Excerpt:  Heroes Arise

Excerpt from uncorrected proof

Chapter Two
A Stirred Pot of Trouble

Twin moons hung in the starry sky.  Brother Moon, usually dominant, was a sliver and the sister had waned to quarter-full.  Tharda’s star shown like a polished gem.  Tharda, the mother of worlds, always brightened when her youngest children played hiding games.  Gundack would brighten too when Eutoebi bore them children.

Gundack yawned and huddled, side pressed to the ground, shoulders hunched and knees bent.  His tail coiled against his back.  Wait.  He was supposed to be on watch.  How could he have let himself drift off to sleep?  He pushed his blanket aside, sat up straight and let the cowl of his cloak slip off his head.  His meeting with the human must have tired him.  Such talk of blood pacts.

A pack animal issued a deep guttural rasp.  Only Zel’s voice had such a graveled resonance.  The eldest sandship lizard in Gundack’s herd of ten rarely growled without good reason.  Gundack’s ears flattened and battle arms tensed.  His senses explored the chilly night air the way his father had taught him.  Nothing smelled or sounded wrong.

He dug his claw hands into shallow sand and raised himself to a squatting position.  His back and legs ached.  Maybe he was getting old.  Not too old to marry Eutoebi or hunt Tarr.  He would never forget Tarr’s massive hands or the yellow tinge to his jagged claws and triangular head scales.  And Tarr had always worn that ring, an unusually wide band of polished emerald bloodstone.  No, he would vanquish Tarr and marry Eutoebi.

Zel growled a little louder.  Harness bells tinkled.  She moved the short distance to Gundack and nuzzled his shoulder.  He stroked the animal’s arched neck.  Now came a muted shuffling noise, the scrape of sandals against fine chips of rock.  Krens never wore sandals.  Must be a human.  Yet the merchants, both kren and human, who had traveled to Jular Plain should all be asleep in their tents at the base of this plateau.  Gundack stood, clicking his tongue in code to signal his back-ups, the brothers Sem and Elar, to intercept the trespasser.  Then he moved toward the top of the approach path.

A small ball of light bobbed its way up the incline.  Whoever climbed toward this plateau carried a lantern.  Kren eyes needed no such assistance in the dark.  Human.  Who?  Not Rheemar?  The light disappeared.  The trespasser must have ascended to the narrow part of the path and passed between the two towering monoliths of stone, the sentinel rocks.

Gundack shot a quick glance back over his shoulder.  The vague silhouettes of his pack animals and caravan drivers remained motionless in the dark.  Yet soft grunts and lizard rasps confirmed all had awakened.  Gundack sniffed the air for human odors.  None.  But, then, Zel’s foul breath, the product of aging teeth and gums, could overpower weaker smells.

The ball of light appeared again, nearly at the crest of the incline.  Gundack could make out a shadowy form beside the approaching lantern.  He caught a familiar scent, one he had learned earlier this evening.  His tongue clicks instructed Sem and Elar to wait.  The merchant man approached.

“Gundack, is that you?”  Rheemar’s soft, nasal voice sounded apologetic.  “Have you thought it over?  What I said?”

Thought it over?  The merchant had left his tent—come here in the middle of the night—to reopen discussion of a loyalty pact?  He should have waited until dawn.  The human tapped the uneven ground with his walking stick as he advanced.  The lantern in his other hand wobbled back and forth, as though hanging from a lumbering sandship lizard.  Had he no good judgment at all?  

“Coming to a trader kren’s sleeping circle without warning,” Gundack said, “is asking to get your throat ripped out.”  He accented his words with sharp rasps.  “I hope you didn’t leave valuables unguarded in your tent.”

The lamplight softened the appearance of Rheemar’s sun-weathered skin.  His bearded face appeared younger than before.  Not much older than Eutoebi’s brother Kan, the day he had left for Nath.  Somehow the earlier reading of Rheemar had brought Kan to mind.  But Gundack didn’t want to think about Kan, and he hadn’t for so many moon cycles now.  Kan, that coward and traitor, could only prove a distraction.

“I don’t think anyone saw me leave,” Rheemar said.  “I snuffed my candles and didn’t light this lantern until I cleared camp.  Besides, I put my pack on my sleeping mat and covered it with a blanket.  If one of the other merchants pokes his head into my tent, he’ll think I’m still there.  Now, what about—”

“We’ll discuss things later,” Gundack said.  “At dawn.” 

“But—” Rheemar said, disappointment on his human face as though Gundack had retracted an offer of hospitality.

“After the sun rises,” Gundack said, dismissing the human with the sweep of four hands.  “Get some rest.”

“How can I sleep?” Rheemar said, his voice changing pitch.  “One of the merchants down there is trying to kill me.”

“That is a serious accusation.”  Gundack grunted.

“Don’t you believe me?” 

Rheemar set down his lantern and extended his arms in an open invitation to be read.  Gundack dismissed the gesture with a wave of a battle hand.  Merchants were known to overcharge or stretch the truth about the quality of their wares.  But murder was not their usual form of treachery.  Too many suspicions filled this human’s head.  Still, if ill feelings brewed down in the encampment, the mood would affect trading.  Gundack had already told his caravan drivers what he and Rheemar had discussed this evening.  They probably strained to hear this present conversation.  He signaled for Sem and the others to come forward.

“These are my tribal kin,” Gundack said to Rheemar and introduced his ten companions.  “Much passes between us.   Nothing travels farther than it should.”

“What happened tonight?” Sem said.  The brown-striped tip of his tail curled.  “What makes you think that anyone but Tarr would bother to kill you?”

Rheemar turned toward Sem, head tilted up, and squinted.  Sem’s knowledge about him and Tarr probably came as a surprise.  A grin spread across Sem’s mottled tan and green face, yellowed by lamplight.  The inner ends of Rheemar’s thick black eyebrows knitted together.  The merchant man did not appreciate Gundack’s disclosure or Sem’s sense of humor.  Humans rarely relished the Kren practice of candid communication.

Rheemar folded his arms against his chest.  Then he rubbed the side of his flat nose.  His fingers shifted to his whiskered chin.  Finally, he sat on the ground and crossed his legs.  Sem crouched on one knee and rested his leathery elbow on the other.  Elar did the same, as though they were twins.   

“After you left my tent,” Rheemar said, “I went to check on my sandship lizard and driver.  Then I returned to my tent and fell asleep.  I awakened later thirsty.  The plug on my water skin wasn’t as tight as I had left it.”

Gundack knelt in front of Rheemar and grasped his hands.  No liar’s pulse.  And his gaze remained steady.  The human projected truth.

“I poured a little water into my cup,” Rheemar said.  “Touched the surface with the tip of my tongue.  It tasted of more than desert wells and goat.” 

Gundack grunted.  Slipping a potion into a goatskin water bag was a well-known trick of murderers and thieves.  An unsuspecting victim overlooked the faint bitter taste and, depending on the dose, soon fell into deep or eternal sleep.  Rheemar had been clever.  But why would one of the merchants want to kill him?  Maybe the reason was that this human knew too much of Tarr.

“So you decided,” Gundack said, releasing his grip, “it was safer to come up here and risk having your throat slashed by a caravan driver on night watch.”

“I guess I sound rather foolish.”  Rheemar scratched the back of his neck and grinned.

Gundack stood.  Most likely, whoever had tampered with Rheemar’s water had already discovered he had fled his tent.  Little to do about this situation until dawn.  They should all go back to sleep.  He would stand guard a while longer until Sem took over.

“You’ll look as foolish as you sound,” Gundack said to Rheemar, “if you try to confront tomorrow with a haggard face and bloodshot eyes.”  

A shiver traveled through Gundack.  Night breezes brought chilly air.  Men had far thinner hides than krens.  This one had less body fat than a newborn krenling.  Gundack retrieved his blanket and tossed it to Rheemar.

“But, what if an intruder sneaks up here?”  Rheemar wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.

“One already tried to,” Gundack said.  “Don’t you remember?”

“This is no time to jest,” Rheemar said.  “Couldn’t someone approach this plateau from an unexpected direction?”  He pointed southeast into the night to the cliffs at their back.  “What about Jular Steeps?”

“The path you climbed,” Gundack said, “is the only way here until daybreak.  Believe me.  We camp not on a true plateau but a wide ledge that abuts cliffs too sharp and dangerous to descend without daylight.”

Gundack took Rheemar’s lamp and snuffed out the light.  The human truly worried he was in immediate danger.  This time, Gundack wouldn’t drift off to sleep while on watch.  He checked the positions of the moons.  His turn to rest would come soon, when Sem assumed guard duty.

# # #

All slept again in the sleeping circle behind him.  Zel’s breath filled the breeze.  Gundack squatted on the plateau.  His eyes studied the darkness.  His ears and nose explored the night.  No signs of trespassers.  Only Rheemar’s snores.  The human sounded worse than an elderly kren with tongue bloat.

Gundack hadn’t camped on Jular Plateau for several years.  If treachery simmered in the merchants’ encampment, more than one human or kren could be stirring that pot.  What if several trekked up here tonight and caused trouble?  The approach path branched at one point.  The thinner fork led through a maze of boulders that would cause many travelers to lose all sense of direction without the aid of distant reference points.  The other approach was the one the human had taken.

But what if trouble came from Jular Steeps, the lofty divided cliff bordering one side of this wide expanse?  Gundack stood, stretched, and turned in the general direction of the Steeps, the rugged gateway to the Divider Mountains.  Bottomless holes studded that area.  Crumbling rocks gave way.  No, the route up the back side of that bluff was best climbed in daylight.  The vermin who had tampered with Rheemar’s water supply had done so tonight.  If the traitor brought allies to hunt for the human during the night, they would use the regular approach path, the way Rheemar had.  Their advance could be cut off from the side at the point in the path between the boulders.

Cold wind bit into Gundack.  He pulled up his cowl, edged back to the sleeping circle and huddled next to Zel.  The ground was hard.  At least the beast’s bulk was a good barricade against rising wind.  Gundack rubbed his upper arms.  Too bad Zel was cold-blooded and couldn’t give off more body heat.  Still, sandship lizards were useful traveling companions.

The gods had created both krens and sandship lizards on the same day.  Or so the ancient stories claimed.  Krens, then cold-blooded creatures, had requested fire to brew tea.  The gods had shown them how to kindle fire and steep sugarthorn leaves.  That first campfire had warmed krens’ blood forever.  Gundack wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders.  Perhaps Zel’s ancestors should have asked for fire, too.

Gundack yawned.  His eyelids lowered.  He forced them open.  He must stay awake until Sem took over his duty.  Anger would keep him alert.  He’d think about Tarr or Kan.  Kan.  Even Tarr—the wretched son of a pus worm—had never turned against his own blood kin.  But Kan had no loyalty, no honor.  That thief had betrayed their entire tribe.  Gundack’s pulse quickened.  Yes, thinking of Kan generated enough emotion to keep him awake.

A campfire.  How tempting it was to light one and brew sugarthorn tea.  But why announce his exact location to potential enemies?  Besides, Gundack’s father had rarely burned fires after dinner when traveling.  Too much smoke clouded sensory perception.  The ways of fathers and forefathers should be honored.  Gundack inhaled the reek of his pack lizards.  Zel’s rotting teeth made it difficult enough to detect faint odors.  No fire tonight. 

Gundack gazed across the plains below.  Oh, to stand beside the fragrant cook fire in his tribal encampment.  To laugh with his brother-in-law, Robel.  To savor the mixed aromas of cragweed tea and smoldering talenbar resin on the annual day of marriages.  Eutoebi.  To drink in her beauty with all of his senses.  To again know the joys and blessings of marriage.  Gundack’s temples pounded.  Even the blood in his vessels desired her.

Gundack inhaled the chilly air.  He could almost smell the memory of smoke.  Gundack drew a deep breath.  Wait.  Smoke.  This was no recollection.  The aroma of a dying cook fire must have wafted from the merchants’ encampment below.  But this odor wasn’t from burning wood.  More like hides.  The harness bells of sandship lizards tinkled.  He sat up straight and clicked a warning to Sem and the others. 

Gundack moved over smooth stones toward the open edge of the plateau.  The area bordering this cliff held treacherous holes, deep and wide enough to trap a kren.  A dense groundcover of creeping mountain sugarthorn covered the bores.  With each step, his toes tested the ground until he had ventured far enough to survey the merchants’ encampment.

Darkness engulfed the tents.  Yet a cylinder of light flickered down there.  The light appeared central to the camp, inside or near the merchant men’s area.  But the cooking circle had been within the kren section.  This illumination fanned outward and leaped into the night.  Gundack’s ears flattened.  Tents were on fire.

© 2008 Laurel Anne Hill, All Rights Reserved

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