[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]He walked side-by-side with Aerose for several miles uneventfully until they crested the first rise. Then Aerose sprang into action, slipping an arrow from his quiver, mounting his bow and firing in one fluid motion. The missile arced high through the air and pinioned a creature to the mat of thick moss. Aerose grinned triumphantly and double timed over to his kill.
It was a large ferret-like creature with dull gray fur and an extraordinarily long snout. Its rat-like eyes protruded to an extreme, appearing to actually lay across his face instead of being embedded in sockets.
Aerose made quick work of the animal, pulling his knife – made of some type of polished bone, Ryan speculated – and slicing through his jugular. Then he field dressed the game and tucked its tail into his belt.
“What animal is that?” Ryan asked, more for the sake of having something to say than for any other reason.
Aerose looked at him strangely, as if he had fallen off of a turnip truck, then answered tersely, “geesole.” Then he smiled again and nodded, “for our supper.”
'Lovely,' Ryan thought, 'do fries come with that?' but said instead, “good.” And they continued on their way.
As they traveled the vegetation adorning the mossy carpet changed a bit. The small wiry bushes began to give way to a heavier bush. This one had impressively large, thick branches that splayed out horizontally across the meadows, like diminutive oaks. Their leaves were large, like those of banana trees back home, and drooped to the ground.
Catching on that Ryan was new to his world, Aerose pointed to one of the bushes. “Ketterflek,” he announced. “We use it to make our bows and arrows.”
Ryan nodded in acknowledgment and they trod away across the swale. Each new trough in the terrain now seemed to hold a different variance of plant-life. The next was no exception, Ryan was treated to a bizarre scene. Strange purplish basketballs dotted the tiny hollow, as far as the eye could see. Aerose must have noticed his guest staring for he pointed to one.
“Mezr'n. Good to eat.” And he went straight to one of the huge mushrooms, for that is what Ryan had decided they resembled most. He made a stroke with his knife close to the ground and lifted the bulbous thing into Ryan's arms. “Carry this.” Ryan nodded absently. What else was he going to say? The guy had a knife.
After the next rise they could see smoke on the horizon. Its appearance seemed to cause a quickening in Aerose's pace as Ryan had some trouble keeping up with him now. Up ahead, between them and the smoky horizon he could make out a herd of some type of creature. He looked to see if Aerose was mounting his bow. He was not.
As they got closer Ryan could see they were goat-like animals with long black fur, sprouting long flattened horns from their foreheads. He cast his eyes to the knife in Aerose's belt. It suddenly seemed likely that that is what the blade was made of.
Suddenly a boy rose from the ground, waved and shouted excitedly. His host waved back, laughed and shouted something that Ryan couldn't quite understand. He elbowed the Earth man.
“He will go tell his mother we have a guest,” at which Ryan realized the boy must have been Aerose's son.
“I am looking forward to it,” he assured the hunter and they continued on...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]It had been closing in on darkness when they finally got to Aerose's hut, which was actually quite nice. It reminded Ryan of a Mongolian yurt he had once seen in a documentary. It was circular, about twenty yards in diameter and made of a combination of clay, stone and wood. The roof was covered with moss over a wood and clay framework.
Supper was delicious, the ferret-thing that his host had shot was very tasty indeed and so was the basketball-mushroom. There were other elements of the feast which more or less lived up to the previously mentioned fare. It was all very palatable.
Afterward they had sat around the open, stone-lined fire-pit built into the middle of the hut, a round hole in the roof drawing the smoke out, and drank until late into the evening. What had they called that beverage? Shaamzar... or something like that. Ryan couldn't remember... but it certainly toted a wallop!
Now he lay on his pile of furs next to the wall of the single room hut, listening to the distinct sounds of a dozen other individuals, some breathing raggedly in slumber, kids tittering at one another in muted tones, and the unmistakable adult sounds of something else going on. Such was life in a tribe, he supposed. All these strange noises were not the source of his insomnia however. It was something Aerose had said right before supper. It had been in the semblance of some sort of prayer. He kept playing the details of it over and over like a nuisance song stuck in his mind.
Mighty one above look down upon your children. We thank you for all you have done for us. We thank you for our crops, for our health, for our home. We thank you for our guest, a sky father, which you have sent us this day. We ask humbly that you assist us in attending to his every requirement as he enjoys our humble home. Thank you for fulfilling your promise through his presence. We look forward to this sky father bringing us out of the darkness, back into the light of the stars. Aerose finished and the entire family in chorus completed it as if on cue. In your hands we rest secure, O mighty one above...
Now what the devil did all that religious babble mean? Ryan had no clue, but he had an uneasy feeling about it. With these thoughts plaguing him he finally fell into a fitful sleep.
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]The next morning, he walked into the village with Aerose once more at his side. En route they passed several other farms. In addition to the goat-creatures, Ryan noticed another animal that they kept penned up that looked for all the world like an overgrown armadillo. Conspicuously missing were any beasts of burden... no horses, donkeys or oxen... nor anything being used as such.
The village itself was a gaggle of huts circumnavigating a Stonehenge-style construction, which itself enclosed the perimeter of some kind of natural geyser. The steam, coming from the forty some odd foot teardrop shaped pool of water, said that it was a hot spring of some sort. Its waters spilled over the low end of the pool and cascaded down a gentle slope, disappearing off into the distance. Ryan imagined that it would combine with other similar streams and eventually find one of the gorge lakes to empty into.
All of the people they passed looked like Aerose's brothers and sisters, mother and father, children; all uniformly tall with fair hair and light colored eyes. Their stares portrayed no animosity just open and honest curiosity. Ryan could appreciate that; his features and apparel must look as strange to them as theirs did to him.
Now he noticed a larger structure that had been previously hidden by the Stonehenge. It seemed to be where they were headed. It was not circular at all but rather a long rectangular building built entirely of stone. It utilized a pair of the standing stones in the Stonehenge as pillars to its entrance, so that it was open to the pool at the center of the village complex.
Aerose never hesitated but strode purposefully up to the long hall. Ryan could now see a group of five older men standing there in line abreast at the entrance. His host came to a central point before them, threw his arms wide, palms facing forward and spoke.
Fathers of the Segatchwe, I bring you Ryan Maa-nix, Father of the Sky, he announced in a grandiose voice.
Ryan was taken aback, very much unprepared for this formal introduction. He recovered his composure, nodded to the sage cadre of village elders with a smile. He had no idea what they expected of him but he decided that normal manners were his best bet. I thank you all for your generous hospitality. This must have been the right thing to say for they each in turn put on a smile of their own and motioned for him to enter the hall.
The inside of the hall was quite rustic but very inviting. There was a raised dais at the far end with a long stone table spanning the building's length. Burning braziers spaced at equal intervals lined the walls. The areas closest to the longer walls of this building were completely opened to the sky. Bare wooden beams sprang across to a central roof under which the table and dais was positioned. Ryan absently wondered how often it rained on Pella'agre, if it did at all.
He was taken to the raised dais and suddenly noticed there was an even older gentleman there, seated on what could only be described as a throne. He guessed this to be the chieftain of the tribe. His long silver-streaked hair was braided and regally decorated with ornate colored stones of some type unknown to Ryan. Across the crown of his head worn laterally down to the tip of his nose, he sported an engraved bone device of some sort, polished to a brilliant white sheen and studded with more of the ornate stones.
Lord Sadresse Aellere, this is Ryan Maa-nix, Father of the Sky, announced one of the elders, at which the man on the throne nodded his head ever so slightly. Before Ryan could speak though, the chieftain rose and deliberately walked toward him. He tread haltingly down the three steps leading from the dais and continued until he was an arm's length from Ryan.
I have sat in regency of your power, O Sky Father. It has been my honor to do so. ...as it is now my honor to vacate your seat, he said, motioning to the throne. Ryan had no idea what to do. How could he explain to these people that he was no sky father? What effect would it have on his relations with them if he told them so?
He looked at the expectant faces around him. Any one of these guys could probably make short work of him in a fight, except for possibly the old man himself, and that was arguable. He sighed and walked to the throne, spun around and sat down...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Ryan went into damage control mode, brain-storming, trying to figure out how to fix his predicament. It was getting in the way of his main concern: finding Charlie. This little snafu of his was definitely putting a kink in that right now!
After the exchange of power, or whatever it was that had taken place when he had assumed the throne, he was shown to a very nice set of accommodations at the rear of the hall. He felt bad about that, felt they probably had been the old man's living quarters prior to his arrival, but what could he say? He had to play along, at least until he gathered his wits, could formulate a viable course of action.
He didn't even really know what the sky fathers were to these people. He had to find a way to get them to reveal the crux of their sky father lore without letting on that he didn't already know it. If they found that out, the gig was up! Then they would probably just shoot him full of arrows for defrauding them.
Later that afternoon, an opportunity finally presented itself. They were having what must have been some sort of coronation feast in the hall. Everyone in attendance was a V.I.P., obvious people of some renown in the tribe. After the meal concluded, one of the elders Raera'ad, by name stood and asked if there was any request that the great sky father would make of his people.
Ryan paused for a moment then hit upon an idea. "Yes, there is... I would have you recite the story of the Segatchwe for me... that I may know that you have kept the truth sacred." This seemed to impress them, sage nods were exchanged all around. At that the elder called a gorgeous young woman named La'ella who had been standing nearby, at one of the braziers. She moved to the foot of the table, her back to the entrance, and began a soliloquy in a sweet, lyrical, sing-song voice.
Her tale painted a vivid picture of long ago, when great flying stones brought her people from the world of the sky fathers. They built a wondrous city on this world and were happy, healthy and prosperous here. For several centuries the sky fathers visited their new world regularly. The Segatchwe provided them with hospitality, giving them magic energy for their ships, food for their crews and exotic Segatchwean artifacts in trade for many wondrous things the sky fathers made. Then one day a flying stone appeared with sad news. The home of the sky fathers had melted into the big waters of their world. All the sky fathers were dead only a few that were on flying stones survived to bring the tale to their children, scattered amongst the stars. After that no more flying stones appeared in the skies of their world. Their great city fell into disrepair and finally ruin. The people became weak and poor; many starved or died of disease caused by malnutrition. The survivors began to look to their own world to sustain them and learned to live from the bounty that it offered. But the elders promised that one day the sky fathers would return, bringing with them all the wonders of the stars.
We, the Segatchwe, have waited patiently for that day, she concluded.
Ryan thanked her and the reveling continued. He smiled and partook generously of their hospitality but his mind was ever on La'ella's poem; it posed as many questions as it answered...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]The next morning Ryan awoke to a hangover and a cacophony of noise out in the hall. He rose unsteadily and splashed water in his face from a basin by his bed. Now he donned his robes of office – it was demonstrated in no uncertain terms that jeans and tennis shoes were no longer appropriate attire for him – and went out into the great hall to see what was what.
Raera'ad was huddled up with the other elders near the entrance. As he was noticed they opened up their ranks to reveal a youth in their midst. He strode purposefully up to them.
“Sky Father, this boy is from the Tuanwe, who live to the south of us. He tells us his people have been massacred,” explained Raera'ad. Ryan glanced at the disheveled boy, placed him at somewhere around twelve-years-old. His hair was browner than that of this tribe and his eyes were a light chestnut color instead of pale blue, otherwise he had the same overall appearance as the Segatchwe.
“Can you speak, son?” he asked gently.
“Yes, lord...” and he went into a nightmare tale of ambush and murder. Apparently a new militant force was loose on the high plateau of the Segatchwe. They had attacked in force yesterday at dawn, encircling the Tuanwe village and cutting down all the warriors without mercy, then running down and enslaving the women and children. The infants were all put to the knife.
“How many warriors did they have?”
The lad shook his head faintly, glazed eyes weeping softly, then answered, “maybe two hundred... I don't really know, lord.”
Ryan looked to the elder, “how many warriors do we have?”
“Forty-two, Sky Father.”
“And the weapons? Are the bows and knives I've seen your only weapons?”
“Yes.”
He turned back to the youth. “How were the attackers armed?”
“Bows and knives, lord.”
“Lord, there is more you must know of this...” It was Raera'ad, the others having been dismissed.
“I must know everything of import... please sit and speak,” Ryan motioned to one of the chairs in the great hall, amazing the elder by taking the seat next to him instead of his throne.
“This is murder unlike anything we have ever seen. It is a crime against the people.” Ryan nodded solemnly, not speaking but making it apparent he was ready to listen. Raera'ad took the cue and continued. “This is not the way of dispute settlement. I have never heard of such savagery and barbarity...”
“What is your way...?
“Lord, a champion is chosen along with a strongman from the two tribes at odds. The champions stand back to back with bows, their strongman to their right with a large stone of honor. On a signal the stones are cast in opposite directions, always cross-wind so that no archer has an advantage. Then a boy runs the quiver of each champion to the place that the adversary's strongman has tossed the stone. A word is given by a judge and each bowman runs to his quiver, stands and fires as many of the ten arrows in his quiver as he can. He who fires accurate and quickly will feather his foe. When blood is spotted by the judge, the affair is concluded.”
Ryan had sat quietly while the elder recited the process. That would not be the manner in which this dispute would be settled; fate had thrust him into this world at the very moment when war had been introduced. At last all that useless time spent devouring first-hand war stories and vaunted tomes of military history would come in handy...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Shields were the first thing that came to mind. It could make all the difference in a fight. They had given the Spartans a distinct edge over the Persians, had given the legions of Rome the ability to triumph over a more numerous foe on numerous occasions. And even today on Earth they were a vital part of riot gear in the inner cities. Armor was the answer! That and the tactics to use it.
He enlisted the aid of his earlier host, Aerose, instructing him to choose thirteen of his brethren warriors. This would be his model battalion. He would have seven pikemen backed up by seven archers. The pikemen would be heavily armored and carrying a new weapon, a nine-foot pike.
Earlier he had called for Raera'ad to bring him seven of the wooden poles they used to assemble the roofs of their yurts. He now brazenly drew the blade from the sheath at Aerose's belt and began strapping it to the end of one of the poles. The warriors looked on aghast. They had no clue what he was trying to accomplish until he stood up with the pike held over his right shoulder and began advancing on them, jabbing in mock combat. Their eyes grew wide and they nodded jubilantly. In that instant, he rose immeasurably in their estimation of him as a warrior.
Next he picked up one of the armadillo shells which he had also requested. Using a rudimentary awl and chisel, he attached leather straps to the shell and showed how it could be used to ward off the blows of the enemy. This excited the warriors even more. Soon they were all busy mimicking his work on pikes and shields. Before long there were six more. Now it was time for tactical training with the new weaponry.
He knelt on the ground and scraped back the moss to expose the rich black dirt beneath. He motioned for the men to gather around in a circle. Now he placed gray stones in a line abreast where he wanted the pikemen to stand. Behind them he placed a row of white stones that represented archers. He laid his hand on edge behind the line of gray stones then pushed them, en mass, forward an inch. Then he pushed the archers up to where the pikemen had been. He looked around to see who caught on. Aerose and one other was eagerly nodding their understanding.
Ryan now rose and positioned the two men in-the-know one on either side of him, both with pike and shield. He picked up a weapon and shield himself. He hefted his pike overhand to his shoulder and pulled the shield up to where he was peering over the top of it. They did the same. He nodded and took a big step forward, stopped, jabbed with the pike then took another. The other men mimicked his moves perfectly and at that point was born the phalanx on Pella'agre...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Steady work and training all day produced amazing results. He divided the 42 men into three battalions of 14; seven archers protected by seven pikemen. He trained them to operate as a unit, to listen for maneuver commands. He kept it simple; advance, halt, retreat, wheel left, wheel right... he never thought his bootcamp training would ever come in handy but ... well, he was wrong!
By the end of the day he had a military unit where there had once been nothing but an unorganized group of hunter-warriors. Now let them come...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Charlie came to in a medical cocoon on his ship. Someone had very thoughtfully wrapped him up in the emergency webbing, which was exactly what he needed. For all the little alien knew it had saved his life. Saar'floe was designed to be self-repairing (and that certainly extended to the crew as well). All that was generally needed was time to repair any level of damage except for the most catastrophic.
Charlie had no idea how long he had been out though. His head hurt but aside from that minor inconvenience all his body parts seemed to be intact and functioning. He looked around for his apprentice. Ryan was nowhere to be seen. He stood up, parted the webbing from him, and accessed the ship system. It sprang to life and quickly appraised him of its condition.
The ship system had immediately gone into hibernation stasis after the crash-landing, analyzing its most crucial components, isolating areas of concern. This had taken six hours and some change. Next it prioritized its workload and started on repairs. That was thirty-six hours ago and all systems were now on-line and functional.
That was good news. Charlie asked the system to check for life-signs on the ship. He was the only one. That was bad news. Now where had that silly little apprentice of his gotten off to?
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]It took several hours for her pilot to get Saar'floe back in the air. Once he did, he gained altitude then fly her in a wide circle through the early morning skies, doing a minute search for the sensory signature of the enemy craft that had attacked them. Before long he picked up a faint radiation glow to the north, near one of the canyons. Charlie flew in that direction.
Now he could make it out visually, the wreck of a Szearfetti spacecraft. He knew he had scored a hit on it at about the same time they had been knocked down themselves but until now he didn't know how severe a blow he had dealt.
He scanned the wreckage no signs of life. Now a bright crimson beam flew out from the belly of Saar'floe, touched the wrecked craft. The beam ran liberally across the surface of the silvery crescent until it turned orange with heat then red and then began to melt into the ground. Before long there was nothing but hot slag and burned moss at the scene of the crash.
Now it was time to find his lost apprentice. He prepped the seeker drone...
[font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Tracking the black bullet, Charlie zeroed in on a village on the horizon. It was built into the bowel of some kind of shallow hollow in the terrain. A natural fountain formed at its center, huts gathered around it like thirsty animals patiently awaiting their turn to get a drink.
Now he noticed movement up on a rise overlooking the village to the south. There were three formations of men stationed purposefully there. He angled Saar'floe up to get a better look.
The formations consisted of two ranks, the front ones of which stood behind tall shields carrying long spears that menaced anyone directly before them. Behind this wall of shields knelt another rank of warriors armed with bows.
Now he could see an unorganized mass of warriors heading directly toward the ordered ranks of spearmen. He estimated their numbers at several hundred, armed primarily with long bows and some type of bladed weapon at their hips.
The attackers now saw the men behind the shield wall standing placidly some hundred and fifty yards before them. Their confidence level must have been high for they outnumbered the defenders by something like 5:1, their scattered disposition no doubt severely exaggerating the disparity in their minds.
The attackers paused deliberately, fitted arrows and unleashed a ragged volley. The missiles arced high across the field, raining down diagonally onto the defenders only to shatter against a determined line of upraised shields. Another ragged volley followed to similar effect. After a third the attackers, obviously frustrated, became enraged. They put away their bows, drew long knives from their belts, and unwisely rushed headlong toward the mass of bristling spears. The defending archers now rose up from behind the shield wall and let loose a devastating volley of their own, and another and then a third.
Half of the attackers went down in this hail of destruction, crippled, dead or dying; the rest faltered until their chieftain or warlord – Charlie knew not which – rallied them forcefully, running about the field gesturing and screaming insanely. This had the desired effect. The attackers, overcoming their reticence, renewed the assault, raving on toward the steady formations of their unfazed foe.
A hundred howling warriors brandishing long knives broke violently against the shield wall. Many were impaled by the long spears of the defenders in the first few seconds of the assault. Many of the rest were impaled by a regimented stab, step, stab routine that the ranked spearmen then performed. Of those that tried to retreat, most were cut down by the defending archers, feathered shafts suddenly sprouting from their vulnerable backs. Now a word was given and the spearmen finally broke ranks and charged across the field, savagely running down the survivors to a man.
Charlie had been mesmerized by the battle until now. Looking down at his console, he found what he was after and initiated the tractor beam. It fell onto the field of battle, across one of the warriors, lifting him bodily up into the ship.