Chapter 5 - Mountain Trap
Tymos stretched his stride to move ahead of the guards. Their presence was a mixed blessing. Yes, they helped with the camp chores, and so did he and Kryslie now they had learnt what to do, but they acted like old women.
Even after four successful meetings, they still distrusted the mutants. He supposed that it was an ingrained problem, and it was a symptom of the whole of the population. It would need massive subtle teaching to change such attitudes, and yet he had no idea how to do it.
Still, he didn’t have to deal with that problem; he could broach it to the Governor’s for consideration.
As for the guards, they had taught him many practical skills that had not been part of the curriculum to level delta or in the memories they had shared with the Governors. More to the point, their mutant guides had honed those skills.
“Thinking hard, Bro,” Kryslie asked softly, catching up to her twin. “Or getting away from the mother hens.”
Tymos grinned. “I have been thinking. You know how we wrestled all those would be heroes back at the last camp…”
“And how whacked out we felt later…”
“Yes, though why you prolonged the agony so much I don’t know…”
“Yes you do, they don’t expect a woman to be as good as a man, so I made myself just good enough to beat them. What’s your point?”
“I was expecting to need all night to recover, but I was back at full strength two hours later when those felines attacked the camp.”
Kryslie shrugged, “So was I. Come to think of it, you recovered from that healing session quite fast. Thea, who should know such things, thought it would take all night.”
“That’s what I mean. I didn’t notice it last night, but back at Klast’s camp, I felt the power flowing into me from the ground.”
“I have never heard of that,” Kryslie said thoughtfully. “I know we have drawn on the aura before – but we had to initiate it. Nothing else comes to mind right now – that seems to mean that Father and the other Governor’s don’t know such a thing was possible.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Tymos replied. “They knew enough to recognise that we were planet- sensitive, I think this may be part of that.”
“I will think about it,” Kryslie said. “The idea has many possible advantages. I think if we can draw such power and feed it to Allyn and the others we could move much faster. The mutants are holding back their speed to theirs.”
“And if we have to stop and fight, we won’t be so depleted.”
“Well, we hope to avoid that…” Kryslie shivered.
Their guide dropped back to speak to them. “Signal point soon. Stop in trees. You come?”
“I’ll come,” Tymos agreed. “I’ll tell our guards.”
Their mutant guide flashed a piece of shiny metal across the hill behind them. The signal was answered immediately, and a series of rapid flashes followed. Tymos read the message and mentally translated it from the mutants’ shortened version of an old signalling code. Kryslie was aware of its import as soon as he was. She was lower down the hill with the four guards.
“We are being followed,” Kryslie said aloud. “Two squads - twenty mounted aliens.”
The stiffening of the guards’ stance betrayed their increased alertness. They finished their rations and water and stood facing outwards from where Kryslie stood.
She smothered a sigh. Did they still think that she was helpless? No Royal child was helpless by the time their training was finished – but then, technically, she hadn’t.
Allyn, moved towards the guard on his right.
“I knew those mutants would tell the aliens about us…” Allyn whispered, not intending for Kryslie to hear.
“That they did, Allyn, is not relevant,” Kryslie spoke loud enough to be heard by all the guards. She could see enough of the back of Allyn’s neck to know he had blushed scarlet.
His back became rigid.
“The aliens want us back. Quite obviously, they started back where we were last seen. Mithas had gone by then, of course. That trail you left taking the horses towards Mount Lorno, gave us a head start. They wasted three days trying to pick up the trail again. Then, when they backtracked and met Gors and Dormar - they wasted more time searching for their tribes to take vengeance on them. Those two leaders managed to escape and are now fully allied with us.”
“Then how did the aliens find us again?” Allyn’s voice had a touch of sarcasm. When he turned, his face had returned to its normal hue.
Tymos returned to the group in time to hear the question and added, “Gors and Dormar could not have told where we were headed, and by then, it would be an obvious assumption that we were heading to talk to other tribes. Mithas lived closest to the lowlands, and so if Mount Lorno was a false trail, there is really only one other direction we could have gone – north.”
Allyn opened his mouth to retort then closed it. Instead, he spoke formally. “Have you any idea how they found our trail, Prince Tymos?”
“They are still two days behind us,” Tymos told him. “They did not go near Klast’s tribe or Wiggan’s. Can I see the map again?”
Tymos didn’t need the map; the terrain shown on it was a vivid picture in his mind. Allyn, however, would probably need it to follow his logic.
With the map opened on the ground, Tymos outlined his theory. The other three guards moved closer to hear and sneak glances at the map.
“Mithas’s camp, Klast’s, Wiggan’s, Lexin’s, we are about here. Mount Lorno is here. For the aliens to get here,” Tymos pointed to where the aliens were last seen, “from Dormar’s land, without passing the other two tribes …”
“It is a straight line – did one of that last group call them?”
“Unlikely – the mutants don’t have long distance communicators, and there are no tribes along that trail – that section is too well used. As you should have noticed, the tribes tend to camp well off the main trails,” Kryslie reminded the guards. She saw two of them grimace; no doubt recalling having to crawl to traverse a tunnel path to one camp.
“The aliens may have given them communicators…” Allyn suggested.
“No,” Kryslie shook her head. “They may give them their oldest and least useful weapons, but not a means that could unite the scattered and separate tribes. When they work out what we are doing, they will do everything to stop us. A divided society is easier to control than a united one. Come on – we must get moving. We can talk on the way.”
Tymos thought at Kryslie, “Will Allyn figure out what else might have given the aliens a fix on where we are?”
Kryslie pictured herself shrugging.
Allyn, running ahead of them stopped, he moved aside and let Tymos draw level with him.
“It couldn’t be our communications back to the palace – they are encrypted. No one can break that code.”
“If they can or not is not relevant. You are missing a fundamental point …”
Kryslie moved closer to Allyn. “You are thinking that the aliens are no smarter than the mutants, but they have been observing us, moving amongst us and meddling with our world – all without our knowledge – for twenty years.”
“Well the sat-phone signal doesn’t always go direct to the satellite. It often has to bounce off the relay points to reach it…” Allyn thought aloud.
“What about the time when the solar panels didn’t recharge the phone batteries …” Tymos prompted.
“They triangulated the radio signal,” Allyn realised. “So they intercepted sat-phone signal and watched out for other signs. Of course – no commoner uses sat-phones – and very few use radio. They must have realised that someone high ranking was active …”
“Right! So we have to keep communication to a minimum. When you report next, be very brief. Tell them that we won’t call unless imperative, and get them to look for how the aliens are communicating – they might be tapping into our satellites. They can’t have missed seeing them in orbit.”
Allyn nodded and put on a burst of speed to catch up to the lead guard.
“Word is spreading,” Tymos whispered to Kryslie. “Vik, our guide, told me that the mutants behind us, even those we didn’t speak to directly, are so very innocently misdirecting the aliens. They know we have mutant guides, and are using mutant tricks to hide our trail – but the aliens don’t. Therefore, when the mutants say we are acting like the usual commoners and Royal troops by keeping to main trails – the aliens think it is logical. The mutants send the aliens off to the next tribe – in case we went there – because they quite truthfully hadn’t seen us. The aliens waste time hacking a trail into the camp of a non existent tribe, or one that had moved away a few days before … and then can’t find the first tribe again …while we run quickly along the mutant’s ways, and climb cliffs where the aliens can’t take their horses…”
“Yet they still keep finding us – it can’t be just the radio,” Kryslie expressed her concern. “I’d like to stop all communication for a day or more.”
“It may not be enough. They are two days behind us, and we have to stay at least a day and a half in each village…” Tymos pointed out.
“We need to travel day and night between villages,” Kryslie stated the only option. “If you are right and we can take power from the planet – and can pass it to the others…”
“It should be like healing…” Tymos continued the thought.
“And I should be able to do it too.” Kryslie finished.
“I’ll propose it to Allyn, next rest break,” Tymos offered.
“I have never heard of any such thing, Prince Tymos,” Allyn tried to hide his scepticism. He glanced at the other three guards, but they only shrugged and left him to decide.
“Give us five minutes,” Kryslie requested. “We can sit in a circle…”
Allyn grimaced. “We have no time for childish games, Princess Kryslie.”
“We are NOT children,” Kryslie snapped. Allyn’s expression changed. It was as if he now saw someone else standing in her place.
“We are representatives of the Governor’s,” Tymos said in a tone that Allyn dared not challenge. “We have an imperative mission. And no matter what you think we look like – it is a mission that no one else can do…”
“And the urgency we face now, transcends your feeling of self importance,” Kryslie’s tone matched her brother’s. “So to keep ahead of the aliens, we need to travel – night and day.”
“We need to sleep!”
“You need to sleep to remove fatigue poisons from your system and regain energy,” Kryslie told him. “What Tymos proposed is a variation of healing – you’ll find you won’t need sleep.”
“What about our guide,” Allyn asked, noting that the slender, dark skinned man was returning from scouting ahead.
“Our guides can travel much faster than they are. We could keep up with them, but they are holding their pace to yours.”
“We’ll try it,” Guardsman Frest answered for Allyn who seemed to want to keep arguing. “If it doesn’t work, we won’t have lost anything. Besides, Allyn, you’ve said often enough at the end of the day, that you wished you had some of the spare energy of our guides and the “children” – well, they are offering that to you!”
“Very well, then,” Allyn growled.
If he had never heard of such a thing, Allyn had never felt anything like it either. Even before the five minutes were up, he felt he could run for the rest of the day. His face betrayed his thoughts. Initially, his mouth had dropped open as he felt a cool breeze blowing right into him, then his breathing returned to normal and the twinge in his left leg vanished. He stared in amazement at the young red headed prince. Tymos had his eyes closed, but said, “Shut your mouth, Allyn.”
Kryslie felt him tense. In the circle, sitting with hands joined, Allyn was next to her.
She released the hands she was holding and stood up.
“I think we can pick up the pace, Margin,” Kryslie told their guide. The dark man grinned, showing a mouth full of bunched up white teeth.
“Next village, now half day away.”
Deep in the forest, the young alien Commander, Xan, stopped his horse and looked about in frustration. The path onto which the mutants had directed him looked as if it would go no further. Trees had closed in on the path, and others now blocked it. In fact, for the last few miles it had hardly seemed like a path at all. He swore in his native tongue for several minutes and was glad he had told the soldiers to wait for him in the last village. The other times could have been because the mutant camps were so well hidden. But this time …
“No wonder the Royal Brats are gaining on us so fast!” he thought viciously to himself. “The idiots must be sending us on the wrong trail!”
Xan turned his mount with difficulty and retraced his path, firmly resolved to take his anger out on whichever of the ugly ones that he next encountered. As soon as the path was wide enough, he spurred his mount to a fast trot ducking occasionally to avoid low branches. He pondered as he rode; he had successfully tracked the brats to the city and again while they toured with the High King. Then he had been recalled. Warlord Kellex had sent a squad of soldiers to capture them and he had no longer been needed. Then the brats had escaped with another prisoner, one that had to be a peasant because he had been unaffected by the force field that weakened those with Royal Power. The leader had mentioned a traitor dressed in Aeronite uniform, likely the other of the two peasants that had been travelling with the brats in the latter part of the tour.
The question was - how they got from the Royal camp to the big ship? The peasants had been left behind and there had been nothing faster than horses for transport. Well they had done it somehow and now the Royal brats were moving incredibly fast even without the ugly ones directing him on false trails.
Xan finally returned to where his men were camped. A vague idea was forming in his mind after concluding that there was little chance of catching their quarry from behind. He called a conference of his sub-officers and sent for the aerial maps that his leader had provided. He studied them for a long moment and then summoned one of the junior officers.
“Junok, you have kept a record of our travels, show me on this map where we have been.”
The junior officer in question was older than Xan and he looked embarrassed. He had been laughed at many times for keeping travel records but he sensed no malice in Xan’s eyes and obeyed. Xan may have been promoted rapidly but he was no tyrant.
Marked on Xan’s map were the locations of where the ugly ones were known to congregate. Junok traced with his finger the route they had followed. The brats were systematically visiting villages in a long curving circle.
“In every village they stay a day and a half and somehow they travel incredibly fast, perhaps by air car although I have seen no sign of such. They are keeping ahead of us even with us travelling both night and day and only having two three hour breaks,” Xan stated baldly the facts as he saw them. “We will never catch them from behind. Instead, we will travel to here, where there is a main trail down to the flatlands. We can travel much faster out of the mountains and aim to get here as fast as possible. We will take this other main trail and wait outside of this village. We should reach it a day before the Tymorean brats do. When they arrive, we will attack the village and capture them.”
The experienced soldiers nodded. They could see no flaw with this plan but one of them pointed out what Xan already suspected.
“You are implying that we can no longer trust the ugly ones.”
Xan answered, “I doubt if our superiors ever did fully trust them.”
The soldiers had already rested and were soon ready to ride; Xan did not feel the need for rest, spurred instead by the fear of failing his first command mission.
Tymos and Kryslie approached the northernmost mutant village. Their current guide, Vedric, stopped them with an outstretched arm.
“Wary be,” he said quietly. “Minds of Abbas and Cal, no longer hear.”
“They told you we were expected?” Allyn stated, as he watched Tymos’s face become blank of expression. He was used to that now; the Prince was trying to mindspeak, or listen.
“Told leader Horst, they did,” Vedric confirmed. “Said safe to come on.”
“Everything seems normal,” Tymos mused quietly, but he was frowning. “Krys? Can you pick up anything?”
It was Kryslie’s turn to go blank-faced. She was concentrating on the ambient emotions.
“We are expected,” she confirmed. “Some hostility, but that is understandable.” She too was frowning.
“When did you last reach Abbas or Cal?” Tymos asked Vedric.
“Before last bit of hill.”
Five to ten minutes, Tymos estimated. “How much further to the village?”
“Path in, not far. See bent tree?”
“Is there a way to flank the town?” Tymos proposed, but seeing Vedric’s quizzical look, explained, “Go around it? So we can approach from the opposite direction?”
Vedric merely shook his head.
“Surely they have another way in and out?” Kryslie suggested.
“Do, but from low land. Not from here. This path open right near village.”
Drake, Frest, Juan approached from behind. They had been checking their back trail. Now they waited for Tymos to give directions.
Tymos shared mild unease with Kryslie through the twin bond. Mentally he asked her, “Any sense of aliens or their warped power?” He appeared to be staring at the trail ahead.
She replied the same way, “No, but if they had none, I could not tell them from commoners.”
Of the three rear guards, Tymos asked, “No sign of followers?”
“No, Prince Tymos,” was the confirmation.
There hadn’t been any sign of large numbers of travellers on this trail either.
“Is something wrong,” Allyn asked with concern.
Tymos shrugged off his pack. “Nothing I can point to. Just a feeling.”
He could see Allyn pushing that thought aside.
“Vedric, try reaching your friends again.”
After a long moment, Vedric shrugged.
“I don’t like this sudden silence by our contacts,” Tymos admitted. “So we will leave our packs here for now, out of sight. If all is okay, we can retrieve them later. Take only weapons, and the four of you, activate your personal force screens in stealth mode.”
Vedric drew in a sudden breath as the four guardsmen disappeared from sight, and four packs looked to be being searched, closed up again and moved up behind a rock outcrop.
Allyn’s voice came out of the air. “Will you be armed, Prince Tymos?”
“No, we want to win their trust. We can’t be armed. My fears might be nothing.”
Kryslie had turned her PFS on and now she asked, “What is the layout of this village?”
They all listened intently, well used to translating the odd dialect the mutants used.
Making a decision, which really was the only one to make, Tymos directed, “Frest, Juan, Allyn, go ahead. When the trail opens up, work your way around the outermost edge of the village. Don’t use radios. Just keep note of anything odd that you see in your head.
“You think this is a trap,” Allyn’s disembodied voice stated flatly.
“Treat it like one,” Tymos directed. “I haven’t sensed any aliens, just mutants.”
Kryslie spoke softly, adding a warning. “The aliens have been very tenacious in following us - up until a week ago. Surely, they have figured out what we are doing, and there are very few possible trails to use up here. They might have arranged for reinforcements ahead of us. Assume the worst, and remember that the aliens have stealth capabilities too.”
“Perhaps we should turn back,” Allyn suggested. “We have the majority of the mutant tribes on our side.”
“Are you questioning us again?” Kryslie asked. “We have to do this. We must talk to Horst; try to warn him that his supposed allies are aliens.”
“At least have a weapon on you,” Allyn insisted. “If you think there is danger here…”
“We appreciate that you have orders to keep us safe,” Tymos said evenly. “But you must not forget that we are as capable, or more so, than you are. Approaching without weapons is a strong sign of trust. You and the others are our secret defence. If this is a trap, those who attack will not know our strength. Allyn, you go first and find a place to watch the central open space. See if you spot any dark eyed types. Frest, Juan, you circle the town and do likewise. We will follow in ten minutes.”
The three guards moved off, their passage evident only by where they brushed the leaves of the scrubby trees.
“Vedric, it might be wiser if you stay here,” Kryslie suggested.
“I come,” the guide insisted. “Cal is cousin. Married to tribe of Horst. And weapon I have…”
He pulled out a snub-nosed weapon and showed it to his companions. Tymos reached out his hand, and Vedric passed it over with a feeling of apprehension. He knew that he wasn’t meant to have such things.
Tymos examined the weapon, fiddled with the switches on the side. “It is a stun weapon, but it is low on charge. There is one, possibly two discharges left. And I doubt that any aliens will be affected by it.” He handed the weapon back. “Personally, I think your hunting knife would be of better use.”
When they walked openly and slowly into the village, Tymos and Kryslie saw at once the line of armed mutants blocking their way. Each of the five were solid, misshapen individuals, none of them resembled any of the others, and none of them had even a spark of telepathy.
In each, their stance and body language indicated a readiness to fight.
“We are definitely expected,” Tymos said mentally. “And this is not a friendly welcoming committee. Where are all the other tribes people I sensed before?”
While Tymos concentrated his attention on the five mutants ahead, Kryslie used her mind to search the stone and wood buildings edging the open space.
“There are people in all the buildings - watching from the windows,” she told her brother. “Wondering why they were sent away.”
“Greetings Leader Horst,” Tymos spoke clearly. “We have come to speak with you.”
“Told we were, coming you. Why you come?” The central mutant glared at them as if they were extremely unwelcome.
“Who spoke of us?” Tymos asked. The telepathic mutants, if they had spoken to Horst, would have told him why they were coming.
“Mind you not,” Horst snarled.
One of the others called out, “Royal filth! Torturers, murderers.” The motley collection of weapons took a more deadly looking aim.
Neither Tymos nor Kryslie allowed their neutral expressions to change. They studied the weapons, most were beam projectors that would not harm them through their personal force screen, even if they were fully charged. Several were projectile weapons, but none looked to have been properly maintained.
In part of their minds, they knew where their guards were, and that the guards had weapons aimed at these five mutants.
“We are not armed,” Kryslie spoke quietly, showing them that her hands were empty, by moving them away from her side, palms facing the mutants. “We came on a mission of peace. We ask only that you listen to what we say.”
The mutant in the centre, who was most certainly Horst, since his clothing was less ragged than that of the other four, spat a glob of saliva towards them and stared at Tymos. “Speak then.”
It was obvious by the stand off, that they were not going to be invited into the leader’s hut for this talk and equally obvious that they had already decided against anything that might be said. Still, Tymos knew he had to try to convince them of the dangers of helping the aliens, and the benefits of changing their allegiance. He began the speech he had used at each village, but the mutants merely stared without reaction.
While the mutants were ignoring her as unimportant, Kryslie tried to send a message to the missing Cal and Abbas. She hoped that they had simply been knocked unconscious, and were perhaps waking up again.
Vedric, hovering behind them, began to walk aside.
“You stop!” he was told, and a weapon was aimed at him.
“Me you know! Visit Cal, I will,” Vedric protested, but he stopped and glared at the wielder. “Why you look to shoot me, Waggy?”
“You friend of traitor. You no better than Royal filth. You stay,” Waggy insisted.
In that moment, while Tymos had paused his speech, he and Kryslie both felt a cold breeze - like a single chilly gust. They both instinctively glanced around, saw that Drake was now visible, and saw the beam that felled him.