A Fate
Foreshadowed
FOT
VOLUME I: A Fate Foreshadowed
VOLUME II: Legends and Whispers
VOLUME III: Set in Stone
Volume One
A Fate Foreshadowed
FOT
A Fate Foreshadowed
Copyright 2011, Stephen J. Young
Smashwords Edition
www.stephenjyoung.bloogoo.com.au
Stephen J Young
1/34 Sheridan Court
Summerhill TAS, 7250
Cover art by Patrick McEvoy
All rights reserved.
The Library of Congress has cataloged this edition.
ISBN: 978-0-9871277-0-9
AUSTRALIA
This book shall not be circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or Transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, orotherwise without written permission from the author and publisher.
In memory of
Christopher John Uren
(1965–2002)
CONTENTS
1 Cayleen
8 Buried
9 Trisbel
10 The Storm
11 Zelon
12 Loofyre
14 Wardell
15 Boxed In
16 The Ja Sem
17 Latii
19 The Ricda
20 Catrel
23 Deception
24 Voltrax
28 The Roval
32 Recall
33 Evlad
36 Setchol
37 Xenof
38 Tod
39 Maniran
42 Drugas
43 Sedon
44 Mayetess
45 The Blizzard
47 Lost
48 The Master
For further information on the author, please visit:
www.stephenjyoung.bloogoo.com.au
Map
Chapter One
“COME, young Fait,” a rumbling voice came from the shadows of a large wooden doorway. A massive, fur-covered hand, beckoned. “A terrible night to be stranded, lucky you found my home,” a distant howling, “and just in time it would seem. If the cold had not taken your life, the bazlaws may well have.” A further wailing confirmed the black beast’s observation, “Come!”
Fot stood no more than five and a half feet tall. He wanted to enter, to dive in out of the tremendous cold, yet he stood like a petrified tree trunk with ice and snow on his heavy-hooded coat, on his tiny pointed nose, and his equally pointed chin − ice making crystalline the short, brown, thick hair that fringed the little else that could be seen of his green-gray face. The only real movement was his chattering teeth; and how they chattered, to the point of nearly chipping.
“Enter, Fait, you are safe now, come and warm yourself by my fire.”
It was enough to break Fot from his frozen state. With his head now nodding in time with his chattering teeth, he managed to glance up, his coat cracking from the movement. In spite of eyelids nearly sealed shut by the cold, he saw a huge, half-naked, heavily furred beast, with four powerful arms and hands large enough to crush his small head.
“You are letting in the cold,” the beast said. “Please, you have nothing to fear.”
In the ensuing pause, eyes met eyes, until Fot was overcome by dizziness, and forced to look away.
In an attempt to mask his pathetically weak state, his numb lips parted further, ice-spiked air tore at his four lungs as he spoke, “I would be grateful of your fire, Master.” Fot surprised himself at how composed he sounded. Like roots being pulled from the ground, he broke from the snow and ice, and propelled his heavy, numbed feet forward.
The wooden floorboards proved slippery, and the young visitor would have fallen, had the beast failed to quickly aid with a steadying hand.
Ominously, the heavy door closed.
“My name is Cayleen,” the beast’s voice boomed in the confines of a large, square, wooden room. “And please don’t allow my appearance to frighten you. I am a Sulac,” and he began guiding his visitor forward. “The only flesh we eat, are vermin like bazlaws. Hardly a loss, you’d agree?” Before Fot could reply, “come, sit by my fire and warm yourself while I find you a blanket.” As the beast moved toward a second, internal door to the left of the wide, deep fireplace, he asked, “What is your name?”
Already the air had lost its sting, and with increasing comfort came an involuntary shudder, yet the huddled over little being was not so preoccupied with seeking warmth that he could not manage further voice. “My name is Fot,” looking up he caught Cayleen pausing at the door’s latch.
“As you say, I am a Fait.” He managed a smile of sorts, displaying brilliant white teeth. “And yes, I do agree about bazlaws.”
“Well then, welcome to my humble home, Fot.” Noting another attack of the shivers, “Please feel free to move the chair closer if you wish, I don’t feel the cold as much as others.”
But there was an obstacle Cayleen had not considered.
Curled up close to the fire, was a large living thing, oblivious to its surroundings. Fot only had to glance once, and Cayleen was quick to recognize his visitor’s discomfort.
“Alnon won’t harm you. He’s more timid than an emor. Give him a shove if you like, or I can do it for you.” He took a step forward.
Fot quickly held up a feeble hand. The purple and yellow creature may be Cayleen’s pet, but with four humps and six or more legs, it looked large enough to have Fot very much doubting the comparison to a tiny emor.
“Please, I’d rather you didn’t disturb him.” Gingerly, with hands still gloved, he carefully dragged the heavy chair a little closer to the crackling, plump fire. Another glance, but the creature showed no signs of disturbance. “I’m fine.”
“I will find that blanket then. Hypothermia is not something to be taken lightly.” And this time he did not hesitate to raise the door’s latch.
With Cayleen’s departure, Fot appreciated the hypnotic flickering flames, summoning like the arms of a friend. Gradually, like melting ice, he surrendered to the surprisingly comfortable, high-backed, wooden chair. He had, indeed, escaped a most perilous situation.
Now relaxed, he began to doze.
Although Cayleen was exceedingly careful, his attempt to wrap Fot in a thermal blanket without disturbing was unsuccessful.
As Fot sat up, he immediately espied two tiny tillows scurrying about. Only a Rehzalean sunset could match the brilliance of the elongated creatures, continual color changing.
“Firtleys are such pests.” Trying to look innocent after having trodden on one, Cayleen quickly added, “They’re always making holes under the walls.”
Unfortunately, as was often the case, treading on firtleys only caused them to divide and become tillows.
“Perhaps it would be best if you took your coat off young Fot and wrapped the blanket more tightly about you,” Cayleen said, “How are your fingers and toes?”
With care and with fear of what he might find, Fot removed his left glove. Only one finger showed any sign of frostbite. When the remaining glove was removed, there was numbness, poor color at the tips, but no obvious loss of function. His feet fared even better.
“You are fortunate. It seems Faits are better in the cold than most. I have seen much worse.” Cayleen noted how Fot held his hands to the flames. “Still, it might be wise not to expose them to the open flames like that. Wrap them in your blanket, and I will find you a ‘wrap’ for that bad finger to ensure you don’t lose it.”
The mere mention of the one white fingertip seemed to make it ache even worse, and Fot drew it away.
“The fact it hurts so much is good. It assures me that it should mend,” Cayleen said, and with methodical steps he moved to the door leading to the back room.
He soon returned with several bandages, a wooden jug and two large, intricately carved, wooden goblets. How strange, yet convenient, to have so many hands.
After applying the thermal wrap to Fot’s finger, Cayleen removed a metal stand from an ample recess near the massive fireplace, placing it quickly over the fire. This left a hook dangling at least three feet above the highest flame. He poured whatever it was in the wooden ewer into a large metal pot, then, seemingly without care to the intense heat, hung the pot to boil.
“You do drink emor’s blood, do you not? It will help restore your strength.” The fact it was the most prized drink in the Xenof System, showed not at all on his kindly face.
Fot’s disbelief could not be hidden. How could things have changed so much in such a short space of time? It was as though he had entered a dream, and for a moment he feared that this was, in fact, the case. Could it be that he was once more seeking escape from the terrible cold from impending death? He remembered how real hallucinations could seem. Thus he closed his large, distinctly purple eyes, and when he opened them, Cayleen was gone.
Still, the fire blazed. Alnon stirred, resettled, and everything else was the same. Cayleen reappeared with an enormous rocking chair.
“Thought you were falling asleep again,” he said, before setting down the second chair. It looked even heavier than Fot’s. Yet, when Cayleen went to sit, Fot feared it would shatter, leaving Cayleen sprawled across the floor like a fallen tree. Would he then be so welcoming?
Cayleen, perhaps recognizing Fot’s fear, deliberately sat more heavily than necessary. The chair creaked, but showed no sign of failure.
“My favorite, but it has a broken spoke.” It was designed for six spokes on each side, joined to the curved rockers. Cayleen began to rock. A broad smile followed. “Don’t worry yourself. It is made of petrified wood,” His wide mouth displaying sharp stained teeth, including a set of fangs, perhaps three inches long.
“I was in the middle of repairing it when I heard you at the door, which brings me to your curious situation. Pray tell me, Fot, how you came to be standing outside my door on a night like this.”
Just then, the emor’s blood began to boil.
With surprising swiftness, Cayleen retrieved a long wooden-handled hook and took it to where it could be placed safely on a simple, broad table. The handsome goblets were filled.
Before returning, “You did not say whether emor’s blood was to your liking?”
“Oh yes, please. I was just surprised. Emor’s blood is usually so expensive and seldom offered so freely.”
In truth, although Fot did enjoy the sweeter-than-nectar refreshment, he often felt guilty at what seemed like an unnecessarily cruel practice. Emors were harmless furry little creatures that were so shy they were seldom ever seen. Unfortunately, their scarcity only added to their value.
“Emors are easier to find here and often get caught in my bazlaw traps.” Cayleen drank heartily. “You were about to tell me your story.”
With fingers already feeling better and the warmth of the blanket penetrating, Fot was feeling relaxed enough to want to share his amazing story of survival. He glanced at Cayleen, but there was no danger here. If the beast had wanted to harm him, surely he would already have done so. But no, his life continued all praise to The Knowing.
“Well Master, if you have the ears, I have all the time in the Trouple Triangle. But I warn you; it is a long story and hard to believe. Yet, I swear to you, everything I am about to tell you, happened.” Fot then managed a gentle smile before draining the last of his emor’s blood.
Cayleen rose from his huge rocking chair and quickly refilled Fot’s goblet. “I would be happy to prepare you a meal if you wish, you must be starving.”
“Thanks, but I’m more thirsty than hungry right now, maybe a little later.”
“Of course, and please, if you wish to rest, I can wait ‘til morning, for your story.”
“I’m fine, thanks. In fact, thanks to your hospitality, I feel more relaxed than I’ve been since I came to this moon. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay up for a while.”
It was only early nightfall, but then a thought, “That is, of course, if it is not too late for you?”
Cayleen waved a hand in denial. “All the time in the Trouple Triangle,” His laughter was like a clap of thunder on an eldone roof, “Truly, Fot, it is only early yet, so if you are not too tired, then please proceed.”
Fot took a more measured sip, stretched out then on resettling, “My story begins far from this moon, perhaps as much as half a Xenofean year ago, on my home planet, Awbetez Two.”
Chapter Two
A NEW BEGINNING
“ANOTHER pathetic race, Fot. You should retire that terok before you embarrass yourself.”
The ridicule from my classmate, Hucob, cut deeper than I had expected. I had trained my short-necked terok, Tarawind, for some twenty days prior to the annual championships. In past Awbetez years, although she had come close, she had never actually won the prestigious race. Now she was old, well past her prime, her four long scrawny legs having seen too many racing days to even be considered competitive. This year was worse. Not even a top ten placing.
While she stood on all fours, I stroked the long, shaggy, sorrowful head of Tarawind and noted, like the cracks of a dried-up creek bed, the ever-deepening lines on her short neck and tired face. It was not her fault, she had simply done her best, as she always did; more than a means of transport, she was a loyal friend.
Tarawind and I were the same age in years, but where, at seventeen, I was still a Faitlet, my terok friend was entering her twilight years.
We had experienced so much together while on long rides beyond Domeref, in the distant Nazevo sand dunes. While I had complained about my dull and often difficult life, I had never thought to question her mortality until now. The near last placing in a race I had always dreamed of winning had left me crushed. All the more so, when I looked into those pitiful large, Niv-like, black eyes, and realized this marked the end of her racing days.
Subsequently, I was in no mood for Hucob’s taunts. He’d been at me for days prior to the race: how much better his young long-necked terok was, how little I knew about terok training, how I could never match his racing skills.
To make matters worse, he’d taken out second placing, a position I had never achieved.
On and on he went. His boasting stinging like the prod of an etal, a thin electronic rod we sometimes used during racing.
As we walked back to the terok shelter, the stinging began to abate, replaced by a kind of haze, as though I was displaced from this idiotic scenario, altogether. Who really cared about terok racing, anyway, when your best friend was nearing the end of her life?
One of Hucob’s verbal jabs about how stupid it was for me to have entered such a weak, sickly-looking terok, in the first place, suddenly penetrated that haze. I punched him—which was very unlike me—and before he could retaliate, left for home; my faithful terok striding out then falling into a slow hop, behind me.
That was the challenge of riding a terok, the stride. On fours, they are about five feet tall when measured in the middle, but standing on their stronger hind legs, resting on their long, thick, ridged tails, they are at least eight feet tall to the top of their heads. They can be unpredictable, breaking into ranging hops in the middle of their stride.
After a night spent dreaming of far off places, I awoke in a strange mood. I felt agitated, frightened, excited, and depressed, all at the same time.
Feelings of excitement lingered longest. Perhaps it was the sense of freedom that dreams could sometimes impart. Whatever, it led to some serious considerations.
Still, was traveling to far away exotic places that Hucob and his kind could only imagine, really going to provide the changes I craved? Did I have that kind of nerve?
This was not the first time I had thought of escaping Domeref, but there were the realities. Tarawind would be struggling to make it to the nearest Transit Station a distance of nearly a hundred miles, and I had little food or money, only ten pilpits for trading. Most of all, I was not yet considered a grown Fait too young to be traveling alone.
I thought of how sick I was of racing and of school. The only subject I enjoyed was Tahif studies, which was so unpopular with others in my class, that I was left feeling like the odd one out. Most of all, I was sick of life spent with surrogate parents Nivs who could not possibly understand the mind of a Fait.
There was one significant thing in my favor. I was in the second to last year of school, and by tradition, now had the right to choose my own future. I knew this was more to do with a future occupation than traveling, but it was open to interpretation, and my Niv guardians were not known for dissention. Perhaps, with my recent moodiness, they might even support my decision, perhaps not.
Later, my unsettling mood was festering, and I found myself only picking at my morning meal.
I could not go on living the way I was. Nevertheless, did I have the courage to make the most colossal decision of my life?
With each mouthful, my resolve grew, and by the time I finished, I was committed.
Rather than tell my Niv guardians, I decided to leave them a note.
Tod and Fairez,
You have both been so kind to me. I think of you more as parents than guardians, and for this reason it is difficult for me to tell you of my decision. So I have chosen, instead, to put it in writing, rather than allowing myself to be talked out of what I believe I must do. As I am in my final years at school, it is my duty to decide my future. And my decision is that my future now lies elsewhere.
So now I leave. To find whatever it is that might give my life more meaning. Please do not be concerned. I have saved many pilpits from my terok rounds, and have packed well. I will be riding Tarawind. She may be old, but she is strong and I am certain she will have no trouble getting me safely to Z14.
Thank you for taking care of me as only true parents could, and please, I beg that you do not come after me. It is my life and I must take responsibility for it.
In the Knowing, we walk the straight path.
Fot
With this note placed neatly in the center of my bed, I stepped out into the morning light. Adventure perhaps, disaster more likely.
My guardians had no idea how many pilpits I really had or how slowly Tarawind was recovering from the recent race. Being typical Nivs, Tod and Fairez had not been overbearing guardians, if anything, a little too lenient. Hopefully their liberal practices might extend to accepting my sudden decision. They most likely would call the Transit Station, ensuring my safe arrival, but all being well, that should be the extent of their efforts.
At least I had a good start on them, this being their ‘ritual morning’—an event that generally ran well into the afternoon.
BY sunset, I had grown weary of riding and decided to set up camp near a large gray gamrel. The tree’s twisted branches cast wild shadows over the rugged, mostly orange and green landscape. Already pultins could be heard, scampering about in search of prey. Luckily, these obscene black hairy creatures, with their two small horns and long stained fangs, had no taste for Fait flesh.
So I was taught.
One such pultin at least five feet long came so close to my campfire that I could see its huge single yellow eye, gleaming at the sight of my weary terok. It was obviously unaware of the stinging spit Tarawind could project with uncanny accuracy; a direct hit prevented any further advances.
It was a clear and relatively warm night, so I chose to sleep in the open alongside Tarawind.
A new day meant new adventure, yet I was already having second thoughts.
As I stood in the early morning light, groaning from aching muscles and a throbbing head, far-away sounds could be heard. Perhaps wild animals, worse than pultins, were looking for a morning meal. While walking, even Tarawind was unsettled enough to draw near me.
I regularly looked back along the road we traveled, but there was no sign of a pursuing party. Maybe Tod and Fairez thought a little adventure would be good for me. Certainly, they knew of my dissatisfaction with Hiltam life long before my note.
The increasing velocity of Awbetez Two’s notorious winds made traveling torturous. Turning back was a serious consideration, yet something drove me on. Possibly, it was a need to prove myself, while not allowing Hucob the pleasure of having yet something further to ridicule me about.
The wind tore at my clothes and pack, whipping my face until tears coursed from my eyes.
By midday, the sky was green with thick dust, making the wind all the more violent.
Tarawind moved steadily forward, trudging, but not ceasing, a tower of strength while I cringed in a whimpering, battered ball on her curved back. I could not help but feel proud of an animal incapable of winning a championship, yet unfailing in my time of need. It was obvious, now, that she was built more for endurance than speed.
For days the winds continued, making arduous our journey. Never a sign of what I was beginning to hope might be a rescue party. I began to wonder if I would survive long enough to make it as far as the Z-station.
On the fifth day, as if relenting to my exhaustion, the wind dissipated. With the sky now clear, the sprawling oasis of Awbetez Two’s main Transit Station, Z14, appeared before me.
I rubbed my swollen eyes in disbelief, causing them to sting worse. The pain did not prevent my heart from rejoicing at the knowledge that this was no illusion.
There on the horizon, was the unmistakable massive Pole of Remembrance; it was as if my whole body sighed in relief. This landmark was built in honor of the gallant Tunnus who had defeated Fericul during the Xenofean War winning the right for the ‘Free People’ to dwell peacefully on Awbetez Two.
By early nightfall, Tarawind and I passed through the giant ‘Gates That Never Close’, and entered the streets of the Z-station’s Outer.
That night, a Niv took me into her home. They were always kind in their peculiar ways, reliable and patient, yet never a hint of mirth. How they got through life without emotions was a mystery to me.
AT dawn, I bade farewell, not only to the Niv, but also—sadly, and perhaps for the last time, to Tarawind. Then I headed for platform six, destination unknown. The platform was advertised at Domeref, yet my mind came up blank when trying to remember what precise destination it provided for. The last year at Hiltam had been like that, just existing, paying little attention to anything.
I remembered the awesome picture of the planet, Zob, and presumed it was associated with platform six. But was the true destination Zob or one of its moons: Latii, Aub Major, or Zan Minor? They had all been advertised. I chastised myself for my lack of observation. Surely I had not come this far to travel to one of Zob’s two mining moons or even what I considered to be the less interesting world of Zob’s largest moon, Latii.
Yet why should I be so concerned? There were seventeen platforms, offering me plenty of choice, should platform six turn out to be a disappointment.
P6 proved to be much larger then I could have imagined. Faits and other beings dashed about looking for their respective ‘ports’ of exit. To my excitement, I found the sole destination for the fabulous interplanetary Stellarcraft was in fact, Zob, a planet much larger than Awbetez Two. At the height of my excitement, I thought of home and more immediately, the possibility of Station guards out looking for me. After a quick glance I was certain, with so many beings buzzing about, there was little chance of my discovery.
Much later, after squabbling over fares, I was able to purchase passage on a sub-Electrodynamic Gravatic Propulsion freighter called the Ja Boea. It was the cheapest seat available, and even then accounted for most of my pilpits. Perhaps my flight would not come with the luxury of emor’s blood but it was still passage. However, not even its dull and battered appearance could quell my enthusiasm. I thought of Tarawind, she was not sleek or fast, yet had handled the roughest of conditions. So, too, would this freighter.
***
FOT took another swig of warm blood, leaned back in the ample chair provided, and felt completely thawed. If Alnon had earlier been a picture of contentment, Fot was now no less so.
In fact so warm was he, that his blanket sat only about his small shoulders, and the color had returned to his fingers, making it easier to hold his goblet. His bad finger, still in the ‘wrap’, had lost its sting and was now little more than a niggling discomfort.
Cayleen was tending the fire with a long metal spike. The fire more fierce than the great beast preferred, but the look on the face of the small being with the huge sparkling, purple eyes, was enough to ensure his actions were appreciated.
Quietly and without fuss, he moved his own chair back a yard, and resumed rocking. “This is a splendid story, Fot. Please, you must continue.”
Fot smiled as broadly as his small, plump-lipped mouth would allow, his even teeth glowed in the fingering light of the fire. It was obvious that his new friend was enjoying the tale. “I shall.”
Chapter Three
BILTRAZER PRYME
AS the battered Stellarcraft, the Ja Boea, traveled through space, my eyes were agog at the amazing cosmic display dominating the porthole of my cabin. To even have a destination in this endless sea of stars seemed unreal.
For quite some time, I remained alone, captivated. However, as the cabin was small, even for a Faitlet, I eventually decided to explore my new world.
My cabin, a partly cleared storage room with a grimy porthole, was to the extreme rear of the freighter, meaning I would have to pass through several cargo-holds before arriving at the smaller passenger section.
There was a dormitory with open access, and what looked like a shared eating area, followed by twenty or more lockable cabins.
Was my money really so inadequate that I could not even afford dormitory accommodation, or had my lack of traveling experience merely been taken advantage of? Still, I quite liked the idea of a room far from others, even if it wasn’t a genuine cabin.
Once past the passenger section, I came to a large commonroom, my first real chance to meet fellow travelers who had also been unable to afford standard passage. Most of one side of this room consisted of clutum windows, providing me with an even better view of the stars.
There was a seat immediately in front, but when I sat down, the stars are not what drew my attention there were aliens everywhere. I had heard of some species, but to see them in person was staggering.
I found myself staring; however, most were too preoccupied with old computer games, to care about my existence. One of these games was something I had played in my first term at school.
Even more surprising than the dated technology, was how unskilled they appeared to be.
All, that is, except one.
My eyes were drawn to a very tall being who was friendly to anyone within earshot. It was incredible how easily he conversed in an assortment of languages, the interplanetary language, Karix, seldom used. His linguistic skills appeared to aid in his winning, especially where credit was involved.
His winning led to growing dissent, and he was forced to retire prematurely. This was when he noticed me.
He introduced himself speaking perfect Karix.
“Biltrazer Pryme, just call me Bil.”
My hometown, Domeref, was not a place that attracted many visitors, so I had no idea how typical he was. A nearly seven foot tall, young Ecapean, with long yellow tresses hanging about his broad shoulders, he had pale skin, only fine, fair hairs on his arms and legs, a sharp nose and bright blue eyes. By the response of the females onboard, he was handsome.
He claimed to be traveling wherever good fortune took him, and had boarded the Ja Boea at its origin; his home planet, Ecape.
So much of what he told me I would later question, however, at this early stage, I was simply too stunned by the thought of someone so popular, bothering to talk with me.
He casually sat beside me as though we were old friends. His animated tales portrayed every part of his life as extraordinary. According to him, he had Martian ancestry, although meaning little to me, it sounded mysterious, and so much more interesting than my own simple existence.
Yet the true mystery was why someone so widely traveled was so interested in my life. Yet he listened as though every word I uttered was important.
It was not long before I began thinking of him as a friend.
As others were beginning to tire of games, Bil took a central seat and began with more elaborate storytelling; some of which gave early testament to his interest in the distant region of our galaxy, known as the ‘Human Colonies’.
When he spoke, his gaze became removed. It did not seem to bother him how many times he needed to change between different languages. In fact, this difficulty only seemed to add to the excitement of his tales different species laughing openly at the delays between translations and reactions.
He was marvelous to watch, like the traveling Joytells of Awbetez Two, who periodically visited Domeref. Like a Joytell, when the storytelling stopped, he quickly turned his hand to simple but convincing demonstrations of illusion.
Later, he returned to my side. He’d had his fun and now sought more moderate interaction. Again, I felt privileged to be singled out.
“Fot, you said. Can’t say I’ve met any Fot’s before. But then again, I’ve come across few Faits in my time. Are all Faits as brave as you?”
Should I tell him I was not yet old enough to be considered a Fait, and nobody had ever called me brave before?
“So why am I brave?”
“Traveling by yourself, Fot, and on the Ja Boea. Either brave or stupid,” and he laughed. “You don’t look stupid. Still, anyone willing to sleep back there, in a room without a lock, has either got to be brave or very stupid.”
Perhaps my cabin did invite trouble. I tried to appear calm while explaining my poor finances.
Bil immediately saw my disclosure for what it was, and, in a lowered voice, promised to make my destitute position better known. He did not stop at just that.
“Look, I’m in the dorm section, and believe me it’s debatable whether it’s any safer. I’ll tell you what. If you’d like, I can move in with you. They tend to leave me alone.” He tapped a strapped scabbard at his side, of about eighteen inches in length.
The Ecapean sword it protected, I learned, was called a nilt. The puzzle was how he had managed to get it onboard in the first place. At his height, and with his obvious strength, it hardly looked as though he needed a weapon.
I nodded my understanding.
He thought it was in answer to his proposal.
“Right then.”
Recognizing his misunderstanding, I quickly added. “There’s hardly room for me, let alone someone as tall as yourself.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“But your feet will stick out into the corridor.”
How could I possibly have made a friend so quickly, someone even willing to offer me protection?
“Believe me I’ve slept in tighter places than your room. I’ll fit. Just a matter of whether or not you want me there, that’s all.”
Strange.
Rather than a passing offer, he sounded genuinely concerned with the outcome of our conversation.
When I finally agreed, his reaction left me thinking he’d gotten the better of the deal.
That night, sitting on the edge of my bed, I learned how deep Bil’s interest in Earth and the Human Colonies went.
My only previous knowledge of the Human Colonies had been restricted to the Book of Holiness, yet Bil could name many human worlds, as easily as the planets and moons in our solar system. He even demonstrated what he claimed was the most commonly spoken language, English. What I understood the least, was why he wanted to try and save Earth from suffering the same fate as Mars, total destruction by nuclear warfare. Such an outrageous mission was not only futile, but also ill-informed, especially for someone claiming to know so much. Surely it was clearly written in the Book of Holiness that the Son of the Knowing foretells the planet’s absolute destruction. In fact, to my knowledge, all life on Earth had already been destroyed, one part of the terrible consequences of the last Great Space War. Yet even after my insistence, Bil’s determination was unwavering. I was also taken aback when he freely spoke of his hatred of the Council of Von.
Looking down from my mattress-less bed, I was greeted with firm blue eyes and a wry smile.
Turning back to stare at the ceiling, my astonishment was replaced by feelings of emptiness. Emptiness, because with every passing moment I was moving further away from all I knew, including Tarawind. Even emptier because Bil had a mission, a reason for his existence, where I did not.
Upon reaching Zob, Bil and I immediately headed for the Transit Station’s Outer. Although there were several large timekeepers high on the shiny white ceilings, it was not until we reached the final port-of-exit that I could be certain it was night.
Pausing, to look up into the night sky, I found a large bright object that I hoped was Awbetez Two. I would not bother to ask Bil, fearing I was wrong. I simply needed to believe I still had some connection with my recent past.
I wondered.
Had Tod and Fairez bothered to notify anyone? Was Tarawind settled with the Awbetezian Niv? At least in the hands of a Niv she would be well looked after. A moment of remorse swept over me. What had I done? Perhaps life in Domeref had not been as bad as I’d once imagined. Adventure was so enticing when daydreaming, but a different matter in the light of day. The truth was I’d not seen another Fait since arriving.
Alone on an alien world.
I glanced at my confident companion. At least I had a friend, even if he was Ecapean. Yet, why were we still together and where were we going?
While I pondered this, Bil continued with his passionate talk of other worlds. His excitement slowly dissolved my feelings of displacement.
This was inconceivable. I had a friend, perhaps a couple of years older than me, who treated me as an equal.
And he thought I was a Fait.
We arrived at a modest dwelling. I knew it to be a Niv house, for above the door were the simple words ‘Welcome Friend,’ written in ten different languages.
The Nivs of Zob were no different from those of Awbetez Two, or so this first encounter suggested quick to welcome, and just as keen to avoid emotional confrontation.
I felt an overwhelming desire to pinch them just to see if they were real.
However, for reasons beyond my understanding, Bil seemed to like them, and spent a deal of time demonstrating what he called ‘magic’, in an effort to see how they would react.
Tavil, the oldest of three, had no hesitation about sharing his knowledge of all the sights and dangers of Zob.
Naturally we were more interested in the dangers then scenery: Bottomless pits, giant creatures, called biltons, who, although related to pultins, were not fussed by what flesh they ate, and the greatest concern known to Tavil, the ‘Cave of Regret’.
There were other dangers besides, but Bil seemed to have already made up his mind, and was paying less attention.
I, however, wanted to know everything, and listened attentively until the end.
“The Cave of Regret sounds interesting,” Bil said.
“The Crystal Palace sounds more interesting,” I nervously interjected.
“Yes, Fot, but you heard Tavil. It’s on the other side of the Pilne Ranges, and they run forever. It would take us an eternity to get around, and they’re too high to climb. If you want to get to the Crystal Palace, the best way is through the cave.”
He nodded to Tavil for confirmation.
“Indeed the cave would save you a lot of time… that is if you don’t get lost. Though getting lost is the least of your worries. Many have entered, never to be heard of again.” Although his words looked to caution, his dark, coppery-colored, wrinkled face, suggested he might just as easily have been talking about the weather.
Turning to me, Bil grinned.
“Didn’t you say you came here looking for adventure?”
“Yes, but…”
“Look, I’m sure it’s more fable than reality. Stories often are.”
Was he referring to his own stories, too, I wondered?
“A little added here, a little there, and suddenly this cave is the most dangerous place on Zob.”
Bil turned back to Tavil. “Ever been inside it yourself?”
“No, not I, but the stories I mention are Niv stories, handed down by those who did enter the cave and returned, terrified.”
Amazingly, Bil was unwavering.
“Still just stories. And I for one have already decided…And what about you, Fot?”
Chapter Four
TERROR ON THE PILNE PLAINS
WE had just started our journey, when, “Bil, do you ever get scared? Not saying I’m scared, it’s just that I wondered if there was ever a time…”
“Think of it, Fot, the Cave of Regret. I’ve heard so many stories,” The first suggestion that he knew more than he was letting on.
Again, I had the thought that I was being led, rather than in control of my own destiny.
“They say it takes days to travel through it,” he furthered.
Perhaps aware of my concern, “We need not go that far, though. We could just look inside and see what we think. There are giant paintings and carvings in the walls, and that lake Tav mentioned, with a waterfall at the end, plus a bunch of religious stuff written everywhere. You keep talking about Tahif, Fot, you might want to see what it says.”
“I don’t remember Tavil mentioning any writings…”
I wished I had not mentioned Tahif so often.
“But of course if we don’t travel through it we won’t see the Crystal Palace, and it’s supposed to be filled with religious stuff. But really, I don’t mind either way, whatever you decide,” Bil said.
“I suppose we could just take a look.”
“If that’s what you would prefer.”
What was this? Why would someone so passionate about Zob suddenly be conceding ground?
“Let’s just see what happens.” I replied, already wondering at the adventure we were undertaking. “Have to get passed the bazlaws and biltons first.”
“Just stories, Fot. And besides, we can handle ourselves.” Again he tapped the nilt.
“And which stories should I believe?”
“Well mine, of course.”
He laughed, before striding out, then calling back, “Come on, Fot, there’s nothing we can’t handle together.”
And when I caught up, he gave a cynical grin.
“I heard a few Dalonnets perished, but we know how stupid they are,” he said.
I had no idea.
“I have a friend who knew someone who conquered the cave, visited the Palace, and went on to travel through the ‘Place of Darkness’, where time once stood still…And he lived to tell the tale.”
“The Place of Darkness, that’s comforting. Tavil never mentioned any Place of Darkness.”
Quickening my pace, I fell into step with him.
The sun had reign over a cloudless sky, but was not as strong as on Awbetez Two. The hills of a predominantly green landscape were few and far between, which made trekking easy.
It was times like this I enjoyed Bil’s company most, just two young travelers exploring exciting new lands, exactly as I had envisaged it when I had departed Domeref.
However, that would soon change.
Near dusk began a compulsion to glance behind.
Had I heard something?
With every stolen look, my fears only heightened, not even Bil’s imposing physique provided comfort.
Biltons, did they stalk the plains, like Tavil had mentioned of the mountain region? I wished my faithful spitting Tarawind was with me.
If only I had more money, we might have been able to hire teroks, or even a cheap ground craft. And what was Bil’s credit situation anyway? I thought he had won plenty on the Ja Boea, or did his size make riding teroks too difficult?
We rested.
Howling.
And again.
While I shook with fear, Bil happily scoffed a tumbel, the long brown fruit gone before I could protest.
The Nivs had supplied us with enough food for what they claimed was, without teroks, at least a seven-day journey; but with Bil’s appetite, surely our supplies would not last.
“Didn’t you hear that?”
“Most likely a pultin,” Bil sat relaxed on an albon rock pile, feeding the tumbel skin to a small, orange, serpent-like creature, which was partly curled, less than a yard from his large, right boot. A closer look and I spied hundreds of tiny legs.
“What is that?”
Thinking I still spoke of the howling, Bil replied, “perhaps a hungry bilton instead.”
His eyes filled with mischief, “They like Faits, don’t they?”
I was not amused.
A pultin’s howl was different, and Tavil had said biltons ate just about anything including Ecapean.
“Any flesh,” but my voice was too feeble to be the retort I’d hoped.
However relaxed he appeared, Bil decided moving on was best.
We continued until late.
Upon halting, the howling returned.
Almost as bad was Bil’s continuing joviality. Did he have to whistle?
With the dying sun winking goodbye, we finished setting up camp. Only then did Bil assure me that wild animals tended to stay away from campfires. The sticks he then collected were no match for the haul I continued retrieving into the moonlit night.
Astride a large rock near the flames, “Not bad,” Bil said sarcastically of a fire I’d foolishly over-fed.
BIL was wrong, utterly wrong. Other wild animals might stay away from fire, but not this predator.
A loud menacing howl pierced the darkness.
A movement not ours sent albon rocks tumbling close-by.
I quickly turned.
A stone rolled within ten feet of where I sat, but no animal could be seen.
Silence.
Even Bil stood rigid, his nilt stabbed in the ground, just out of reach, where he’d been whittling. The light of the campfire magnified the fear in his eyes.
Just a hint of something being disturbed, was the sound closer than before? Was there more than one animal? My heart felt like it would stop beating. How could I breathe? Was I breathing?
I gasped.
As swiftly as a jubal, Bil leapt, hoping to reach his weapon.
Something pounced, something large.
Flashes of white and gray.
A long tail like that of a gaint rodent.
And now four massive legs, a huge head, and a set of flaring fangs, and yellow and black contracted eyes as wild as fire.
Bil fell, smashing his head on a rock. Unconscious, he was pinned like a rag-doll, his nilt having flown from his hand, and falling short of me.
The eight-foot long animal lifted its shaggy gray head high. The light of the flickering flames dancing on those glistening long curved fangs. A snarl tormented me, rather than its immediate victim. Then it arched its back and howled. A victory cry or a call to others whatever the reason, it gave me just enough time to react.
How I found the will is a mystery but I responded by diving for the nilt.
Suddenly, a second animal, every bit as large as the first, knocked me to the ground, rendering me completely helpless.
Then the stalking began.
These animals, not satisfied with an easy kill, wanted to play. To offer impossible escape, only to pounce again and again, until their prey had lost all resolve.
On haunches, I watched terrified as the first animal returned to play with Bil’s motionless body. It seemed disappointed at the lack of movement, and with its exceedingly long curved needle-like claws, it started scratching at one of Bil’s arms, his shoulder, and his head.
How could I just lie there watching my friend being torn apart, knowing it was just a matter of time before I met the same fate?
Blood started to seep through Bil’s heavy coat from his shoulder.
My fear turned to repulsion, and with it came a sudden need to act.
The attacker stopped to bay.
Was it again calling others, or just boasting? No time to consider; I had to take advantage of the opportunity.
In a flash, I grabbed the nilt.
The animal pounced.
One arm covered my face, the other held up the sword.
Blade caught flesh…A wail…then nothing…another wail, distant now, and more pained.
I uncovered my face to find my attacker had vanished. So too, had Bil’s. Next to the fire was a pool of blood. I looked at the nilt, the blade dripped. Revolted, I flung it to the ground and scrambled to Bil’s side. Still he laid motionless, his shoulder torn, face crimson, hair matted, yet he breathed.
Listening closer, his breath evened.
He’d live. I’d live. And that animal out there was going to have to live with a terrible wound.
I went to where I’d flung the weapon. Retrieving the primitive sword, respectful of how it had saved us, I carefully wiped the many bloodied, sharp-prongs on the down side of the curved handle, then along the straight two-edged blade, paying attention to the beautifully crafted Ecapean design work. And while I cleaned, I heard stirring.
I went to Bil’s side.
On one elbow, and with a hand held to his head, “Wardell, what happened?” he cursed.
“They’ve gone.” I handed him my drinking flask.
“They?”
“Travel in pairs, it seems.”
I offered the only available bandage I could think of, one of my spare undergarments. He didn’t seem to mind. To his head, he held it while I went to wet more underclothes for cleaning his shoulder wound.
While pouring from a large drink container, “You’re lucky, I don’t think they like Ecapean,” and I managed a grin.
I cleaned his wounds and dressed them the best I could. All the while he looked away to where giant paw prints remained impressed in the earth.
“Biltons?” he managed, before slipping back into unconsciousness.
After I provided Bil with what comfort I could, I gathered more wood and encircled our campsite with fire.
BIL did eventually wake, and to my utter surprise, he smiled. “Fot, the hero!” His hand went straight for his head.
“How is it?”
“You saved my life.”
“How’s your head?”
“A headache fit to kill, but I’ll live, thanks to you. Guess you didn’t really need my help on the Ja Boea after all.”
That blasted smile of his again, how could he be so cheerful?
Shakily, he stood.
“Best we keep moving. Don’t want them coming back.”
“But your shoulder?”
“It’s not so bad.”
He tried to rotate it, but largely failed.
“At least I can move it.”
We ate and drank before starting off. Bil at least allowed me to carry most of our belongings.
For the first time, I verbalized my thoughts of returning home. They were dismissed as easily as Tavil’s earlier cautions had been. What was I to then do, when Bil was the one bandaged? Was this cave of his really so important?
In fear of wild animals returning, I started mumbling.
“Biltons, I hate biltons, don’t biltons live in the cave?”
“Okay, so I was wrong, seems fire is not the deterrent I thought, but let’s not allow yesterday’s troubles to ruin our fun.”
Did he actually say fun?
Holding his shoulder, he did not look like he was having a good time, and I decided not to debate the issue.
Instead, I looked ahead to where the landscape continued to change.
Large patches of lush, green grass still covered the orange earth, but now hills dominated, along with numerous copses of yellow, red and green trees. In the background not so distant now dwarfing all before them, the hazy blue Pilne Ranges.
The mountains, capped in pale-blue snow and helmed with blue-gray cloud, stretched as wide as I could see.
By nightfall, exhausted but satisfied by our progress, I found myself cringing as Bil put his arm through a full rotation. Maybe he had magical healing powers to go with the tricks he had displayed on the Ja Boea.
Proving to be colder than the previous night, we were more careful with our selection of a sheltered campsite.
No sooner had I eaten, I entered my small tent and quickly fell asleep.
Biltons might have been out there somewhere, but I would not remember a thing.
BY the sixth day of our trek, we had conformed to a kind of rhythm. I’d lag for a while, complaining about Bil’s large strides, he would give a speech on the tempting mysteries awaiting us, then rotate his arm several times, demonstrating his miraculous recovery, and we’d end up side by side, the giant and the dwarf.
The mountains became more and more like huge magnets.
As we neared I was surprised to find that the steeper rises broke Bil’s stride, making it easier for me to keep up.
Only once did I think I heard further howling. However, according to Bil, it was more of a zipping sound, likely a distant aircraft speeding to foreign destinations.
“Perhaps if we had remained at the Outer, we could have found employment and earned enough credit to travel to the Crystal Palace by air.” I suggested to Bil.
He laughed it off as quickly as my earlier concerns.
Apparently, workers at the transit station were not well paid.
Again, I inquired about the credit he had won on the Ja Boea? And he dismissed this just as easily.
“Hardly enough for domestic travel, Fot, and why would we waste it when we have perfectly good legs?”
The terrain continued to rise then we came to an unexpected expanse of red dib and white lylets. The vast display rivaled the blue haze of the mountains beyond.
Amongst these flowers, we discovered a narrow, winding track.
We paused in the middle of a large showy field, rested on a small rock pile, while considering what lay ahead.
Again, Bil ate more than I did, leaving me fearing our diminishing supply. But when I protested, he simply waved my concerns aside.
“We can always hunt if we need to.”
The thought of me hunting was laughable.
Later, while looking to a massive wall of rock shedding long shadows in the early afternoon, I wondered whether I was up to the challenge. Then, there was Bil’s will, and it was an inspiration, enough in fact, to have me rising first.
We walked with renewed vigor, until the track led to hills that required all our strength. Still the dib flowers remained, covering the steep hills in red, and filling the cracks between rocks.
In the diminished light of late afternoon, Bil consumed the last of our food. He claimed the cave was not far ahead, and inside we would find fruiting trees.
How could he know this?
THE seventh day started with nothing to eat and little to drink. To make matters worse, from the outset, the inclines were many and steep, my strength quickly waning.
Bil, however, remained strong and unconcerned by our lack of food.
Then, on a high plateau, came a stretch of truly giant dibs. A rare sought-after flower on Awbetez Two, here, they grew taller than some trees, with stems the equal of young gamrels.
While marveling at the height of the flowers, we failed to notice the disappearance of the trail.
We searched long. There were animal tracks, frightening more than helpful, never leading in any set direction, and nothing else of great significance. It was left to me to state the obvious.
“I think we’re lost.”
Bil nimbly took to the nearest dib.
Just as it threatened to break in half, he halted.
He appeared to have spotted something.
Then, without regard to his own safety, he continued up.
Only a deep bed of white and yellow bushes prevented his fall from being much worse.
I was destined to be his nurse.
Fortunately, he was lying on the ground looking up grinning, suggesting he was unharmed. As if to prove his point, he jumped up, rotated his shoulder and quickly brushed off his soiled jacket.
“Time’s a-wasting, Fot, nearly there.” And he started off toward mountain shadows that rapidly ate at the ground.
Following his confident lead, I soon found the dib forest thinning, then a high, dark green field.
We had not yet set foot on this open field, when a swishing noise was heard from behind.
Turning about, I spotted movement in a patch of flowering bushes.
A creature crept into the shadows. Even in the poor light, there was no mistaking the vile, four-foot long, brown and black striped shorthaired bazlaw, its long hairless tail held high.
I was surprised at how small it seemed in comparison to a bilton.
I looked at Bil rubbing his shoulder. Surely, with his nilt at hand, there was nothing for us to fear.
While we stood watching, it started stalking.
Bil seemed to think its actions rather humorous.
Without warning and with surprising agility for one so tall, Bil pounced.
“TASTY,” Bil said.
I pulled off a charred leg and began nibbling.
The meat was tough but quite edible, not unlike the taste of awal. We were both surprised at how quickly our appetites were quelled. There still remained two legs and most of the bazlaw’s body crackling over a small fire.
Throwing a bone into the blaze, I said. “These paths, what do you make of them?”
We had set up camp at a junction where there were many tracks.
“Past travelers who were not so keen to use the cave, I guess.”
“And we are keen, because…”
“Because we are adventurers, Fot, and how easy do you think it would be to take one of these paths, anyway? They’d go way up before crossing over. How long would that take, and imagine how cold it would be up there,”
He replaced his jacket now with his torn, long coat, and held it in tight.
“Yet they would rather those risks than the short-cut through the mountain?”
Bil looked like one who’d lost an argument, but only for a moment.
“On the Ja Boea, all you spoke about was adventure, now you have these doubts, just when we’re so close.”
“This cave is your idea, remember. Surely these mountain passes are adventure enough.”
But then a totally new and unexpected argument.
“If not adventure, Fot, think of the wealth, wealth beyond your wildest dreams.”
“What!”
“Fent, Fot. I’ve heard it mentioned on more than one occasion.”
He spoke of the most valued metal in the Xenof System.
“By who?”
“By people I trust.”
“A friend of a friend I suppose…And this is what it’s really all about, isn’t it? I’ve risked my life and not a hint until now? Why is that?”
“The Nivs would only have denied it, or tried harder to talk us out of coming. They don’t believe in this kind of pursuit. ‘Everything should be left as you found it,’ and all that. But if wealth can help someone get what he wants, then what’s wrong with a little fent hunting? It’s not like I want to tear the mountain apart.”
I could hardly believe it. What a fool. Was I really so desperate to have a friend?
For the first time since we had started out together, Bil looked like a complete stranger.
“You have no intentions of going to the Crystal Palace, have you? This was all just one big scam. You wanted someone to watch your back. You didn’t want a friend…”
Tavil hadn’t put the idea of the cave in Bil’s mind, he’d already decided long before arriving on Zob.
The idea of being so manipulated did not rest well with me, but what lingered was the thought that I was just as unimportant to Bil as all the other aliens on board the Ja Boea, just someone else to play games with.
He fought back with some rather convincing arguments. They did little, however, to quell my growing suspicions. For how much more was he hiding?
I did not sleep easily that night.
The next morning we started out along the only path not heading over the mountains. In places, it was little more than a ledge.
Bil led.
On one narrowed stretch, I spoke my first words of the morning.
“Shouldn’t we already be there?”
“Lost a little time in those dibs, but I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
A few wild dibs had returned to dot our rocky route.
“Just think of it, Fot. Fent. Have you ever seen it?”
Bil called back with disturbing reverence.
“Once, on an Ecapean trading ship, I got to touch some. I’d never seen anything like it before. Wait ‘til you see it. It’s no wonder it’s so valuable.”
“The rich of Awbetez Two don’t seem any happier than we are.”
“You can always go back.”
I halted, faking the need to catch my breath.
Truth was, however brief, I did consider the alternatives, but I had come this far. Without saying a word, I started off again.
Up ahead, Bil stopped.