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Invaders:

By Markus Thyme

November 13, 2006:

 

Jack had been outside the main tunnel, practicing with his crossbow. He practiced when he could. It annoyed him that Bruce was more accurate with the longbow than he was with the crossbow. He was just putting his bolts away when he heard the dogs. His heart froze. He knew his mate was over the hill with the children. He grabbed his bow and bolts. He began running toward the hill.

At the top of the hill, he stopped. He could see into the valley. His mate, Janet, and the children were in a copse of peach to his right. Further to his right at the edge of the forest sat a group of invaders, astride horses. They were dressed in hunting gear. Jack’s stomach heaved.

“Run,” he cried out. “Run toward me.”

His mate looked up. She smiled and waved. She did not see the danger.

“Run,” he screamed. He waved his arms and pointed.

She looked then, and saw, but it was too late. The invaders had spurred the horses and they broke into a gallop. Janet tried to gather and herd the children. They were running in every direction, screaming. She ran about, trying to get them going toward Jack. It was no good.

Spears were loosed and several children fell. Then Jack watched a rider overtake his mate and drive a spear through her. She fell, pinned to the ground. The rider dismounted, jerked the spear loose and heaved her over the pommel. He mounted and turned his horse. He raised his arm. The invaders picked up their slain victims and followed their leader. They rode, at a trot, to the south.

Jack’s mind went away. The entire world ceased to be. There was one object, to get his mate back. There was a narrow tunnel between him and her. Nothing else existed. He ran, on tireless legs, along the ridge and through the wood following the invaders. When he broke into the clearing, the invaders were riding their horses up the ramp into the hold of the flyer. Jack ran out into the meadow as the ramp swung up and the flyer lifted on its two rotors. He raised the crossbow and fired. The bolt flew skyward and was brushed away by one of the rotors. A small chip flew away. The flier trembled a bit and continued to rise. An invader, sitting in a flyer port, fired a weapon and Jack fell to the ground, dead.

Randolph broke into the clearing in time to see Jack go down. He looked up to curse the flyer, and witnessed the spectacle. It turned out that Jack had made the best shot of his life. His shot had nicked a rotor. At the height of 200 or more feet, one element flew off the rear rotor. Then the flyer began to pitch and gyrate wildly as the rear engine disintegrated. The one who had killed Jack was pitched from his perch and fell a long way to the earth, screaming all the way.

The huge flyer made two gyrating loops and finally plunged sideways to the ground, exploding into a huge fireball. Black smoke poured skyward. No living beings came out of the wreckage. Randolph watched for two hours while the fire burned itself out. When it did, there was little left except a large black area of earth and some twisted metal.

Randolph knelt down to examine Jack. He knew what he would find. He simply had to verify it for himself. Jack and Randolph were brothers. Finally, he rose and went to the body of the invader. He was surprised to see movement. The thing was still alive.

“Not for long,” muttered Randolph. He drew his long knife.

“Hold,” came a command from the forest edge.

Randolph looked about. He saw Bruce the Elder, flanked by his son and several other men.

“What?” demanded Randolph?

“Be it the invader?” queried the elder.

“Soon it be a dead invader,” answered Randolph.

“Hold!” commanded Bruce again.

“Why?” screamed Randolph. “Did you not see? It has murdered my brother.”

“I see.”

“Yet, you say hold when I move to avenge Jack?”

“Aye, Randolph. I say hold. If needs be, you may avenge Jack later.”

“Why not now?”

“Now, this being has value to us alive.”

“How?” demanded Randolph.

Bruce the Elder nodded toward the burned out hulk. “You saw this thing happen?”

“Aye, I saw.”

“Think you that be the end of it?”

Randolph looked grudgingly at the old man. He said nothing.

“The invaders will come,” continued Bruce. “They will see.”

Bruce the Younger nodded in agreement.

“I see father. We may have need of this one alive.”

“Allowing he live,” answered the elder.

Others came up beside the father and son.

Randolph crouched over the invader, still clutching his long knife. He looked belligerently at the others.

“See to your brother, Randolph,” said Bruce the Elder, gently. “We will see to this one.”

Randolph sheathed his long knife reluctantly.


“For now,” he whispered. “For now.”

Bruce the Elder nodded. “For now,” he agreed. “Later, you may yet have your way.”

Randolph walked slowly to Jack’s body. He knelt and gently lifted his brother. Unashamed tears flowed over his cheeks as he trudged toward the tunnels. He was no longer thinking of killing the invader. His thoughts were of a much bolder act. His thoughts were of killing many invaders. A sad and angry wound began to fester in his heart.

“Later,” he whispered. “Later.”

Bruce the Elder turned to the others.

“We have little time,” he said. He selected four men. “You men I ask to bring this invader to the main hall, gently. This is a time of great danger. These invaders will not take lightly the destruction of their flyer and those in it. This one may save us.”

“Aye, Elder Bruce,” said one of the men.

Bruce the Elder turned to his son. “Come, Bruce. Lean on me. You must rest while you can.”

“Aye, father,” said the son. He put his arm over his father’s shoulder.

The old man picked out one other young man.

“Have you sufficient courage?” he demanded.

“I will do what needs be done,” replied the young man.

The elder eyed him for a moment, but the young man held his eyes firm.

“I believe you” replied Bruce the Elder. “What be your name?”

“I be Edward the Younger of Asheville.”

“Edward, I know your father well. Be you like him, you be sufficient to the task.”

“What be this task, elder?”

“You must watch this meadow and watch the sky for the flyers. Listen well for the dogs. If they come, you must sound the alarm.”

“I can do that, elder.”

“Go then to yon ridge, above the tunnel. Keep watch from there, but remain concealed. I will set up a watch group. I will send food and relief.”

“How will I sound the alarm?”

“There be a small tunnel air hole at the base of the largest Oak on that ridge. You have but to speak loudly into it. I will have a listener there. Speak everything you see and hear.”

“Aye, elder.”

The elder selected several of the other men. “I ask you men to search this meadow and the wood about. Remove any evidence of the folk. Mayhap, we can let them believe an accident.”

“Mayhap,” said Bruce the Younger, doubtfully.

“I need a runner,” said Bruce the Elder.

“Me, elder,” said a lad stepping forward.

“Be you old enough? What say your father?”

The lad turned to look at an older man, who nodded.

“I be old enough, elder. I be swift and clever, too.”

The older man smiled along with Bruce.

“And good with the bow?” asked Bruce.

“Not as good as Bruce the Younger, but good enough.”

“None are as good as my son,” smiled the elder. “You will do.”

“What is my duty, elder?”


“You must go swiftly to the north tunnel and sound the warning. Tell them all that you saw and know. Tell them to gird. Tell them to stay hidden. Tell them I will send other runners as needs be. Go now. Take meat and water. Take your bow and go swiftly. Rest there, then return in your own time.”

“I go Elder,” the boy turned and ran.

Bruce the Elder spoke to the remaining men.

“I ask the rest of you to search where the peach grow, where the children were. If there be blood, remove it. Hide it. Straighten every blade of grass. Leave no sign of what happened. Then return to the tunnels.”

“Aye, Elder,” said one.

The men turned and moved off swiftly.

“I envy them not that task,” said Bruce the Younger.

“Aye,” said his father, “yet it must be done.”

He put his arm around his son.

“Everyone must return to the tunnels and stay within,” he said. “Come now, Bruce.”

“Aye, father.”

 At the main hall, many were gathered. Several of the folk huddled in a separate group. These were the kin of the murdered folk. Bruce the Elder did not disturb them. He turned to the others.

“How many children were lost?” he asked, softly.

“Seven did not return,” answered a woman.

“Seven children and two of the grown. Nine of the folk gone.”

He turned to his aid, Matthew of Bravard.

“This is a bad sign Matthew. It has been many seasons since they came out to hunt us afield like this.”

“I remember it never,” said Matthew.

“These things happened when I was but a lad. They came often then. Later it stopped. We know not why.”

“Mayhap, this Invader can tell us,” suggested Matthew.

“That be my hope,” replied Bruce.

The invader was being tended by elder Harold, the healer. There were many broken bones along with internal bleeding. Harold had treated the being as best he could. He was a true healer, still the outcome was in doubt.

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