Invardii Series Boxset

by Warwick Gibson

  “Forgive my ignorance,” she said hastily. She hesitated for a moment, but to ask why it was forbidden to have any interaction with the hill tribe risked offending Hana further.

  “Describe the people of the hills to me,” she said quietly. “Tell me, what is their life in the hills like?”

  “I don’t know anything about the eastern hills,” said Hana at last, seeming uncomfortable. “The Kantari, the people of the longhouses, never go there. Only the Sheomal, the people of the chanting, live in the hills.”

  “What do they look like?” encouraged Sallyanne.

  “Taller than us,” said the longhouse elder, “and they move slowly – but you must know them!”

  Sallyanne had been asked where the shuttle people came from several times, and had always replied truthfully that they were made up of people from several tribes, and they had come from another world. Somehow that translated in the minds of the longhouse people to mean somewhere nearby, on the same planet.

  “Netu, K’duc Hana,” she replied. No, honoured elder, she did not know these people.

  By the time Hana had finished describing the hill tribe, the Sheomal, it was clear they were very different to the longhouse people.

  Was it possible they were an earlier evolutionary path, a step in the evolutionary chain that had survived alongside its successors? Or was it possible genetics within Humans could develop such differences given a long enough period of time?

  The Sheomal were an exciting discovery, but one that would have to wait until the research team were in a position to investigate it further.

  Her second surprise of the afternoon came when she asked a simple question about the planet itself.

  “What do the longhouse people call this place, or this world. What is this land as far as the eye can see and as far as a traveller might walk if they walked forever?”

  This was something Hana was unsure about. She asked Sallyanne several questions, until she understood it was the ‘world’ of trees and grass and ground that Sallyanne was talking about.

  “Emba,” she replied. “The world, as far as anyone can ever walk, is called ‘Emba’.”

  “Do the longhouse people call some part of their world ‘Orouth’,” continued Sallyanne, thinking there might be other concepts outside of the physical world, perhaps spiritual places or the world of the dead.

  Hana’s eye widened.

  “Maka’H’Rosh,” she replied fearfully, but the translating device was unable to get one clear meaning from the word.

  “The sky palace of the H’Rosh,” said Hana, when Sallyanne asked her to explain what she meant in other ways. The longhouse elder was disturbed about something, and Sallyanne was tentative about pressing further, in case she stopped talking altogether.

  Sallyanne decided to proceed, cautiously, and told Hana that the shuttle people had come to the longhouse people to find a place called Orouth.

  “You must go to Maka’H’Rosh,” said Hana urgently. She thought about continuing for a long moment, even looking around to see if any of the other longhouse people could overhear her, and finally decided to say something more.

  “The story of the creator says that when a stranger comes, looking for Orouth, the stranger must go to Maka’H’Rosh. It is part of the story of the creator who split into three. If peace is ever to come to the three creators, who now war endlessly with each other, it will be when a stranger comes, trying to find Orouth.”

  Sallyanne pressed gently for a little more information, but Hana felt she had said enough. She had spoken about things that were sacred longhouse matters, and she declined to say anything else.

  That evening the research team tried to make sense of the new information.

  “It’s too close to the truth, the history of the three races that we discovered at Ba’H’Roth” said Andre, “it must mean something.”

  “Yes,” said Jeneen, “the story’s the same as that for the Caerbrindii, and it’s not a coincidence that Orouth was also a name given us by the Rothii archives. How come Hana knows the word?”

  “And the Rosh part of Maka’H’Rosh is so close to Rothii – a simple phonetic change that could be expected in 200 thousand years,” finished Roberto.

  “So, where is this Maka’H’Rosh?” said Andre, always the most pragmatic.

  “We don’t know where it is yet,” said Sallyanne, “and that may be a problem. Hana feels she’s said too much already. Unless one of us can get accepted into the tribe, deep enough be told the whole story of Maka’H’Rosh, it might not be possible to find out anything more.”

  The others looked at Sallyanne.

  “What,” she said, looking up at the silence.

  “You would seem to be the obvious choice for a little undercover work,” said Celia gently.

  “Ah, no. I’m what you might call a library researcher,” said Sallyanne hurriedly.

  “Sorry, love, this is field work,” said Celia kindly, but firmly. “I think you’ve got yourself a job.”

  “Come on, Sallyanne, it could be fun,” said Roberto. “Look at the scars on their cheeks the elders have got. That would be something special, you have to admit.”

  “And you’ll probably have to fast in a hut somewhere, and kill a ferocious beast to prove your worthiness,” said Andre, unable to stop himself poking fun.

  “Oh, shut up the lot of you,” said Sallyanne, heading off for the sleeping quarters. She left the rest of the team laughing behind her.

  As it turned out, Habid and Roberto were about to know a lot more about Celia’s other interest, the Sheomal, and that opportunity came much sooner than she had expected.

  CHAPTER 14

  ________________

  As the people of the longhouse, the Kantari, became used to their new neighbours, the Hud pilots began to reveal themselves. They would bring things over to Celia when she was working with Hana inside the meeting place at the centre of the clearing, or take a shift standing guard outside the shuttle.

  There were occasions when the research team would spend some time in the rain forest, collecting samples of its biodiversity, or looking at things of interest the longhouse people showed them. The research team were soon appointed a guide by Hana, to warn them of dangers they might encounter.

  The diminutive Mersa were, though, were still confined to the shuttle, and worked quietly on various tasks without complaint. They were able to follow live feeds from the research team’s recorders when they were out in the forest.

  Despite the pilots’ low-key approach, the longhouse hunters were under no illusion about Habid and the three other Hudnee. The Kantari men knew that the Hud pilots were also ‘hunters’ of a sort, and they were there to keep the people from the shuttle safe. The pilots’ role as bodyguards made the longhouse hunters curious. What hunting or fighting skills did the pilots have? How good were they?

  Celia was aware of the tension, and got Sallyanne to ask if the Hud pilots could accompany the men on one of their excursions into the forest. Yes, replied the longhouse elders after some consultation, that would be possible. The hunters would be most active in a few days time, at the beginning of the new moon.

  A hunt was arranged for two days later. Sallyanne was surprised to find that the longhouse people did most things by the phases of the moon. It seemed impossible they ever saw the moon under the permanent cloud cover of the thermo-incline.

  Hana smiled at the question, and called one of the women over from tending the longhouse gardens. They spoke briefly in the Kantari language. The woman motioned for Sallyanne to follow her, and led the way for a short distance into the forest. The woman pointed at a cave mouth in the hillside rising ahead of them.

  “The white worms are one of the ways we know the stages of the moon goddess,” she said, and led Sallyanne to the entrance. The two of them moved cautiously inside, and at the back of the cave strange lights winked on, one at a time, and began to sway hypnotically in the gloom.

  “The white worms are more acti
ve at night,” said the longhouse woman, “but they will turn on their lights whenever they sense activity in the cave.

  “When the moon goddess passes overhead,” she continued, “the white worms are at their brightest, and when the moon goddess has gone to sleep, so she can dream of ways to renew the world, the white worms go to sleep also.”

  Sallyanne took a multi-tool from an inside pocket, and used it to produce a soft light. She examined the small, thin bodies that were hanging from the roof of the cave more closely. They must belong to a biological family something like fireflies, perhaps a larval stage. Wasn’t there a similar thing – a glowworm – somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere on Earth? She was sure she had heard about it.

  The remarkable thing, though, was that the Kantari knew about the moon of Orouth, even though they had never seen it. Did the Rothii leave them the idea, in one of their histories, hundreds of thousands of years ago? Had the idea arisen spontaneously in the minds of the longhouse people?

  The Human unconscious contained an archetype of the powers associated with the moon, as a receptive and generative force. Maybe the unconscious of the Kantari did too. This was going to be a real brain teaser for the research team, when she shared the discovery with them that night.

  The following morning saw a group of hunters meet with the Hud pilots. The grey of the clouds above had slowly brightened until there was enough light to see clearly. A short breakfast time had followed.

  Habid eyed Mongo up and down. The leader of the longhouse hunters was a little taller than Habid, but much, much slimmer. If the pilots were going to have to run for any length of time during the hunt they would find it hard going. He and his Hud pilots were not built for endurance activities.

  Mongo and his hunters had already used the linguist earpieces once or twice before, and Habid was able to fit them to the three of them easily. Habid was taking one of his pilots with him, leaving two on guard at the shuttle. Sallyanne was concerned about introducing too much technology into the longhouse way of life, but she was prepared to consider the use of technology on a case by case basis.

  Andre linked the earpieces into the satellite system the freighter had already established, so the expedition didn’t need to worry about staying within range of the shuttle.

  Mongo explained what would happen on the hunt for that day. The five of them would go north-east until they reached an area of forest interspersed with grassland. Once they were there they would hunt for creatures that lived in holes in the ground. Habid was pleased to learn it was a fairly short trip, and running would not be involved – unless they got onto some of the fast little forest deer.

  The hunting party was given a blessing by Hana and another elder, and then they disappeared under the dense canopy of the rain forest at the edge of the longhouse clearing. It wasn’t yet mid-morning.

  There didn’t seem to be any hurry, and the small party developed a steady walking rhythm. Mongo put the two Hud pilots in the middle of the little party with himself. Two of the longhouse hunters led the way and one brought up the rear.

  It wasn’t long before the forest was alive with the sounds of animals, and the flights of gliding creatures. There was plenty of game, but Mongo made it clear they only hunted certain animals at certain times, and they would not be hunting any of the creatures around them today.

  The hunting party followed a clearly defined path for a while, but that petered out, and then they were following landmarks known only to the most experienced hunters in Mongo’s team. Progress was good, with the large trees of the forest cutting out much of the light that there was little undergrowth.

  After a few hesitant starts on either side, and some time getting used to the earpieces, a steady flow of conversation developed as the hunting party strolled quietly along. Since hunting was a part of daily life on Orouth and Hud, this was the main topic of conversation. There were quite a few stories of great hunts of the past as they made their way through the rain forest.

  The idea of fishing in a large body of salty water called the sea, on Hud, baffled the longhouse hunters completely. The idea of deep water, let alone going out on it in something as small as a double-hulled canoe, was completely incomprehensible to them. It was also a source of great fascination.

  It was approaching the middle of the day when the hunting party neared the hunting area, and the forest started to thin out.

  Mongo said something to one of the longhouse hunters, and pointed to the sky. There was a rapid exchange of words, and both of the men looked worried.

  Habid looked at the sky, and saw a roughening in the normally smooth cloud cover at the bottom of the thermo-incline. Hills and hollows started forming in the clouds, and then a misty rain began to fall, turning to nothing before it hit the ground.

  Mongo waved the hunting party on, and they continued their way through the forest. The activity in the cloud cover slowly dissipated, but Habid could see that Mongo was keeping an eye on it.

  Not long after that they were spread out on the edge of an area of grass surrounded by straggly trees. Squat little animals, standing knee-high to a human form when they sat back on their haunches, seemed unconcerned about the approaching danger. They nibbled at the grasses as they played around their burrows, each entrance marked by piles of dirt beside it.

  Two of Mongo’s hunters crawled closer, using whatever cover they could find, with their throwing sticks in their hands. The Hud pilots crouched behind the last of the straggly trees, content to play the role of observer.

  A cool gust of wind stirred the trees around the pilots, and Habid looked up to see that the bumpiness had returned along the bottom of the clouds, and was increasing. A mist was gathering overhead.

  The two hunters crawling closer to the squat little creatures took advantage of the distraction over head. The throwing sticks whirred across the short space that remained to their prey, and knocked two of the animals flat. The others hooted in alarm, and fled for their burrows.

  Mongo called something across the top of the grasses, and the two hunters gathered their prey and loped smartly back to join the others. The longhouse leader turned to the Hud pilots and impressed upon them the need to return to the longhouse. He pointed up, and they could all see the worsening weather conditions.

  He told them it would soon rain, and then turn very cold. It was rare for this to happen, but once it started, the breach in the thermo-incline could take the rest of the day to heal itself.

  It looked like Habid’s fears were about to be realised, and the Hud pilots would have to run all the way back to the longhouse. What Habid didn’t realise was that fate had other things in store for him on this particular day. He was about to witness something extraordinary in the forests of Orouth.

  CHAPTER 15

  ________________

  The hunting party had barely begun its run for home when jagged streaks of lightning began to strike around them, short bursts of multiple contacts like a giant sewing machine stitching fire between the ground and the clouds.

  Mongo changed direction, and headed sharply right toward a nearby upland. Habid could see they were in real danger if they didn’t take shelter soon. The clouds burst open a moment later, and they were soaked when they arrived at a tumble of fallen rocks below a crumbling cliff. It was still warm, but Habid remembered Mongo’s warning that it would get much colder before the storm was over.

  The hunters worked their way into a the rocks until they were against the cliff, and there they wove branches into a mat they hoisted up to keep the worst of the rain off. The hunting party had just settled in to their temporary shelter when the temperature dropped sharply.

  Mongo muttered something under his breath. He was not happy.

  “We get caught in this once or twice a year,” said one of the hunters, squashed up under the woven shelter on Habid’s left, “but it’s going to be a bad day when it develops as quickly as this.”

  The rain eased, then stopped. Habid was wondering why the hu
nters were still looking concerned, when it started snowing. It was an extraordinary moment. The lush, subtropical forest curled up, lost its colour, and frosted over as the temperature dropped further.

  “Never lasts long,” said the same hunter on Habid’s left.

  Mongo emptied some shavings from a pouch around his waist, and dropped a piece of hardened wood into a fibre string attached to a small bow. The hunters on the edge of the little shelter stood up to go and look for wood for the fire, and then paused. Habid heard it then, a slowly rising and falling sound that reminded him vaguely of the great choral music of Human history. It reminded him of cathedrals.

  The hunters sat down again, and Mongo ceased his fire-starting attempts.

  The chanting, for that was what it was, grew louder, and five pairs of eyes looked cautiously out from their hideout, peering through the gently falling snow and trying to locate the source of the noise.

  “Sheomal,” said Mongo softly to Habid. “Singing as they walk.”

  There was a rustling of branches some distance off, and the tramp of heavy feet. Habid heard the chant pause briefly, then start again as a long lead note sounded. The song was the same the second time around, showing little variation.

  There were many voices, high and low, and all of them had different parts inside the broad framework of the music. A gentle ringing noise at the edge of his hearing kept time with the chanting. It was a harmonic pattern, an octave or two higher than the singing, though Habid did not understand the mechanics of it.

  Then the first of many forest giants came into view. They were following an animal track, and passing less than a stone’s throw away. Snow had already accumulated in brown, wiry hair, and on powerful shoulders. Habid made himself smaller, until he was pressed against the rock face behind him.

  The giants were taller than him by half again, and built along similar broad lines to the Hud pilots. Their eyes seemed small inside the large, gentle faces, and the giant mouths moved steadily to produce the sonorous chanting. This close the sound reverberated all around the hunting party.