Sunlord (8 page)

"Exactly. He is useless without our aid."

"Useless all right," quipped Oiop.

A silent pall fell over the gathering. Many long
seconds passed as the Elder thought. At last he came to a
resolution. "Capac, take those who are willing with you on this
journey. Our weakened tribe can afford only three hunters, so
choose wisely. Never in my long life have I seen the Eloprin take
commands from the Currach but I see mutual cooperation is crucial.
We will aid you as best we can and our hearts lay in your success.
Bring pride to our tribe Capac, we look forward to the day of your
safe return."

* * *

The Vizier was startled from his reverie by a
call.

"...ian. Ashian!"

He realised it was his name, he hadn't gotten used to
it yet and his mind always seemed to lapse back into calling
himself the Vizier. But his childhood name seemed more fitting in
the forest environment, the city and his city title left far
behind.

He put his empty bowl aside and scrambled to his
feet. He made his way through the darkness to the glowing embers of
the council fire. The Elder sat alone on a mat, the rest of the
tribe dispersed to go about their duties.

As Ashian approached the Elder put down his pipe. "We
have come to a decision. Capac and two other hunters are to
accompany you along your journey. I hope you meet with
success."

Ashian bowed low. "Thank you, Elder."

"Where do you intend to start?"

Ashian stopped in thought. "I have been thinking. If
we could go to the place where Capac killed the Sunlords we should
be able to get one of their craft."

A wry smile split the old Eloprin's lips. "You just
make sure you do your job and rid this earth of those Sunlord
scroch. I suggest you go and prepare you things. Take all the food
you like from my hut, and get Oiop to help you pack. The party will
leave at first light."

"I am in your debt."

The Elder watched as Ashian backed away from the
feeble firelight. He put his pipe back to his lips, praying that he
had made the right decision.

He knew not how long he sat there mediating in the
silent night, listening the sounds of the forest. He was rudely
awoken by a voice in his ear.

"Elder, I must speak with you."

His large eyes snapped back into focus.

"Why, Myshia, what is it?"

"I must go with Capac and the Currach."

The Elder was dumbfounded. "What? Are you sure, my
child. It may be a suicide jaunt and I don't want you hurt."

"I must go," the supple Eloprin pressed.

The Elder became suspicious. "Has your dream
extended? What is your dream spirit telling you."

Myshia shrugged uncomfortably. "I...I saw the
Currach's face clearly. In the dream he took my hand and together
we floated off into the air, away from the terrible place were the
creature had killed my child. I can't explain it, I just have this
feeling that I must go with him."

"Well, this is a turn I did not expect," pondered the
Elder. "But you must follow your instincts and feelings. If you are
sure you wish to risk death, then that is your decision."

"I must go."

"Very well then. I shall talk to Capac."

* * *

Ashian shivered as he stepped through the cool mists
of the forest. A pale light of dawn cast a ghostly illumination
over the camp, the night chills still present in the air. He was
dressed in hides and furs instead of his city robes that were
ripped beyond repair. At his belt were several small pouches
containing healing herbs that the Elder had given him and shown
briefly how to use. He carried no weapons.

He squatted low as he washed his hands in the icy
cold stream near the bathing pool. Shivering, he sipped from a
wooden mug.

Capac came down to the pool.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Ashian nodded, and polished off the rest of his
drink. Noticing Capac's curiosity he explained.

"Its amaroli. The wise men drink it to increase
visual imagery, vitality and also gives pain relief."

"Where did you get it? I have never heard of such a
concoction."

Ashian laughed. "Get it? Why, it is the mid-part of
my urine."

The Eloprin hunter recoiled in shock. "What?!"

"Why are you so surprised? Amaroli is a long
tradition."

Capac shook his head. "And you say we are the
savages! Come on, its time to go now."

Ashian stood and collected together his pack, then
followed Capac away from the clearing.

"Are you sure you know how to use that thing?" asked
Ashian as he noticed Capac carried the fire weapon. He had taught
Capac how to use it, or, at least, as much as he knew. Neither knew
what the digital readout showed rounds remaining and the array of
coloured buttons were for auto targeting.

"I know how to make the fire work," grinned Capac.
"That's all I need, isn't it?"

Ashian nodded as he recalled the deadly hail of
bullets that had torn the practice target into shreds. Few of the
villagers had been able to sleep with Capac practicing his aim with
the strange weapon.

They arrived at the village clearing where the Elder
awaited. Alongside him stood a female Eloprin covered in
camouflaging sap and paint. Capac raised a palm in greeting.

"We are prepared, Elder. Where is Huso?"

As if on cue the large burly Huso emerged from a
tent, his study axe in one hand. He came and joined Capac and
Ashian.

"Who is the third hunter to accompany us?" asked
Ashian.

"I am," said Myshia.

Ashian gasped. "You? Elder, she is a female! How can
she hunt the Sunlords?"

All within earshot were taken aback. Myshia's eyes
narrowed, her stance moving subtlety to become suddenly
threatening, one hand upon the knife sheathed at her side.

Ashian looked around in confusion. He noticed the
Elder had fallen into silence, his brown eyes raised to the sky as
if judging the time of day. "What are you doing, Elder?"

The Elder brought his eyes back to the Currach. "Oh,
I was just seeing how long you were going to survive. Not many
outlast five seconds after insulting Myshia."

"Its just that in the city the women simply attend
the men," Ashian defended. "They hold no high positions in the
Council - it is written that they shall not take part in such
matters. Their task is the rearing of young..." He died our as he
saw how weak his argument sounded.

"Myshia is a very skilled hunter," growled Capac.
"With her knife she could slit your guts with one sweep."

Ashian signalled acquiescence, his eyes lowered. "I
am no judge. I'm sorry, my city views have no place here."

Capac seemed appeased, but the Elder wasn't quite so
sure.

"Are you sure you must go?" he asked of Myshia. "If
the Currach doesn't trust you..."

Myshia nodded firmly, her large green eyes set. "He
will soon have to learn my trust."

Capac slung his pack over one shoulder, the Sunlord's
fire weapon slung over the other. "We have to go now. I want to get
as far as possible before the day is out."

They all moved to Capac's command. Huso took the
lead, his axe over one shoulder. Next was the female Myshia who, as
she passed, threw an imperious scathing look at the Currach who had
insulted her. Capac bade the Elder farewell.

"This deed shall be long remembered," he said.

The Elder nodded. "Legends will be made of your
journey Capac. You are a brave hunter."

Capac's shoulders squared proudly. Without turning
back he made off after Huso and Myshia.

Ashian motioned goodbye to the Elder. "I know many of
your tribe are against the Currach, but I hope our success will
change their hearts."

"May the forest spirits be with you," called the
Elder after him.

Ashian smiled slightly. "My Religion will give me
strength, wise one. Someday I will return to learn your teachings.
Maybe the rift between our races can be fused."

"I look forward to it. But go now!"

Ashian turned and had to jog to catch up to the rest
of his fellows. The rifle at Capac's side caught his attention, and
to Ashian's eye every ounce seemed to represent a pound of dead and
bloody flesh. The evil weapon of killing weighed heavily upon his
mind and invaded his thoughts.

Stepping through the cold mists and towering trees
Ashian felt a surge of adrenalin.

They were away!

* * *

Deep in another part of the huge jungle a dirty
huddled form clothed in stinking, half cured furs sobbed wild cries
of desperation into the towering impassive trees.

Shata-Bera looked deeply into K'iop's eyes as slowly
the life died from the old Currach's body.

"Don't die K'iop," moaned Shata, facetted eyes
burning with torment. Shata's face was a mass of ugly scars and
welts were the fire had scorched and blackened his flesh. These old
partially healed wounds covered one eye completely and distorted
the right side of his face, the young Currach's now bald head
strangely altered to look almost alien. His body had never fully
recovered and he walked with a slight limp and was unable to move
the clawed fingers of his right hand.

Shata reached out and cradled the head of the Currach
who had saved his life that time many moons ago when the Sunlords
had attacked his band of rebels. K'iop had nursed Shata through the
terrible tortuous period after his burning, soothing the blisters
with a mixture of roots and resins to ease the pain. For many days
Shata had been delirious in agony, every movement sparking a
tearing wave of pain. Even the act of breathing stretched and broke
the skin, exposing raw flesh. He had been lucky to escape without
infection, and without K'iop's help would certainly never have made
it.

In the weeks that past since K'iop taught Shata how
to survive in the forest. The old Currach taught Shata all he knew,
and now Shata, once a city clergyman, lived off the forest like a
native Eloprin hunter.

A close friendship had formed between the two
Currach, a bond that gave each courage in face of their
predicament. Here in the wild jungles they not only gathered food
but hunted Sunlords.

They had found an abandoned Sunlord camp and had
raided what seemed useful. A laser rifle lay among the debris, its
barrel twisted and battered and its surface marred with deep
scratches where a cartridge had backfired. Together they had
managed to operate the weapon and Shata had become a proficient
sharpshooter.

They mounted several attacks against the Sunlords,
most failing due to mishaps and malfunctions of the shonky laser
rifle, meaning they had to retreat as fast as possible. But on two
occasions they had managed to take out a Sunlord, a small victory
against an all-powerful enemy.

Shata's terrible wounds had barely covered over when
K'iop fell to a virus. They had been gathering roots in the
swamplands when a large insect had stung the old Currach, and the
strange poison acted quickly to reduce K'iop into almost total
incapacity within hours. As the large orange sun was setting behind
the tree line K'iop sheltered in the hut he had constructed in the
trees.

Shata brought a bowl of water close with his left
hand. K'iop sipped from the bowl, then coughed, racking his ill and
frail form brutally. "I'm going, my son."

"Pull through," pleaded Shata. "You'll be all right,
you just need some rest."

But Shata knew deep down he was lying to himself;
K'iop was dying.

"Do your tutor proud," whispered K'iop. "Avenge the
Sunlords for the atrocities done to my people."

"What are you talking about, you're coming with me!
We'll do it together, just as soon as you're well again."

K'iop shook his head. "I have never felt closer to
death in my life. No, you must go alone. When I am gone..."

Shata would not hear of this. He vainly tried to
forced some water between K'iop's lips but the later responded
weakly. Night fell, and his breathing became shallow.

By the time the moon was high the old Currach was
dead.

Shata's quiet moans echoed through the jungle - sobs
of despair and loneliness as his only companion's hand turned cold
and stiff in his own.

And then Shata was alone.

* * *

Ashian found his pace slipping as he tried to keep up
with the forest Eloprin. It was a long way from the cobbled
Churchyard streets and leisurely evening strolls of home where his
only exercise was walking across the market square.

Ashian felt so much more secure with his allies
company and the towering forest no longer daunted him like it did
when he first ventured into the wild in search of the Eloprin. He
found himself gazing at birds flying from tree to tree almost
meditatively. That was until they hit the wild patch.

"The country gets pretty rugged here, Ashian," called
Capac over his shoulder. "We are cutting through the edge of the
swamps."

Very quickly Ashian was no longer sightseeing, rather
he fought through a tangled chaos of undergrowth as plants ripped
and clawed at his passing. Trees were like sentient giants
overseeing their domain.

The band of four natives were strung out in a long
line as they progressed through the forest. Capac had taken the
lead and he selected the most efficient path through the trees. The
educated hunter knew what rivers to avoid and where dangerous bogs
existed. Following his lead was the female Myshia who clambered
over the terrain as easily as Capac. She was unlike any of the
women Ashian had known when he was in his city. Whereas the normal
women were slumped and obedient Myshia walked with a light step and
her wide eyes shone with vibrant, icy pride.

Following Ashian was Huso who made sure the city
dweller did not lose himself in the thick vines and suffocating
growth.