by K. T. Tomb
Dawn arrived misty and gray, and the jarl woke up to the blowing of horns. He was out of bed in one graceful movement, baring his teeth as he whipped a knife into his hand from under his camp pillow. He walked to the edge of the ship, and saw a terrible sight. Arrayed on the bank in front of him was a large group of the Aptoree. Since they had made no move to attack, the jarl only assumed that they wanted to talk for some reason. Damn heathen natives, he thought joyfully to himself. Maybe this will give me the opportunity I need to wipe them out and take over this world.
He gave the order to launch five squads on five skiffs, including his own, to go and meet with the leaders of the group lined up along the shoreline. His transport skiff took the lead position in their wedge formation, the boat mildly rocking in the breeze that was slowly picking up. His was the first boat to land, and he was the first man overboard. Ankle-high in the surf he waded his way warily up the beach.
“Hello?” he shouted. “We come in peace, we come as friends.”
You have to think your words at us, warrior-king Algoth, one of the Aptoree Family Heads projected toward the mind spark it recognized as Algoth. When he got no reply, he tried questing out towards the rest of the group of invaders. Nothing. Nothing at all, he said to the other Senior Family Heads. These people are not here to learn anything about our world. Nor are they here, he continued, to scout us or to gather intelligence about us. Unfortunately, the one person that we never should have let get away, got away and he clearly made it home and clearly, he found help. They are here to destroy our world—the world of the Apetoree. They are here to destroy all of our families.
You are correct, one of the other Senior Family Heads agreed. These people have already made their decisions about us. They have already decided that they will not even try to understand us. And of course, that means we cannot get through to them.
Jarl Algoth walked up to the center Aptoree chieftain and tried to shake his hand—the jarl offered out his own arm in an exchange of peace. The Aptoree just stared at it, and glared up at Algoth.
“Well that’s not very polite,” Algoth said to the Apetoree. “Now, where the hell am I? Do you have any currently… uh… captured people that look like us?” And he gestured to the group of people standing next to him.
The Apetorees just ignored him. Communication between the two species was clearly impossible. All of a sudden, the Apetoree chief in the middle stood up, fully erect on hind legs that Algoth and Haervey had been under the impression were short. The beast stood close to the same height as Algoth, if not taller by a few hairs. The chief opened his mouth, showed both his canines which, despite a humanoid face, were oversized and clearly meant for tearing into enemies. His breath was fetid in Algoth’s face but no sound—not so much as a hiss or a scream—passed his lips. Algoth back-pedaled until he was level with his men already on the beach. One quick command was enough for the men to reposition themselves into a straight line and, despite the closing-in of the Aptoree, kept a cool mind. They barely had time to overturn their skiffs to make a roughly circular, pathetic palisade. The Aptoree slowly moved forward, their silence eerie. All of a sudden, there was a heavy whump directly in front of them. A crater appeared, shortly followed by a sticky red mist. The ships—still anchored out on the water—began bombarding the beach as they moved closer, launching skiffs and rafts with support troops.
The jarl’s men quickly established a line two men deep. The Aptoree warriors did not fare well—every human they brought down cost them four to five of their own. Their numbers were not unlimited, and they were slowly losing ground.
Just as the shore loses to the sea—eventually this place had to change—that is the irony of our perfection. That no matter how perfect we think we have made ourselves to match the world, the world must change, the Aptoree leader thought as he got his last view of his cherished, beloved sky.
Back on the jarl’s flagship, one of the sentients heard this thought, as the soul it was attached to slowly slid into the darkness of death.
What have we done here? Cerinaka thought to herself. What have we destroyed?
The jarl’s men celebrated their victory as they watched the last of the few surviving Aptoree flee into the forest, the clinging mist of the morning hanging low in the air. Haervey approached Algoth.
“Algot’,” Haervey said. “Well me’. We shaed tha baester’s goo’ tha’ tyme, eh?”
“I lost quite a few men today, Haervey. I don’t understand why that beast attacked me when all I wanted to do was speak with it. I was amicable to some sort of… of settlement… to figure out some way that we could bring families and establish small villages here so that our population can survive. I don’t understand.”
“Waell, neit’er dae Ah, bu’… praps et’s fer tha bes’ yeh know?” Haervey asked.
Algoth just shook his head. “What can I do for you? I assume you would like to go look for your friends? Crew mates or whatever? And I’m guessing that you’ll need a few extra bunks on the way home if we find them?”
“Aye Algot’, tha’ woul’ bae jus’ gran’ of yeh,” Haervey said, clasping the Jarl’s arm.
“Fine, then,” Algoth said. “Go. Take ten or twelve with you and go before I change my mind.”
Haervey clasped his right fist to his left breast in salute and bowed, ever so slightly. He took the closest group of men, beckoned them over and let them know that, for today, their work was not quite done.
They headed into the forest, and once they breached the edge of the tree line, Haervey turned and said, “We need tae fin oos a trail intae tha camp o’ them bastards. Once we fin tha, should nae take us long to comple’e our mission.”
They spread out in a line, each man a full arm’s span from the man next to him as they look and search through the underbrush for any indication of where they might find the lost crew. One of the soldiers after a while turned up a blood trail. They followed it, each and every one of them keeping eyes and ears prepared for the worst—an ambush or something of that nature. They soon come upon a corpse of one of the Aptorees. The jarl’s soldiers sent up a flare similar to the distress signal on the ship.
“The jarl’s sentients and recorders will want to take this back with them. Something else to study, I suppose,” one of the men said.
“Hopefully that’s all those prickly, recluse old men do with it,” another soldier joked. They continued on their way, continuously moving north.
They were on the trail for a long while and finally one of the men looked up.
“The air is getting a little… different,” he said.
“I smell wood smoke,” another man replied.
“Aye,” Haervey said. “Eht’s tha smell of a village.”
They moved forward, more on their toes, guard up, and tensions running as high as they were on the beachhead earlier that morning.
The scene that met their eyes in the next clearing—which really was not a clearing at all, more like a large meadow—was breathtaking. The humanoids had perfected their synergy with their environment. There were trees that grew in the shape of large, round huts. Their branches were long, straight and wide. The bark, at the base of the trees, grew horizontally to the ground, and it was deep, creating natural steps.
“What the…” one of the jarl’s men said under his breath.
“I ha’ nae idea tha’ they were… they were… like this…” Haervey said. “Hae the fack di they do’t?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just complete this mission, get the hell back to base, and then we can go from there? Send some recorders and sentients back this way. They have got to see this.”
“Aye, that we is exac’ly wha’ we’ll dae,” Haervey said. “Spli’ up, look around an’ see if yeh cen fin’ a… a… gaol or some such… thing.”
The men began searching the Aptoreean dwellings, buildings and out buildings, and with no success.
“Maybe they keep ‘em up ina trees?” one of the men-at-arms said, just as another o
f his comrade’s called from across the camp. “I found ‘em! They got ‘em hangin from a crate up in the trees.”
Haervey ran to the other side of the camp, ecstatic and fearful at the same time, not sure what to expect or what he’ll find. He looked up and there, hanging in a crate, were Kaerl and Willem; in the crate next to them were Yvo and Mik and all the rest of the fighters that were with the original exploration crew. At first, he did not see the man in the corner of the cage, a smile of complete pride and vindicated righteousness on his face.
“Yher’re… Yher… all… CAP!” he shouted with joy. “Gods be praize’, yeh’re all steal leevin!”
“Aye Haerv, and you did exactly what I asked you to. Although,” and the captain peered through the wooden bars of his wooden prison, “it looks like you might have quite the story to tell. What the hell happened to your eye?”
“Ferget me feckin’ ey Cap. Ehm sorry fer leavin’ yeh ‘ere so long,” Haervey said. “Can yeh fergive meh?”
“Just get us down, get us out of this world, get us home and you’ll be sick of hearing about how forgiven you are,” Ri said, laughing at Haervey’s wild joy.
Soon the cages were down, and the crew’s reunion was spreading infectious happiness among the rest of the jarl’s forces as they made their way back to the base camp.
The jarl quickly decided to split his forces, leaving most of his heavy infantry and two ships fully outfitted with the cannons and all the remaining cannon shells from two other ships. He let his generals know that he would return shortly with even more men and they would hold, and establish, a military colony just inside the tree line of the forest. As the sentients opened the veil wide enough to allow the transport ships to return to their home, Cerinaka broadcasted with her mind, and the combined force of the three other sentients, that the jarl would be returning with more men and that anyone that could hear her should do their best to hide, or be destroyed.
Chapter Ten
Yes, High Father, we were there. We were witness to the destruction. We had been scavenging all night in order to best duplicate the tools used against us this day, and to duplicate the second layer of… of skin… that the other beasts wore. It prevented our brothers from doing much damage at all.
High Mother, you asked us to watch, to sit back, to not participate. We watch them destroy our forest daily. We watch them prepare for another landing. They were doing with tools what the forest would do for them, if only they could listen. I believe we need to counterattack while they do not expect it. We have seen the rip they come through. We have duplicated the vehicles they come to our land with. We—the brothers and I—believe that we could follow them back to their homeland, and instill terror in them the way they have instilled it in us. Our ships—that was what the demons on the beach call them—will be stronger and better prepared for the cannons that the beach dwellers constantly speak about because our ships are all sung from one seed. They have no conjoining planes, they have no weaknesses of seams or boards. We could crush them, if we move now.
Either way, High Parents, we are ready should they come back. We have grown the ranks of the brotherhood. We watched, and mimicked, the training of the brotherhood with that of our rivals on the beach.
The High Parents, deep in their forest fastness, looked at each other. Since they could remember, they had adapted quickly. This new situation was no different than others they had faced. This land was theirs, and they had no intention of giving it away without a fight. Projecting his thoughts directly to his mate, the High Father said, These children of ours have done well. What do you think? I believe we should counterattack now, while the humans are distracted and confident.
High Father, our children have indeed done well, the High Mother replied in kind, keeping their conversation private between one another. However, this land is ours. We need not strike at theirs—what want or need have we of conquering them? We have none. We must defend what is ours to the death. I will council patience here, Mate of my Soul. Let them come—in the dark, from the highest branches—in the shadow and in the shade and in the dark places they will lose. We will use our knowledge and our ability to lure them in, and crush them.
You were, as ever, the cooler, wiser head in this pairing, High Mother, the High Father responded. Speaking in concert, they address their offspring.
Children of ours, you have done well to prepare the brotherhood for the coming battle. You will continue watching. You will not engage the enemy. We will instead use the land, use the forest, to defeat our enemy. The land will provide; as it has in the past, so it will in future. In need, and in plenty, the land will provide for us everything we need.
We will heed your orders, High Parents, and do as you ask. We will continue our training, and we will wait for further orders from you. We are in agreement, however, that the time will come when we must invade their land. They will respect force with force. They will not respect us, nor will they learn to leave this land as it is, in its perfection, if we do not force them to that conclusion.
Your concern, the High Mother said, is taken into consideration, and will be noted. We understand that, as always, nothing is static, and that in the pursuit of perfection, we must always be willing to change. There may, in time, come a point when we need to change our tactics. For now, children, please heed our orders.
As always, we shall, High Mother, High Father.
Chapter Eleven
“I will not listen to this nonsense any longer,” the jarl bellowed in the Hall of the Exploration Guild. Every Guild member, from the High Master of Sentience to the Combat Sergeant General to the Senior Chief had gathered for the meeting.
“You remain under our laws. Our rules. Our judgments,” the Keeper of the Records said quietly. “You will not—and I expressly say this with the full weight of the other Council Members backing me on this—return to that other land for any reason other than bringing back your troops.”
“What about that land scares you?” the jarl asked. “Are you all so small, so short-lived that you can’t remember what it took to build this world? Can you not recall the bravery of our fathers and their fathers? We must forge a new world for ourselves. If you do not want others coming through to my side, fine. That’s fine. But do not think to stop my people, and the other jarls and their people from establishing a new, viable home for ourselves. There is good soil there. There was clean air and water in plenty. The demons that live in the wild have been eradicated or driven so deep into the forest that they will never come out again.”
“Jarl, you have no idea if what you say about the demons is true. You have no guarantee of that. Not to mention, you have no idea if the crops you grow will be edible. You have no idea about the medical risks of such a world as the one you are talking about creating. You just don’t know. And not knowing, without doing more tests first at least, well… it’s irresponsible,” the Senior Chief said. “And before you say it, I understand that you believe that we are being irresponsible by not allowing you to establish a colony there. However, we are responsible on a much larger scale than you, and if we do anything to compromise the trust people have in us, well… if we lose it, the world will go to shit.”
The jarl just snorted, and replied, “You can tell whomever you want how they should live their lives. Do not count on me to comply with this ridiculousness. Neither will the rest of the Danish Council. We will, without exception, be leaving this place once and for all. We will go with all of our livestock, our people, and our ships. And you will NOT stop us. Stay here and die in this miserable world for all I care.”
On that note, Algoth stormed out of the Guild of Exploration’s Hall. Within a few weeks, he would never be seen in that world again.
The jarl’s fleet quickly returned, after resupplying and recruiting new soldiers. They had already established a strong foothold at their original landing site. The veil was pushed open once again by a group of sentients; this time, the passengers on the ships were women, children, and
men not quite old enough to serve the required five years in service to the jarl as men-at-arms. They landed and were greeted by husbands, fathers and brothers. Progress was being made daily, they were told by their loved ones, and the fields were ready to be tilled and plowed and planted.
The families had brought everything with them—this was the jarl’s gift to his people—as they started new lives in a new world. They brought plow horses and plows, wagons and scythes and the hardiest of their agricultural crops like potatoes and grains that were not susceptible to drought, wind, flooding; all the things that could go wrong on a frontier had been considered and at least in part, planned for. The village was quickly becoming a tight-knit community. The soldiers, when they were not on duty, lived in small but comfortable homes within sight of the walls of the jarl’s fortress. They were always aware of what could potentially go wrong, and of the failures and hardships they faced in the new world.
In the forest, the Apetoree watched and waited. They understood that there was a time coming, in which their rage and hatred for the destruction of their planet could be unleashed on their hated rivals. Since their first arrival, the humans had been like termites. They cut and pulled down trees. They destroyed, and dug up, and destroyed and dug up more, and called it progress. To the High Parents, it was no wonder that the humans had already laid waste to their home world. Everything they did was counterproductive to the way nature did things. There was no synergy in the way they lived. And yet they continued toiling. The Aptoreeans, on the other hand, had adapted. Once a peaceful, tree dwelling people, they’d changed as their environment demanded.
In the weeks and months since the humans had landed, they had constantly trained. Their singers—the members of society responsible for singing in the language of the world in order to let the world know what they needed—had been chanting of battle and the necessities they required in order to win that battle, and their world had provided.
