spite of their superior firepower.

  Near dawn, they reached the rim of a high ridge. Her hopes sank as she topped the rise. Ahead lay kilometers of flat, empty land. She eagerly scanned the horizon for any sign of civilization but saw nothing – no buildings, and no ruins, not even an old road. The area was an ancient battleground, the target for massive laser blasts with heat so intense it had fused the soil and rock into glass. Over the centuries, the plain had cracked like a giant mirror and weathered. She glanced at Anderson. His glare told her all she feared. She had already lost two of her crew. Now, she was in danger of losing another, this time to mistrust and a perceived lack of leadership.

  Maybe Anderson was right in his unspoken assessment of her abilities. She had gotten them down alive, at least most of them. Even Anderson would not dispute her piloting abilities, but since then, her every move had been thwarted. They were wandering aimlessly. She turned to Anderson.

  “I’m sorry. You take command. I may kill us both.” At this, her will to continue fled. She collapsed on the ground, spent.

  After a minute or two, the hard look on Anderson’s face softened. He gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

  “You’re in command, lieutenant,” he assured her. “I’m not one to make decisions. I follow, but I can’t lead. I’m sure it’s logged somewhere on my fitness report. We’re still alive, and in spite of my doubts, I believe your decisions are sound. I couldn’t have done as well. Left to me, we would still be back at the shuttle, probably dead by now. Now, straighten up and get us the hell out of here.”

  She stifled a last sob and stared at her companion, heartened by his words. He was made of sterner stuff than she had believed. Beneath his cold, impertinent façade, he was a true Guild Trader. “You’re sure?” she asked.

  “Hell, yes. Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”

  Buoyed by Anderson’s vote of confidence, she checked her compass to get her bearings, shouldered her pack, and took the next step toward Denver Dome.

  13

  Observed

  Anseer had difficulty keeping up, even though Kena had deliberately set a slower pace for him. They stopped and waited for him many times that morning. By noon, Anseer’s slow plodding dismayed even Hramack, who was rapidly losing patience with the woodcarver. After they had eaten bread and fruit and rested for half an hour, Hramack relieved Anseer of part of his load. Combined with his own pack, he was now carrying over thirty kilos, but Anseer seemed to manage better, and they made better time.

  By late afternoon, Hramack was the one struggling to keep up. His shoulders ached from his heavy burden, and his legs tried to rebel with each step, yet he refused to complain. Throughout the long afternoon, he stumbled along, oblivious to his surroundings, following his father’s back. That evening, they came to a series of shallow natural steps carved in the differing layers of sandstone. Above, through a small crack in the ceiling, stars twinkled in the night sky. To his weary eyes, the steps looked like a stairway to the stars.

  “I’m sorry father,” he moaned and collapsed on the floor of the tunnel. “I must rest.”

  Kena helped him with his pack and, when he saw the raw wounds on his son’s shoulders, he rummaged in his pack and removed a carved stone jar. “You carry too heavy a burden,” he said as he rubbed a strong-smelling ointment on the wounds.

  “Yours is the heaviest,” Hramack answered brusquely. He immediately regretted his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”

  Kena nodded and continued to rub in the soothing cream. “We have covered less than ten kilometers. At this pace, the northern mountains are still a week away. We will remain here a while. You and Anseer need rest.” He looked at Travin. “I will leave a torch. Travin and I will scout ahead a short ways.”

  He set a torch in a crevice in the wall and walked ahead with Travin. When the two were out of sight, Anseer rolled over and looked at Hramack. His face bore the look of a chastised child. “Thank you for carrying part of my pack today. I didn’t know it was hurting you.”

  Hramack shrugged, and then winced as the action sent pain running down his arms. “You are unused to long marches. I only sought to help you.”

  Anseer laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking. I started out to capture, perhaps kill you and your father. Now, here I am beneath the earth helping you reach some unknown destination, and you injure yourself trying to lighten my burden. Strange, is it not?”

  Hramack chuckled. “Perhaps you are learning to think for yourself. I don’t think you regret your decision to accompany us as much as you let on.”

  Anseer sneered. “Don’t kid yourself.” However, Hramack noticed a slight smile curling around the corners of his mouth.

  “Rest now. Father will be back soon and we must leave.”

  Hramack closed his eyes but could feel Anseer’s dark eyes staring at him from across the tunnel. Hramack assumed Anseer could not understand anyone wanting to help him. His father had told him Anseer had been headstrong and a loner even as a child. Hramack knew him as a quiet young man, not very well liked by the others in the village, but he did not know him very well. One reason was that Anseer was not easy to like.

  Kena had also explained about Anseer’s problems with his father. Anseer’s father had wanted Anseer to become a stone craftsman or mason but Anseer, instead, had chosen woodworking. The entire village acknowledged his carving abilities, but his hidden anger often bled through into his carvings, revealing delicate twists and whorls that, when followed by the viewer’s eye, left a queasy feeling in the pit of the stomach. Hramack was beginning to wonder if Anseer craved friendship.

  A
ll too soon, Kena and Travin returned, and the four continued their trek northward. Travin insisted on dividing the packs more evenly to give Hramack’s shoulders a chance to heal. Hramack did not object. They made much better time in this manner. Just after moonrise, they came upon a crumbled section of ceiling through which they could safely ascend to the surface, if only long enough for Kena to check his bearings and for them all to catch a breath of fresh air. Anseer needed assistance up the steep path but was visibly delighted to be free of the dark confines of the tunnel. Exhausted, the trekkers fell onto the sand and removed their heavy packs.

  The planet Venus shone brightly just to the right of and slightly below the rising moon. The light cast by the moon was sufficient to see that they were in a long, narrow valley enclosed by steep cliffs. No easy path out of the valley presented itself.

  “It would be too dangerous to try and climb out tonight,” Kena suggested. “We should rest and wait for sunrise to show us a path upwards.”

  Travin agreed. Hramack began to hunt for dead wood for a fire. Kena stopped him.

  “We should not build a fire out in the open. The smell and the smoke might draw predators.”

  Hramack dropped his load of twigs. “I had hoped for a warm meal,” he complained.

  Kena shook his head. “We are in unfamiliar country with no escape except back down the tunnel. A cold meal will suffice. Tomorrow, if things look good, we may chance a fire for breakfast.”

  Hramack noticed the way his father’s eyes scanned the valley ridge.

  “It’s not predators that worry you, is it?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Kena admitted. “It’s strange, but I feel as if we’re being watched.”

  Hramack followed his father’s gaze but could see nothing out of the ordinary. He reluctantly brought out a piece of hard bread and dried fruit. Tearing off a piece of the chewy bread with his hands, he said, “Unless we hunt soon, we will have to continue our journey on only traveler’s bread and dried fruit.”

  “When the sun rises we will know more about our location. Perhaps we can hunt then,” Kena promised.

  Travin nodded his approval. He pointed to a haze surrounding the moon. “Dust storm. I’ll keep watch. If it veers toward us, I’ll warn you, and we can seek shelter in the tunnel.”

  Travin tore off a chunk of bread, picked up a handful of dried dates, and walked to the far end of the valley to stand guard. When he was out of earshot, Hramack whispered, “Travin is a quiet man, isn’t he?”

  Kena smiled. “When we hunt together, he sometimes says nothing all day. At other times, he talks your ear off. I think he is nervous about being in unknown territory.”

  “Who isn’t,” Anseer snapped. “We don’t know what’s out there.” He waved his finger vaguely in the direction Travin had gone.

  “We’re well armed. We should be able to handle most threats,” Kena assured him.

  “Can your arrows stop a scorpion? I don’t want Travin to slit my throat like Won’s.” Anseer was speaking loudly. Hramack tried to get him to keep his voice down, but Anseer ignored him. Suddenly, Travin was standing over Anseer, his face twisted into a mask of agony. He gripped his knife in one hand. The blade trembled with his rage. When Anseer saw him, he began to scoot backwards across the dirt. Travin smirked at him and tossed a handful of water roots at his feet. He had dug them out of the soil with his knife.

  “Use your big mouth on these and save our water supply.” He looked at Kena. “Won was dying. A nightstalker was coming, drawn by his screams of agony as the scorpion’s venom found his heart. I … released his spirit.”

  Kena nodded his understanding, and Travin turned and walked silently into the darkness.

  Hramack could not believe what he had just heard. “Travin killed Won?” he whispered.

  Kena’s glance was enough to stop Hramack’s speaking further. It contained an odd mixture of sadness and pity.

  “There is no cure for the black scorpion’s sting,” Kena explained. “It is a slow and agonizing way to die. Travin could do no less. Other lives were at stake.”

  Hramack nodded his head slowly. Maybe he understood, but he did not know if he, when faced with a similar situation, could take a life.

  “Get some rest,” Kena suggested. We must move before sunrise.”

  *

  The wind picked up throughout the night, but the steep cliffs protected them from the brunt of the storm’s fury. The sandstorm blew past them but caused no damage except to keep them awake. The wind’s howl sounded like a pack of nightstalkers on a fresh blood trail. The eerie undulations sent shivers up Hramack’s spine as he remembered his own almost fatal encounter with a nightstalker. Before dawn, the wind died to a whisper. They arose and made their way up the steep slope using a path Travin had located during the night. They exited in a shallow defile filled with cactus and stubby plants. A slender finger of red rock towering over their heads pointed skyward. Hramack was afraid it would fall and crush them. As he stared up at it, it seemed to sway in the breeze.

  Around them as far as they could see stretched the Empty Lands, a land totally devoid of tree or shrub, a vast rocky plain whose endless expanse was broken only by the occasional sand dune or large boulder. Nothing moved either in the sky or on the sand.

  It was a dead land.

  “We can’t cross that,” Anseer cried.

  For once, Hramack agreed.

  “No, it is too desolate,” Kena concurred. “We’ll have to return to the tunnel.”

  Kena sounded as disappointed as Hramack felt. Hramack felt as if he had been born in the narrow river tunnel through which they traveled. He yearned for the sky over his head, but not this sky. He shaded his eyes and glanced upward. There was no cloud, no feathered creature, not even an insect visible. The bright sun blazed down on the sand and rock like the fiery hand of Yarah smothering all life from the blighted land. A heat shimmer danced on the horizon. They would not last out the day beneath its fury.

  As he scanned the horizon, he thought he saw a brief flash near a group of boulders to the northeast. He strained to see more clearly, but the flash did not repeat itself. He turned to inform Kena and saw his father staring in the same direction.

  “Did you see it?” Hramack asked quietly.

  Kena continued to stare a moment longer, then glanced at his son. “Perhaps,” he murmured. He looked back at the others. “We had better get started now.”

  “Don’t you want to …” Hramack started to ask about searching for the flash. Kena stopped his question with a withering look. Kena did not mention it to the others.

  Back in the river tunnel, they traveled less than two hours before encountering their first major obstacle. Kena was leading the group. As he rounded a turn in the tunnel, he almost fell into a deep pit. The light of the torch could not reach the bottom.

  “Stay back,” he warned the others.

  Hramack crept up slowly to his father’s side and whistled softly as he saw the yawning chasm before them.

  “The water must have broken through into a cavern below the tunnel,” Kena explained.

  “Is this the reason the water stopped flowing?” If so, thought Hramack, there is no way we could correct the problem.

  After a moment or two, Kena answered. “No, there is no water pouring into the chasm from the other side. The water stopped before reaching this point.” He took out an extra torch and dropped the first into the pit. It rapidly dwindled in size, almost disappearing, before Hramack saw a splash of light as it splattered against the bottom six seconds later.

  “About forty meters deep,” Kena exclaimed.

  “How do we cross?” Travin asked. He had walked up quietly and looked across the pit to the other side.

  Kena played the light around the edge of the pit. A narrow, meter-wide ledge jutted into the empty space from the right-hand wall of the tunnel. “There’s a ledge wide enough to use.” He looked at Travin. “We could string a rope to an outcropping and use it for a sa
fety line.”

  Travin shrugged. “It would seem our choices are limited,” he admitted. He pulled a coil of rope from his pack.

  Kena looked across the gap, and then down into the pit. “I’ll go first.” He carefully stepped out onto the slender lip of rock, pulling himself as close to the wall as possible. Halfway across, he secured the rope to an outcropping and continued to the other side. After tying off the other end of the rope, he called out heartily, “Who is next?”

  Hramack swallowed heavily and volunteered. He tried not to stare down into the dark void at his feet, concentrating on placing his feet carefully with each step. He kept one hand on the rope at all times. He reached the outcropping without mishap, took a deep breath, and began the second leg of his journey. Stepping on a loose stone, he skidded, and one foot slid off the ledge. He fell to one knee and gripped the rope tightly with both hands, but the linen rope stretched under his weight. Slowly, unable to halt the inevitable, his knee slipped off the ledge. He dangled precariously over the chasm, swinging like a pendulum. Now, panic rose in his chest as the rope began to slip from the rock to which Kena had secured it. He struggled to find purchase on the slippery rock wall with either foot. Finally, he managed to throw one leg onto the ledge, but the rope and his body were below the ledge. He used the rope as he would the twine of a bow, pushing down and out against the rope with his other foot. When he removed his foot, the line snapped taut, bringing his hands above the level of the ledge. He used the momentum to grab the ledge with one hand and slowly lever his body over the edge.

  He lay there panting for a few moments, trying to catch his breath while his father continued to bombard him with queries about his health. He waved his hand at Kena to show he was okay. Kena took the slack out of the rope and re-secured it to the rock. Hramack stood and completed the remainder of the trip. Kena shot him a broad smile and reached out to grab his hand, but Hramack could barely manage a weak grin. His heart still pounded in his chest.