by Scott Marcy
The far-off shadows on a coral island shifted a little, and her senses struggled to identify the threat. Her right hand moved to her sword pummel, and her left hand to her shield. The passing clouds parted, and by the light of the twin moons, the shadows became crisp — and then they moved. A trick of the eye, a figment of her imagination, or was it real?
Alex’s armor made her feel safe, but her weapons made her feel dangerous. Lyra, however, knew the truth: Alex stood at that dangerous gap between middling competency and expert ability. Those who lingered in this figurative no man’s land often perished.
Alex raised her shield and drew her sword. Just beyond the barbwire barrier, a dozen shadows moved behind jagged rocks and large outcroppings. When someone moved up to her left side, she saw Lyra, bow in hand and studying the shadows. “Put your sword away,” Lyra whispered. “They’re too far away: use your bow.”
Alex returned her sword to its sheath and shield to her back. Bow in hand, she slotted an arrow and eased back the drawstring. “I count at least a dozen.”
She searched for the nearest threat. Kaylin and Sterling scampered up a nearby boulder. Kaylin readied her bow, but Sterling gripped her wizard’s staff. The watchdogs growled and bristled, which caused rushing feet and hushed voices in the camp.
“I’m going to shoot a flare,” Sterling said. She elevated her staff and muttered a magical incantation. Energy exploded from the tip, and a ball of light rolled into the sky. It hung in the air 100 meters above the Flats like a third moon, grew white hot, and radiated a brilliant light.
A roar shattered the stillness; 100 daemia broke from cover and charged the razor-wire barrier. While a few cut through the barrier, the others launched volleys of arrows. The hideous visage sent a shiver through Alex, which caused her blood to surge. Her bow creaked as she drew it back. “LET FLY,” Lyra shouted. They readied their arrows and released them.
Lyra’s and Kaylin’s arrows arched high, silhouetted against the moons, and struck the daemia between their chest plates. The daemia stumbled across the uneven rock, flinging their weapons into the air. Their serrated teeth parted, and their eight spider eyes gazed up at the sky in death. Alex’s arrow, on the other hand, flew low in a flat arc and hit a daemia in the crotch. The daemia dropped its weapons, clutched its genitals, and hopped about, shrieking in agony.
When Lyra and Kaylin both looked at Alex, she blushed and slotted another arrow. Her second arrow joined the others in a high arc this time. However, it flew past the daemia she aimed at and hit the one behind it, plunging between its teeth and sinking into the back of its throat. “Damn it,” she muttered, slotted another arrow, and let it fly. This one skipped off a boulder, and as a daemia leaped over the boulder, it struck a daemia in the butt. It shrieked and flailed its arms. “I’m sorry,” she said and cringed.
“Don’t apologize to the monsters,” Lyra said.
The daemia cut through the barrier, opening the way for the assault. When a daemia commander turned to lead the daemia in a charge, Alex’s arrow struck him in the back of the head, between his horns, embedding in its thick skull. When he turned this way and that, the arrow whipped around behind his head. The other daemia uttered throaty laughs, and when her second arrow also struck him in the groin, they roared with laughter as he danced around.
The daemia warlock was not amused. He climbed atop a boulder and leveled his staff. “SHEILDS!” Lyra shouted, and Alex exchanged her bow for her shield. A bolt of energy leaped from the warlock’s staff, sliced through the night, and shot straight at Alex. Alex’s necklace surged with power and glowed with brilliant starlight and created a blue force field surrounded her. When the energy bolt impacted the force-field, the explosion threw Alex backward. She sailed through the air and fell into the mouth of a cave. Rolling and bouncing, she tumbled along a rock incline, and she hit the bottom in a heap.
Chapter 5
Blurred faces with worried expressions hovered above Alex. They spoke with distant voices and with garbled words. Her head swam, and groans escaped her. As her head cleared, Alex heard Kaylin ask, “Alex … are you okay?” When she moved, they helped her to sit upright.
“Can you get the lights out of my eyes?” When the girls turned their lights away, Alex opened her eyes a bit and rubbed the small of her back. “Everything hurts,” she mumbled. She raised her right knee and felt her boot slide on grit covered stone. When she took a deep breath, pain resulted, and she said, “I think I broke my butt.” Lyra and Kaylin helped Alex rise to her feet.
Sterling used a rope and scaled down the inclined surface. “You found her. Is she hurt?” She broke out a medical kit and flipped open a black scanner. The medical device, the product of an advanced world, scanned her for injury. “You’re just bruised.” She inserted the base of a hypospray into a hole at the bottom right of the scanner, and the scanner filled it with the prescribed medicine. “I need to see your neck.” She brushed aside Alex’s black hair and pressed the tip to her neck. After she pressed a red button, the fluid atomized and sprayed into Alex’s body. “You should feel better in a few minutes.”
“What happened?” asked Alex.
“If it wasn’t for your necklace, you’d be dead,” Kaylin said, cringed, and wrung her hands.
Lyra put her right hand on her hip and propped her left foot on a stone. “A daemia warlock blasted you with his staff, and then Sterling blasted him into bite-size chunks.”
“He didn’t have a necklace to protect him,” Kaylin said. “Bad news about your shield, it’s got a hole the size of a dinner plate, but your left arm looks okay, not sure why.” When she picked up the shield, she stared at it in disbelief: the shield repaired the hole as they watched. Kaylin tapped on it with her knuckles to make sure. “That’s weird.”
“What’s that?” Alex asked and pointed.
Across the cavern, they saw a very large nautilus shell, yet it was not a shell. The various segments folded underneath one another, allowing the curved front half to retract. They arose to their feet and crossed the uneven cavern. When Alex put her hand on a stone column, rough seashells — long ago embedded in gray silk — formed a concrete-like mixture. This same substance formed the various caverns and passageways beneath the salt flats, a labyrinth that went on for hundreds of miles.
Their lights focused on the strange object. A layer of white calcium coated the exterior surface, and it was large enough to fit inside of it. Alex used the butt of her knife to tap on it, and the white crust fell away, revealing oxidized aluminum. She gave it three more hard knocks, and the crust fell away. The United States Presidential Seal covered the lower front portion, and “#3” marked the top of it.
Alex pulled on a handle at the bottom, and the curved door arose, segments sliding under one another. Salt water flooded out of the capsule and washed over their boots. The padded seat cushion rotted away long ago, leaving behind the curved aluminum pan beneath it, and the control systems turned to rust. The slightest touch caused the equipment to collapse into a pile of rusty mush. This must be some sort of escape capsules. How it got here, I have no idea, and it has been here a long time.”
“Over 20,000 years ago,” she said and gazed up at the curved gray ceiling above them, “before the mud accumulated on it.”
Alex used her knife to scratch away the oxide from the aluminum. “This capsule must have held someone important.” The box beneath the seat pan was empty. “It looks like he used the emergency raft to escape.”
“I wonder if he survived?” Kaylin asked.
“We need to go. The daemia could rally, and I want to get out of here.” Lyra walked toward the rope and shouted, “Come on.” Alex ran her hand over the capsule. It was a little piece of home. She hated to leave it behind, but she turned and caught up with the others.
Chapter 6
The camp owners mended the fences, burned the dead, and patrolled outside the barrier. After having laundered, bathed, shaved, and eaten a hot meal, the residents wandered about the
camp. The tension grew with each passing hour, and the young men could no longer tolerate it. They pressed Sam to escort them into the city, but the girls had to remain on guard duty.
Refuge City never slept. How could it? The celebration never ended. “If you want to sleep, go home,” revelers shouted at those trying to quiet the noise. Sam and the young men strolled through the chaos. Light, drunks, and noise spilled out of taverns. Scantily clad women lounged on second-floor balconies and tempted men to come and partake.
“A man has to be careful of them,” Sam said. “Otherwise, he ends up shanghaied.” When the young men cocked their head and screwed up their faces, he explained. “Criminals kidnap men and sell them to mines as slaves. A few are transformed from a guy to a gal and sold as slave girls.” As if to make is the point, two prisoner wagons, filled with semi-nude slaves, rolled past them. Most of the prisoners were still unconscious. “The city fathers know all about it. They get money under the table to look the other way. Be careful; no one’s going to rescue you here.”
“They kidnap them?” Skye asked. The baby-faced youth was no match for the city, and he had little doubt that slavers would abduct Skye. In fact, Sam wondered if he would make it an hour, let alone the night.
Sam rubbed his neck. “You should wait back in the camp. This city is too rough and tumble for the likes of you.”
“I can take care of myself.” Skye crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “I’m small, but I’m quick.”
“Don’t worry,” Mercutio said. “We’ll take care of each other.”
Sam grunted and continued on his way. A quiet bar and restaurant on the north wall awaited him. After a hot meal and a couple of drinks, he would hire some companionship for the night. He departed the young men with a wave and said, “I hope your right.”
After climbing the stairs to the city wall, he approached a tan stucco restaurant. Potted roses clung to the black wrought iron pillars and overhead ribs, and round tables lay in an alfresco dining area. He strolled through the entryway and made his way to a terrace overlooking them all. Five place settings, five overturned shot glasses, and a bottle of whiskey lay at his usual table. He sat and righted his glass and filled his glass with whiskey.
Through the support ribs above him, he saw the stars twinkle in a midnight sky. Camellia sashayed over to him and placed a whiskey bottle with two glasses on the table. “You’re the only one so far. I’m sorry.”
“Friends absent,” he said, raising a glass, and he took a sip. She sat next to him, and they talked about old times. The alcohol had far less effect on him that made him happy. However, the tradition stretched back a hundred years, when he and his friends first arrived at Refuge. All were dead or missing, leaving Sam alone to carry on the tradition.
After a night of drinking, Sam stared at the four overturned shot glasses, and said, “Well boys, it looks like I’m the last one.” He retrieved a letter from a solicitor in Atlantis. Using his knife, he cut open the envelope and read the letter. “Dear Captain Ash, this is an official notification that you are the last surviving member of the tontine.” He skipped down to the bottom. “… You are hereby entitled to the full amount of the funds deposited 123 years ago with my father. The inventory of the chest it 1,321 gold coins, 3,324 silver coins, 221 diamonds of various quality, 32 rubies, 54 sapphires, 2 diamond necklaces, 4 gold bracelets, and 6 diamond tiaras. You are entitled to the whole amount and may claim it at any time, or if you desire, you may notify me by certified correspondence and have it transferred to a financial institution of your choosing.”
He crumpled the letter and tossed it away. He filled his glass and raised it. “Fallen but not forgotten,” he toasted. He slammed the whiskey into the back of his throat and threw away the glass, smashing it on the stucco wall. “I’d pay it all to the devil to have my friends back.”
The first rays of dawn broke in the east and cast long shadows across the salt flats. A flash of light and the crack of thunder came from the cloudless sky, and a small ball of light, brighter than the sun, blazed in the sky above the Barrier Mountains. It grew larger by the second until it forced him to avert his gaze, using his hand as a shield.
In a state of awe, he watched an aircraft emerge from the ball of light. It swept low over Nose Mountain and then dived toward the Flats. It swept out of the sky and landed on the Flats, issuing a great cloud of white salt. “I have to go.” He threw down some money and charged out of the restaurant.
A rescue party, led by Sam, galloped toward the stricken craft. When they neared the aircraft, Sam slowed and held up his fist for the party to stop. Men walked about the wings and held rifles, some of which pointed at them. He saw the flare of a lens and knew a riflescope pointed at them.
“That’s Air Force One. The President rides on it.” When Alex observed their quizzical expressions, she added, “The United States President, from Earth.”
Tormod, a dwarf, stroked his beard and said, “We’ve had many arrive from Earth but few in such dramatic fashion. Is he important, this president?”
“Very important, the United States is a superpower back on Earth.” Alex tapped her spurs and rode away. “We must see if everyone is all right.”
“Hold on,” Sam said. “They’re pointing weapons at us. Let’s walk our horses from here. We don’t want to charge upon armed men.” After they had dismounted, Sam commented to Alex, “Back in my day, the President had a private train, but an aircraft, that’s pretty amazing. I never would have imagined it. The folks back on Earth have come pretty far to have that kind of tech.”
“Have you ever flown?” asked Alex.
“Hmm, oh yes. I worked in space on a merchant ship, a freighter and traveled a while. I got tired of re-circulated air and manufactured food. And the spaceports, they among the most dangerous I’ve ever seen. We had to go out in groups just to keep from getting mugged, shanghaied, or murdered.”
Their conversation trailed off into silence. The chain ladders draped out of open aircraft doors, and men walked about on the wings. Alex saw a glint of light and stopped her horse. She said, “They have a 50-caliber rifle trained on us.”
“I know,” Sam said. “Just stay calm.”
Lyra and Kaylin, elvas, cocked their heads, and their Elven eyes beheld the man wielding the gun with curiosity. “Is it a weapon?” asked Lyra. “Is he threatening us?”
“Yes, it’s a weapon, and he’s warning us to stay clear,” Sam said.
Hank Lutz and Sterling joined the group. “What are we waiting for?” asked Hank. “Let’s go up and talk to them.”
“They have a weapon aimed at us,” said Kaylin.
“What kind of weapon works from this range?” asked Sterling. “Is it a wizard’s staff? Some staffs can fire powerful bolts for miles. Mine is far less.”
“No. It uses gun powder.” Sam tipped back his Seventh Calvary cowboy hat and took a swig from his canteen. “It’s suicidal on Eden. Rhunite could cause that thing to blow up at any time.”
“So could the jet,” said Alex. “It uses a very unstable petroleum fuel to propel it.”
“Petroleum?” Tormod asked. “If they emerged any other place on the planet, that craft would have exploded.” He rubbed an itch from his wide nose and said, “It looks like one of them is waving at us — an invitation?”
“I guess the flats are safe enough. There’s no rhunite here.” Sam mounted his horse and tapped his spurs. Pilot trotted toward the aircraft. The others followed him, more curious than afraid. Alex put on a pair of sunglasses, which the others greatly envied, and glanced up at the sun. The brilliant ball of fire burned brightly in a clear blue sky. “They are lucky the weather is fair: a strong wind could flip it.”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “That thing is huge. It is a wonder that it flies, and the wings are massive. The ships I served on used anti-gravity lift.”
“Anti-gravity lifts don’t work in these mountains,” said Tormod. “It is another bit of fortune for them. Their ancestor
s must favor them.”