Chapter 4 - Making Allies
“That was a masterful piece of work, Prince Tymos, Princess Kryslie. You convinced the hostile ones to listen and I doubt your father could have done better,” Guardsman Allyn commented when he emerged from the back cave. “But will they really do what you asked?”
“They will, Allyn,” Kryslie told him, meeting his eyes. “And Gragin will lead us to the next group of villages.”
Allyn drew a breath, feeling he needed to speak up. “Your Highnesses, how can they understand what is at stake here? I’m sure those first two who left are going to tell the aliens.”
“You and the others had better get over your prejudice about these people, Allyn. They are uneducated, true, but they are not stupid or simple. I would suggest that they have a better sense of self-preservation than you do. For the tribes to have survived as long as they have – leaders like Dormar and Gors must be good at what they do.” Tymos spoke sharply. “As for telling about us, I have no doubt that they will. However, I bet they didn’t need to be told to send their families away first. I just hope they aren’t killed in the process. Now, when the others return, you may report that our first meeting was a success and we will be proceeding onto the next group of tribes. I assume you will advise us if there were others following the departing mutants?”
“Yes, Prince Tymos.”
“Do you have the maps we requested?” Kryslie asked.
“Yes, Princess. The maps, supplies, radios and satellite phones, the extra clothes and other items are with the horses at the agreed supply point, waiting for your instructions for delivery.”
“Horses! Whose idea was that? We told you that we would be travelling on foot!”
“Captain Vrass suggested that we would travel faster with horses,” Allyn said defensively.
Tymos remarked acidly, “Six mounted travellers are hardly an inconspicuous party, and where will we leave the horses when we need to climb steep trails to get to the mutants’ villages? You were listening when Mithas told us how to get to Krast’s village…”
Allyn reddened. Tymos shook his head in disgust.
“We will wait here for the others. You go and get the maps, and while you are getting them, request six backpacks from Captain Vrass. Then have him report our success to the President.”
“What about the horses?” Allyn asked.
“They will need to be returned to the horse farm, but not immediately,” Kryslie told him, trying to keep sarcasm out of her tone. “We might as well use them to provide some misdirection - just in case we have been spotted by alien scouts.”
“May I ask what you intend, Princess?”
“We will study the maps you bring back here and plan our route,” Kryslie stared at Allyn. “You can return and help look after the horses, and redistribute the supplies and equipment amongst the six packs. Check that Captain Vrass has sent common travelling clothes for us - all of us. If he hasn’t, you will request them. Before we leave, you, Drake, Frest and Juan will lose your uniforms.”
“But…”
“What are you waiting for? We intend to leave as soon as it is dark, with or without you,” Tymos added.
Allyn, still flushed, muttered, “Yes Prince Tymos,” and turned to leave the cave.
“I don’t know why we agreed to have guards,” Kryslie muttered.
“We didn’t exactly agree,” Tymos reminded her. “We just didn’t argue with Father about it. It was an acceptable compromise.”
“I would rather be leaving now,” Kryslie admitted. “Dormar will be back at his tribe by evening, and if he gets his tribe moving right away, he’ll probably send a message to the aliens first thing in the morning.”
“So that was why you had the idea about the horses?”
“I thought if we sent two of our guards, hooded and caped to look anonymous, in the direction of Mount Lorno - anyone who hears what we are up to will assume we are the riders and we have sent the guards out to scout on foot. Like Allyn, they will assume that high-ranking Royals would ride rather than walk. They can send the horses back before they get out of range of the transmitter beam from the farmlands. When we get the map, we can make a rendezvous point and they can return by long-range beam to meet us.”
“Mt Lorno is west of here, a good day’s ride, and we have to go north to get to Klast’s village. That will take us a day and a half on foot,” Tymos said thoughtfully. “It should be safe enough to use the trade road tonight - it will be easier going than the back trails Mithas mentioned. We can stop in the clearing where Gragin told us to meet him and wait for the others there. Once we get the map, we can locate it and get the coordinates for the beam.”
They stopped talking when they heard Mithas returning.
“Map I have, shows trails and springs,” he said, grinning. “Six water skins here, son bringing more. Idea good, they not clink like metal ones.”
The pale-skinned boy they had seen when Mithas’s tribe had confronted them a week ago, trotted into the cave from the directions of the cavern system.
“Morin he is,” Mithas announced. His mind was full of pride for his son. “Too smart for own good too.”
The last remark was prompted by the boy giving Tymos, and then Kryslie an insouciant bow.
“How is friend who talks to hoppers?” Morin dared to ask.
“He has recovered,” Kryslie assured him. “Where did you see him doing that?”
“When I made Governors help us,” he claimed.
“Cheeky whelp,” Mithas said, giving his son a pretend cuff to the head.
“And brave to have faced down the fearsome Governors,” Kryslie said with a grin. “But I have not forgotten that you made your tribe-kin listen to us.”
The boys, pale face flushed, with pleased embarrassment. Then he heard the sounds of three pairs of booted feet coming up the outside path and he moved behind his father. His mind, for he too was telepathic like Mithas, betrayed his dislike of the approaching guards. It also revealed that he had been listening to the discussions that had occurred in the greeting cave.
Tymos relieved Morin of his burden of water skins. “Thank you for your help.”
Kryslie took the map from Mithas, glanced at it and then tucked it into an inner pocket of the tunic she wore. Then she took the water skins and passed them to Drake to carry.
Allyn arrived, a little breathless, with the map made by the cartographers at the Royal Estate. “The backpacks should arrive by the time I get back to the supply point,” he stated. “The Captain will retrieve the horses and saddle packs after we leave.”
Kryslie met her brother’s glance, and mentally swore. She caught Morin’s cheeky grin, when his head peeked back around Mithas. Tymos took the map and began opening it.
Allyn was already turning around to go back to the supply point, a cul-de-sac further along the valley from the cave.
“Not so fast, Allyn,” Kryslie said. “Slight change of plans.”
The guardsman turned without making a comment, but his mind was saying, “What stupid idea have they had now?”
“Two of you will take the horses towards Mt Lorno…” Kryslie repeated what she had discussed with her brother.
Tymos gestured for him to look at the map, and he pointed out their intended rendezvous point - letting him read the coordinates for himself. “We should be there by morning. It is where we are meeting Gragin.”
Allyn opened his mouth to protest, but Kryslie spoke first.
“We will all go to the supply point. You and the others can change out of your uniforms. The two riders can go off first, and the rest of us will wait an hour before heading for the north trail.”
Drake, Frest and Juan were looking at Allyn with varying degrees of unease. It seemed that they considered Allyn their unofficial leader.
Tymos didn’t allow them to work up the courage to make an objection. He turned and walked out of the cave, and Kryslie followed a step behind. Mentally, they were thanking Mithas for his help and expressing the hope to meet again. They received in turn amusement at the disgruntlement of the four Guardsmen.
At the bottom of the trail, Tymos retrieved his and his sister’s field kit from where they had hidden it earlier in the day. The four guards retrieved their own and followed the High King’s heirs in not quite sullen silence. They belatedly recalled that they were meant to be guarding them, and resumed the watchful scanning of their surroundings.
When they arrived at the supply point, two servants came out to meet them, bowing correctly to Tymos and Kryslie.
“Where are the clothes?” Kryslie asked immediately. She was keen to change since she had lived in the current set of clothes for almost a week. The fresh ones she had requested were of a sturdier fabric, and dyed in mottled shades of green and brown. When the servant gave her the feminine form of the camouflage suit, she went behind a screen of scrubby bushes to change. Tymos took his and merely moved behind the horses to do the same. He glanced over the horses’ backs, and checked to see that the guardsmen were intending to replace their uniforms. He returned when they were clad in the mottled all-in- one suits and were quietly grumbling. He said nothing, knowing that Kryslie had decided she had had enough of their attitude. She returned carrying a bundle of dirty clothes.
“In case you are too dense to see it – travelling as an anonymous family group is preferable to four splendid guardsmen acting as arrows to point at two juicy targets,” she said pointedly. “That being said, I want to show you something.”
She took out the map Mithas had given her and spread it out on top of the nearest backpack. “Look at this and tell me if you still think the mutants are ignorant savages. Whoever drew these maps, freehand, without your fancy plotting machines, is a talented person. Look at the detail – every encampment of aliens, mutants, and every place where they have seen aliens ‘working’. With information like this, the Governors can plan a strategy to neutralise the aliens and their plots. This is one hundred percent more information than three scout parties got for us.”
“And it shows that the aliens have been moving freely all through these mountains,” Tymos warned them.
“The aliens won’t still be in those places,” Drake pointed out.
“Probably not,” Tymos agreed. “But it is something we need to keep in mind. It is my contention that few of the alien scouts made it back to their baseship before its emergency blast off. I assume that they will have received orders to rendezvous at some fallback location. That place may be in these hills - we will have to be alert.”
“I don’t want to become a juicy target,” Kryslie reiterated. “With the knowledge of the local mutant tribes, we should be able to avoid any likely places that the aliens might camp.”
“The mutants probably helped capture the third party. And you know what happened to them,” Allyn stated.
“That was before they learnt the truth about their allies,” Kryslie countered. “So what would you prefer, having all mutants killed on principle, just to deny the aliens their allies? Or to turn the mutants to our side, rid the aliens of allies, without them knowing, and use the mutants’ skills for our purposes?”
Allyn dropped his eyes to the ground.
“Frest, do you agree?” Kryslie insisted. Frest nodded.
“Juan?”
“Well…”
“Weren’t you paying attention to what you were transcribing earlier?”
Juan glanced up in confusion.
“Gragin told you ….” Kryslie repeated, without needing to refer to the notes, a detailed description of what he had seen an alien doing. “What do you think that alien was up to?”
Juan’s eyes widened, “Why – the bastard was setting explosives at the base of the water storage basin.”
“Exactly,” Kryslie agreed. “So do you agree too, Guardsman Drake?”
He nodded firmly.
“Very good,” Kryslie said quietly. “Now, which of you are going with the horses?”
Kryslie looked at the dead hoppers left by Gragin, and wondered how to cook them. The longer she looked, the less she wanted to eat them. She had never had an aversion to eating meat before, and tonight, if they were to eat at all, it was cooked hopper or dry trail rations. The latter was all she had eaten the previous night as they had travelled, and she preferred something else.
“Frest, you are in charge of the cooking tonight,” Kryslie instructed.
“Princess, I am doing guard duty,” Frest objected. “My duty is to protect you.”
“Well, protect me from my own cooking,” Kryslie said. “Tymos is not exactly useless as a fighter – I bet he could beat you if he tried. He is no more helpless than I am. So give him your weapon, since you didn’t think to request any for us, and cook our meal. I will be looking around here for edible plants and some of that bark that makes a good brew.”
“Please stay in sight, Princess,” Frest begged.
“There was no need for Drake and Juan to be sent after Gragin,” Kryslie admonished. “Anyway, I have the fire going and a pot of water on to boil. The cups are ready to offer refreshment to our guest or guests.”
“What if this mutant leader sends back a team to capture you?” Frest said.
“Then I will challenge the leader and if I win, he will have to listen to me.”
“What if he wins? You are just in level delta.”
“And you got to what? Beta?” Kryslie asked. “Well, Tymos is already well on the way to being as good a fighter as President Governor Reslic, and I have managed to hold my own with the Governor for over half an hour.”
Frest stared at the slight figure of Kryslie who remarked wryly, “We had him as our personal trainer, remember? Since we came from Earth less than a year ago, we had no choice. Governor Reslic would not let us stay untrained for an instant longer than necessary.”
Kryslie was aware that Guardsman Allyn was listening to the conversation, and ready to try to catch her off guard. She didn’t need to turn to watch his stealthy approach, but as he leapt at her, she turned and deflected his attack. Then before he could roll to his feet, she had disabled him.
Lying on the hard ground with stones poking into his back, Allyn muttered, “I yield,” and Kryslie released the pressure on his arm.
“Now are you convinced? In spite of just reaching level delta, Governor Reslic had me training level alpha students in self-defence before we left the palace. So now, if you don’t mind, I am going to look for edible plants and I will return shortly. I will remain within earshot of the camp.”
Night was well advanced when Gragin returned with another mutant. The stranger was tall and thin. The fire gave enough light to show that his head was completely bald, and that he had a rough trimmed beard growing from his chin. Gragin stopped next to Juan, while his companion kept walking, striding past Tymos and approaching Allyn who stood by the fire. A group of ten other mutants formed a circle around the group.
“I am Krast,” he announced, nodding at Allyn and looking around. The fire glinted off Tymos’s hair and he tensed as Kryslie moved to join him. He saw the reddish glints of light on her hair too.
“You girl. Why you here?” Krast challenged. “This no place for girl.”
Kryslie glided two steps forward and bowed. “Leader Krast, I am Kryslie. May I introduce my brother Tymos?”
Krast reacted to the civility. She was following the mutant’s customs, by which the eldest woman greeted the guests and introduced the men. That she only mentioned Tymos, was a tacit means of revealing his importance over the other men present.
Tymos continued the ritual by offering, “We have prepared some chava. Would you share it with us?”
Kryslie added, “Your attendants may come closer if they wish. There is enough chava for all.”
Krast scrutinised the four Royal guards standing watchful and alert. Their sideways glances proved they were aware of the encircling mutants. As they did not seem to intend making a hostile move, the newcomer turned his attention to his young hosts. Their hair identified them as Royal; only the family of the High King Governor had hair like fire. Yet they were dressed like common travellers, not self important, high status Royals. He himself, had dressed in his newest trousers and tunic of rough-spun hopper fur fabric, and with his vest of tanned hide, trimmed in fur.
“Drink I’ll have. See I do, your guards, disarmed.”
“I know, and they don’t like it,” Kryslie grinned, but warned, “However, they are as dangerous without weapons as they are with.”
Krast grinned. “Gragin say you good. Gragin say you heal father. You healer?”
Tymos answered, “I have some healing skill. Have you someone who is ill or injured?”
Krast grunted. “Gragin say you not like elders. Trust you we can. Tell me why?”
Kryslie caught Allyn’s eye and he began to pour the hot beverage into cups.
Tymos gestured to the clear space around the fire, and sat himself - still facing Krast. He deliberately put himself in the inferior position and waited for Krast to sit before he spoke. Kryslie fetched two cups of chava from Allyn and offered one to Krast and the other to Tymos. She then took a third for herself.
Krast listened, but his eyes darted from Tymos, to Kryslie and to those of his tribesmen that he could see. He stayed silent, and made no move to drink. Kryslie let her brother explain their mission, and gently blew on the surface of her drink to cool it. She sensed that Krast was still not convinced to trust them.
Making more noise than necessary, Kryslie sipped her drink, and Tymos, picking up her reason, paused to take a gulp of his own. With that wordless demonstration, Krast drank his chava in one long swig. When Tymos attempted to finish his in the same manner, he ended up spluttering. Kryslie laughed softly, grinning at her brother, and beside her, Krast chuckled and relaxed.
Tymos grinned and shrugged. “I need practice.”
“Yes, you Royals good. Come to camp of Krast. Come now, sleep with tribe. Never have I had Royal sleep in camp.”
“Will you invite others so we can talk?” Tymos asked.
“I will ask. They can choose.”
“That is acceptable,” Tymos agreed. He stood and gave quiet orders to the four guards. “Finish repacking the gear and douse the fire. Leave no trace of our presence.”
Krast looked satisfied, as he watched the guards obeying their orders. He said nothing until the job was finished. “We check tomorrow,” he promised.
“And tell me if you find a trace,” Tymos asked. “We have no wish to be found by your allies.”
Tymos and Kryslie each took their own travelling packs, thanked Gragin for his help and waited for Krast lead the way to the campsite of his tribe. He had already sent half of his escort ahead.
Krast shrugged a shoulder at Gragin, and the younger man grinned and trotted off into the darkness.
“Good that one gone, daughter kept looking at him. Warn her I will that you not for her.”
Tymos chuckled. “Good. I’m not ready for girls yet. I haven’t finished learning other things.”
Krast chuckled. “Is sister ready for boys? Plenty here.”
“Um, I doubt they’re ready for her,” Tymos said, hearing a scathing comment from Kryslie in his mind. Then at her prompting, asked. “Did you have sickness here?”
Krast turned serious. “How you know?”
“I thought, since you asked if I was healer, that there might be.”
“Yes, sickness there is. Fever. Very hot. But you boy. Can’t go near girls.”
Kryslie spoke up again. “My ability is different to my brothers, but I may be able to tell what to do.”
“You care enough to do for us?”
“Yes. If we want you to think on our words, you will think better without worry about loved ones.”
Krast grunted. “Smart you are. We hurry back to tribe. Will get wife. She take you to girls.”
Krast set a fast pace back to his camp. At first, they followed the wide trail used by traders and their wagons. This was the flattened gravel-paved way they had followed so far. It dipped and rose over the slowly rising hills, and run straight for long stretches. When the road curved around the base of a steeper hill, Krast stopped.
Kryslie and Tymos saw his grin, even though it was dark. They were able to adjust their eyes to see him. They both sensed his approval, for being able to match his pace without being greatly out of breath, and saw his grin widen further when the four guardsmen panted into sight. They were flushed with exertion. To Tymos, with his eyes adjusted, they were man shaped areas of glowing heat.
“Camp not far now. Up hill though. We have drink,” Krast suggested.
Allyn spoke a soft agreement and took his flask from the side of his backpack. Tymos and Kryslie followed suit, noting that Krast and the five other visible mutants did not. Instead, he seemed to be considering the four guardsmen, and waiting for their breathing to return to normal. He glanced approvingly at the two young Royals, as if he had been testing them.
When they set off again, it was at a slower pace, for the hidden side trail led up a steep slope and wound between trees and more undergrowth. Tymos and Kryslie managed it easily, even with their packs. Allyn, Frest, Juan and Drake, found it heavy going. It was not that they were unfit, no palace guard had a chance to become out of condition, but they were not used to climbing hills. Added to that, their packs were bigger since they contained more than just their personal gear. The guards shared the cooking equipment, the emergency rations, the aid kits, and radio communication devices, having refused to let their charges help to spread the extra load.
During the climb, Kryslie sensed the little flashes of life energy that were hoppers cowering from the passing humans. Further away were bigger flashes, probably some of the roaming felines, who would also be avoiding them.
The sense of other people grew stronger and Kryslie knew they were approaching the mutant’s village. Yet when they emerged into an open area, it was devoid of structures and populated only by the five mutants who had been their forward scouts. Krast waited for the five rear guards to follow the palace guardsmen into the clearing.
Tymos had time to study the area and share with his sister, the awareness of many more mutants, just out of sight, hidden beyond a thick cluster of trees.
“This is just a meeting place,” Kryslie thought at him. “Not all the tribe are convinced yet.”
Her thought was prophetic, their group was soon surrounded by men wielding a wicked selection of weapons - some native, some alien and some obviously stolen from Tymorean guards. She heard Allyn suppress an exclamation, but knew he was not going to challenge them.
Krast spoke to one of the circle. “Sel, fetch wife of mine. Guests know healing. Help daughters of Klit.”
The atmosphere in the clearing relaxed, as the armed mutants lowered their motley weapons.
“We honoured. We have Royal guests here to help us.”
The announcement was received with rough amusement, quiet guffaws, and grunts. The mutants came closer, trying to see what the Royals looked like.
“Move off louts,” Krast directed. “We go to village. Awky, Joce, Ferd, go guard the way in.”
A small woman, scuttled into the clearing, followed by the mutant who had fetched her. Kryslie was instantly aware of her worry, and went over to her.
“Elder Mother, I am Kryslie. I am not a healer, as such, but I may be able to learn what is causing the girls to be ill.”
“I am Bethy, Princess Kryslie, and if you can help we will be in your debt. Come with me.”
Kryslie followed the small woman along a path leading into the trees. A short distance further on, the trees thinned to reveal a clearing containing several rough wooden huts. Bethy went directly to the centre one and led the way in. The light was very dim, coming from a travel lamp turned down to just above off. Kryslie could see the two sick girls by the heat radiating from them.
“Light hurts them,” the Bethy said, as both apology and warning.
“I can see well enough. How are you treating them?”
“Willowwort and water washes.”
Kryslie knew that with the water so scarce, the washes would do little to ease the temperature. She knelt by the nearest girl and placed a hand on her forehead. Her other hand moved over the girl, as if she had one of Xyron’s medical scanners in it. Apart from the fever, she sensed nothing. When she repeated the process with the other girl, the cause of her fever was apparent. She sat back on her heels and considered what she had sensed.
“Have you heard of an appendix?” Kryslie asked the woman.
In the darkness, the woman shook her head. “Is it bad?”
“Yes, it is. Are the girls related?”
“Yes, sisters. Born together.”
“This one needs a healer and I wish you would let me get her to the palace. Our healers could make her better. However, I can help her sister. She is s