Chapter 42 - Mutants
Suddenly, a ring of torches burst into flames, illuminating a ring of faces, and making all look like snarling gargoyles. Jonko inched back closer to the still sleeping Keleb. Tymos and Kryslie stayed as they were, making no threatening gestures. They observed the strangers, betraying neither fear, nor surprise, even though they recognised the array of odd shaped people as mutants.
If the mutant band intended surprise and intimidation, they quickly realized that the strangers were expecting them.
“You! Why here?” one of them grunted in the basic Tymorean dialect.
“Our friend was ill, he needs rest, and we sought shelter.” Kryslie spoke softly.
“Here, our place,” the same one grunted again.
“Our place, you go!” another spoke in a higher pitched voice.
“You go! You do not belong tribe!” a third distinct voice added. It was almost a growl.
A figure that had stood back beyond the ring of torches moved forward. Two of the torchbearers moved aside for him.
“Your friend bears slave mark!” the mutant that had just come forward now spoke in a clear even voice. Standing, he could see over their heads to where Keleb lay. “We are paid well for the return of slaves. We will take all of you.”
“We are not slaves!” Tymos said evenly, looking closely at the speaker, who was well formed, well spoken and showed no obvious mutation.
“The dark eyed ones will pay us well for the return of that one. And the rest of you – royals,” the mutant spat a glob of saliva I their direction. “We are to look for some who escaped our friends. We will give you to them too.”
“What harm have we done to you?” Jonko spoke up.
“You ask? Royals you are. Deny it not,” grunted one of the earlier speakers.
“Why else you here. Our place, this. Take for torture you will, if stop you we don’t.” That was the high-pitched speaker.
“Royals have done nothing for us, we owe you nothing. We owe the dark eyed ones much!” the clear spoken voice of the leader claimed. “Twelve of my tribe your kind took. Eleven now dead!”
Tymos watched the leader, as he thought at Jonko. “Jon, move slowly towards Keleb, be prepared to transmit on our instructions.”
Imperceptibly Jonko began to move but at the same moment, an energy bolt lanced from the mutant’s weapon. It just missed him and Keleb but was a blatant warning. Both Jonko and Tymos identified the weapon as Tymorean, and guessed it came from an ambushed Peace Corpsman.
Tymos also understood that that mutant leader was telepathic and he spoke again silently as he slowly stood up. “The dark eyed ones will use you as long as they want and then treat you as slaves. It is not in their nature to share the spoils of war.” His thought was forceful.
The mutant spoke in reply, not realizing that Tymos had not spoken aloud.
“Dark eyed ones promise us to remove tormentors. Too late for you it is. Dark eyed ones coming already. Want you they do. We look for you. We saw you come in and we signal them.”
“Do you know who we are?” Kryslie asked aloud, she had stood when the attention was on her brother.
“Enemies you are,” another voice stated.
“Personally, I don’t care. Four less accursed Royals will be no loss. Let your kin suffer like my tribe do.” The leader gestured for his men to encircle their prisoners.
“Father!” An indignant voice was clearly heard. A young mutant pushed his way through to the front. He had no distinctive colouration differences in the flickering torch light; nor did he resemble the man he called father, except that he had regular and undistorted features.
“You should care! They are the children of the High King.”
“And why would his accursedness let his precious whelps run loose in our place? Heh? Anything might happen to them. Why you think I tell you to stay with tribe?”
A loud babble of harsh and raucous laughs erupted.
The leader silenced the noise. “They do look like they might be what you say. Hair the colour of fire and all.”
He glared at his son. “How you know them?”
The young mutant looked down and scuffed his toes in the dust. “Xan was watching them. I went with him.”
He received a solid buffet on his shoulder. “Told you were, to keep away, boy!” gruff voice stated.
“Lucky you were, seen you weren’t. Know we do. Caught you was, dead you be now.”
“Fool boy!” the leader confirmed. “But now that we know this – we will demand more for them. Fair return. We find what our friends lost. The royals of government hunt us, like animals. Our friends hunt Royals. Get up. Rest of you we go meet friends.”
“Our friend is too ill to travel,” Kryslie said evenly, making no move to stand.
“Get up or we kill you,” the leader threatened.
“Dead captives are worth nothing,” Tymos stated calmly. He was ready to act, but appearing deceptively docile.
“Get up or we stun you,” another growled a threat.
Kryslie stood, casually. “We are not here to harm any of you,” she said quietly. “Your friend, Kellex, tortured our friend and he needs rest.”
“Fair deal,” gruff voice claimed. “Royals torture mutants.”
Tymos spoke with deliberate calmness. “Keleb tortured nobody. He was trying to rescue friends. He is an empath. Do you know what that means?” He saw blank expressions. “It means that he would have felt every pain he inflicted on another.”
“Too bad! My people tortured at Royal palace. They just try to help friends too.”
“Did they torture you?” Tymos asked of the leader. “You personally?”
“They had not begun yet.” The leader implied that they would have in time.
“You have them wrong!” Kryslie said gently. Memories came into her mind, of the High King and what he had tried to do. “They are not the barbarians that the dark eyed ones claim. They truly care about all the people on this world, even you. They tried to help the others by stabilizing their genetic make up. Yes, they failed with many - but your people could not accept the help. They willed their own death. And truly, they feel great sorrow at their failure.”
“I do not believe you!” the mutant told them. “They killed my people!”
“There is one way I can convince you,” Kryslie spoke again. “You have telepathic abilities; you heard my brother speak to our friend. Look into my mind and into my brother’s mind and read the truth.”
“I tried that and could not!” the leader claimed.
“If you are telepathic, try now; we are no longer shielded against you!” Kryslie urged. She wanted the mutants help.
Kryslie felt the mutant’s intrusion in her mind but did not flinch. Tymos felt his touch and the withdrawal.
“What you say is true!” the mutant admitted and it was a difficult admission to make. “I did not think it was possible. The dark eyed ones have made us many marvellous promises. It seems I have been a fool to believe them. It puts me in a difficult position. If I let you escape, they will punish us; they will kill some of the tribe in retribution.”
One of the other mutants spoke again, breaking the silence.
“Listen not. Liars they are!”
“Never have they helped us!” a second voice grated.
“Help us prison, help us dead!” a third muttered.
“Silence!” the leader spoke sharply and his followers obeyed.
“What sort of life can you offer us?” the mutant asked. “We are outlaws, mutates and dare not even show ourselves in civilized places? We cannot even breed true or consistently?”
“We can stabilize your genes, if you are willing to accept what must be done; it cannot succeed unwilling. If you help us, we will give our word that we will not act as the instruments of your death and we will treat you with the respect due to you by right as a Tymorean citizen.” Kryslie promised.
“Kill us they will.” A mutterer continued.
“With them we rule you!” came another voice.
“Give us guns, show you!” The words were accompanied by the firing of a paralysing ray, aimed at Kryslie. She deflected it harmlessly into the ground.
“Do that, how you?” asked the one who had fired the weapon and he reached out to grab her hand.
“You fool, Moreg!” the leader’s child spoke. “Do you really think that your precious dark eyed friends will treat you as an equal? They would not give you their most powerful weapons. They give you mere toys!”
“How you know? Prove you!” Moreg demanded.
“I don’t have to! You obey my Father! You obey him!” the child argued.
“I would like to know,” the leader asked his son.
“I tried to tell you father,” the child stated. “Xan, the young alien who rescued you, he never believed his elders promises; he knows they can’t abide the sight of us!”
“How can we help you?” the leader asked, making up his mind. “My people are yours to command.”
“We don’t have much time!” Tymos spoke up. “If you can take our friends, Jonko and Keleb, away from here before the aliens come and take a message to our father telling him where we are and where the dark eyed ones are based, you will be doing us a great service.”
“How many of you are telepaths?” Kryslie asked.
“Three of us here, but there are others in other tribes. We can send your message quickly. Will you let the dark eyed ones capture you again?”
“Yes, we escaped once and can do so again. We do not want them to suspect your loyalty.” Tymos stated briefly.
“Jon, leave now!” Kryslie broke in urgently. The mutant leader threw his weapon to Jonko who caught it neatly. It was another of the scout group’s weapons. These mutants must have taken these for themselves before the aliens had the chance. Jonko used the strap to loop it on his shoulder and leant over to lift Keleb. He followed the mutant designated by the leader.
“What is your message?” the leader asked.
Tymos worded it telepathically and the leader’s son quietly followed after Jonko and his escort.
“My son will send it and I will wait with you for them.” The leader watched as Tymos and Kryslie arranged themselves in a semblance of paralysis.