Soon after take-off Maria unfolded the protective seats and hurtled into the indigo blue of the upper atmosphere.
“Convertible Mode Enabled,” Maria called to the three passengers as every surface coated in cloaking material became transparent, displaying the exterior view to passengers. All wall and flooring became invisible in effect, leaving only Ivory Vine furniture and instrumentation visible. They were merely a command area flying through space in an invisible cocoon. The three Gayans stood and walked towards Maria’s prow. They were accustomed to the view but it never failed to impress, flying as they were in formation with the other items on the command deck but not connected to them visibly. Above was total blackness with diamond-hard bright stars, some a striking colour. Aldebaran, the red giant, pointed the way to the Hyades star cluster, home of their enemies, race Spargar of planet Spargan. Aldebaran from Earth appeared part of the Hyades star cluster within constellation Taurus but in truth was much closer and therefore brightest with its baleful crimson colour. Adjacent to the Hyades but three times further away they stared into the Pleiades, known as the Seven Sisters, home range of the Gayan people, shaped like a tiny saucepan foaming over with a multitude of stars. It was hard not to be starsick for home staring into their home world star cluster. They could return at any time but truth was they seldom managed it on an involved mission like the one for Enlightenment on planet Earth.
Below their feet the Earth first appeared as if in map view then bulged upwards as they rose swiftly until it resolved itself into a complete globe below them. The sun burned brightly off the west illuminating the Atlantic Ocean brightly royal blue, a curving line of dark to the east of the Indian subcontinent, bisecting the aqua blue of the Indian Ocean, Madagascar still in full light of evening. A scattering of thunderstorms studded the tropics of equatorial Africa, continually blinking on and off with tiny white lights; lightning strikes through the rain storms on the jungle far below. To the south the storms petered out and all of southern Africa was displayed in orange and ochre mottled splendour. Maria ascended to the peak of the course parabola and started to fall back to Earth like a thrown stone reaching its zenith and lazily returning to Earth by gravity. The mass of southern Africa spread below their feet, so little road and habitation infrastructure after the massed development of western Europe.
Maria speared down into the heart of southern Africa equidistant between the fairest Cape to the south, Lake Victoria to the north and the Atlantic and Indian ocean coasts. A second Gayan craft rose from southern Johannesburg to meet Maria with a second crew of Cavallos that dwelt amongst the Chinese community there. Both Gayan craft converged on the Nkonki village under threat and looped in stealth mode over the dust billows of the racing Matlala war party vehicles. The Gayans settled to block the route between the charging raiders and the Nkonki villagers who were still unaware of the impending threat. The white SUVs came tearing through the bush, rounding tall thorn trees, bouncing over ruts and wadis, barely avoiding occasional red rocks that would have brought their attack to a crunching halt. Nkonki womenfolk returning with water carriers balanced solidly on their heads were first to raise the ululating alarm, spreading panic down the broken line of carriers to the village. When the wailing call eventually reached the village the villagers chased around gathering their families, hiding in their rondavels or making tracks into the bush. A few young men brandished antique long blades or knobkerries but they were fearfully outmatched. They were prepared to fight like lions as they knew full well this would be a fight to the death for the men folk; women and children would likely be taken as slaves if captured alive.
The evening sky had softened to shades of blended pink and lilac, the large red sun sinking to float squashed on the flattened tops of the tree line, its steady progress blind to the life and death dramas played out below in the African bush. Matlala commandos were hanging out of the doors of their speeding vehicles brandishing clubs and firing bursts of AK47 gunfire randomly in the air to terrify the Nkonkis. The Matlala were looking ahead with fevered anticipation of the first bright blood of their victims spraying aloft when two cigar-shaped objects tens of metres across appeared shimmering in silver and then resolved into enormous snake heads, staring with baleful orange crystalline eyes, opening their jaws to show massive fangs and writhing forked tongue. The pair of snakes displayed a black maw like the throat of a giant mamba large enough to swallow a Land Cruiser whole. Beyond the terrible image of the snakes heads weaving above the war party the air was filled with loud hissing, focussing their combined threat on the approaching Matlala. Below the wild sibilation of the snakes there was a thumping drumbeat so bass that it was more thunderous vibration than audible percussion.
The Gayan craft issued an electronic pulse that cut the motors of the Matlala SUVs and they plunged into hook thorn bushes or coasted harmlessly to a stop before the writhing snake projections. An objective observer would undoubtedly perceive the projections for the illusions they were but the Matlala were still superstitious, followers of the witch doctor rather than modern medicine and education, totally awed by the monstrous presence of that most feared of African beasts, the deadly slangs, the giant snakes of the African bush. The sound and fury of the images arose from the clouds of red dust disturbed by the SUVs and the Gayan craft and blurred into the softness of the coming sunset adding to the overall theatre the Gayans were projecting that would later be described as the gods of the Nkonkis coming to their aide at their moment of greatest need. Maria’s console systems directed the snake heads images coiling and twisting towards the Matlala raiders, ionising the very air beyond the image of the forked tongues to strafe them with sparks and electrical discharge, convincing the Matlala of the physical power of these monster snake gods.
Daniel and the Pantuccis emerged in their hooded cloaks from the pyrotechnics issuing from Maria’s smoky underside. Four more similarly clad figures emerged from beneath the other Gayan craft the Chinese contingent called Zhi Ruo. The seven Gayans closed with the Matlala raiders that were emerging either dazed or crazed from their failed vehicles. They were shocked by this godly intervention to their mission that had promised no serious opposition to the slaking of their bloodlust. The Nkonki villagers meanwhile completed their disappearance into the bush, grateful for the opportunity to escape. Whatever had materialised between them and their attackers was astonishing but clearly stopped and routed their opponents, who would undoubtedly have caused their complete destruction.
The Matlala turned their AK47s on the approaching wizards emerging from the smoke, gouts of flame and thumping martial music. The shrouded figures still came on at them weaving as if capable of dancing away from machine gun fire. The bullets seemed not to penetrate the approaching Gayans like they were wraiths with no physical substance. Some of the Matlala stared at their weapons in disbelief, the bullets were just not working against these other worldly foes. Ultimately they dropped the machine guns and were forced to confront the shady figures with their blades and clubs. It was then that the Gayan Cavallos and Daniel pulled their Ivory Vine staves from the folds of their cloaks and engaged the already mentally defeated Matlala in hand to hand conflict.
It was that moment when a third spacecraft uncloaked at the scene among the disabled Matlala vehicles. It was one of the ships that made up part of Rakul’s fleet commanded by Ivanka Makhtarian. It carried fifty elite Jarlankan commandos. The two Gayan ships screamed alarums as the Jarlankan craft dropped an exit chute prior to disgorging their troops. The Chinese and Italian born Cavallos were outnumbered; the Jarlankans were a much more serious threat than the usual Zarnha agents of Spargan, significantly larger and better trained. They wore Hazmat suits like Zarnha but of a burnished purple-brown appearance, bulkier and more elaborate in design. Zarnha troops almost looked spindly with their overlarge grey helms over thin suits that emphasised their thin limbs. Where Zarnha agents relied on drugs to immobilise their victims the Jarlankans added physical martial ski
lls to the Zarnha technology.
Ivanka marshalled her troops out swiftly and marched over the terrified Matlala that had fallen to the ground to witness yet more gods that had appeared as if by magic. These new warriors wore suits like bronze that rippled with the failing sun and lights from the spacecraft. They were terrifying to behold with grossly contoured locust-shaped heads casting around so their shiny complex eyes could take in the whole scene. They spread in a line carrying fearsome ixwa lances for hand-to-hand combat as well as concealed missile and medical weaponry. The Gayans stopped short of the Matlala and spread across the open space. Their line was as wide as the Jarlankans, but the handful of Cavallos and Daniel were heavily outnumbered. The Jarlankans formed a tight line opposing the Gayans where each individual was jostling shoulder to shoulder with their neighbour to confront their opponents.
Ivanka Makhtarian stood a yard in front of her commandos and directed her attention to the hooded figure of Daniel standing ten yards away in the middle of the Cavallo line. “You have no business here, Leopard of Dawn! These people are of interest to us and under our protection.”
Daniel dropped his head and pulled the cowl back over his handsome features. “Well, you are clearly not doing your duties protecting all of these people or we would not be required to safeguard them,” he replied in clear and measured tones.
Ivanka, irritated by the example of Daniel’s unhurried speech in the face of her numerical advantage deliberately toned down the aggression in her voice as she continued. “You have no jurisdiction here, interfering in the interests of the Spargar Empire. I call on you to leave now or fight and be destroyed.”
“I very much doubt that,” Daniel replied calmly, actually unaware of how such a skirmish would play out with this number of Jarlankans in play. He could feel the mute support of the Cavallos on either side, also trying to compute the likely outcomes of this particular scenario and completely sanguine about going into battle to test themselves against this rare foe. “You can control your dogs and walk away if you wish, it is of no matter to us, but we are not leaving until this village is secure.”
Ivanka paused a moment to consider. She had no special concern for the welfare of these weak Earth people and saw no point in fighting over a little baked earth amongst so much vast open space. The Matlala vassals of the Spargar Empire were in no condition to complete their cowardly mission in any case. They could be saved and escorted away by her warriors. Only these disappointing Matlala would lose face and would have proved the power of her Jarlankans. “Your proposals are acceptable if your presence is not. We will both withdraw and you can expect us to pursue official sanction for your aggression.”
Daniel bowed shallowly and backed away with the Cavallos to their two craft leaving the Jarlankans to usher the Matlala to their vehicles now restored to electrical life after the electromagnetic pulse. The awestruck Matlala raiders could scarcely believe they survived the ambush of the vengeful Nkonki gods and the appearance of their own mighty saviours, whoever they may be. They shrank back into their vehicles thankfully and drove away without any of the bloodlust of their initial attack that had seemed so easy.
The Nkonki villagers stared out from their hiding places in the bush after the Matlala and their gods had left. Their wide-eyed men looked around in amazement, the whites of their eyes showing as they checked all was well with their village. The raid that had seemed so fearful had disappeared like the ending of the day itself. The matriarch of the village, a large bold woman called Nellie, watched the tall black man who led the gods that had saved them and turned their enemies away. He could have been one of their own young men, tall and fit, lighter in complexion than their Matlala enemies, but carrying himself with great authority. “Pssst!” she hissed at the men of the village cowering in the shadows. “Get out there and find out who they is!” The menfolk stared out and shrank back to the shadows. Loud in the village council when dealing in trivia, drunk on Umqombothi, they were silent and cowed now in the face of a real challenge from outside their experience.
“Pah!” burst out Nellie and she gathered herself up to her feet, thrust out her broad bosom and strode out on to the bare packed earth to confront Daniel. “Who are you and what you doin’?” she questioned with her hands atop the full skirts on her broad hips.
Daniel remained confident, ever so slightly discomfited by this powerful Nkonki matriarch, moved to brave action to protect her village. “They call me Daniel,” he replied evenly. “And what is your name?”
“Well they call me Nellie,” she replied in the same manner. “When they is brave enough to show theirselves.” She looked purposefully back into the bushes but there was no sound or sign of her menfolk being shamed into joining her.
“We are here to protect you from this Matlala attack on your village,” Daniel changed to the bush language of the Nkonki, clicking in his throat as he spoke the words in perfect dialect.
Nellie was scrutinising Daniel from head to toe. He wore wizard’s robes and arrived like the Star People of the ancient stories. “You here at last to look over us then?”
“I think so, the bad days of Nkonki pain are behind you.”
“What about our girls and children stolen and taken to King Matlala, man? What can you do about that then?”
“I think we can do much about that.”
“I believe you when Matlala stop raiding our villages, our children come home and our dead warriors rise from this earth,” Nellie declared.
“We will do our best, two out of three would be progress,” Daniel observed. “I will go now to fix your problems, watch us leave and tell your people we are your friends.” Daniel turned away and joined the Gayans who ascended into their spacecraft, which were now silent silver fuselages, no longer projecting images of terror on African natives. Nellie stared as the spacecraft rose slowly and silently before cruising off to the north.
*
Rakul strode into the witch doctor’s rondavel in President Mblane’s compound dressed in a faux military uniform that accentuated his bearing. He wore large silvered sunglasses that would both impress an African warlord and hide the power of his gaze. Many strange artefacts festooned with long stringy hair hung from the entry and straw rafters of the round mud hut. Other reliquaries, mostly stolen from graves where they had been protecting their occupants, occupied most of the floor space. The witch doctor sat cross-legged before an open fire of long thin logs in the centre of the hard earth floor. He was a scrawny individual, with long limbs and deeply creased face. Over the features of his face was painted a skull, which merged into claws of white to resemble skeletal teeth reaching down into the white stubble of his chin. A hat of tall feathers, necklace of hammerkop beaks and a robe of ostrich burl over his red mud-painted torso completed his impressive ensemble. His only lower garment appeared to be a tight reed tube covering for his constrained penis.
Rakul regarded with some amusement the witch doctor, who was the long-term Zarnha agent responsible for controlling the Matlala leadership. “You are without doubt one of the strangest Zarnha officers I have ever set eyes on. What I would give to see you walk into the Spyre back in Braganza to report in person to the Conclave of the Omeyns!”
“Yes indeed,” the witch doctor replied in perfect Spargar, pleased to be able to drop the guttural Matlala on this occasion. “The old ways are still most important here, no matter how the people are affected by European ideas. Nothing happens here without my advice, eighty percent of the people come to me for their medicine, which is the only way it works. There is no money to treat everyone with real medicine. I am happy at your amusement of my predicament; possibly the most remote outpost of the Spargar Empire. To what do I owe the honour of your visit?”
“I have interest in meeting some of our vassal leaders personally as I may call on them later for our use. Your President Mblane is one such individual. I have useful news for him right now and require you
r introduction. Now get to your feet and get moving.”
The witch doctor sprang to his feet with an alacrity never seen by his followers in whom he affected affliction and awe in equal measures as part of his persona. The local Zarnha agent and Rakul ducked out of the traditional rondavel that was set in a traditional tribal village area within the walled confines of the brutishly modern presidential compound. This was where the President maintained his many wives in separate family groups with their children and a few essential retainers in the old way, close to hand, secured by his hand-picked guards. The witch doctor led the way looking like a cross between a spindly ostrich and an umbrella bush on thin shanks, impressively tall with the height of the secretary bird feather hat. Even Rakul’s impressive height did not top the tall thin Zarnha agent in his high hat feathers. They made a strange but impressive sight as they approached the double yellow wood doors of the main presidential house like a funereal bird man leading a young dictator on steroids.
The two guards standing by the door saw the pair arriving in the late evening light and recognised the witch doctor. He could come and go as he wished as long as he kept to himself but a large dangerous-looking individual was following him, wearing an upmarket ranking version of their own ridiculous uniforms.
“Where you going Father with this man we do not know?” One of the brutes made them pause at the door.
“This man is Powerful Ally bringing news for our Chief,” muttered the witch doctor in tones that were deliberately obscure to understand. Part of his mysterious power was the confusion of his mutterings and the guards had to lean in and try to work out the exact words the witch doctor was uttering. As time moved into slow motion for the unfortunate guards Rakul gathered their bowling ball heads as they leaned into the witch doctor, one in each hand and cracked them together so their features fell slack and they slumped into each other in front of the threshold. “Shall we continue?” Rakul enquired, stepping over the thugs and entering the residence, the witch doctor rocking after him wondering how to navigate the multiple dangers of the situation.
Edge of Revelation Page 26