The audience didn’t go well for Karl. He hadn’t expected it to. Every time the shaman reached into his omen bag and pulled out a token, it always seemed to end in a dangerous task for anyone not of pureblood standing in the tribe. The purebloods always seemed to get the safer journeys and those with the richest rewards, while those with the so-called “tainted blood” bore the brunt of the most dangerous tasks.
Karl reflected on the fates of some of the more unfortunate mutants that he knew of firsthand since he had joined the village two years ago. One-Eye had sent Lopar the brave into the forest to seek honey from killer bees, despite his susceptibility to poisons and the protests of his friends, and that ended predictably. Pora the gentle and slow lumbering oak tree was sent to negotiate with a group of fire breathing squirrels and was unsurprisingly lost in the resulting blaze. There were more instances, but each time that anyone complained about these dangerous tasks that were being meted out, One-Eye would shrug his shoulders and point at his omen bag and say, “It is the will of the ancients to test our tribe, and they test those with the tainted blood the hardest.”
Karl seethed at his helplessness and the injustice of his situation. The audience last night was conducted amongst all the elders of the tribe, the chief and his family. It had predictably resulted in Karl being told he was going on a trip for which he was most definitely not suited. One-Eye drew the token from the bag and showed it to the Chief. The chief asked One-Eye to tell him the meaning of the token and the shaman provided an answer.
“This creature of tainted blood will accompany some of his betters to visit the Deep Thinker under the waves,” One Eye announced theatrically, showing the token for all to see.
“Shaman, I am a cat. Cats and water do not mix well!” exclaimed Karl.
“We can’t argue with the will of the ancients!” said One-Eye theatrically.
One-Eye smirked as he showed the token to Karl, taking delight in holding it in front of Karl’s face. The smirk turned to livid anger when Karl asked him, “Why then, Oh-Wise-Shaman, does the token say “1 Free Meal”?” Karl paused. “Oh yeah. I forgot. I can read.”
An argument broke out among those present, with a lot of fists flying and yelling. The fighting would probably last for hours, and Karl knew that regardless of the outcome, One-Eye would make sure that Karl would pay for humiliating him. Karl decided not to wait around, stepping backwards into the shadows so that he could blend in with his surroundings and carefully slunk out of the shaman’s hall. He quietly grabbed his pack and belongings from the warriors’ hut and stole out into the dark night.
After an hour of walking, avoiding the trails, Karl climbed into a tree to and settled into a well-concealed hide to sleep. He had not heard the approach of hunters from the village as he slept. His first awareness of anything being wrong was being startled awake by a sharp pain in his back and a voice suddenly below his position saying loudly, “Well, well, well! Looks like we got ourselves a reader!”
Karl’s undignified return to the village was completed when he was dumped unceremoniously on the ground at the feet of One-Eye the village shaman. His pack and weapons were thrown on the ground next to him. One-Eye grunted, “Funny! I thought cats always landed on their feet. Get him up and put him to the others,” before he turned away and walked towards the village hall.
Foran reached down and cut the ropes binding Karl to the pole, and helped him to stand. “You’ll be joining us at the meeting in the village hall. Bring your stuff, we leave straight afterwards.” Karl scrambled to retrieve his belongings and was whisked toward the hall with Foran steering him with one strong hand on his shoulder.
The village hall was a single room, rectangular building with two fireplaces on either side and a raised platform at the front, which served for meetings or celebrations, and occasionally trials. Scattered around the room were trophies of different exploits, from ancient energy weapons to the heads of defeated enemies. Karl massaged circulation pack into his limbs as he looked around the hall to take measure of what was happening.
To Karl’s relief, this looked like a meeting, not a trial, his trial, to be specific. Karl’s relief was short-lived when he saw the small group that had been assembled in front of the raised platform, and Foran only released his grip on Karl’s shoulder when they both stood with the others waiting at the front. He was still being sent on that suicidal task.
The small group at the front consisted of villagers known to Karl. There was Edwud, a mutant with gills who was the best fisherman in the village; Falwark a tall woman with four arms, who was also the best net-maker in the village; Stan an unpleasant, tall muscular youth who carried his father’s laser pistol; and much to Karl’s surprise, the chief’s only son, Foran!
Varan, the village chief stepped onto the platform, followed by One-Eye. One-eye glowered darkly at Karl as he followed the chief up the steps.
Varan spoke first, addressing the gathered villagers in a clear voice, “Today we are here to send off a small group of our own to undertake a vital task. As you all know, we have been having trouble with shark men stopping us from fishing, and we’ve suffered attacks from other sea creatures, too. Just last week we had to drive off three giant crabs who came from the sea and attacked in the dead of night.” Varan continued, “After debating long and hard,” the comment was met with a few chuckles from those who knew the truth, “We have decided to send someone with offerings to speak with the Deep Thinker and ask for an end to the raids.” Varan smiled warmly at the group, pausing momentarily as he looked upon Foran, his son, “This task is so important that I will also send my heir.” He gestured to Foran, “Step forward, son.”
Foran nearly stumbled in surprise as he moved in front of his father.
Varan, stepped towards his son and unbuckled his belt and the sheathed blade it held. Holding out the heirloom, he announced, “This vibroblade was given to me by my father, and to him by his father, and so it has been for many generations. It has always been used to defend this village. Today, I declare my son a man, and pass this weapon to him to help achieve this task.”
There were assorted “Oohs and Ahs from the gathered villagers and a brief round of sporadic clapping, as Foran buckled the weapon on, and beamed with pride.
“I have asked the shaman to donate an ancient weapon to the cause, from his own small collection.” Again, this was met by chuckling from some of the elders. “An ancient flesh disruptor which we hope may still work and two power cells. If it works, it will be a potent weapon and we hope it will serve you well.” Varan stepped forward and passed the weapon to Karl!
Karl murmured a surprised “Thank you!” One-Eye did not look pleased, and Karl suspected that the gift was likely a punishment levied upon One-Eye by the chief to make amends. Karl eyed the weapon with a mix of awe and suspicion, before fitting the holster onto his belt.
One-Eye stepped forward, “You have all been chosen for this task through the omens given to us,” as he held the omen bag aloft.
Karl fake-coughed into his paw, “Bullshi…” before Foran slapped him on the back repeatedly, cutting off any further response from Karl.
“Ignore him. Just a hairball. Continue please, One-Eye” said Foran hastily.
One-Eye glared at Karl, “You each have been chosen for this important task. Failure means death for our village, so we have gathered items essential for your success.” One-Eye passed a small leather sack to Foran.
This proclamation was met with many exclamations of “Here, here!” and similar sentiments, and all members of the little band were clapped on the back by the assembled villagers, before Varan spoke up again, “Our prayers are with you as you journey to the Key of Osk and seek the mark of the Keeper to gain passage to the Deep Thinker under the waves.”
Before Karl could object, the group of them were pushed out the door and were on their way to find the “Key of Osk”, whatever that was. Karl looked over his shoulder as they left the village, the gates shutting behind them. He cou
ld clearly see One-Eye standing on the rampart. One-Eye pointed a finger at his own eye and jabbed it back angrily back in Karl’s direction. One-Eye’s meaning was clear.
The group started walking west along the beach, keeping away from the water.
“The Key of Osk is at the start of the land bridge,” explained Edwud helpfully. “My father told me that none could pass without gaining the Keeper’s approval. He always warned that terrible metal monstrosities would attack anyone who tried.”
“Robots,” interrupted Foran. “They are called “Robots”, and the shaman has given us the means to gain the Keeper’s approval,” he said, patting the leather bag that One-Eye had given them earlier.
“Let ‘em try to give us some trouble,” sneered Stan patting his laser pistol meaningfully.
“Stan, we don’t need to go looking for trouble,” admonished Falwark, gently, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Stan shrugged off Falwark’s hand. “One-Eye knew that you’d be too scared to find any trouble out here, which is why he sent me and Foran to give you tainted freaks some backbone,” he spat.
The group wasn’t particularly close, except for Stan and Foran, and even Foran colored at Stan’s outburst. Falwark stood a head taller than Stan, and was muscular without an ounce of fat on her body. Falwark moved so quickly that Stan’s face was planted in the sand before anyone saw what had happened. Falwark then pulled Stan backwards out of the sand and left him spluttering on his back.
As Falwark walked off, Karl leaned over Stan who was struggling to regain his feet and said in a sweet voice that dripped with sarcasm, “Smooth going, Buddy!”
The group moved on in awkward silence, with Stan still brushing himself off and occasionally spitting out more sand, both real and imagined. After three hours, the land bridge and the Keeper’s hut were clearly visible along with a half-sunken boat of unusual design moored behind the Keeper’s hut.
As they approached the land bridge, Falwark gave a quick warning, and pointed out where the surf was breaking. Six serpentine heads atop thick armoured shoulders slowly emerged from the water. Turtle-Men! One threw a spear in their direction which fell far short of the group. The heavily armed and armored creatures continued toward the group.
Karl moved forward and dropped his pack to one side, and knelt, notching an arrow and taking aim carefully at the nearest of the slowly moving Turtle-Men. Before he could release the arrow at his target, Karl felt something hot narrowly miss his cheek. Karl looked over his shoulder to see Stan aiming the laser pistol at him for a second shot!
Stan met Karl’s eyes momentarily and he quickly shifted his aim to the approaching Turtle-Men instead, realizing that Karl knew that he had just tried to kill him. Stan smirked evilly.
Edwud, oblivious of Stan’s attempt upon Karl’s life said loudly, “Uh, this could take a while. These guys are really, really slow. Should we go down and meet them?”
“They’re just a bunch of stupid turtles!” shouted Stan.
“No! Stand your ground and let them come to us!” shouted Foran, as he released an arrow which hit a Turtle-Man in the throat. It fell face first into the waist deep water, struggling feebly for a few seconds amongst the waves, before it stopped. The other Turtle-Men’s heads receded into their shells, making them harder targets.
Stan’s laser struck another of the creatures in the chest, and it slowly toppled backwards onto its shell with its legs waving feebly in the air for a minute before it died. The surf shifted the body backwards and forwards gently in the water.
Karl shot an arrow into the leg of one Turtle-Man, who fell forward. Karl quickly fired a second arrow into the top of the Turtle-Man’s head killing it before it could regain its feet.
“I know that they’re turtles, but I never thought they’d be so slow!” exclaimed Stan.
A Turtle-Man, larger than the others, threw a spear which passed over Karl’s head, missing him narrowly. Stan screamed and made a gurgling noise as the spear sank deep into his chest and protruded through his back. He fell forward onto his knees, dropping his father’s laser and sinking sideways onto the sand, dead.
The first of the Turtle-Men finally emerged from the water and clomped slowly towards the group. The lead Turtle-Man raised a crossbow and fired. The bolt struck Edwud in the shoulder, knocking him over but not seriously wounding him.
Falwark threw her spear, striking the lead Turtle-Man in the centre of its chest. The Turtle-Man tumbled onto its back, dead.
The two remaining Turtle-Men, one armed with an axe and the larger Turtle-Man that had killed Stan, began to retreat, turning back into the water. Arrows and spears glanced off their backs harmlessly as they made their slow escape.
Karl had no desire to pursue the escaping Turtle-Men into the water. Behind, Karl heard an exclamation and a muttered oath and suddenly the smaller Turtle-Man fell forward, with a hole burnt through its shell. Edwud had retrieved Stan’s laser pistol and had figured out how to use it. Karl also noticed with some surprise that Edwud’s shoulder had almost completely healed!
The last of the Turtle-Men sank beneath the waves and disappeared from sight before Edwud could fire another shot from the deadly weapon.
With the quick, but deadly battle over, they took stock of their loss and wounds. Foran, as the chieftain’s son was expected to say something about Stan, as they stood around his corpse. Foran found the words difficult, as he knew Stan did not consider any of the group other than himself a friend. Worse yet, Foran knew that Stan had tried to kill Karl, as he had witnessed the attempt himself. His words were awkward, not just because of inexperience with this sad duty, but because he found it difficult to say anything without being hypocritical in these circumstances.
The strain and emotion in Foran’s voice was obvious as he chose his words carefully. “Stan will not be forgotten. He was my friend, a part of our tribe and a member of this team. He died as well as any warrior could hope to, in battle, for a good cause,” he paused. “Rest well while you wait to be returned home to your family.”
Foran knew that they had to go on, and could not spare the time to return to the village now. Stan’s body could be retrieved after they completed their task. They placed Stan into his blanket and buried him in a sand dune, where they could find him later.
They retrieved their arrows from the bodies of the turtles and grabbed a few weapons as trophies. Falwark hefted the crossbow that one of the turtles had carried and now had a quiver of suitable bolts at her hip on her belt. She grinned evilly, which strangely cheered Karl.
The group resumed their walk towards the Keeper’s hut. The hut itself was a small building, with peeling yellow paint, no more than two arm spans wide on each side. A sign on the front of the hut was painted in bright red using the language of the ancients.
“K.I.O.S.K,” Karl spelled out the letters, “Whatever that means.”
As they walked down the land bridge towards the Keeper’s hut they could see some movement behind a semi-opaque window. The group readied weapons, and approached carefully. They stopped when the window slid open revealing a robot. The robot looked at the group and shouted in an angry, loud voice, “You idiots! Why’d you go and do that?”
“Uh! What?” stammered Foran, obviously surprised at the unexpected rebuke.
“Those are turtles! Couldn’t you have just walked around them? It’s not like they could have caught you!” the robot said accusingly, pointing a finger at Foran in particular.
Foran’s face flushed. The strange, but rude robot was right. They could have moved out of range of the Turtle-Mens’ weapons easily, and Stan would still be alive if he had chosen differently. “Ooohhh! Lookit me!” the robot jeered. “I can’t outrun these slow turtles!” taunted the robot in a wobbly, high-pitched voice, raising and waving its arms in the air in mock panic.
“All right, that’s enough,” said Foran angrily, approaching the robot. “Are you the Keeper?”
“I am. So, what’s it to you?” asked the
robot in an insolent tone.
“We need to speak with the Deep Thinker,” responded Foran, holding up the leather bag that One-Eye had given him. “We seek your mark so that we can speak with the Deep Thinker.”
“Ooooohh, aren’t we important then,” said the Keeper sarcastically. “If anyone would benefit from some deep thinking, it would be you lot,” the Keeper agreed sourly. “You’re in luck, the boat is scheduled to go out in fifteen minutes and we have spare seats for all of you. That’ll be five Dolmars each, and your pet can ride for free.”
“Who are you calling a pet?” hissed Karl indignantly.
“Do you have a leash, or do you need a cat carrier for Puss Puss there?” enquired the Keeper helpfully, pointedly ignoring Karl’s angry question.
“Ooohh, you’ll be the one needin’ a carrier, Pal!” spat Karl, pulling out his sword.
Falwark stepped in front of Karl, and stretched out her arms so that he could not carry out his threat. “He’s actually well behaved normally, so we don’t need a leash, thank you!” she said sweetly to the Keeper.
“Has he been fixed?” asked the Keeper, suspiciously. “They always behave better afterwards.”
As Falwark struggled to restrain Karl, Foran, rummaged through the leather bag until he found the correct number of Domars to pay the fare. He handed them over to the Keeper.
“Hold out your hand,” the Keeper demanded.
Foran did as he was told, and the robot promptly stamped the back of his hand with a picture of a fish in red ink. The Keeper did the same to the rest of the group until it was Karl’s turn. When Karl put his paw forward to receive the stamp, the Keeper stared blankly past him.
Metamorphosis Alpha 2 Page 6