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Invaders:
By Markus Thyme
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.
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.
“Not
for long,” muttered
“Hold,”
came a command from the forest edge.
“What?”
demanded
“Be
it the invader?” queried the elder.
“Soon
it be a dead invader,” answered
“Hold!”
commanded Bruce again.
“Why?”
screamed
“I
see.”
“Yet,
you say hold when I move to avenge Jack?”
“Aye,
“Why
not now?”
“Now,
this being has value to us alive.”
“How?”
demanded
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?”
“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.
“See
to your brother, Randolph,” said Bruce the Elder, gently. “We will
see to this one.”
“For
now,” he whispered. “For now.”
Bruce
the Elder nodded. “For now,” he agreed. “Later, you may yet
have your way.”
“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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