Alien Barbarian’s Little Human

5. Gog

CHAPTER 5

GOG

T he Life Tree stretches its branches protectively overhead as I escort Micah to the lake’s edge. The lake encircles the Tree, and its waters have many miraculous properties.

For the Drokan. Any Skuyr who steps foot in this pool will experience a painful demise. Will a hoo man like Micah be the same?

“You don’t have to do this, Micah,” I whisper. “I can get you out of the village. No one can stop me.”

“I believe you,” she says. “But where am I going to go after you get me out?”

I have no answer, but she knew that already.

“If I’m going to survive on this world, let alone find my people, I’m going to need your folk’s help. And if this will help them trust me, then I’m all for it.”

She moves to step into the pool, and I grab her arm.

“You could die!”

Micah stares at me for a long moment. Then she steps up close and gets on her tiptoes. Before I can react, she kisses me on the cheek. I gasp, my hand going up to my face.

“Nah, no way the Galaxy would off me this young. I haven’t suffered enough yet. Besides…”

She looks up at the tree and smiles.

“I feel like the Life Tree and I might wind up being good friends.”

Micah pulls away. My fingers linger against hers until the last moment. I wonder if it will be the last time that we touch.

She steps out into the pool, ripples flowing out from around her. Micah reaches one of the gnarled, upthrust roots when she’s knee deep in the water. Her hand encircles the bark, and the lights on the tree change their seemingly random patterns. They adopt a slow, steady rhythm. The rhythm of Micah’s heartbeat.

I feel the Life Tree’s presence growing in my mind. It connects my people and binds us together. Times like this hurt the most, because it reminds me of how I am shunned by my village.

Lights begin to flicker, dancing like gossamer wings of insects over the pond. Slowly, the lights coalesce and form into discernable images. We are seeing images from Micah’s mind, her memories of the crash.

The Drokan fall silent as the images wash over them. The crash mingles with other memories, including her pursuit by the Skuyr. But there are more distant memories as well, times from when Micah was still a child.

She stands outside of a crushed structure in one of the images, crying uncontrollably. We can feel the reasons behind the memory, suffer the pain of loss she suffered. Micah was orphaned at a very young age.

“The tree shows her heart,” mutters Chief Ral. I had not noticed he had gotten so close to me. “Unlike when you were tested.”

It was true. During my test, the Tree did not reveal my memories or my heart. Instead, a single leaf fell and landed upon my head, right between my horns. The elders were split, but the majority decided that the Tree had decreed my innocence.

“From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry Lar died,” I whisper. “I did all I could to save him.”

“So you have always said.”

It’s useless. He will never believe me. Neither will most of the village. I give up on that notion and instead watch Micah’s memories. I see things that beggar my imagination. Cities of ten, no, thousands of times more people than our village. Towers that scrape the sky, machines that create all manner of miracles.

I also see Micah, taking part in some ceremony. She wears an odd square hat and long flowing robes, and someone hands her a roll of papyrus with a red band holding it together. She looks very proud.

The images start to jumble up, distort and bubble and pinch. The pulsing lights of the tree speed up along with Micah’s heart beat. That is a dangerously rapid pace for anyone, even someone small like her.

“Something's wrong,” I say.

“It is her turmoil. The Tree is not used to dealing with so much tragedy at once,” Chief Ral says.

“What can we do?”

“Nothing. Until the test is done, tradition demands we remain here.”

Tradition is important to the Drokan. But not as important as life.

“What are you doing, Gog?” Ral gasps as I splash into the pool.

“I’m saving her life, and maybe the Tree, too.”

I move through the water as fast as I can. The Tree feels me, linking with my mind as well. My memories bleed into Micah’s own, creating an ever more chaotic display.

“Micah,” I gasp, grabbing her just as she collapses. I catch her in my arms, feeling now small and lifeless her body seems. It reminds of the last time I held someone dear in my arms.

The Drokan begin crying out. I look up to see myself, struggling to pull Lar from the raging floodwaters. His legs are tangled in roots unseen in the torrent. I will not let him go.

“Get out of here, Gog,” Lar shouts above the rushing water. “There’s a wall of water coming this way.”

“I almost have you,” my memory self cries.

“No, you don’t,” Lar says.

And that’s when he let go of my wrist. I continued to hold onto him, but slowly, inexorably, his water slicked arm slid from my grasp.

Then, he was gone.

The old tragedy is nothing compared to the thought of losing Micah. I check her pulse. She still lives, her chest still heaves with breaths. I carry her to the edge of the pool. Chief Ral suddenly splashes into the water with me, helping me get her out.

“Gog, can you ever forgive me?” Chief Ral says softly.

“Of course, my Chief.”

“My anger and resentment robbed you of your chance to mourn. Perhaps myself as well. The TRee has taught me a valuable lesson today, a lesson of trust.”

He stares down at Micah, sleeping in my arms, and then steps up onto a stone to address the village.

“Let it be known that this woman is no threat to us, or our way of life. She is a good person with a good heart. And let it also be known that Gog did his best to save my son’s life. It was Lar who sacrificed himself to save Gog, who refused to let go. Noble to the end.”

His voice breaks, and then he turns to me.

“We will accept her as one of our own. She will stand with us, and we will stand with her.”

I nod, and he turns to the crowd.

“Summon our best medics.”

“No, my Chief,” I say. “I will attend to her. I…get the impression from the Tree she will recover. Or at least, I hope so.”

Chief Ral nods.

“Very well, Gog. I know that she is in safe hands. Attend to her, and please, forgive me.”

I look down at Micah’s face, tucking a bit of hair away from her eyes.

Without another word, I carry her to my hut. My people part to give me passage. Some of them put hands on me, whispering soft apologies for their suspicions, for making me a pariah. Others are too embarrassed by their actions to even come close.

Then, I am through the door to my hut, and Micah and I are alone.

I just hope that she awakens, and soon.