by Candy Rae
* * * * *
CHAPTER 16 - ARGYLL
The spread of the colonists away from Settlement was not the only problem facing Robert Lutterell.
The trouble with a democratic government was that everyone felt they should have their say, vocally and often. He had spent all but the last year of his adult life in the military, in Spacefleet, where the Captain gave out the orders and they were obeyed. He was finding it difficult to adapt.
He raised his arms to stop the clamour of all the Councillors of Argyll trying to talk at once.
“The computer personnel say that they cannot guarantee the efficacy of the solar power units past this coming winter,” he repeated, “they are downloading the most critical data on to the remaining stocks of durapaper.”
“I hope they do not forget the most important,” a female voice spoke up, “culture, books, poetry.”
“The scientific and medical knowledge is more important,” said Robert, “we all agreed on that. Poetry is not a priority, but they will do their best.”
“I did not agree.”
Robert sighed and once again tried to explain the problem, “the power replenishment engines were on the ship,” he said, trying to keep his patience, “and that is at the bottom of the marsh, filling up with muddy ooze. Most of the usable power units are in the medical facility where they are needed most. The engineers have failed so far to develop substitute panels.”
“Jim Cranston and Francis McAllister got the information they wanted,” she complained.
“That is a completely different matter and you know it,” answered Robert, “he needed it to help find the best tactics in order to defeat the Larg.”
“The convicts and the Larg have gone, they’ll not trouble us again.”
“If you believe that Lydia,” said Robert, “then you are a fool. They were defeated, not destroyed.”
Lydia snorted in disbelief but refrained from any further comment but, as Robert realised, her sentiment was being expressed all too often of late.
“Perhaps we can print out some of what you are looking for,” he temporised, anything to get the thrice-blasted woman off his back, “let me see your list again.”
Lydia Barrowman thrust it at him, “I’ve marked with a star all those that we simply must have,” she said. “I’ve checked, download time is minimal and, against my better judgement, I have restricted it to the works people want to read rather than what they should.”
“Very sensible,” he contented himself with saying. He looked at her, trying to suppress his rising anger, so; the senior teachers had put their collective feet down, had they? They seemed to have forgotten that Rybak was their future, not some eons old dead author’s works with nothing pertinent to say.
“I will study the list,” Robert said. “It will join the other lists of non-essential data awaiting download and will be printed after the medical, scientific and engineering data is completed. We are at present printing the medical textbooks which, even you must see, takes precedence.”
“No, I don’t see. We must consider our heritage, the minds of our people. They must not forget where they come from.”
“I am more concerned with the imminent demise of the communications. The links might well be down within a few weeks.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the more practical and sensible.
“I for one,” he continued, “am mightily relieved that this Piers has come up with a solution.”
“It means that there will be more Lind here than ever. I am not sure that this is a good thing,” complained the dour representative from the northeast.
“If you prefer,” suggested Robert, “I can inform Piers that he is not to enter your ward. I am sure he will agree if this is your and your people’s wish. It will mean however, that you will be completely isolated from the rest of us.”
The representative said nothing, but his face spoke volumes.
“We have to keep together man,” said another. “What if the convicts and Larg return? Keep contact with the Lind to a minimum if that’s your wish. I for one am going to take full advantage of this service.”
There was a burst of clamouring speech as, yet again, all the council members tried to talk at once.
“I am a busy man,” Robert interrupted in a loud voice as the uproar began to get out of hand. The noise subsided, “now let us discuss the power problems, the reason this meeting was called in the first place.”
With the failing of the technology it was no wonder that Robert Lutterell and most of the other Councillors had leapt at the chance of a means to keep in touch with the population. Pier’s messaging service might not be high-tech but it was a viable solution to at least part of the problem.
Three months after the idea had been promulgated, the Express personnel were in Argyll. Robert Lutterell allocated them an office and living space within Settlement, with the ongoing exodus of settlers, there were plenty of empty buildings and by the end of winter the vadeln-pairs could be seen running north and west, taking written messages to and fro and providing an immediate telepathic message service in the event of emergencies.
“And there is another career path open to duos unable or not wishing to serve in the Vada,” announced Francis in satisfaction as reports began to come in about the success of the venture.
There was a hitherto unseen benefit. The people of Argyll who did not live in the far north or on the coasts were getting used to seeing the Lind amongst them. There was a marked improvement in their attitude towards their allies. Humankind began to trust them and more humans were signing up for Lind language lessons. A call had to be sent out to Vadath for teachers to come and help teach the rapidly overfilling classes.
As Francis said to Jim during one of his frequent visits to domta Afanasei, “who would have believed it?”
* * * * *
CHAPTER 17 - KINGDOM OF MURDOCH
Lord Bryan Brentwood was ready. Three galleys were riding gently at anchor in the middle of the bay. They would sail with the morning tide.
The Captains waited on his final orders. The three men stood in front of him, sipping root wine and savouring its taste, it was not often that Brentwood favoured his men with wine from his private stock.
“The time has come,” said their Lord at last, “you know what to do.”
All three stood to attention.
“And remember, we need them alive, men, women and children.”
The youngest of the Captains looked uncertain, as Brentwood was quick to notice. “You have a problem with that?” he asked.
“Well my Lord,” the man answered, “I still don’t see why we have to take the men since we might have to kill some to get their women.”
“I am well aware of that Captain,” said Brentwood, “but you need as many able-bodied men as you can get. Think man, you can use them, unless you and your men want to row your own boats for ever.”
The older men grinned.
“Good point, Lord Brentwood. I’ll explain it to the men. We won’t fail you.” The youngest took another sip of wine.
“In and out,” continued Brentwood, “a quick operation. Don’t give them the chance to call for help from those blasted Lind friends of theirs.”
“Yes Sir,” said the oldest Captain, a grey-haired man of around sixty, “my men are raring to go.”
“Aye,” interrupted the middle Captain, “we’re well armed. You’ve seen to that. The armour for the interesting part of this journey is better that even Baker’s regiment.” He raised his glass in salute. “Our allies are aboard as well, as comfy as we can make ‘em!”
The man grinned. How Brentwood had persuaded a small group of Larg to accompany one of his ships no one knew, but manage it he had and the swarthy Captain of the largest of the galleys had accepted their offer. He was the only one of the three agreeable to have, what many sailors called man-eaters, on board with him.
Brentwood smiled, it had cost him a fortune to get the arms and armour b
ut he was well pleased. Of his meeting with Aoalvaldr the Larg he felt no need to explain and if Aoalvaldr’s support cost him a few of the least saleable of the captives, then that was acceptable.
He waited until the men had finished their wine. He was pleased with the way things were going. Now it was up to his three Captains to deliver.
“You have your orders,” he said as he got to his feet, a clear signal that it was time for them to take their leave.
At dawn’s high tide he stood alone and silent at the edge of the jetty and watched the three boats raise anchor and make their slow way out to sea. Now all he could do was wait.
As planned, the raiders split up not far from the northern coast, one boat going west towards a small fishing hamlet some leagues away, the other two heading east towards a larger settlement.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 18 - ARGYLL
The latter raid was a complete success, from the pirates’ point of view. No one noticed the galleys gliding up towards the rudimentary jetty that dawn. The pirate haul included fourteen men, eleven women and no less than nineteen children for the total cost of one life lost and three injured. They set the village alight as they departed.
At the small hamlet further along the coast it was a different story.
Justin Wright and his family had moved to an area west of the original human settlement a scant month previously. He had chosen his stake carefully, a small inlet beside a river tributary, with arable land and a natural harbour for the fishing fleet. Two fishing and one farming family had accompanied him, the latter anxious to begin planting without further ado now that the war was over.
Justin was in the shallows checking the nets set up to catch the blue lobster jellies. A sensible man, he had accepted the Lind guard offered by the Susa of pack Jalkei’s Lindar and when he saw the strange craft on the horizon was thankful for his foresight. His first thought was that no northerner had a craft like this, his second, danger.
He squinted out to sea again and dropping his catch, sped back to the cabins as fast as his legs could carry him, shouting, “Intruders!”
Justin was still awaiting delivery of his broad beam fishing smacks. At least we’ll only lose the ketch.
His eldest son’s scared face met him as he entered, his wife was in the inner room; she was waking the younger children.
“Get the alarm beacon lit,” he commanded Maximilian, “then make for the woods. Don’t come back here. I’ll get your mum and the rest away.”
The white-faced boy nodded and sped towards the hill.
Justin hoped the Lind would see the beacon. There was no chance that they could outrun these raiders, for raiders he was sure they were, not with women and children in the party.
“How long have we got?” asked his wife, ushering out the three little ones. She handed him his sword. Justin noticed that she had slipped the largest kitchen knife into her leather belt.
“They’ll be here in half an hour. It was just chance I saw them otherwise we would have had no warning at all. And we’re lucky there is no wind. They’re having to row inshore.”
As they left their cabin other families were spilling out of doorways. A youngster was letting the animals loose. An older girl was herding the still sleepy little ones past the newly dug well and out through the back courtyard.
“Jim Cranston warned us,” he shouted, “southern pirates.”
“Do we fight?” asked Andrew, one of the two ex-convicts whom Justin had agreed to sponsor through the remaining years of their sentence in return for work.
“We run,” answered Justin. He pointed to the woods ahead. “Go!” Speeding past the toddlers he leant down and swept one into his arms and with a grunt Andrew did the same. The other adults copied the action, Andrew’s fellow prisoner Iain managing to scoop up two. Justin had been surprised at their reactions to the approach of the galley. Obviously life in the north was vastly preferable to a return south. They appeared just as anxious as Justin to get as far and as quickly away as possible.
Justin looked back at the hamlet and scanned the area for the Lind. The galley had reached the jetty and they still had not reached the safety of the woods. All the raiders would need to do was look inland and they could not help but see them. Beside him a pregnant woman gasped piteously as she struggled to keep up.
The zarova herd had stampeded away. The silly kura were still milling around the corral.
Justin concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as he could. His lungs felt like bursting.
Then came the news he had been dreading.
“Larg. The Larg. They have Larg with them!”
Justin groaned. He caught Andrew’s eye. The man looked grim but determined, “I’m not going back,” gasped the ex-convict, “rather die first.”
Justin drew his sword. It came out of its sheath with a slither of metal on well-oiled leather.
“It’s the woman and children they are after. Margot, lead the women and little ones away. We’re going to buy them time,” he noticed that Andrew was holding the kitchen knife that his wife had carried. He hadn’t seen the man filch it. He had known the man to be a thief; this was proof positive.
Andrew saw his gaze and shrugged, “I was a mighty fine pickpocket in my old life,” he said with a grin, “it’s come in useful at last.”
Iain had armed himself with a large wooden club. Justin wouldn’t have been able to lift it above his waist but the giant did not seem to notice. The other four had swords; they’d fought in the battle although only Justin had been at Settlement itself.
“We both fight,” Andrew growled and Iain nodded his agreement, “you’ve been good to us. We will repay the debt, with our lives if need be.”
Justin accepted the offer with a curt nod. The women and children were already out of earshot, though many were the tearful glances back at the seven men standing with determined bravery halfway down the slope.
“How many Larg are there?”
“Three.”
“We should manage to hold them off for a time.”
The seven arranged themselves in a tight knot, swords at the ready.
The Larg were almost at leaping distance when, to the seven’s surprise, they veered away and sped back downhill.
“What the?”
There was a howl from behind them. For a moment Justin thought that more Larg had landed, had encircled them and were attacking the women but it was the Lindar scouts, just the two, but until reinforcements arrived they, with the seven men, would give the raiders a run for their money, at least they could keep them away from the women and children.
A tall, slinkily striped Lind howled at them to stand fast and raced after the fleeing women and children, deciding that they were in more need.
The men stood in formation for what seemed like a lifetime as the frustrated raiders torched the cabins. The Larg amused themselves with the kura who bleated pathetically as they died.
Then the ryz arrived. There were cries of alarm from the merrily burning hamlet. The pirates took one look at the rapidly approaching Lind, decided that discretion was the better part of valour and fell over each other, trying to be the first to reach the safety of the galley. It was over. The pirates and their tawny four-pawed allies fled.
* * * * *
Robert Lutterell, Head Councillor of Argyll was snatching a few hours sleep when the shouts rang out. It had been a strenuous month and he was not a young man.
His chest had been troubling him of late and the doctors kept telling him to rest, to take life more easily, but he knew it to be impossible. There was too much to do.
He ran to the watchtower, ignoring the signs and shouts of alarm around him and climbed on to the parapet. He watched with the guards as a man staggered up to the south gate, shouting at the top of his voice, gasping for breath.
“Lind coming in at the gallop and howling fit to burst.”
Robert turned to the guard commander, “are the warning beacons alight
?”
“No sir,” the woman answered, “but the lookouts have reported a pillar of smoke to the south.”
“Where exactly?”
“At the estuary, where the big fishing village is.”
With a sense of foreboding Robert looked at her and then towards the smoke, a faint haze, barely noticeable.
She returned his gaze steadily. Marge McGillivery was an ex-crewmember of the Argyll, they had been through a lot together and she was not the panicking type.
“Do we ring the alarm bell?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he answered, “let’s wait until we find out exactly what has happened. We’ll not get many thanks if we get them out of their beds for a simple house fire.”
“Could be the Larg.”
“I don’t think so Marge,” he said, “It’s more likely to be a fire, the ground is like tinder.”
The messenger from Susa Blei of Lindar Jalkei arrived panting with the news.
Robert Lutterell was all decisiveness once he knew what had happened. He sent out armed parties to investigate and others to protect the nearby villages, hamlets and single homesteads that could be reached easily. The Susa of Lindar Jalkei sent messages to the rest of his Lind. By evening the entire southern and southeastern coastline was on the alert and stirred up to a froth.
“The village has been stripped of everything and burned to the ground. Who could do such a thing?” said one of the men who had investigated the smoking ruins, sitting in front of Robert in the guardhouse.
“Did you see any bodies?” asked Robert.
“Just one, a man but I couldn’t identify him, too badly burned.”
“Justin Wright suffered an attack as well,” mentioned one of the Councillors.
“And we all laughed at him when he insisted on accepting the Lind offer of a roving patrol,” said another.
