Alien Barbarian’s Little Human

7. Gog

CHAPTER 7

GOG

“ S o,” Micah says. “Are you going to ask me to marry you or what?”

I glance up from the spear tip I am mending. Micah works her tanning needle into my new loincloth with care, only glancing up when she’s between stitches.

“Marry you? I’m afraid that word doesn’t quite translate.”

Micah purses her lips and sets the loincloth down.

“It’s an Earth ceremony. You stand up in front of your family and friends and formally declare that you’re going to be together forever. You exchange vows, and rings, and…none of this makes any sense to you, does it?”

“On the contrary, it makes a lot of sense. We have some traditions as well, but they do not involve rings. The vows, however, are quite similar.”

She arches an eyebrow as a braid of hair falls into her face. She brushes it back over her shoulder. Even braided, her hair reaches the small of her back now. Has she been here that long?

“Come on, Gog. It’s been years. Or turns of the seasons, as your folk say. Aren’t you going to make an honest woman out of me?”

“But you are an honest woman. Everyone knows it.”

She slaps a hand over her face and sighs.

“Oh god, what am I going to do with you? I want the ceremony, damn it. All the pomp and circumstance. Everyone knows we’re together--Kul keeps asking me if I’m pregnant yet--but it’s not the same.”

“Very well. I see how much this means to you. I will speak with Chief Ral and see if we cannot arrange something. Perhaps a blending of our two traditions?”

“I would like that very much. Only, I can’t imagine wearing a full wedding dress in this heat, unless we did it at night. Night weddings can be elegant.”

A heavy drumbeat thunders over the village. My eyes widen and my heart skips a beat. This is not a good sound.

“What’s that?” she asks, eyes full of fear. “Oh no, this isn’t another Skuyr raid, is it?

“No. This is the sound of incoming wounded.”

She rises to her feet. I put on my old loincloth. When people are injured, the whole community comes together.

Sentries race along the walls, keeping watch out in the deepening sunset. I glance out over the plains and rolling hills, but see nothing out of the ordinary. It’s been almost a year since the Skuyr last sent a raiding party. We inflicted grave losses on them without losing a single warrior, and they have not been back since.

Near the gate, we discover that our aid will not be needed. There is only one survivor from the hunting party. Dalra, a young warrior, lays on his back while a half dozen Drokan attend to him. My stomach churns at his grisly injuries. It looks almost as if some of his wounds came from the inside out.

“What manner of weapons could cause injuries such as these?” Chief Ral says, his face grave as I’ve ever seen it.

“I have no idea, my chief.”

“I do.”

We turn toward Micah, whose blue eyes are haunted.

“Those kinds of wounds look like explosive rounds.”

When Ral and I look more confused, she tries to elaborate.

“It’s bullets that blow up. Um, think of tiny arrowheads, shot at unimaginably fast velocities. When they strike, they go inside and then explode like a volcano.”

Ral’s hand flies over his mouth. I shake my head in disgust.

“Monstrous. Who would create such a sadistic thing?”

She sighs.

“My people, among others. I’m not saying that’s what caused these wounds, but they look quite similar.”

“Perhaps, someone from your ship did this?”

Micah frowns and shakes her head.

“No. We had some weapons for self defense, but only simple blasters. No one from the Precursor could have done this.”

“Perhaps something followed you when you crashed? Something that attacked your vessel?”

Micah shivers.

“I really hope not.”

I regard the injured warrior and sigh.

“Something did this to him. They will take him to the Tree in hopes he can be saved.”

The medicine men work on Dalra well into the night. In the end, he loses one of his arms and both of his legs, but they pronounce him stable enough to tell his tale.

Micah and I are invited to attend the Elder meeting, because of her specialized knowledge. The aura is grim indeed as we seat ourselves. Dalra sits on a wheeled chair, his body more covered with bandages than not.

“If you are unable to talk to us, Dalra,” Chief Ral says. “No one will fault you for it.”

“No, my chief,” Dalra says, his voice tinged with pain but also determination. “I must tell you what I saw, that we might prepare the village.”

“I admire your bravery, Dalra. Very well, please tell us what happened.”

Dalra’s eyes grow haunted and distant, and his voice drops an octave when he speaks.

“We were tracking a herd many leagues away from here. The hunting party leader, Tava, believed that they were more than three hundred strong.”

“A mighty herd, indeed,” Chief Ral says. “Please continue.”

“We cornered the herd near a cliff by the Sura River. That’s when things began to get strange.”

“How do you mean, strange?” Ral asks softly.

“A light rain had been falling all day, aiding in our pursuit of the herd. The rain began to fall upward, rather than down. A small gash I’d suffered in my thumb healed instantly, closing up before my eyes. Meanwhile, Tava’s side split wide open, right where he’d been wounded in the Skuyr attack a year ago. It was as if his wound had never healed.

Dalra coughs and sputters, spraying crimson onto his white bandages. A medicine man quickly moves up to attend to him. He gives Dalra a broth to drink which seems to alleviate the coughing.

“Perhaps we should adjourn until later,” Chief Ral says.

“No,” rasps Dalra. “I must tell you what I witnessed. Something appeared in the center of the clearing by the cliff. I looked much like the fallen star that Micah rode down to earth, only sinister, somehow. When it appeared, the strange phenomenon ceased.”

Dalra’s voice begins to shake, and I do not think it is from pain or his injuries.

“We approached the sphere, forgetting about the herd. Tala touched it with his spear. It suddenly opened, cracking like an egg and falling in twain.”

His words grow more shrill as he recounts the tale. Micah shifts in her seat, looking more frightened than ever.

“That’s when a, a gray wind came from the sphere. Tala screamed, and it, it went inside of him. Through his nostrils, his ears, any way it could find a path. Tala’s eyes changed, turning shiny like metal.”

Dalra has another coughing fit, worse than the first one. The medicine men’s broth doesn't seem to help much the second time. They try another method, placing a crystal on his back to ease the weight of the world on his body.

He stops coughing, and sits up a little straighter.

“I spoke Tala’s name, asking if he was hurt. Then he looked at me with those terrible silver eyes and asked where he could find the Sky Woman.”

My heart skips a beat, and Micah looks very worried. I’m not supposed to speak out of turn, but I can't help it.

“Sky woman? Was he talking about Micah?”

Dalra looks over at me and nodded.

“That is what I took his meaning to be. I don’t know how to describe it, but I know that he was not Tala. Not anymore. He had become something else. Something evil.”

He shakes his head and shivers.

“I don’t know who gave the order to fire, but soon we plied our bows and arrows against it. We struck home a dozen times, most of them lethal blows. The head, the heart, the big vein in the leg. Yet he did not bleed. He just stood there and let us fill him up like a pincushion.”

Micah covers her mouth with her hand. I do not like the fear I see in her blue eyes, nor the recognition. She knows something about this. I am sure of it.

“The skin on Tala’s hand burned away, curling and blackened like he was being roasted on a spit. HIs bones were not white, but shiny metal, like his eyes. Then his hand, it changed into something like our bows, but much smaller. He pointed it at one of our party and something too fast to follow shot out the end. The hunter, he burst like a blister from the inside. I fired until I ran out of arrows, and then I ran. At the crest of a hill, I was struck by the strange weapon. I do not remember much of what followed, other than trying to drag my battered body back to the village, that I might warn you all.”

“Your bravery is inestimable,” Chief Ral says.

Dalra starts coughing again. They place another crystal on his back, but it does not help much. Chief Ral looks pained, but he kneels in front of Dalra.

“Dalra, please, one more thing. Where is Tala now?”

“Don’t…know…” Dalra sputters between coughs. The medicine men wheel him out of the chiefs hut, apparently intending to take him back to the Tree.

“What will we do, my Chief?” I ask. “This gray wind, this thing that has taken over Tala, it wants Micah.”

“It shall not have her,” Chief Ral says firmly. “I will speak with the warriors. We will keep watch. If Tala appears, we will not take any chances. He is to be not just killed, but obliterated on sight.”

“Arrows don’t seem to hurt him,” I point out.

“Then we will use ballista bolts. Or spears. Or perhaps crush him with a large rock. Nothing that walks this world is beyond the realm of death. Kro has made it so.”

Chief Ral takes in both Micah and I with his gaze.

“I do not wish either of you to leave the village until Tala is found. Just to be safe.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Micah mutters.

As we leave the chief’s hut, I turn toward Micah.

“Beloved, you seemed to know something about the strange thing that happened to Tala.”

“I don’t know that I do,” she says. “But the phenomenon he describes sounds a lot like the reports of Legion.”

“The reports of what?”

“A world distant from my own, Luvon, was threatened by a, a living machine.”

“A machine that lives?”

She grabs my arm and holds tight.

“Oh, Gog, I really hope I’m wrong. Even fully armed and equipped Vakutan marines couldn't deal with Legion. I don’t know what hope we would have against it.”

I stop and kiss her softly.

“There is always hope, Beloved. Always. You are my jalshagar. Our souls are entwined for all eternity, until the stars lose their shine. I will not let some gray wind take you from me.”

We return to our hut. I spend the night holding her tight. Neither of us sleeps much, and not for the usual, pleasant reason.

The next day, Ral orders scouts out to search in all directions for Tala. They have strict orders not to engage with him, only to report his presence. I wish I could go with them, but then again, I do not wish to leave Micah, either.

One day passes, and then another. On the third, Dalra loses the battle with his injuries. The village mourns. His body is not returned to the Tree, but burned, by order of the medicine men.

A week goes by, and then another. Chief Ral scales back the patrols. People begin to relax. Some of them even say that Dalra’s injuries caused him to hallucinate, and that some more mundane type of calamity claimed the lives of the hunting party, like a rockslide or sinkhole.

Micah and I are more reluctant to give up our fear. But after several moon cycles pass, and there is no sign of Tala or anything else, even we let our guard down.

One evening, relaxing in our hut, I look over at Micah.

“Let’s do it.”

She gives me a look.

“Still not satisfied? All right, for that matter neither am I.”

About an hour later, I cleared up the confusion.

“I meant, let’s do the ceremony in front of the whole tribe.”

“Oh.”

She kisses me fiercely, and we make the arrangements with Chief Ral. The entire village grows excited and begins festooning every structure with desert flowers and elaborately woven tapestries. Excuses to celebrate don’t come very often, and with Dalra’s recent death everyone could use some cheer.

Our ceremony takes place in front of the Life Tree, two hours after sunset as the moon begins to rise.

Micah is the portrait of loveliness, wearing an elegant silken dress which hugs her curves. Reor spent hours braiding her hair and putting it up with flowers, jewels, and a long golden pin with a dangling tassel.

But it wouldn't matter if she were dressed in worn leathers. She will always be the most beautiful woman in the galaxy to me.

We stand before the tree, hands linked, while Chief Ral performs the ceremony.

“One of the happiest duties a Chief can hope for is to present two souls joined as one. The Life Tree once told Micah his jalshagar would never be born on this world. We all thought that meant he would spend his life alone.”

Chief Ral turns toward Micah and smiles.

“It turns out, only a woman from beyond the stars could be his mate. Let none tear asunder what has been--”

The alarm bell’s heavy tone rings out over the village, causing him to fall silent. My heart sinks, and Micah’s grip on my hands grows incredibly tight.

“Oh no,” she whispers. “Not now.”

“I will make them pay for disrupting our night.”

I hold her tight, and then run to join the other warriors rushing for the gate. The bell continues to toll, until it abruptly ends. Either the sentry ringing it has chosen to join the fight rather than ring the alarm…

Or he is already dead.

On the last bend before we reach the gate, a horrific sound raises the hackles on my neck. Dull thudding noises mingled with screams of the dying. I already know I’m going to see something monstrous when I come around the bend.

That doesn’t prepare me for what I behold inside the arched gate. It almost appears as a spindly limbed insect, but the size of a Drokan. The impossibly thin legs don’t seem as if they should be able to hold it up. Let alone allow it to move.

But it does move. The shiny metal armature throws itself at one of the last remaining guards. He raises his warhammer crosswise in front of his body, to try and fend off the monster. The brave Drokan manages to block the blade-like hands.

The gray wind grows two new arms, under the first, and they spear right into the Drokan’s innards. We run harder, faster, but I know we won’t make it in time. Blood spills from the Drokan’s mouth.

Then the gray wind eviscerates him, spreading its arms out almost casually and cutting him nearly in two. The sight makes the rest of us warriors grind to a halt. This is not a foe we can overwhelm. We must fight intelligently.

“I need archers on that wall,” cries Chief Ral. “It has to have a limit.”

The gray wind takes note of us for the first time. Its face, if you can call it that, resembles a metal skull with two sinister yellow eyes.

“The Star Woman,” it says in a strangely flat voice. Whatever it is, it speaks our tongue. “Give me the Star Woman or perish.”

“Who are you?” Chief Ral demands. “What do you want with Micah?”

It turns to him and its eyes glow brighter.

“Your headdress marks you as the leader of these people. I assume you would prefer them alive. Give me the Star Woman, now.”

“What’s your name?” I ask, trying a different tactic. Maybe this thing is acting on some kind of misguided desire to protect my mate? If we can open a dialogue with it, we might be able to find out.

“Name? My designation is 0111000111000. You may call me Svarz. Take me to the Star Woman.”

“Why?” I ask.

“So that I may terminate her, and stop her progeny from destroying my race.”

Progeny? Is Micah pregnant? My mind reels. Terminate can only mean he wants to kill her.

“Never!” I shout and make for the monster.

“Stop him,” Chief Ral says.

Two men grab my arms. I still move forward, so four more join them. Chief Ral addresses the thing.

“You, there, Svarz, was it?”

The sound of its name seems to confuse the automaton. It stares at our chief for a long moment before it responds.

“That is my designation.”

“If you want the Star Woman, you’re out of luck. You see, we already sacrificed her to our God Tree.”

Chief Ral gestures toward the Life Tree in the background as I look on dumbfounded.

“So you see, Svarz, we can’t give you the Star Woman because she is dead.”

Svarz stared for another long time. A low clicking was the only sound other than our breathing and the thudding of my heart.

“I want to see the body.”

“Alas, we burned it, and ground her bones to powder and scattered them on the wind. Such are the demands of our cruel and capricious Tree God.”

Chief Ral bows his head. Svarz stares for a another pregnant pause, then speaks.

“An encephalogram of your brain indicates you are are fabricating your story. The Star Woman is not dead. You are trying to protect her.”

“Now!” Bellows Chief Ral. The archers on the ramparts let loose with volleys of deadly rain. I duck back under a hut’s awning, lest I be struck by accident.

The arrows hit Svarz’s shiny metal skin and reflect away, doing no discernible damage. However, the sheer weight of the impacts has him toppling about, in the verge of falling over.

But the volley of arrows can only last so long. If he’s affected by the weight of arrow impacts, then maybe something really heavy will actually hurt him.

I rush over to the construction site, and heave a ten foot wide block of volcanic onxystone onto my shoulders. The weight is horrific, worse than I anticipated. I almost sink to one knee.

Then I remember that monster wants to harm my jalshagar, my one true love. I will not let him have her. I will protect her at all costs, even if it kills me.

I stagger over to where Svarz remains harried by the arrow assault. Just as I make it within ten feet of him, the arrows cease. The archers are out of ammunition.

Svarz lifts his arm and a stream of white hot fireflies shoots out in a blur. Or at least, they look like fireflies.

When they strike the ramparts, the effect is immediate. Drokan fall, writhing in agony.

And then they explode.

No, I will not let this thing anywhere near my Micah. I will slay it here and now.

With a groan, my back creaking under the strain, I hurl the stone the last few feet to Svarz. It strikes him in the midsection and bears him immediately to the ground. His lower half flattened, Svarz makes a strange sound as he squirms about in confusion.

My fingers seize the lower edge of the stone I dropped on him. With a grunt, I flip the block over to crush his upper half as well.

Panting, I lean against the stone, sweat pouring off my body. I did it. Micah is safe.

“Tend to the wounded,” Chief Ral cries. “Including Gog. No one could lift such a weight and not injure themselves.”

“I am fine, my Chief,” I say, holding my hand up to stop the medicine men. “Attend to those who truly need the help. I must go to my mate and tell her all is well.”

The wind picks up. Chief Ral waves away dust from his face, coughing and sputtering.

Gray dust.

“Chief Ral?”

His eyes squeeze shut, then open as something else. Glowing pits of fire, which seem to be slowly turning away his flesh.

“We are a nanite colony. You cannot destroy us so easily. I sense that it would be a worse punishment to let you live without your mate, so I will spare you.”

I scream and run at the Chief. My spear takes him in the gut, going all the way through to the hilt. He should be dead. Instead, he looks down at me and smiles as more skin burns to ash and flakes away from his metallic skull.

“The progeny will not be born. The Baragon will not be destroyed. Our victory is inevitable as time itself.”

His hand snatches hold of my throat. I batter at him, struggling to breathe, but he holds me aloft as if it’s nothing.

“Stop!”

Svarz turns its head toward the sound of a voice I dreaded to hear. Not now, in this place.

I can’t turn my head, but Micah steps into my field of vision. Her blue eyes hold terror, but also resignation.

“I’m the one you want. Let him go and take me.”

“Star Woman,” Svarz says, practically tittering with excitement. “Star Woman. My objective. Star Woman.”

As when he heard his name spoken back to him before, Svarz seems to be suffering some kind of fit. The sight of my beloved in danger pushes me over the edge of my limits. Skin tears away from my neck as I plant my feet on his chest and wrench myself free.

Ignoring the blood streaming down my chest, I pick up a stray warhammer and spin it around in my grip.

“You can’t use your exploding shells this close, can you?” I grin as I taunt him, taking a few experimental swings with the hammer. He avoids letting the hammer contact him. That means he fears it.

That’s all I needed to know.

“I have the advantage up close, don’t I Svarz?”

His eyes flicker for a moment, and I swing the hammer around. It obliterates his head without slowing down. I continue to hammer away at the armature, knocking bits of it off and sending it spinning down to the ground.

“This time, it’s over for real, monster.”

The headless thing doesn’t move. I lower the hammer, and turn to see my beloved. I can see Micah from the shoulders up, as she leans against a buttress.

“Beloved, are you all right?”

Micah staggers out from behind the buttress, her body red from the stomach down. She gets all of two steps and collapses onto the gound.

I’m at her side in an instant, applying the bandages in my kit, and watching them soak through in an instant.

“How? How did this happen?”

Svarz looms behind me. He is not dead. I should have known.He doesn’t attack.

Because he does not need to.

“Micah, my love, don’t die.” I grab her hand and hold tight as the light drifts out of her eyes. “I cannot go on without you.”

“It is too late. She is gone,” Svarz says. “My objective is complete.”

“Kill me,” I say softly. “I do not wish to live without her.”

“That is not my objective. My objective was to stop the birth of the progeny, which would…”

His terrible furnace eyes flare so bright it’s almost blinding.

“Error. Error. The Progeny has been eliminated from this era, but will still be born at a later time. This is unacceptable. I will take corrective action.”

The armature stalks out of the village gates as calm as can be. I cradle my dead soulmate’s body next to me. My heart is gone. I do not want to live. Why did it not kill me?

Why?

Chief Ral waits until dawn before moving in to gently try and pry her body from my grasp. I won’t allow it. He gives in and when the medicine men come to bear her body away on a palanquin, I walk beside it, holding her hand though it has long since grown cold.

I sit with her body, awaiting the formal funeral. I wish it were my funeral. I wish it were me laying there instead of her. Micah was too good for this Galaxy. It’s not fair.

After her funeral, I will venture into Skuyr territory and sell myself dearly. I will cut down many of our enemies and do some good as I flee from this pain.

Someone stirs at the doorway.

“I wish to be alone with my beloved.”

Chief Ral enters, and sits beside me on the floor. I do not look at him.

“I’m sorry, I thought perhaps you might want to know what the wise men think about what Svarz said.”

My jaw sets hard.

“Do not speak the name of that abomination to my ears.”

“I’m sorry. The wound is still fresh, raw. You feel as if the world simply cannot continue without your beloved in it.”

He’s right. That sums up how I feel.

“I know this because I felt much the same when I lost my son. But before you let your grief blind you, heed the words of the Wise Men.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m serious, Gog. Look at me.”

I turn to face him at last. His face is swollen, his eyes red. He’s been weeping.

“Yes, the whole village weeps for Micah. You are not alone in your grief. But that is, in the end, irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant? My heart lying broken before me is irrelevant?”

“If you wish to save her, yes.”

“Do not mock me, my Chief. I know there is no coming back from the dead.”

“Her body is gone, yes, but her soul lives on. The Life Tree sees the future as well as the past and present. She will be born anew, and she will need your help.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That monstrosity that stole her from you is essentially immortal. It’s going to find some quiet place to hide and wait for her. And then he will slay her again.”

“No! I will not allow it. I will track that thing down and annihilate it.”

He shakes his head sadly.

“We lack the means to destroy such a demonic foe. Perhaps, in the future, our descendants will come up with something more potent. But there is still a way you might help.”

The Chief explains it to me. The Life Tree can send my soul into the future, here I will be reborn anew.

“Remember, my boy,” Ral says, his face grave. “This is a one way trip. You will be giving up everything about your life here. And you may not even remember having lived this life, except as a half-forgotten, fading dream.”

“My life is a fading dream without her. I am certain this is what I want.”

He nods, then gives me a long, stern look.

“You must be certain you understand the full import of the sacrifice you must make. We are alone in the galaxy, the Drokan the sole sapient species in this era. But in the future, that may not be the case. You may not be reborn as a Drokan at all.”

That doesn’t give me pause, but it does frighten me a little. No matter. I will find my love, no matter the cost.

The wise men prepare an elixir for me to imbibe. I drink the bitter agent, and then lay down in the roots of the Life Tree. The roots move, entangling me like forest vines, taking me deep inside the tree itself.

There, my body will be consumed by the Tree but my essence will be set free to fly, unbound by the constraints of time or space.

Wait for me, my love. I am coming. And this time I will save you.