8.1 - drop back and punt, part 1

Their numbers swelled, slowly. Queen Emerald, under the dome that eternally frothed with percolated steam, had built a hodgepodge army. At first they marched reluctantly under the black of night striking fear into the Sullen with sneak attacks. They killed seldom, only in need, and freed any grounded flyers that were held in slavery. Still, they were but a hundred and then some, and of translucents...there was only one.

Fuz lay propped up on one elbow, he was looking into the eyes of his beloved and worrying. They were naked beneath furs and he reached out a hand to touch a strand of Emerald's hair that had strayed, sweaty, over her closed eyes. She shifted, purring under his touch. “Tomorrow I go out from the mountain, we will travel farther than before. It may be days and nights before we can return.” The flyers knew the land better than any, having seen it from above, but Fuz knew the hidden terrain shrouded from their keen eyes. The Sullen, like rats, would never be eradicated from their holes in the jagged earth.

“I wish you wouldn't go,” said Emerald, but she knew his place was out among the rocks, in the shadow of the mountains, protecting his new family. Fuz stroked her hair then dropped his head down onto her breast where he closed his eyes and slept. The dawn, though cold and bereft of light, would come soon.

–

They lay low among the debris and could hear the scrabbling of men long before they saw them. “Now, called out Fuz, and he was first to rise. His long spear found the belly of a dirty ground dweller, one who lived in the open under a stick shelter. Their kind had joined with the Sullen, but they were stunted and stank like the swamps where they rode lazily on logs and chewed on root sponges. Quickly Fuz dropped into the rocks, but not before he defined the group they had run up against. The enemy was maybe eight, or ten men. With them, tied, were tall men who appeared to be prisoners. Perhaps three, and they were held in the center of the group. To Fuz they looked like captive flyers, but he couldn't be certain.

“Be careful of the prisoners,” Fuz said in a low tone, trying not to be heard beyond the range of his men. Again he stood and saw now only four standing, two of which were prisoners. He threw a second spear and this one whistled past the head of a crouching flyer and caught the shoulder of a Sullen warrior. Three more shafts plunged deep into his body and he fell, along with the last soldier, dead to the ground. Fuz sprang forward, his last spear raised, and searched among the men lying in the dirt and rubble. “All dead,” Fuz said. He was glad they had make quick work of it. Fuz turned his attention to the prisoners. One of them, he noticed, was lying face down, a knife between his shoulder blades. The other two were frightened, and had white faces. “Do I know you?” asked Fuz. “You are Sullen.”

They turned back to the mountain earlier than expected. The prisoners explained how they were being marched to the mountain of death, and there they would be executed under the shadow. Knot, one of the prisoners, had become a doubter and was an outcast. The other was a criminal, he wore a torn robe. The dead prisoner was a flyer, and they would carry him back to the cave and lay him to rest on the open slopes facing the valley. “Take me in,” begged Knot to Fuz. “I am like you, not these Sullen you have killed. I never wished for this fight, or the deadly skies. My face is white, but I want to breath color, and walk under the Sun.”

“That is not up to me,” said Fuz, though he was sympathetic. “And what of this other man?” He eyed the second pale man, who walked behind them, guarded by some flyers.

Knot snorted. “He is a thief, his garment torn by the elders, cast out for obvious reasons. Kill him. Or send him back.” Fuz turned quickly from the head of the column and walked deliberately back to the prisoner. The procession halted.

“What is your name?” he demanded, raising his bloody spear up to the man's throat.

“Undo, I...” he said no more as Fuz plunged the point through the man's throat.

“Come,” he said, “I would make the mountain before night.”

–

Emerald eyed him warily. She knew Fuz had concerns, but she wasn't the cold blooded killer that he had become. “I do it because there is no other choice,” he said. He face was etched like stone and pale as the chert they shaped spearheads from.

“We have questioned him, repeatedly. I believe his answers. You have changed, why shouldn't he?” Emerald grasped his forearm as she spoke. Her word was the last one, and Fuz had little choice but to follow orders. He wasn't one of the flyers and would never be the true leader, even if Emerald trusted his judgment above all others. “Bring him in, but he is not to be given a weapon. Knot will be watched closely by all, for he will need to gain the approval of all.”

Fuz only nodded. He couldn't see much danger in allowing Knot into the cave; after all, the place was not a secret – it had been known long before Fuz brought the flyers in. It had only one entrance and was well guarded. And the mountain itself had become a symbol of death to the Sullen, a place of fear. “As you say. I will attend to it myself.”

“Yes. But not now. You will be happy to have come back to me.” Emerald pulled Fuz close and kissed him.

part 8.2