Home > Foregone Conflict(8)

Foregone Conflict(8)
Author: Stan C. Smith

What most confused Skyra, though, was that the men were riding upon the creatures’ backs. She had never seen such a strange thing. How could these men get on top of these massive beasts without being killed? Why were the beasts so calm, as if they didn’t notice or care that men were sitting upon their backs?

The men wore strange garments upon their bodies, similar to those worn by Lincoln and his tribemates, although these were dark brown instead of sky blue. The garments covered these men so only their hands and faces were visible. Their skin was slightly darker than Skyra’s, lighter than Jazzlyn’s but darker than Lincoln’s. Each man had a long spear and a khul with a broad, shiny blade. Several men carried bows, like the one Lincoln had taken from bolups in Skyra’s homeland.

After standing in place for several breaths, the great beasts began lumbering forward, carrying the men toward Skyra’s group.

“Kalufo dup!” one of the men repeated.

The beasts came to a stop, and the men upon their backs stared at Lincoln and his tribemates. Skyra remained behind Lincoln, watching warily over his shoulder.

The men began talking in a language Skyra had never heard before. They pointed at the T3 and the bags on the ground beside it. They pointed at Lincoln and his tribemates, perhaps confused by their strange faces and blue garments. During all of this the wolves stayed calm, as if they weren’t frightened at all by the men on their massive beasts.

One man pointed directly at Skyra. He leaned to the side to get a better look around Lincoln’s shoulder. “Amo bo di-amo,” he said.

Skyra squeezed her khul’s handle then raised the weapon to show the man she was prepared to fight. She moved to the side, exposing her face.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yu-te khakhul!” He whistled and swiped his hand from the side until his fingers pointed at Skyra.

The wolves charged toward her.

“No!” Lincoln said. He and his tribemates bunched up around her, stopping the wolves’ advance.

“Call off your confounded dogs!” shouted Ripple, now back on its feet.

The men seemed to notice Ripple for the first time. They stared for a few breaths, obviously having never seen such a strange creature before. Unfazed, the first man again whistled and swiped his hand toward Skyra.

The wolves began snarling, pushing their snouts between Lincoln and his tribemates to get at her.

It was time to fight. Skyra didn’t know why these wolves were ignoring Lincoln and his tribemates, but they obviously intended to kill her. Maybe if she hurt one of them, the others would run away.

She shoved Lincoln aside and immediately swung her khul into the face of the wolf trying to force its way past him. Her stone blade split the creature’s forehead, and it collapsed at Lincoln’s feet without a sound. Another wolf leapt over the body. She swung again, cracking the bones in its snout. It let out a yelp and ran off.

Something solid hit Skyra from behind. She went down along with her four protectors. Among squirming bodies and flailing limbs, she rolled to her back to see one of the massive beasts standing over her, its forelegs planted on either side of her belly. The man sitting on the creature leaned to one side and thrust his spear down at Skyra’s face. She jerked to the side and the spear’s tip hit the dirt by her ear. Dropping her khul, she grabbed the spear’s shaft before the man could pull back for another thrust. She yanked the spear to the side with all her strength. The man tumbled from the creature’s back and landed on top of Lincoln and Jazzlyn.

Amidst the screaming people, snarling wolves, and thrashing limbs, Skyra grabbed her khul, crawled from beneath the huge beast, and got to her feet. She leapt over the fallen wolf and ran. The remaining wolves would chase her, she was sure of that. Maybe the men on beasts would chase her too, then Lincoln and his tribemates could quickly prepare the T3 and leave this place.

Before Skyra even reached the nearest trees, she was cut off by one of the horned beasts and its rider. She switched directions but was cut off by a second rider, then a third. The wolves hung back behind the men, waiting for an opportunity to charge in for the kill.

Skyra had nowhere to run, so she turned and faced the nearest rider. Now she wished she had held on to the other rider’s spear. Her khul was her only weapon—she would have to make good use of it. She got into her fighting stance, one hand positioned forward to block, the other holding her khul beside her ear.

“Lincoln, go now!” she shouted. She glanced toward the T3, hoping to see Lincoln and his tribemates preparing to leave.

Instead, they were running toward her. They darted past the riders and formed a barrier around her.

“Don’t hurt her!” Lincoln shouted at the riders. He had dropped his khul and was holding his hands out with his palms toward the men and wolves. “She’s with us. We didn’t come here to fight with you. Please!”

The great beasts pawed the ground and paced restlessly back and forth as their riders glared at Lincoln.

Ripple moved from behind one of the riders then stood beside Lincoln, becoming part of the barrier around Skyra. “These men have spoken their language enough for my translator to begin preliminary analyses,” Ripple said. The creature then spoke loudly. “Yu-te khakhul. Boon-belol yasul-un.”

One of the men pointed his spear at Ripple. “Yasul-un yu-te khakhul.”

Ripple replied with a long string of even more words Skyra couldn’t understand.

The men looked at each other and exchanged words.

“What the hell’s going on?” Derek said. “That drone’s translator hasn’t had anywhere near enough time to learn the language.”

Skyra didn’t know the word translator, but she understood the rest, and she did not agree. After all, Ripple had somehow learned the Una-Loto language of Skyra’s tribe after visiting the tribe’s camp on only one occasion.

“I do not yet know the language to the point of conversing fluently,” Ripple said. “I hope, however, to intrigue these men enough to dispel their desire to slaughter all of you on the spot.”

The man Skyra had thrown from his beast stepped forward, holding his recovered spear toward Skyra’s group. He held the spear with its strangely-smooth, sharp tip almost touching Lincoln’s face. The man then spoke a long string of words.

The other men slid from their beasts, their feet thumping the ground. They advanced, holding their spears ready. The wolves advanced with them.

The first man spoke again. Ripple spoke back, repeating some of the man’s same words. This went back and forth several times, which seemed to anger the men even more. They stepped closer, and the wolves started growling all over again.

“I fear I am not making progress,” Ripple said in Lincoln’s language. “The likelihood that all of you will survive is decreasing precipitously.”

Jazzlyn said, “Lincoln, can’t you get that damn drone to shut up?”

Skyra gazed over Lincoln’s shoulder, studying the nearest man’s face. His eyes flitted from Ripple to Lincoln, to Lincoln’s tribemates, to Skyra, and to one of the other men beside him. He was angry but also frightened—a dangerous combination. Abruptly, he furrowed his brows and cocked his head.

The wolves became silent.

Then Skyra heard it too. She had been too caught up in the conflict to notice sooner. Something else was coming—voices of men and women, heavy animals, and the rumble of something large moving upon turning circles of wood.

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