by Candy Rae
This was one of the first pieces the author wrote about Planet Wolf. It was the story which fired her enthusiasm for all things wolfish.
“Talking wolves? Whatever next?” exclaimed her husband when she told him about what she was writing. “No-one will want to read about talking wolves!” How wrong can anyone be?
From ‘Tales of Rybak’, Volume 1, Chapter 14
Written by Tara Sullivan-Crawford (born AL -12, died circa AL 55)
Twenty summers before mankind landed on our planet, deep within what would become the land of Vadath, Kalya, life-mate of Sanvei, gave birth. Kolyei was the third and middle member of the litter and the only male.
As the five ltsctas (this is what our Lind friends call their children), eyes closed and mewling, nestled into their dam, it was beyond Kalya and Sanvei’s wildest imaginings as to how their lives would change during the generation ahead.
During their first season the little ones tottered around the family daga under the watchful eye of Kalya. Their father was often absent, he had duties to perform that required frequent journeys away from the domta, the home of rtath (pack) Alanasei.
Within the relative security of their pack-ranges the Lind raised their young in a manner that had not changed for generations beyond count. They could neither read nor write, but their ancient and varied oral tradition was passed down to the ltsctas by their parents and later by their teachers.
From an early age they were taught about what it meant to be a Lind. Kolyei was also aware of the closeness of his siblings, the love of his mother (and of his father when he was there) and of the peace and contentment that came from being part of a loving family.
But Pack Alanasei was a warrior pack and charged with the patrol and initial defence of the eastern coast of the lands of the Lind.
Between the northern and southern continents is a wide seawater channel. A chain of islands form a sea bridge that can be traversed, especially during the low sea levels of the hot season. In the southern continent lives a species who call themselves the Larg.
These southerners like nothing better than to cross over the island bridge and descend on the inhabitants of the north. They hunt and kill all that cross their path.
If the succulent northern herds are not motivation enough for the Larg kohorts, the Larg relish acts of war and battle.
The adult Lind have patrolled their vulnerable coastlines for centuries, defending their packs, their pack-lands and their nation.
In Kolyei’s third summer of life, his father Sanvei did not return from one of these patrols.
Kalya was disconsolate at the death of her mate, (the Lind mate for life) and she threw all of her energies into rearing her growing litter, the only one that she would bear. Unusually, all five survived.
Kolyei and his lisyas, or sisters, had a happy childhood, his was not the only family to be hit by the death of a parent. As the seasons progressed Kolyei extended his horizons beyond the family daga and into the rtathlians, the woodlands belonging to their pack, exploring the varied smells and sights.
His more formal education began when he was around five summers old. With others of the same age he romped and played in the nursery clearing and began to learn how to use the talents he had been born with, not realising that the play fights that concluded each lesson were his introduction to the more serious matter of war and might well save his life in later years.
The Lind are telepathic. From birth they can sense the thoughts and emotions of those around them. As they grow, they learn how to send and receive these thoughts and then as their minds develop, progress to sending and receiving images.
As Kolyei and his friends learnt to speak so they began to practice ‘sending’ words to each other as well. This they found took a great deal of effort and energy, precisely why this talent, as they were informed, was usually kept for messages of great importance. At this stage they had yet to discover how to keep their ‘sendings’ within a tight beam and how not to broadcast.
To direct thought to a specific personage and excluding others, has to be learned and takes many seasons practice. Tight ‘sendings’ are essential because on a battlefield, such thoughts can be overheard by the Larg who share the same basic telepathic talents.
When Kolyei and the other ltsctas reached their tenth summer they graduated into the all important final classes and spent as much time outside the domta proper as inside, learning how to hunt and also how to scout and patrol. They learnt how to remain hidden undercover and how to sense the Larg. Last but not least, they learnt how to fight within the ranks of the Lindar, the warrior arm of every Lind pack. Some who could keep well hidden, run fast and had good telepathic skills received extra training as potential scouts and would progress in later years to the dangerous job of patrolling the coastline.
By the time Kolyei was twelve summers old, it was obvious to all that this was where his talents lay, although he would spend some seasons within the more formal Lindar ranks to gain fighting experience.
When a Lind reaches the great age of fourteen summers, he or she is considered adult and is required to join the pack’s Lindar and to go into battle to defend the rtathlians of the nation that is Lind.
In Kolyei’s year group was one Tarmsei, the only one who could rival Kolyei in strength and determination. Tarmsei could not run as fast as his friend, nor was he as good at the scouting exercises but he was much better in the games of strategy and leadership that became more and more intensive as the all-important final season of teachings drew to a close.
“Do you think,” asked Tarmsei reflectively of his friend during their final day of carefree youth, “that the Larg will attack soon?”
“Matvei thinks they will.”
“That is not good hearing.”
“And I thought you were so eager to prove yourself,” Kolyei teased.
“Kolyei my friend, I am indeed but I have no wish for the Larg to come. I would much rather hunt and play.”
“I think these days are soon to be over. With adulthood comes our duty to protect our rtath, our rtatha and every creature who lives within them. Remember what Alanasei told us in our teachings. The Larg kill and not just to eat.”
The last time the Larg had managed to break through the Lindars they had left large swathes of death wherever they had gone. Eventually reinforcements had arrived from the west and pushed them back to the southern continent, but the herds had taken many seasons to recover in the numbers that had roamed the plains before the attack.
“I hear rtath Wlsei and rtath Andiranya are on their way to aid us,” Tarmsei mentioned.
“That is good is it not?”
“That depends.”
Kolyei’s ears cocked forward.
“Well, if Wlsei and Andiranya are coming they must expect a large number of Larg kohorts. That is not so good.”
The two young males left the clearing to hunt, their last hunt of their carefree ltscta-hood.
The patrol returned and word came that the newly adult were to join Matvei’s ryz. Matvei was commander of the rear ryz that was the battle position of the least experienced.
The rear ryz of a Lindar is a peculiar mixture of the experienced and the inexperienced, the former consisting of returnees, usually females whose litter has become adult and older fighters who no longer have the agility and stamina to sustain a long fight in the front ryz. The front ryz (line) consists of the best and heaviest fighters, in the prime of life, most suited to withstand the Larg when their kohorts hit the Lind lines. The majority of these are male. The second, or middle ryz is similar to the front in expertise and consists mainly of the lighter females, just as experienced as their male counterparts but lacking the size and stamina that makes the front ryz so effective.
As soon as Kolyei and the others joined the ryz, intensive training began. Each ryz had undergone reorganisation, but Matvei’s was the one that did the most training because a full half of it consisted of those who had never experienced a battle before
.
Tarmsei’s older brother Tlsei had been promoted from the rear ryz to the front. Tarmsei was very proud of him. He intended to emulate him and join him there before the summer season was over. Kolyei believed that he just might manage it too, provided he survived.
The Larg attack was imminent.
Then word came and the Lindar was running east. At one of the brief rest stops when the sun was at its zenith, Kolyei flopped down in the shade of some allst trees beside one of the streams that criss-crossed this area of the flat lands. Years later, mankind would name this area ‘Patchwork Plain’.
“How do we know how many and when the Larg are coming?” he asked of his friend.
“Spies,” answered Tarmsei with an air of one who knows.
“Spies?”
“The Avuzdel. Surely you have heard of them?” he continued, his voice lowered so not to be overheard, “I believe that some Lind are even members of the Larg kohorts, perhaps even in the Larg High Command rtath itself!”
“Really?” asked Kolyei in surprise. “How do they hide their colour patterns?”
Each Lind pack has a different colour striped pattern interspersed with their brown furry coats. Pack Alanasei’s was a bright blue.
“Bred out.”
Kolyei thought for a moment.
“I would like go to the south,” he mused, half to himself.
“Be careful what you wish for,” cautioned Tarmsei, “Avuzdel members have a habit of ending up dead.”
“I would still like to see the south. There will be strange trees and I have never seen the desert.”
“Hope you never do. It is dry, little water, no trees. It is all thin powdered rock.”
Tarmsei looked at Kolyei and thought hard. His friend always had been the one of their group who wanted to explore further and further away, always wanting to run to and over just one more hill, to enter just one more valley. He thrived on adventure.
“You should be a scout,” Tarmsei said at last. “I think you would be good at it too.”
“I like that idea Tarmsei. I really do. After the battle I will ask Matvei.”
All the tyro fighters in the rear ryz were nervous about what was to come. Even the confident Tarmsei was nervous and admitted it, which made Kolyei feel much better. Training never prepared one for the real thing, which was why the untried were in the rear ryz.
Twelve suns later, both Kolyei and Tarmsei knew all about battles. Kolyei felt sick with the sights and sounds of injury and death.
The Larg kohorts had broken after a battle that had lasted from sun-up to sun-down and had been defeated only at great cost. There was barely a Lind still on his or her feet that didn’t have at least one hurt. The healers were working overtime to save as many as they could, but little could be done to mend those with deep bleeding gashes. Howls and moans of pain could be heard all over the battlefield. The Smaha root was being applied as fast as it could be brought forward from the rear, which at least deadened the pain if it did not stop the bleeding and the deaths.
Two of Kolyei’s sisters were dead. His mother Kayla was injured but the healers assured Kolyei that she would live although she would never fight in the ryz again. Tarmsei was in a state of shock, all but him of his litter were dead and worse than that, his hero big brother Tlsei had died during the final charge of the day.
Kolyei accompanied Matvei and others not so badly hurt in a patrol of the battlefield, ensuring that no Larg remained alive.
But I am alive, Kolyei thought; I have survived my first battle.
Matvei stopped and turned to look at Kolyei.
“I have heard good reports about you,” he said. “Join Ralei’s scouts for this sun and the next. He hunts the Larg that got through the ryz.”
“Me? A scout?”
Matvei’s blue-striped muzzle wrinkled in tolerant amusement.
“It no sinecure, believe me Kolyei. There are not many scouts left capable of running. This was a bad battle.”
“But we won Matvei, we won,” this from Tarmsei approaching at a limping trot. He raised his head proudly. “This is our duty and as long as life is within me, I will fight the Larg to keep our rtathlians free.”
“The Larg will not be happy until all Lind are dead,” Matvei added, “they will be back. You stay with me for now. You must learn how to cope with the problems of the afterbattle. It will be good training for you if you hope to lead a ryz in later seasons.”
It was a much depleted but proud Lindar that returned home to the domta.
The seasons moved on.
Kolyei remained with Ralei and the scouts, and Tarmsei was promoted to the front ryz; his joy in the promotion diminished somewhat by his regret that his brother and litter-mates were not there to see it.
Despite their different avocations, Kolyei and Tarmsei remained close friends.
The two were twenty summers old when they volunteered to lead a wide patrol at the eastern edge of the continent. Tarmsei enjoyed a change from regular Lindar life. The patrol ran east, tails high with the anticipation of a long run. They were all most surprised to see the large herds of kura stampeding into the interior.
“We’d better investigate. It might be the Larg,” shouted Kolyei.
“Where?” answered Tarmsei.
“At the other side of the lian, the trees will give us cover.”
The patrol skirted round the frightened kura and ran on light paws through the woods until they reached the wooded ridge that overlooked the coast beside the island chain.
What they found there is another story.
* * * * *
THE HUMANS – THEIR PREQUEL
* * * * *
EPISODE 1 -TRUMPET (AL -12)
Cabin 1-G402 was identical in every way to the others of Corridor 4, Colonial Section 2, (G Deck) of the World Coalition Colony Ship Argyll.
It contained a central living area with a table, four chairs and a comfort and seating area. Three bed recesses, separated from the main area by sliding doors lay against one bulkhead. On the opposite bulkhead lay the storage units and the information and entertainment consoles. Set against the third bulkhead were the emergency cabinets.
As Elspeth McCallum settled the baby in his crib and began to unpack the family possessions she was thinking hard about the circumstances which had brought her, her husband Alastair and baby here this day.
She was a tall, thin woman with long, slim fingers and a careworn face. Elspeth McCallum had taught musicianship before her marriage. She hummed to herself as she placed her father’s last gift to her at the very bottom of the lowest storage drawer. Perhaps during their long journey to Riga she might get the chance to try it out.
These last years had been a difficult time for the McCallum family. Her husband came from farming stock (as did the majority of the colonists who were now boarding the WCCS Argyll), her husband’s family having successfully farmed their Ayrshire farm since the late nineteenth century.
Although the McCallums had worked hard, they had lived in relative comfort, but that was before the floods had come, not only for one year but then a second and then a third. In debt, a third of their arable land under water, Alastair McCallum had bowed to the inevitable and had sold the remaining ground and stock to one of the large corporate amalgamated farms. Elspeth’s husband was not emotionally suited to a position of under-manager on one of these large conglomerates and had begun to make enquiries. Shortly after the farm had been sold he had signed up for the third wave of colonisation bound for planet Riga.
The convoy consisted of six transport ships and contained over fifty-thousand people, all wishing to leave a troubled Earth whose ecology was disintegrating year by year.
In the twenty-first and twenty-second centuries, great strides had been made to repair the ecological damage made by nineteenth and twentieth century industrialisation and by increasing population demands. By the end of the twenty-second century, a precarious ecological balance had been achieved, hampered somewhat by the
continuing inter-continental rivalries but even this had been largely solved by the creation of a coalition of the most powerful countries whose leaders realised that the human race was doomed unless mankind worked together for the common good.
The World Coalition of Nations, set up in 2239AD, had forced through measures designed to keep the world at peace and to curtail further ecological damage, using force when necessary.
Then the sea levels which had been steadily rising during the twenty-first century had risen higher. The tidal triggering, which had begun when the orbit of the moon had skewed made the situation worse, especially for those who lived near to the coasts.
What remained of the McCallum farm, like many others, had become a waterlogged morass of mud-filled fields.
When Alastair McCallum had originally signed up for the colony, it had been intended that his wife’s parents should go too (his own parents had died some years before), but Elspeth’s mother had failed the fitness test that all potential colonists were required to pass and her father had refused to leave his ailing wife.
During their farewell meeting at the spaceport in north-east Scotland, he had placed in his daughter’s hands his most cherished possession, his silver trumpet. Elspeth played the keyboard but her talents lay with vocalised music, but she had a son, named Duguld after his grandfather and it was to him that the elder Duguld consigned his final gift. He placed it beside the baby in the carry-cot.
“Keep it safe,” he implored, “I’ll not be playing it again. Keep it safe for my grandson,” and Elspeth McCallum had understood the meaning behind her father’s words. The elder Duguld would not long outlive his wife and he knew it.
“Remember how you used to listen to me playing it when you were a little girl?” he asked
“Yes I do,” Elspeth’s voice wobbled with the emotion of parting.
“Perhaps when wee Duguld is older, you’ll be listening to him play. That’s a grand thought for me to be returning to your mother with. Don’t let that husband of yours stop you from reaching for your dreams girl. Why you married him Elspeth, I just don’t know. If the situation wasn’t so dire here on Earth I’d have said let him go to Riga on his own and good riddance.”