Chapter 6 - Challenge
From all three of the newcomers, Tymos sensed anger at the insult. The anger was hotter from the two subordinates than from the young commander. The latter spoke haltingly in the main Tymorean dialect.
“It is you we want! If you come with us we will kill no more!”
“What if we don’t come with you?” Kryslie taunted him softly. She had sensed the cause of the nausea. He loathed the killing that had been done by his soldiers. “Do you think that killing more of the ugly ones will make us? It will save us the trouble! All the ugly ones know that we kill their kind!”
To the alien, she seemed utterly serious. He felt that she would as readily kill his warriors as she had implied she would allow mutants to die.
“I am to take you prisoner. If you escape, I am to kill you!” Xan stated his mind full of conflicting thoughts. He was thinking, “They are ruthless, like they want me to be. I cannot be like that.”
Kryslie held the eyes of the alien. Tymos sensed that the leader’s companions were not willing to maintain the deadlock. If their leader did not act decisively now, they would act against him.
Behind him, one of his two lieutenants was muttering. “Cocky whelps, I’d like to show them how an Aeronite fights and teach them to respect their elders.”
Xan knew some of the men in his command resented him for his youth and his promotion to command this mission. He had to end this stalemate. He spoke softly to the men behind him. “Take them.”
The two warriors, fired weapons at Kryslie and Tymos; the beams were reflected back at the weapons, fusing them into a useless lumps of alloy. The aliens dropped the glowing hot metal that must have been felt through their insulated gauntlets. They continued moving forward, convinced by the lack of movement that the captives were too frightened to move.
“You cannot kill us with those weapons,” Kryslie said bluntly.
“Your protections should have been neutralised,” one of the lieutenants swore at her.
“Guess what? They weren’t,” Kryslie warned them.
The two mutants behind her were backing away, glancing left and right for somewhere to go, but the ring of aliens were still between them and freedom. Still, they drew their knives and prepared to fight - almost challenging the aliens that were behind the two Royals.
“We’re going to teach you little runts to respect your elders. And don’t expect any help from those mutant vermin. They’d be wise to keep out of it.”
Neither Tymos nor Kryslie needed to put up a show of preparing to defend themselves. With a quick jerk, they each ripped off their travelling cloak, lest that be used to incapacitate them.
Then they instinctively relaxed their stance to be ready when the Aeronite warriors attacked. In instants, they had evaluated their opponents’ strengths and weaknesses, knew they were overconfident and hindered by their armour. Against that, these two aliens had years of experience, as well as greater weight and reach.
Thinking their targets were unprepared, the Aeronites attacked. They laughed as their quarry moved back two steps, and then roared as the children suddenly sprinted towards them, used their reaching arms as a step to catapult them over their heads and to remove their armour headpieces on the way. The watchers were enraged at the insult to their superiors and stared intently, hoping to see the Tymorean whelps pulverised.
Tymos and Kryslie were able to turn quickly; their opponents were more cumbersome and turned to find their helmets flying at their faces. The incredible momentum of the heavy helmets was too great to be avoided. The warriors went down, unconscious, with bleeding faces.
While Kryslie checked that the aliens were in fact unconscious, Tymos walked back towards the young leader and faced him squarely.
“Order you remaining warriors to leave the town,” Tymos insisted. “Before more of them die.”
“You are in no position to make demands,” the alien commander countered. “You are surrounded. You have no weapons and the mutants can’t and won’t help you. If you surrender now, I will treat you fairly.”
“Oh no,” Kryslie countered. “You, personally, might mean what you say, but I have no intention of becoming a guest of your Warlord again.”
“You have little time to change your mind. I have summoned reinforcements. They will come and level this village and kill all those who foolishly sided with you.”
“That won’t make you look so good will it?” Tymos suggested. “Having to yell for help.”
He heard Krys’s mental voice saying, “He truly doesn’t want to kill us, but he won’t stop his warriors killing here either. It would brand him weak. We have to end this. The mutants here are only safe while all attention is on us. We could fight our way free, but we can’t kill all the aliens before any more mutants are killed.”
Tymos glanced around, Vedric and Horst had moved close again, for the circle of aliens was getting restless. He spoke aloud, but only so Krys and the two mutants heard. “The force-screens of the aliens do not protect them from knives if you aim for the joints in the armour.”
Horst chuckled. “What you planning?”
“It’s what I am planning - an offer that this alien won’t dare refuse,” Kryslie said in a low voice. “If you see a chance to run for it - take it.”
“Want knife,” Horst offered. “Give you spare.”
“Give it to Tymos. I won’t need one.”
Horst passed the knife over, so that not even the circle of watchers would realise he had. Then he moved away a pace.
Kryslie made a show of looking the alien leader up and down, as if sizing him up. She stepped away from her brother, glanced at the circle of watchers and spoke to the alien.
“Your subordinates are losing faith in you,” she greeted and from the tensing of the alien’s stance, she knew he was aware of it. “You have to do something. We too have reinforcements coming. That is why we have been playing with you, keeping the attention on us. Most of the mutants have gone, and you will never find them.”
It was a lie, but the alien didn’t know it. “We don’t have to stay now. We could fight our way free, but that would mean a lot more of your warriors will die. Do you want that?”
The low, one-sided conversation Kryslie was having with the alien was having a result. She knew what his superior was like and was predicting his reaction to this situation.
“I’ll offer you a compromise,” Kryslie taunted. “I have no weapon but I will fight you hand to hand. If I win, you will let us go and you will leave the town of the ugly ones.”
Kryslie’s proposal seemed like the chance he desperately needed to end the farce.
“If you lose, you will come with me,” the alien insisted in return.
“Hmm, but we won’t promise not to try to escape later! I will even let you keep wearing that little hat pin at your side.”
Xan felt at his waist for the ornamental dagger that all soldiers of his race wore. He had never used it as a weapon. He considered the proposal.
If he didn’t accept the challenge, would his warriors think him a coward? Was it honourable to fight children? He could easily overcome her, didn’t she realise that? Those Royals lived a sheltered life until they were adult. There was no way she could have learnt the type of survival fighting that he had.
Yet he had a moment of unease. He had seen what these children had done to his lieutenants. He heard the murmuring of the circle of watchers. He could order them to rush these two children, but he doubted that would do more than give them a chance to run away.
No, he decided, to fail to accept their challenge would mean an end to his career. He must fight and win to retain the loyalty of his remaining men.
He saw his two lieutenants beginning to rouse, and the boy with his back to them. He hoped they would grab the boy, while he fought the girl. The two mutants were too frightened to do anything that might rouse his ire.
Kryslie took a step forward, while Tymos moved the mutants out of the way. She wondered if it had occurred to this young alien commander to wonder why she had proposed the challenge not her brother. Probably not, since he had grasped the seemingly foolish offer. No doubt, he believed he could take her down.
Tymos hid his smile, aware of his sister’s musings. He would not make the same mistake in being arrogantly confident, but he knew how well his sister fought, especially unarmed. He had another plan. He saw how intent the watchers were when their superiors were fighting, and they were no less intent now as Kryslie began to circle her opponent. They were waiting to see her get beaten and would never expect his mental attack. Unlike his earlier use of a mental command, when they turned off the stealth function of their armour, this time he was more subtle. He focussed on two watchers and encouraged their minds to be engrossed in the fight. He told the two mutants to escape by running between them. The next nearest watchers saw them coming, and began to move, but they seemed to hear in their minds, “Let them go, they have served their purpose.”
Tymos widened his focus to four aliens. He waited until they had returned to watching their leader and gave a subtle signal to Horst and Vedric. They had only run as far as the nearest hut and now come creeping back - right up to two oblivious watchers, and those watchers went down, bleeding from a perfectly aimed knife wounds. The mutants dropped to the ground and began to creep to the next alien watchers, who were also oblivious.
Six aliens died before Tymos sensed the other watchers about to react. He warned the mutants to flee.
Tymos turned his attention back to his sister, seeming to be unaware of the two lieutenants, who were returning to consciousness.
The alien commander had tried to grab Kryslie in his first abrupt rush, and had found himself swung around and sent reeling off-balance. He considered that an amateur’s trick, and quickly regained his stability. He knew how easy it was to handle a heavier opponent if the leverage was right. However, he now knew that Kryslie was fast.
They went back to circling, and swaying from side to side, ready to make a rush when they saw an advantage. Tymos knew Kryslie was merely defending herself as she studied her opponent’s moves.
With a fierce yell, the alien launched himself at her again, fuelling his anger with the memory of how they had tricked him, and the desperate need to prove his fitness to command this mission. He saw Kryslie begin to edge aside, and rapidly redirected his lunge, expecting to knock her down, or at least off balance. Instead, at the very last instant, she ducked, and he flew over her shoulder. He impacted the ground hard, but rolled immediately and regained his feet.
The look on his face became more set, he would be expecting that trick, and he had plenty of his own from his days as a street brat in one of Aerdna’s major cities.
Thinking to mislead his opponent, he dropped into the fighter’s crouch again, and began to sway, then when he began to lunge at her again, and he saw her ready to duck, he leapt and kicked out with both feet.
His feet hit something that gave under him, but before he could twist to regain his feet, he felt a firm grip on his ankles and he was swung around like he was a clay disc about to be thrown. His arms flailed out, trying to grab hold of something, but he was just out of reach of the other child and the boy was grinning.
His ankles were released and seconds later, he landed heavily on the ground. Anger forced him up, and adrenalin deadened the pain. He gave up any idea of fighting fairly. The slight red headed girl was stronger than she looked, and someone had trained her well. He rushed at her again, and drove his head into her stomach. He heard her breath forced out as he landed on her. He grabbed her face and intended to bang it on the ground, but he couldn’t move it. He raised a fist to strike her unconscious, but his arm was grabbed and held rigidly. Blue eyes stared into his face; brought to his mind all his fears and the sure knowledge that Warlord Kellex would have him whipped, if not killed for failing.
Then before he realised what was happening, the girl tossed him off her, and twisted his arm up behind his back to the point of agony. He lost his footing and found himself face to the dirt, gripped by hands that might have been bands of iron. He could not struggle, or the pain would escalate.
He heard the soft voice next to his ear. “Now, my alien non-friend, will you admit that I beat you? Or do you want to see how you fare when I am not merely defending myself.”
The alien struggled to free his face. “I will kill you!”
Kryslie raised a fist to knock him out, but held the blow.
“Finish him,” Tymos told her. “He is no better than these others, who should have stayed unconscious.”
“No, bro,” Kryslie thought back at her twin. “He hasn’t a choice. He has to keep trying but his heart isn’t in it.”
While her attention seemed to be off him, the alien gave a convulsive heave, and he rolled so the pressure was off his arm. With his other, he tried to draw the deadly sharp ornamental dagger, only to feel the sheath was empty. He looked desperately around, and tried to get free of the girl’s grip. He saw his lieutenants, with blood soaking their uniforms, and knew they were dead. He expected to die next, but his captor released him and stood up.
“Looking for this?” Kryslie asked, holding the dagger away from him. She saw he opponent slump back onto the ground, his face seemed to be resigned to imminent death. His mind almost welcomed it. She made no move to use it, but pushed it behind her belt. He dared to begin to sit up. She watched him, but stayed where she was.
The other one, the boy was firing at his men, using weapons he must have taken from his lieutenants. He must have found the EM pulsar too, for his men were going down. Some were running. He made one final desperate grab for his dagger, felt something as hard as steel strike his neck and he welcomed oblivion.
Tymos put his commandeered weapons down. The last of the subordinate aliens had gone beyond the ring of huts.
Kryslie finished frisking her opponent for other weapons, and straightened.
“What should we do with this one?” she asked her brother. “From his uniform, he is a Commander. Though he looks to be little older than we are.”
“Tie him up, and leave him. We need to make sure the tribes folk here get away safely. I don’t know if he was telling the truth about reinforcements, but I don’t want to risk being here if they come. We couldn’t survive a bomb dropped on us. The other aliens are fleeing to the north. They may know of another baseship up there - or that might be where Kellex went. If he landed without being seen the first time, he might have done so again.”
“We need to find it,” Kryslie stated, but she sensed Tymos didn’t agree.
“There is work here for us first. Our coming caused many deaths.”
Horst was running back towards them with a coil of rope. “Many injured non-friends. We guard. What you do? Hang them like they hung Cal and Abbas? And killed your guards?”
Tymos shook his head. “There has been enough death. Tie them up. They can be a message to their kind. Lay the dead non-friends out neatly. What will you do with those of the tribe who died?”
“We dig in forest. It is our way. Kin of dead, already said good-bye. Women and children leaving for Vedric’s village. We take all we can from here.”
“I would question the alien captives, but I do not think there is time for that,” Kryslie said. “Horst, the rest of your people must leave quickly.” She took the rope from Horst and used it to bind the alien commander. She left him where he had finally fallen.
“I’ll look for Allyn, Juan and Frest,” Tymos said quietly. “Can you see to Drake?”
Kryslie nodded, and went over to when Drake lay. Any hope that he may have survived was instantly dashed. There was a hole in his chest that went halfway through him. He had been hit by a disintegrator beam. He had bled very little, for the searing beam had cauterised the flesh. Grief rose within her, but she pushed it deeper into her mind. She needed to find cloth to wrap him in. With this in mind, she went to wards the ring of huts.
Someone else’s grief impinged on her thoughts. She was drawn to the source, and found, in one of the outer ring of huts, a woman kneeling beside a young boy, rocking with silent sobs. The woman was not attractive, nor was the child, but Kryslie saw only the grief. She knelt on the other side of the boy, and felt for a pulse. It was there, but weak. Looking at the boys clothes, it was obvious that he had bled a lot. His face was white, clammy and cold. Without asking what had happened, Kryslie drew the aura to her and sent it into the child. She watched as the face regained some colour, and the pulse grew stronger. Then she ran one hand over the child and sensed the head trauma, and sent power to help it reverse. She took a moment to sense what Tymos was doing, knowing he could help more, but he was dealing with Allyn, and the view through his mind showed how he had died. Part of his mind was aware of more aliens approaching.
She considered the boy’s condition. The bleeding wound had closed; the concussion would heal with rest.
“You have to leave here,” Kryslie told the woman. “I have managed to help your child a little. He has a chance now to recover, but you have to leave. More of the aliens will come here and deal harshly with anyone they find.”
The woman realised the improvement in the boy’s condition. He was no longer deathly white.
“You helped him!” she said aloud. “You didn’t kill him. You are Royal, but…”
“Royal, yes, but be are not torturers of murderers,” Kryslie insisted. “No matter what those aliens said.”
“Thanks to you,” the woman said, lifting the boy.
“I am glad to help, but I have dead of my own to tend. Have you spare blankets?”
“There. What you need, take. I will go.”
Kryslie found some coarsely woven blankets and began to return to Drake. Vedric found her.
“I tend Drake. You find other.”
Knowing that Tymos was still busy with Frest, she went to where she had last sensed Juan. She knew what to expect. The back of his head was missing, disintegrated. He would have had no chance of giving a warning. She lifted Juan’s body and carried him to where her brother was. As she walked, she sent a prayer to the Guardians of Peace, to take the spirits of the dead into their keeping.
Vedric relieved her of her burden and began to wrap him. Tymos stopped him briefly and removed something from around his neck.
Horst stood in the forest where a dozen long holes had been dug between the low trees. Some were being filled in; four were waiting for the bodies of the dead guardsmen.
“Only twelve mutants dead. Many more hurt, but will live. Lots more of unfriends dead. They wait for crows,” Horst told them. “Be worse if not for you. Vedric tell what unfriends do when angry.”
Tymos lay the body of each of their guards in a hole, and the two remaining mutants began to fill it in. Kryslie shared his memories of the four men, and the knowledge that they would have to get word of the deaths back to the palace.
She was aware of Horst trying to get her attention. She glanced at him and saw he carried two saplings. She realised that the other filled holes had newly planted trees.
“They gave life for us. Now they give life to forest.”
As she re-planted the trees, with Tymos planting two more, Kryslie felt tears filling her eyes at the realisation of the beautiful simplicity of the ritual.
Tymos rose from the last planting and spoke to Horst. “Thank you, my friend. I wish we could do more to help you, but we must leave here.”
Horst nodded. “No ill I mean, but rather you hunted away from here.”
“I take no offense,” Tymos assured him. “Please remember what I said. You and your tribe have the same rights as Royals and commoners. If you need help, you just need to ask.”
“Remember I will, Royal as friend,” Horst agreed. “But where must you go? Home?”
“Not yet. If there is another alien base further north, we need to find it.”
“Unfriends come from north, most times. Not safe to go. You alone.”
Kryslie thought at him, “It might be wise to be seen to have gone south. I trust Horst, but if any of his are caught, they might not be able to help telling what they know.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Tymos agreed. “We will go back to where our packs are and head back south. Where is Vedric?”
“Need guide? Vedric think sun shines out of you. But he went back for stuff of cousin. He taking Cal’s wife back to tribe of Keltin. I send him to you.”
Horst walked away, and Tymos looked at his sister. He didn’t need to verbalise his thoughts, or even try to sort them mentally.
“We could not have fought them all,” Kryslie said, wiping her eyes, and sending grief to be put aside for another time. “We are not gods, and this is war even if it has not been declared. All we can do is see what more we can learn about the aliens. If we find this other base, we can send word home.”
“How? The radios and sat phone were destroyed, and I do not think we have the mind-range to contact father from here,” Tymos revealed. “And I think that if we were able to report, we would be ordered back home. No, Reslic would send more guards to bring us back. I am not ready to return yet.”
Kryslie felt the same reluctance. “Lets sort out the stuff from all the packs, there may be personal stuff that should go back to the guard’s families.”
Vedric found them repacking their backpacks. He had a woman with him, and they both had bundles strapped to their back.
“Horst say you go south. You wise.”
“We want it to appear that way - though we will take a different path to the ones you know,” Tymos told him.
“You not plan to hunt more unfriends?” Vedric asked with concern.
“We must,” Tymos insisted. “There has to be another base up here, and we are the only ones available to look for it. The aliens that attacked here were too numerous to be from the group that was following us.”
“Trust you don’t, all of Horst’s tribe,” Vedric stated.
“We had no chance to talk to them and convince them of the truth. Perhaps they realise it now, but many might blame us for bringing death here. And perhaps they are right, but the aliens had no need to kill to find us. We never hid from them.”
Vedric looked at the woman who was with him, as if concerned about her.
The woman said, “Hated you I did. Cal told me of you, and what you claim. He told Horst, but Horst believed aliens. They gave us weapons and told us that you were liars… called Cal a traitor and silenced him.”
Tymos and Kryslie waited while she controlled her grief.
“Hated you, I did, but you helped Morag’s boy. Those others never help us like that. I would help you if can.”
“There is something you could do,” Tymos suggested, glancing at Kryslie to see her nod. “We must get message to father. Could you take package to Mithas?”
“Far is that,” Vedric said thoughtfully. “I promise to bring Shera to my village.”
“We will do it,” Shera, Cal’s widow, said.
Vedric looked at her, sensed her determination and agreed. “What we take?”
Tymos took a cloth wrapped package from his pocket, while Kryslie bundled up the small pile of personal effects she had taken from the guards’ packs.
“Allyn, one of our guards had a wife and two little daughters. Frest had a girlfriend; Juan was his parent’s only child and Drake had many friends. I have their identidisks, and some of their personal things. I have written a message on the cloth. If you can get these to Mithas, he will see that they get back to the Estate.”
Shera took the bundle from them. “We are, it seems, like. You too, have grief.”
Tymos and Kryslie finished sorting through the packs, as a reason to remain until the last of Horst’s tribe had headed south. Then they hid the remaining gear then moved off the track into the thickly growing trees, and used them to cover their trail north. If the aliens knew of the mutant’s trail, they did not want to meet them. They had taken only the barest minimum of equipment in their packs, one change of clothes, and all the remaining dry trail food and water, plus firestarters and the spare knives. The other weapons were low in power and they did not have the time to set up the solar recharger for them. When the food was gone, they would live on what they could scrounge or hunt. They intended to leave no sign of their passage.