by K R Sanford
Balrug took up the lead once again. He did not travel as swift as he had on the first leg of their journey. He had made his point about who was who and what was what. Marco would not make the mistake of calling a Vallian a man. They concerned themselves with what lie ahead.
The Eagle was thirty thousand miles above the surface of the planet. She would orbit daily on automatic. The Eagle's program was to analyze and store information on spacecraft. If hostiles were on the surface of the planet, the Eagle would maintain silence. She would prepare evasive maneuvers. They would not enter Ameda's atmosphere without the signal from the Captain.
Balrug and Marco kept a steady pace until the grove of redwood. “Catch your breath,” said Balrug. “I warned you about leaving the path. Now I'm going to show you two species that devour meat. They are carnivorous.
Marco put his hands in his pockets. The rumor of a haunted forest was amusing. He did not expect flesh eating plants. Still, he had not lost his sense of humor.
“They're more likely Vallian-eating plants,” he said.
Balrug turned and strolled down the trail. He put his hands in his pockets and looked back to make sure Marco was watching. He stopped, picked up a stick and poked the bark of a redwood. From out of nowhere tentacles coiled around the stick. Half a dozen others shot up from the ground and wrenched the stick from Balrug's hand. The tentacles twisted around the stick and broke it into pieces. It threw shattered pieces into the air. Marco jumped back, his eyes pinned open like saucers.
“The Dorsea does not think well of the stick,” replied Balrug. “What are your thoughts, Marco?”
“Humph,” grunted Marco. “The plant is dangerous,” he said.
“Yes,” said Balrug and started down the trail.
Again, Marco studied where the tentacles came up, not three feet from where he knelt earlier that day. A shiver ran down his spine.
A mile down the trail Balrug stopped again. “Do you see the string of vines in the center of the three redwoods?” he said.
“Yes, I see it,” replied Marco.
“Now, see that mound below the vines? It is a canopy. It covers the mouth of the Cephalo, an impressive form of life and most dangerous in spring. The nectar is sweet and slippery. When an animal as large as a deer comes near to investigate they get light-headed. Then they fall in and drown. We won't test this one, not in the dark.”
Marco took the recorder from his belt and scanned the area. “No Vallian or man,” he said. “There might be a large animal one hundred yards behind us.”
“Or a horn back,” said Balrug. “That's like a beast with ... ah ... plates down its spine.”
Marco was not satisfied. His tone did not ring true. “Okay,” Marco replied. “We better get going, don’t you think.”
Balrug raised his eyebrow and again took the lead. This time, he quickened the pace.
Marco alarmed, sensed something wrong. It was too quiet.
“There’s deafness in the air,” said Balrug. “Do you feel it?”
“Yeah, something,” replied Marco. “I’m not very good with things like that. Besides, I have the Boyer's and Chief Spierd on my mind right now.”
“That concern comes later, Marco. Right now mind your surroundings. I need you here on mission.” Balrug took up the trail light and swift, paying little attention to Marco's concern. This time Marco did not fall behind. Over gully and around rock, down and up the trail the two converged on what they did not even try to imagine.
In the effort of the journey, Marco felt invigorated. The physical demand in the cool of the evening made him forget his tired mind. He moved in and around following Balrug through the big trees. They came to a gap between the hills.
The scent of pine was heavy and the air was getting thin. They climbed to an elevation of eight thousand feet. Marco smelled sulfur and magnesium in the gray mist of the high mountains. “A thermal torpedo,” he said.
Balrug made a signal and they crouched beside a pile of rocks. He pointed to an orange glow over the rise. “We'll circle to the left below the stand of trees,” he whispered. He motioned with his chin. Marco nodded. Balrug moved out, working his way through the evergreens and ferns. Marco scanned the hillside with his recorder. “Nothing,” he reported then followed after Balrug.
When they reached the patch of trees, Balrug disappeared. He reappeared alongside a cypress on the crest of the hill. In a blink of an eye, he melted into the trunk. Marco wondered how he got from the brush to the cypress without his notice. The Vallian master moved with the night and blended into the shadows.
Marco traversed the open ground on his belly. When he reached the cypress tree, Balrug was not there. Marco did not act surprised. He brought the recorder around in front him and pointed it over the rise.
“Anything on your communicator;” came a voice from above.
Marco got up, “There might be a dog or a large cat lying behind those ashes next to the burning tree.”
“Or a Vallian?” said Balrug.
“No,” replied Marco, “something smaller, about fifty or sixty pounds.”
Balrug descended the branches of the cypress. They made their way to the smoldering trees and bushes where a house once stood.
“This was a human house,” said Balrug.
“Commander Robert Boyer and Petty Officer Janna Bradley,” replied Marco. “I married these two on board the Eagle then gave them my daughter when my wife died. These are very special people to me.”
Balrug searched Marco's face. “Yes,” he replied. “I understand. I met them once in the village, nice people.” Balrug turned and fixed his gaze on the shadows beside a pile of ashes. “That's not a Vallian,” he said.
“You go to the right and I'll cover the left. Move in slow,” said Marco.
Balrug once again disappeared in the shadows. Marco frowned and pulled his blaster. He moved up to the glowing cinders. A figure darted out from under a bush. It slithered like a snake down the hillside. Marco sprang forward, crashing through the brush. The creature turned and raced off through the trees. Marco was on its heels, following after the sound of panting breath.
Marco moved like a Vallian. The creature disappeared behind an old tree. Marco's steps were long and swift. In a flash, he was behind the old tree pointing his blaster in the hollow of the trunk.
Marco froze. A moment later, Balrug was at his side silent staring at a shivering shadow huddled beneath them in the dark.
“It's my little girl,” whispered Marco. “I would know her anywhere.”
The little girl began to shake. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She gasped for air. She squealed with a gut wrenching cry. Marco put his blaster back on his belt and knelt in front of the little girl. He said in the softest voice he could find, “Where are your parents, Shanna?”
Shanna shook her head and broke into sobs. She began to choke and hyperventilate. Again, Marco spoke, “Shanna,” he said, but she could not hear.
Marco reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped and turned around. When Shanna saw his face, she fainted. Marco scooped her up before her body fell to the ground. Then, holding her in his arms, he turned to Balrug.
“Do you have her?” said Balrug.
“She's like a feather,” he whispered.
Balrug saw a light on Marco's face he had not seen before his coming to the planet. Then, as he put his hand on Marco's shoulder, he said, “The second explosion hit the village.”
Marco gave a nod, and with a steady look, he moved off and up the slope to the top of the hill. Balrug followed.
When they reached the top of the hill, Marco set Shanna on her feet. They stood at the ruined house where trees continued to burn and ashes smoked. Then Marco knelt before Shanna once again. “Are you hurt, little lady?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes, lifted up her face and replied, “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m Captain Miller,” continued Marco. “You can call me Marco. This is Balrug. He is Master of Wo
odland Forest.”
Shanna looked up at Balrug with her coal black eyes. “I know,” she said.
Marco turned his head to Balrug. “Balrug, your reputation has preceded you this time.”
Balrug bowed his head and in a sad voice said, “I do not believe we've met.”
“You do not believe we've met?” questioned Marco. “Oh, well then, would you like to say 'Hello' to Shanna, Balrug?”
“Hello, Shanna,” said Balrug.
Shanna pulled the ash filled hair away from her face and said, “Hello, Master Balrug.”
Balrug smiled.
Marco turned to Shanna. “We've come to help,” he said. “Now, Shanna, I'm going to ask you a very important question. Do you think you can help me?”
“Yes,” She whispered.
“Good. You're a very brave young lady,” he said. “Now, can you tell me where your parents are?”
Shanna looked off to her side and with a raised arm she pointed to the two piles of ashes on the hillside. She began to weep, her hands went to her face and her head slumped low.
Marco put his arms around Shanna and held her for the longest time. She broke into waves of sobs and rocked herself in his arms. When she caught her breach, Marco spoke, “Shanna, we need to go now.”
Shanna jerked and gave Marco a frightened stare. She was in a panic, searching Marco's face for some kind of sign. Her lips quivered and Marco said, “Come, I will carry you.”
Shanna threw her arms around Marco's neck. He reached out to her and picked her up. Shanna held on for dear life, for she would not soon let go.
Marco looked at Balrug. Balrug nodded. Then, giving one last look at the two piles of ashes he said, “Do you want to take the lead?”
“Yes,” replied Balrug. And he led them away from the ruined house. They hiked down the deserted road to Shrine Lake Village.
Shrine Lake Village set beneath the Mountains of Shrine Lake. There, two main roads crossed; Shrine Village Main and Shrine Lake Road. Shrine Village Main ran from the fields of the west through the center of the village. It stopped at the pier where small fishing boats anchored in the harbor.
Shrine Lake Road ran around the lake and forked off to meet the horsemen's ranch. This is where the houses of mountain folk were build. It was home to the oldest and biggest redwoods of Ameda.
For several hours past midnight the Vallians continued to work. The fire line moved buckets and buckets of water without rest. Three buildings continued to burn out of control. The leather works, alchemist and furrier billowed thick black smoke. The stench of hides and chemicals suffocated the air.
Marco, still holding Shanna in his arms, stepped from the road. He woke Shanna and set her on her feet. He knelt and said, “Shanna, we're going to get you a warm bed and something to eat. Okay?”
Shanna nodded. Marco stood up. He took her by the hand then turned to Balrug. “I need you to secure our lodging for the night.”
“My cousin Tildanfin is Master of Arms,” replied Balrug. “His house will be open to us. He has fine beds and good meals.”
Balrug lead a hundred yards to the center of the village. There, they turned between two iron gates. The gates were tall with spearheaded javelins that ascended high into the air.
Thick ivy grew up and around the wrought iron entrance. The ivy rooted itself so heavy in the Amedan soil that it would take an ax to set them free.
The shield of the Vallian master hung in the center of each gate. The shields were of polished white metal. They wore the coat-of-arms of Tildanfin. These were clear of overgrowth from the leaves and vines.
The coat-of-arms were two crossed swords with the standing lion and winged horse. They poised as a symbol for giving their lives for the swords of peace.
In the starlight, the polished shields and tall iron gates made a welcome sight. Tildanfin's Gates became a message to the Vallians. These are gates that would hold back the enemies of Ameda. They are gates held opened by the Forces of Nature.
C H A P T E R 3
______________________________________
Shrine Lake Village
Balrug banged the master arms ring. Moments later the door opened by a burly, bearded, bushy-haired Vallian.
“Cousin Balrug, come in, come in. We've been up all night. Attacked; all shook up; the whole village. Fire's still hot. Shanna! She's alive! Bless me— oh, bless me— good news! And guests, cousin?”
“Yes, Shanna is alive; and grave news, cousin?” But first, the child requires food and bed, then we can speak,” said Balrug.
“Of course, of course, this way,” Tildanfin closed the door. He led the Captain, Shanna and Balrug to a second-floor room where he struck a match and lit a lamp. “I will fetch Saralil. She will tend the child then we will speak in the Great Hall. Gonquin, Chertog and others are there. As you say, the child is first.”
Tildanfin stepped out of the room. His booming voice sounded down the stairway and a woman's voice echoed back up. They spoke in clipped conversations. Short quick steps brought her round to the second-floor. Tildanfin was right behind. “My wife,” he said, “Saralil, will find everything you need.”
“Please,” said Balrug, “allow me to introduce Captain Miller. He was the one who returned Ambassador Gaff to Ameda.”
Tildanfin, Master of Arms, reached out his hand and said, “We heard of your good deeds in those days. It is well to finally meet you.”
“Likewise, Captain Miller,” said Saralil, “good things indeed. Please, feel welcome.”
“Thank you. You're very kind.” Marco bowed. His shiny black eyes gave Saralil a start.
“Not at all, Captain,” she replied. “Under the circumstances we may need your help again.”
“Ah, if I may,” said Tildanfin. “Shanna is in good hands now, but I would like to hear how you escaped the Vallians. Dear, we went looking for you.”
With streaks of dried tears lining her soot-covered face, Shanna replied, “I know. I hid in my tree.”
“Poor dear, of course you did. I am so sorry,” said Tildanfin. “But the Vallians scared you? Why dear?”
“I don't know,” said Shanna. “I was scared.”
“Of course she was,” said Saralil. “Poor dear, we understand. “Saralil put her arms around Shanna and gave her a hug. Tears began to well up in Shanna's eyes then Tildanfin whispered, “We will be downstairs if you need us.”
Tildanfin, Balrug and Marco stepped out of the room and went down stairs to the Great Hall. As they walked, Tildanfin turned to Marco and spoke. “Saralil will fix a bowl of hot stew for Shanna and stay with her until she sleeps.”
Marco was calculating. Lost in thought, he shook his head. “Thank you,” he replied.
“It is the least we can do for the child, Captain,” said Tildanfin.
Marco smiled and acknowledged his host.
Tildanfin lead the way to a room where a log burned in a large stone fireplace. Seven Vallians were standing. Two were whispering and another was animating a story in jerky motions. The others grouped themselves in ways that made Marco think the room was a bull session.
There was another, not a Vallian and not a man. He was a smaller stocky creature with curly gray hair. He sat alone in the corner. His face appeared tired and worn. Marco thought the mind of this one was far away in some other world.
A shadow fell where he sat. Marco stepped through the door, he did not look up. Marco saw what looked like a coal burning in his left shoulder. A red pulsating light glowed through his black knit shirt. Marco could guess; this was the work of the Amedan technology.
Marco's attention went to the fine-tooled gold band fixed about his forehead. An emerald was in the center. The band was not the crown of a King but the symbol of a nobleman and warrior.
As Marco entered the Great Hall, the Vallians broke from their fellowship. When he reached the center of the room, he greeted ancient faces.
The Vallians studied the blaster on his hip and the cross-caster over his shoulder.
They gazed at the strange silver projectiles strapped across his chest.
“Please, brothers of Shrine Lake,” proclaimed Tildanfin. “The word is here, I show you friend of Vallian and Ameda. This is the same who this season has been in the care of Balrug the Gray.”
“Hear, hear,” they shouted.
Marco at last won handshakes and greetings from the Vallian warriors. The one who sat in shadowed cast had put his mind back in the room. A smile was on his face. He raised his hand to the high spirits, and welcomed the newcomer.
Torroadin the merchant was first to speak and the first to ask about the strange weapons.
Marco obliged with a brief description.
Torroadin pressed to matters that were more urgent. They spoke of the ship that caused destruction to Shrine Lake Village. And they spoke of the brutal death of Shanna's parents.
Marco addressed the silver-meshed warrior with a confession. “Brother Torroadin, I can only make a guess,” he said. “I am without confirmation from my ship, a security matter. I can explain. I have a good idea who was behind the attack.”
“Oh, now we are getting somewhere,” chimed the tallest Vallian. “Captain, I am Napgath the fisher.” Napgath stood eye-to-eye with Captain Miller. His face was weather-beaten and tanned. He was a lean strapping Vallian. His hands were rough and strong from pulling heavy nets off Shrine Lake.
“I was in my boat,” continued Napgath, “five yards from docking when the first round struck. I must have been blind not to see the craft in the air. The fish market had closed by half an hour. That was fortunate or more would have died. As it stands, the count is nine.
The market is a pile of charred goods. It burned flat before the second strike hit. That was the one that hit the Boyer's house. That's when I saw the ship. If I did not see the flash, I would have missed it twice—half the size of our village, Captain. You can imagine my thoughts.”
