Hide and Seek

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One:

 

Out under the vast cloudless sky fourteen-year-old Anda Gwyrran crouching behind a rock, peered at the desert hills that sloped down to the mesa before her. Draped in dusty ragged robes and wrapped head cover, it was difficult to see her, but then what she was looking for was just as hard to find. Scanning the desert crags, the skittish rocks stirred by lizards, her breath went shallow, listening for foot falls in tumbling rocks. But the stillness of the desert consumed her with numbing whirls of the hot winds and blown sand.

A lumpy sand filled rag struck her shoulder.

“Tagged you!” Jumping out behind her, a little boy, about seven years scampered away, cackling.

“Tynnan, you little—! How did you—?” Flustered, she grabbed the makeshift ball and started after him.

“You’re it!” he called as he ran off into the rocky hills.

Flushing, she dashed after him up the hill. She scrambled over the rocks, clutching the bag of sand within her fist. As she rounded the top of the hill, she looked down. The little boy, Tynnan, laughed mischievously as he skipped down the other side in the direction of the large mesa that was nearly a hundred yards away. He ran toward the shadow of that colossal stone tower, sliding on the sand and rolling with the stones. Anda grinned, determined. It was an easy catch. With one dive, she skidded down the rocks after him.

She reached the desert floor within seconds and darted after the little sprite, bounding over stones and small spiny brush. Tynnan was still cackling, running even faster in the thrill of the race. She could see the cool shadow coming closer. He’d be in it in no time. Lifting the bag above her head, she charged, swinging it by the stray tears of fabric. She let it go. With his last energetic breath, the boy jumped. He landed feet first in the shadow. Smiling, he turned around.

The sand ball hit him right in the face.

Anda stopped to see her hit, but whitened at once when she witnessed the boy fall backwards. “Tynnan!”

She sprinted immediately to the edge of the shadow.

From behind the rocks like little animals, the other dusty, ragged children they had been playing with rushed out of hiding. They all scrambled up to the two and stared down at the young boy in the sand.

“Anda! What did you do? You nearly killed him!” Walen, who was another boy only a little older than she was, yelled at her, crouching over to check Tynnan’s vital signs.

Anda tore off her wrapped hat and knelt beside the little boy, her long, braided chestnut-brown hair falling down from a high ponytail against her neck. The beads and semiprecious stones hanging in her hair and several small stones grafted across her forehead to her skin sparkled even within the shadow. She lifted Tynnan’s head and tucked her hat under him. Anda quickly checked his vitals as the other boy had done, feeling his pulse and listening to his breathing.

Sitting up, she let out a disgusted sigh. “He’s not dead.” With that Anda stood up and nudged the boy with her foot.

The little boy cackled at once and opened his eyes. “I had you fooled. Admit it.”

Shaking her head, she frowned. “Come on Tynnan, get up. I tagged you.”

Tynnan stood up to dust himself off. “No, you didn’t. I reached the shadow.”

Anda scowled, insiting that she caught him.

Everyone in the group shook their heads.

“No, you didn’t, Anda. You hit him after he was in the shadow. You’re still it,” Walen insisted.

She glared at him and was about to contest it, but stopped.

“Fine! I’m it. But you were all hiding in the shadow, so who was I supposed to catch?  Hmmm?” Anda folded her arms defensively.

The older boy was about to say something in rebuttal, but as he started to, the sky split with a deafening rumble. It came first from far behind the mesa but then it roared closer across the sky. The children gazed wildly at each other at first then hastily dived behind the large rocks. Anda grabbed her hat off the sandy earth and scrambled toward a large boulder near the base of the mountainous stone mesa. She crouched alongside the other boy, Walen, and three others, all watching the sky, waiting.

“Preserve us. Preserve us. Oh, Tarrn, preserve us,” one child recited his learned prayer.

Anda stared at her friend as she took shallow breaths. “Do you think it’s the Th’sangs?”

Walen shook his head. “I don’t know. They might have spotted us, but I don’t think that’s likely.”

“They could have spotted Anda. She did take off her hat,” another kid said, gazing back at them.

Anda nodded, biting her lip.

The rumbling grew louder and louder. The sound roared now, crushing their ears with noise. All the children ducked, their eyes on the sky which darkened immediately overhead. Black smoke and fire streaked from the tail end of a strange ship which was crashing down almost at slow motion, leaving a terrible smoke trail which now blocked the once clear blue. The children watched it fall further across the desert, nearly five miles. When they could no longer see it, they heard the ship hit the earth with an earth-shaking boom. Wind gusted from it. Then something in the ship exploded, emitting a crackling noise.

“Whatever that ship was, the pilot has to be dead,” Walen muttered, removing his hands from his ears. All of them had to cover their heads to block out the deafening noise.

“Maybe dead, Walen,” the praying child replied. “There are such things as miracles.”

Anda nodded, climbing over the boulder. “There’s one way to find out.”

She pulled her hat tighter onto her head, wrapping the dirty thin scarves around her face. Breaking into a run, Anda dashed back over to the farthest boulder at the edge of the mesa, scrambling behind. There, she climbed onto a makeshift motorized flying machine built to hold about two people at the most. Sitting herself astride, she strapped on a set of goggles over her eyes and started the engine, pressing a button.

Walen and the others with him chased after her, running up to boulder where their other flying scooters were hidden.

“Don’t go there, Anda. Your father will skin you if the Th’sangs in that ship survived and sees you,” he said breathlessly panting.

Considering this, Anda pulled out a rusty rifle off the scooter. “They won’t survive.”

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Walen hurried over to a scooter of his own. “You’re not going alone.”

The others followed. Soon most of the children in the group were flying out across the desert after the black smoke trail. Those who were too afraid hid behind boulders at the mesa, waiting and praying that their friends would come back safely.

Pieces of the shrapnel and electrical chunks littered the land nearer to the wreck. The large shiny, dented, and charred sheets of metal trailed up to the smoking heap like breadcrumbs left for birds. Smoke piled into the sky, smoldering out a dirty beacon easy to spot from above. They noticed black and silver shrapnel strewn around the ship from the explosion. And as they flew closer, they noticed that the center of the mess was charred nearly black in large pieces.

“Don’t get off your fly’ums,” Anda called back to the others.

She flew closer to the center of the impact site where she cocked her rifle, holding the handlebars of her scooter with one hand. Balancing the rifle on the bars, she flew in even closer. Walen followed along with several of the others. They approached the center carefully, ready and armed. They could hardly see through the smoke. Many wrapped their face scarves around their mouths trying not to breathe the fumes as most coughed from the foulness of the vapors.

Anda peered about the crash site as she shouted back through the smoke. “The main cockpit is still intact. I’m going in on foot. Cover me.”

Walen zipped alongside and shook his head. “That’s stupid, Anda. Never go alone.”

She made a face, which could be barely seen through the smoke and her own scarves, yet Walden knew she didn’t want him along. He went with her anyway.

Anda parked her fly’um four yards from the main ship’s cabin. Walen did likewise, quickly jumping off before her. He pulled his rifle out and cocked it, bracing against the inevitable. Another child hurried and parked up with them, leaping off to help. Anda glanced back at the extra bodies and frowned. Still, they walked up to the wreckage and peered inside at what should have been a front view window. There was a blank shield down instead, as if set to protect against impact. Boldly, Anda kicked it in with her foot. The metal thumped hollowly.

“You two pry it up. I’ll shoot whatever is inside,” she said.

The two children with her nodded. Both pulled off their hats and wrapped their hands in the cloth in case the metal was still hot. With a kick of their boot heels and pry with their guns, they managed to dislodge the shield lock. Both of them pushed on the shield with all the strength they had. It didn’t take long before the other children standing by ran to help. Soon they all had the large metal shield lifted. Everyone peered in. Anda braced herself to confront one of the despicable monsters from that lecherous empire, pointing her weapon and taking aim, intent on her shot.

With the shield open, they saw the shattered clear shield that had once been the view window scattered over the small cabin like confetti. In fact, the inside compartment was smaller than they had expected. There was barely enough room in the cockpit for four Th’sang passengers. Actually, there were two peculiarly small seats, more fitting for a human-sized pilot and co-pilot, and a bench just behind that in the back of the cabin. A dumpy lump that was perhaps a body lay across the bench. It looked like a large blanket was wrapped, twisted and tossed there, yet a dark hairy knob peeked out of one end. Walen climbed in through the window. Anda hopped in after, still pointing her rifle at the thing she supposed was a body. Taking care, Walen poked the lump with his rifle.

It groaned.

Walen jumped back. “It’s still alive.”

Anda nodded. “Get ready to kill it.”

He nodded.

The lump groaned again.

Straightening herself up Anda, spoke loudly to the body on the bench, making it clear that if it did anything it was dead. “Th’song zhoadd! O’th*okk kk b’uth’xsu. Uth* Dong’xo! Vos vvoang uth* wu Gung’kk’ko.”[1]

She knew her knowledge of Th’sang was adequate enough to tell the creature it had no hope of survival. They prepared to fire.

“Please, no!” the lump replied, now turning around and raising two very human, yet pale, hands. It spoke their language, but with a peculiar accent.

The children watched the lump turn even further around. A human face, deathly pale and old, stared back at them. Anda let her gun drop.

“It’s a trick!” Walen said, raising his rifle. He pointed it at the man even fiercer than before.

The old man quailed under their shadows. “Please, I beg of you! Let an old man die in peace but not in pieces!”

Walen closed one eye and took aim.

“No!” Anda cried out. She placed her hand on Walen’s gun to push it down. “He knows the Ancient speak! Listen to him!”

Walen let his gun barrel dip down. She was right. All the children stared in awe at this foreign man now. The others who had stood off hurriedly ran to the wreckage and peered in at the pale man. The man, himself, tried to sit up to gather his bearings. “Where am I?” he asked. “Who are you?”

Anda looked to Walen and the others, and then screwed up her mouth as she thought. She stared at the wreckage and then at the man again. “I think we should be asking that. How’d you find us?”

The old man gazed at her blankly. “Find you? I crashed. My ship could take no more traveling, and I decided that it was best to crash and take my secret with me.” He glanced about himself and sighed despondently. “Yet, I still live.”

“We can take care of that if you want,” Anda replied matter-of-factly, raising her gun.

The man shook his head vigorously. “No, uh… I think living is not a bad thing.”

The children smiled, even laughed.

The man sighed again as he gazed at them with relief.

“So, who are you?” Anda persisted, lowering her rifle.

The man nodded, trying to stand up. He brushed his pitch-dark hair from his pale white forehead, and in doing so exposed a curious circular mark. Pointing to the mark, the man smiled, then bowed.

“I am Seer Hren Keechas. Once caretaker of the records for the young Seer Banden Asol, head record keeper of Arras.”

Anda glanced at Walen. He looked back incredulously and smirked; whispering, “Screw loose.”

“Certifiable.”

The older man looked puzzled at the small exchange. “What? Children, you do not believe me?”

Anda shrugged, though the children behind her giggled.

“Arras is a fairy story. If you came from Arras, you’d have to be at least ten thousand years old,” she said plainly. She smiled to herself at the idea.

Walen leaned on his gun, gazing at the old man. “Maybe he’s sick. Look how pale he is.”

Hren Keechas shook his head. “I’m not sick. Arrassians are naturally this color.”

Anda smirked. “Have you looked in a mirror?”

Frustrated, the man started to climb up out of the ship. He struggled at it. His slightly dumpy body made it difficult for him to get out as the cabin was imbedded in the rock. It was as if he had not exerted himself in work a day in his life. The children eagerly gave hands to lift him out, and soon he was settled on the burned earth beside them. Anda and the others chuckled again when they saw how short he was. He was nearly their height, possibly a few inches shorter than Walen, and he was eye level with Anda.

“Are all Arrassians as short as you are?” Anda asked, playfully teasing.

The children laughed, peering him over as the dumpy old man stood up in his strange brown gown of plain material.

“Yes,” the man said, nodding reluctantly.

He then gazed around at the wreckage. His eyes then moved to the children standing in the black smoke. His expression changed from dazed to utter confusion. He turned to look back at Anda. “You are all children. Where are your parents?”

Anda glanced back at Walen and the others. As she did so, small Tynnan walked through the group and stood next to Anda, peering up at the old man. This made the man shudder then gaze once more at the barren landscape.

“They’ll be here soon enough,” Walen replied with a moan. “No one would miss that smoke trail.”

Anda nodded, agreeing. “Including the Th’sangs.” She pulled on Tynnan’s arm and marched over to her fly’um across the charred wreckage. “We’d better go.”

The other children nodded. They followed her to their vehicles also. The old man walked after them, watching the exodus with a glance back at the barren landscape, the hot sun, and the charred mess of his ship, feeling the utter starkness of it.

“You’re not leaving me?” he asked, running after Walen with a desperate choke.

Walen laughed.

Anda smiled. “Well, we had intended to kill you, but since you’re human, we’ll have to take you with us.”

The old man gazed at her with incredulity, but walked over to her for the ride. He couldn’t stay there, and there definitely was no going back to wherever it was he came from.

He tried to lift his dumpy legs over the seat behind the tall, slender girl, but couldn’t do it without her help. She had to lend an arm, and then a heave to ease him up. The seat had definitely been made for a larger people than his kind. He watched the mere children climb on their own with ease, though it was clear the vehicles were made for larger people than them. He grasped onto the back of Anda’s seat to cling for his life.

“I’d hold on to my waist if I were you,” Anda said, glancing back at him, her eyes flickering on that strange symbol on his forehead.

The little man complied, uncomfortably. He gazed back at the girl’s burnt orange skin and ruddy eyes, then closed his own eyes. He held tight.

“Not so tight, little man,” she snapped with a wheeze.

Letting loose, he nodded.

They hovered in a second. With a jerk, the entire crew flew back over the rocks and barren plane.

The hot sun scorched lower in the sky. Anda’s hat scarves flopped in the man’s face and whipped about with the burning sand as they flew over the desert. Hren Keechas looked back at the still smoldering craft with a sigh. Black smoke covered a good portion of the sky now. Whatever the children were fleeing, even the old man agreed it was a good idea to get away. There was no doubt that his ship could be spotted from space.

They reached the mesa quickly. Anda stopped once they arrived the shadow’s edge, which had now grown long across the desert floor. The entire group halted with her in the shade of the stone monument.

Walen looked about the area and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Walla, walla, come a crawl-a! Ida, ida, no need to hide-a!”

His voice bounced back from the mesa wall and echoed to their ears. Out from behind rocks and boulders as if they were burrowing animals came the remaining children who had played with them that afternoon. Dashing up to their vehicles, they caught sight of the man on the back of Anda’s vehicle and halted.

Walen called to them with wave over to the group on fly’ums. “We’re heading back. Get your fly’ums and let’s go.”

They nodded immediately, each one scurrying over to the large boulder near the mesa wall, but some stood agape at the man they saw on the back of Anda’s scooter still.

She glared at them. “Stop standing, weeds! The Th’sangs could be here any minute to check out that crash.”

Blanching at the word, they hopped up to quickly join the rest. Soon all of them were on scooter back and flying again across the desert.

 

[1] “Th’sang beast! Prepare to die.  You scum!  Meet your executioner.”

Relations

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two:

 

 

The ride took much longer than the self-proclaimed Arrassian seer had anticipated. And just as he thought the trip might be over, just as they were reaching a canyon wall, the children were met by another set of flying scooters. Astride these sat grown men, larger than the old man had anticipated yet not as big as he feared. They were still usual for human height. The men were dressed as the children, all wearing ragged robes and large turban-like hats with filmy scarves that wrapped around the neck and face. Under some of the hats, the Arrassian could see jewels that dangled around their orange-brown faces. Once the men spotted them, the children slowed their approach to a crawl.

“Anda!” the leader of the group yelled. “When did you intend to return? Tomorrow?”

The girl ducked her head as she tried to think of words to say, but she never got to say them.

“What is that with you?” the voice behind the scarfed face bellowed, a voice of someone not accustomed to being disobeyed.

The Arrassian felt a shudder run through the girl. She swallowed.

“Father, we found—”

The man didn’t let her finish. “You went to that crash, didn’t you? You idiot! The Th’sangs could have seen you.”

Anda nodded yet tried to speak again. “But it was a human, Father.”

The man rode up to her fly’um where he eyed the old man on the back of her scooter.

“That remains to be seen,” he growled. Then with a sneer and a prod to the old man’s side, her father said, “What kind of human are you?”

Taken back, the man sat up to his full yet still un-intimidating height. “I am an Arrassian Seer Class man, sir.”

The girl’s father laughed. “An Arrassian did you say?” He drove around the group of children and circled back to his group of men.

“Seer Class, sir,” the Arrassian said again, feeling the insult.

Anda slumped. “He was in a terrible crash, Father.”

The self-proclaimed Arrassian smiled.

“It is possible he hit his head a bit hard and is a bit loopy right now,” she finished.

The Arrassian man slumped down again, letting out a sick sigh.

Her father did not smile, yet he considered what she said. Nodding, the man waved to the others in the group. Leaning over the bars of his fly’um with his maintained look of menace, her father asked, “What of the ship? Is anything salvageable?”

Walen shook his head. “Not much, sir. The cabin seemed to be the only partially whole piece, but the rest was in lots of pieces as if the engine and thrusters exploded.”

Anda’s father nodded. “The cockpit was also probably built as an escape pod. The old fool probably never figured out how to use it. Good work, Walen.”

The boy beamed with a glance at Anda. She just stared at the controls of her fly’um, keeping her eyes low.

“Anda, Walen, take the kids back to the compound,” her father ordered.

Walen and the rest nodded.

“What about him?” Anda asked, thumbing back at the self-proclaimed Arrassian.

Her father grumbled to himself. “Human, huh?” Settling on a sick, yet satisfied expression, he nodded. “Take him back to the compound too. He’s probably an escapee. When he comes to his senses, we can probably use him.”

The Arrassian sat dumbfounded and was about to speak in his defense, but Anda quickly complied with her father’s orders and flew them both into the canyons and away from the men in the open desert.

 

They flew on in numb silence. Anda was more than a capable pilot and steered them through some rather tight crevices of stone. She said nothing, and he could say nothing. With the crash and the exhaustion he felt from the trip and the heat, he could do nothing else except hold on. They zipped and zagged past the strangest rock formations with even some old petroglyphs left from perhaps a more ancient race. The Arrassian looked beyond the cavern walls, down the channel where he saw the never-ending twisting canyon. It made him dizzy. He closed his eyes, clinging for several minutes until the motion itself made him feel sick.

“Over there,” Anda uttered, pointing through the sandy silence at a far canyon wall.

The Arrassian man opened his eyes to look out through the sharp setting desert sun. He squinted. They had flown out of the small canyons and had been zipping over an old riverbed that had only the inklings of a stream. Beyond that, he saw an indent within the far canyon wall. As they approached it, he realized it was actually a cliff side with the canyon wall hanging over it like a roof. Inside that cave he noticed several other off shoot tunnels. And as they flew closer, he noticed people walking about in the shadows as tiny specks. These specks quickly grew larger as they approached at speed. In hardly any time, Anda reached the large cave where she parked briskly on the flat rock.

Glancing back at the old man, Anda smiled. “This is where you get off.”

He sat there for a minute to comprehend the ride. Then he nodded. He struggled to slide his dumpy legs off but Anda had to help him down just as she had helped him up.

“I need to park. I’ll come back and get you somewhere to stay as soon as I can.” She pointed to a far flat area near the entrance of one cave. There were several primitive stone and wood structures there: a large tent, kettles, wood fires that burned low with little smoke, and women grinding something with their bare hands on stone. 

He took a deep breath and nodded.

Anda smiled kindly at him. “Keep out of trouble.”

She immediately drove off, leaving him there standing on the bare stone. The man gazed around to the right and left, seeing the staring faces that gawked at him. He sighed, somewhat dizzy from the flight as he tottered over to the cave entrance as Anda had instructed him. There, he sat down, sighing once again.

 

Anda flew across the wide opening to the high machine cavern, landing on the flat stone where most of their flying scooters were stored. She gazed across the spacious desert and sighed. Her father was really going to let her have it once he returned. He was only waiting until the others weren’t around to watch. She closed her eyes.

“You better hurry, nettle nose,” Walen said as he walked past, yanking on one of her scarves and nearly taking off her hat.

Anda scowled. “I’m hurrying. Don’t rush me.”

She hopped off her fly’um and pushed it inside the cave alongside the others. Then, taking no time, she jogged to catch up with her friends. They were striding out of the dim cavern and down to the wooden ladders. Anda followed. She climbed down two steps and then slipped through the rungs to hang on the underside. Walen talked to her as she went down.

“I told you your dad wouldn’t like us going to the wreck. What if that man is a Th’sang spy? What then?”

Anda climbed on the underside, making faces at him as she spoke. “He’s no Th’sang. He’s too stumpy to be that. I think the guy really believes that he’s Arrassian. Th’sangs know Arras was destroyed. We know Arras was destroyed. He’s just loony.”

Walen stepped off the ladder onto the floor. “Are you going to him?”

Anda nodded. “I should help a fool. They say it brings good luck.”

He sighed. “I’ll come with you. I still think he’s more than just a loon. I saw that mark on his forehead. That chills me.”

Thinking on it, Anda nodded as she bit her lip. “That was strange. I want to look at the old book again to see if there is anything about that mark.”

Walen laughed as he eyed her. “You’re not believing him, are you?”

“He’s a loon,” she said flatly. “But maybe it is a mark from some mine or something. It’d buy a price if he escaped from somewhere. He can give us vital information.”

“Then your dad wouldn’t whip you,” he added with a meaningful look.

Anda sadly nodded. “I want those chances.”

She jumped down from the ladder and hurried toward the open courtyard where she had left the man. When she approached, she saw villagers had surrounded him, staring at his strange clothing. As she came closer, she could hear him talking, telling them fanciful things about where he had come from.

“…Yes, and green in some parts. Well, mostly in the Uppercity. The Middlecity has some trees. If it weren’t for the arboretum, I’d surely cry for the lack of green. Living underground has its price. Of course the surface is worse: no air there and certainly colder than here. You have more green in your desert than Arras will ever have in eons.”

Anda closed her eyes and shook her head. She tried to part the crowd to reach him but found them pressed closer and more intently than she expected.

“Oh, but the life there. I wish I didn’t have to leave it,” he mused forlornly as he looked up at the cave wall.

“Why did you leave?” someone in the crowd asked.

The old man nodded. A sad expression replaced his nostalgic one. “To save everything.”

Anda chuckled to herself, and so did others in the crowd.

He noticed the deafening disbelief that echoed in his audience. “It is true. I know a secret that could break my people—all of us. So, I had to leave. I had to take my secret with me.”

The crowd still chuckled.

“What is your secret, old man?” a man from the behind called out, half laughing.

The Arrassian ignored the obvious mockery. “I have seen the last Tarrn.”

Everyone became silent. For a second, a shudder ran through the lot of them. Anda drew breath and blinked. He really was a loon.

“Tarrns? You really hit your head hard. Don’t you know Tarrn prophecy is nothing but myth and hooey?” The voice of her father rang over the crowd.

Everyone turned, parting for the large man who came striding forward. He had stripped off his desert robes revealing his rather elaborate stone-studded attire which made him look more foreboding and important than before.

The self-proclaimed Arrassian stood up and bowed politely to him, recognizing the authority there.

This seemed to please Anda’s father considerably.  He lifted his chest as he walked around the dumpy white-skinned man, staring him down. “So, tell us, friend traveler, who is the last Tarrn?”

The Arrassian swallowed as he bowed again. “Please sir, my name is Seer Hren Keechas. I am sorry I have not fully introduced myself. Most people call me Sir Hren.”

The leader only smirked; but he noticed that the man wanted to keep introductions formal, so he followed suit. “I am Lord Denaw Ngwylan. In Ancient speak, I am Lord Denal Gwyrran. Most people know me as the Pirate, Lord Gwy.” He smiled rather smugly, his own self-importance like a suit of armor. “Now you know who I am, declared-Arrassian. What is your secret? Who is the last Tarrn?”

The small man knew he was being mocked, yet he stepped forward and politely bowed again. “If I knew she was safe, I would tell you. However, since I do not know how much time has passed, I must refrain—for her safety.”

The Pirate lord laughed. “You must refrain you say? For her safety? Are you saying that the last Tarrn is a woman? I dare say the Th’sangs should tremble.”

The crowed laughed with Lord Gwy, roaring in great amusement at the man’s apparent insanity, and even more at the amusing things he claimed. The Arrassian looked around at them. As he did, he spotted Anda among them blushing in embarrassment for his sake.

She walked up to her father and whispered something in his ear. The leader’s smile wiped off into an irritated scowl. He growled at her. Yet she persisted. The Arrassian watched her talk to the man, and for a brief moment Lord Gwy nodded. He could barely hear her words to him through the crowd’s continuing laughter and mockery.

“…Father, it is possible his insanity is only temporary. Once he recovers his memory, then we might be able to find out where he really fell from, possibly find a Th’sang mine and shut it down.”

Her father nodded, but then gave her a command that Sir Hren could not hear over the ruckus. Anda smiled to herself with a low bow to her father. But just as she started to part, her father cuffed her on the ear. Grabbing her hair in his hands, he jerked her close to his face as he snarled something to her with bared teeth. The Arrassian almost jumped through the crowd to help her, but Lord Gwy let the girl go before he could do so.

Anda rubbed her head and glanced warily back at her father, walking toward the crowd and him.

“Go with my daughter, friend traveler, and she’ll get you a place to rest and some food to eat.” Lord Gwy bellowed over the din.

Eying him with care, the Arrassian politely nodded once again. This man was not to be regarded lightly. The people parted hastily for him also, taking their leader’s command as law. The Seer walked through them, noticing their pitying stares on his behalf. They all thought he was insane, and he knew it. Dismayed, he sighed and followed the young woman out of the main plaza.

Anda led the man up to the caves on the side of the cliff wall, though she said very little except in care of the steps and the stone. Still shook up from the crash and the violence he had just witnessed, the Arrassian gazed out at the darkening sky along the far horizon. The sun had nearly set, and the stars were starting to peek out. He paused just to stare at them.

“It is just a few more steps,” Anda coaxed as one would the mentally broken. “I know it is far but just a few more steps and you can rest.”

He sighed. “It’s not the steps. It is the stars. I have never been able to look at the stars like this at home.”

He heard her sigh. Anda hopped down next to him. “They’re just stars. I’ve seen millions of them.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never seen them until I escaped into space.”

Anda swallowed, her task the foremost on her mind. “Let’s get to the apartment, ok?”

The Arrassian looked up at her. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

She took a hold of his hand. “It is just a bit farther.”

“But you don’t believe me,” he said, his voice cracking. He stepped too dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, wondering where he had ended up.

She closed her eyes and winced. “Please come on. You’re tired. You’re not thinking straight.”

The Arrassian closed his eyes and nodded. It would wait. He followed obediently without another word.

 

It relieved Anda to see how compliant the man was when she gave him his supper. He didn’t even pick at it, which was unusual even for her own people. Their desert nettle soup wasn’t the most appetizing food they had. It had even taken her a while to get used to it. But he just sighed and ate. When she beckoned him to bed, he complied willingly. The odd man did stare at the leather and salvaged seat pads that made his bed for a few minutes, but without a word he lay down on them and settled into slumber without any complaint. He almost seemed too obedient for Anda to feel comfortable. She shook off the feeling as she walked to the entrance of the cave. Nodding to herself, she started out the door.

“You will come back tomorrow, won’t you?” the aged, dumpy man asked, looking up from his bed.

Peeking back at him, Anda nodded. That odd mark on his forehead sat exposed from his tousled hair. It made her nervous, as she was sure she had seen that sign before somewhere, but could not place it in her memory.

He nodded to himself and laid his head back on the bed.

Taking her chance to go, Anda ran down the stone steps along the cliff’s face. She hurried back to the main plaza to see what the commotion would be after the stranger had left. She knew her father would convene the council and decide the fate of the man she had just taken to bed. He did things quickly and always harshly.

From her vantage point, she could see a considerable crowd was gathered on the stone blocks now. Most of the group heads had seated themselves opposite the main tent which was primitively constructed with only leather and dry wood. Everything outside the caves had been made that way to give the façade that they were a primitive race and not a threat to the Th’sangs, in case they were ever discovered by scouts. It gave them an advantage. Currently, her father sat in the tent on a folding chair, extending his arms on the wood rests at each of his sides in a posture that spoke volumes about his importance as their camp leader. Anda approached the area cautiously, treading softly on the smooth stone. She stopped once she reached the edge of the crowd.

“What if the Th’sangs come looking for him? They don’t let rare ones escape, even if they are sickly,” a group leader said from his clan rock. The clan nodded along with him.

Considering it, Lord Gwy replied, “When he is saner and more capable, we might send him out to fend for himself. However, that might draw the Th’sangs to us more. He doesn’t look equipped to deal with the desert.”

Many there agreed with Lord Gwy.

Another leader raised his group stick and remarked, “There is always the other solution. We might have to dispose of him. Leave him back with his ship to survive with his ship like it should have been done.”

Many voices murmured in agreement. Anda hunched over in discomfort. She knew her father blamed her for her interference. He never liked things on anyone else’s terms but his own, and she had stepped into that without even thinking. She’d get a pure beating that night if she couldn’t help it.

“Not so gentlemen!” a voice broke through. It was Walen’s father. “They did right in rescuing the man. Or have you forgotten that he is a man.”

A general grumbling murmur ran through the crowd. Many were disgruntled by his interfering remark, most filled with dislike as Walen’s father often opposed the harsh rule of her father.

“Yes, yes. He is human, though he mildly looks it. If you haven’t seen his skin or his size, you might think he is completely one of us with his fluent Ancient speak. Funny accent, though.” Anda’s father huffed in open derision. “He’s near dead. He should have been left.”

“Does not the old book say that we must not have a hand in another’s death? We are not to kill our own kind,” Walen’s father persisted.

Lord Gwy nodded and waved his hand in acknowledgment. “It might, Dzhahs. It might.”

Walen’s father glared at Lord Gwy’s flippancy. “I think we should read it again to remind ourselves that others live in this universe and must be cared for.”

From the fringe where he usually was during such meetings, the elderly record keeper stepped forward from the crowd. His long desert robes dragging barely across the rocks. In his arms was the large dusty tome that carried the record of their people, as well as the ancient record of their distant ancestors. It was now wrapped in a preserving plastic, sealing it tight from exposure. On the top of the book, a flat electronic pad rested as a cover—all the data from the

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.03.2023
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7926-0

Alle Rechte vorbehalten