Elf-Boy's Friends 49
The Western Dividing Range
by George Gauthier
[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']
Chapter 1 Departure
At the military airfield in Caerdydd a pair of airmen rolled the two autogyros belonging to the Corps of Discovery out of their hanger and onto the field. The airmen assured the six members of the Corps that all was in readiness for their departure. They could load up and take off as soon as they got authorization.
Finn thanked them and gave the others the go-ahead to load their gear into the cargo hold except for gear they might need during the flight: a far-viewer tube, a water bottle, a box lunch from the army dining hall, and their weapons. They chatted away as good friends will until Drew Altair caught everyone's attention with a provocative remark:
"The way things have gone on this trip has left me with a profound sense of deja vu."
"There is nothing strange about that, is there?" Karel asked.
"Aren't we retracing our own steps? Years ago we did travel from Flensborg to Caerdydd. So it is no wonder that every place we have been to on this trip looks and feels familiar. If it seems as though we have been there before, well we have."
"My brother is surely right about that, isn't he?" Jemsen asked then added:
"And things are not really the same anyway. Look at the differences. We flew this time instead of taking a coach. The stretch of New Varangia which we crossed is no longer a thinly settled frontier. These days the new homeland of the frost giants has a population of over half a million. Instead of a badly rutted coach road, a modern trunk highway and a double tracked iron road link east and west."
"Yes, yes I understand all that," Drew conceded, "but think about this incident where a sergeant mistook us for raw recruits. History repeated itself didn't it? Next, consider how we met up with Clyde and Daniel. Our actions and our dialog, weren't they uncannily like a repeat of the way we met Petr Kwill and Ian Dentzer all those years ago?"
"It's gotta be coincidental." Karel assured Drew, adding:
"Besides, from here on out we travel to the West, not to the North like before. So there is no way we are going to get anywhere near the former Despotate of Dzungaria or run into Colonel Ifans."
"Did someone mention my name?" asked a tall man of middle years who had just walked up to where they were loading. Though grizzled in appearance the man was obviously still at the height of his physical powers.
"Colonel Ifans!" Karel blurted out, utterly flabbergasted.
"Actually Karel it's General Ifans now. I have to say I am very glad to once again see my old friends, the Young Peacemakers Four. I haven't talked with you Drew since my last trip to the capital when you gave me an inscribed copy of your best selling book on the secret aspects of your mission all those years ago."
"Your revelations about our secret alliance surprised a lot of people though I later learned that some astute observers had suspected for years that we were in collusion, the Despotate and the Commonwealth, to put a squeeze play on the old regime in these parts and bring about reforms. It made for a compelling narrative, and your book made us look good, me and Twm Glyn Dwr."
[pronounced as if written Tom Glen Dower]
"It's what you two accomplished in the cause of peace that made you look good." Drew returned generously and with genuine warmth. "You started out as dedicated revolutionaries and turned into far sighted statesmen."
"Pardon me for interrupting your mutual admiration society," Finn began, "but what the hell are you doing here Colonel? I mean General."
"I am here to join your expedition. My credentials and new orders signed by General Urqaart himself are in this envelope. The orders leave you in command of the expedition but appoint me as a military observer to study the countries which occupy the mountains as well as glean from their inhabitants what they might know of the coastal lands beyond."
Finn nodded. "Now we know why they asked us to delay our departure by a few days."
"Exactly! You are also gaining a military escort of ten scouts and rangers -- all proven men or elves and hand picked for this job. Two have gone into the mountains but no farther than a few miles into the front range. The squad is under the immediate command of Master Chief Borden."
"Chief Borden!" the twins exclaimed. Karel shook his head in disbelief. "Talk about deja vu!"
His brother nodded. "I am feeling it too, keenly so."
"Chief Borden was our sergeant of scouts back when we first joined the army." Jemsen clarified for anyone who hadn't recognized the name.
"He trained us under the supervision of Chief Wroclaw, another good man even if he couldn't spell his own name right."
Jemsen smiled at the old quip. This time Karel did have a point about phonetic spelling. A name pronounced "Vrotswaf" had no business being spelled W-R-O-C-L-A-W.
Ifans also told them:
"The escort will be flying in those two transport aerocraft the squad is rolling out of the hanger just now. We are taking two aerocraft for the sake of redundancy. If one of our machines becomes too damaged to fly, we can squeeze everyone into a single aerocraft. Besides, with a second autogyro we can carry more supplies."
"And ammo?" Corwin asked sardonically. The wars had left their mark on him.
"That too," Ifans confirmed.
"We'll be taking ammo not just for our personal weapons but also for a pair of crew-served tripod mounted swivel guns. They are the magnetic type but can also be operated telekinetically by our fetcher pilots. Now those big guns are for just in case. We want to avoid trouble, but you never know. And before you ask, Corwin the answer is that there are no bombs aboard."
"That is good. It would be tough to convince the locals of our peaceful intentions if a party of armed men arrived in bomber aerocraft," he returned wryly.
"Ah, our transports are now being lined up right behind yours for takeoff." Ifans waved Chief of Scouts Borden forward. The twins embraced him warmly. Drew and Finn had met the chief years earlier, during their first mission to Caerdydd, when he had just arrived to take his new posting.
Finn addressed the escort of scouts and pilots:
"Since this is now a military operation we will address you by rank and last names as is the normal practice the Army. Now your surnames are embroidered on those cloth name badges on your breasts. That is not true for rest of us, but I expect that you have heard of or read about those I brought with me: the red head and the short blond are the journalists and war correspondents Drew Altair and Corwin Klarendes, next to them are the famous twins Jemsen and Karel -- Jemsen is the one in green -- plus the Druid Lord Dahlderon."
All of them except the druid have been knighted, but they use their titles very seldom, mostly to get a better table at a restaurant. Simply address them by their surnames. In my case simply say 'Sir Finn' to get my attention and just 'Sir' after that.
"All those I brought with me are combat veterans. The twins and the druid have unmatched fieldcraft. The others are pretty good too, for all that Drew Altair is a city boy at heart. Corwin Klarendes grew up on the Eastern Plains and learned to ride a horse almost as soon as learned to walk. Altair alas rides even worse than I do. At least I have never fallen off a horse."
"Only because you've never gotten on one." Drew objected.
Everyone knew the reason without Drew having to say it, that frost giants were simply too big and heavy for horses to bear. Finn's rejoinder raised eyebrows:
"No, no horses, but I have ridden a brontothere and never fell off even once."
Having made the introductions and told the obligatory lame joke as an icebreaker Finn then told them what to expect, namely the unexpected, and what he expected from them, namely their best efforts. Finn emphasized that he would respect the chain of command. Their orders would come through the Master Chief save in an emergency requiring immediate action.
The first task of the Corps of Discovery was small scale mapping of the central massif of the Great Dividing Range, the area due west of here. That would give them a general idea of the bearing, height, and width of the front range and then the ranges beyond it. They were to chart mountain passes through which not only roads might be built but also aerocraft might fly without having to reach extreme altitudes where the air was cold and thin.
"Now I am a frost giant so I don't mind cold weather as much as you hot weather types do. Believe me it gets cold at altitude. How cold you might ask? Well, really high mountains are permanently capped with snow along with icefields and glaciers."
Chief Borden nodded and told his squad. "Now you know why you were issued woolen coveralls and jackets and caps and gloves."
One young elven scout had a question and raised his hand tentatively.
"Scout Evan, is it? Your name badge is hard to read, faded as it is."
"Yes, sir, the name is Evan, but that is my first and only name. Where I come from we go by only one name."
"Fair enough, Scout Evan; Jemsen and Karel are in the same boat as you. So what is your question?"
"Exactly what is a glacier?"
Finn was please that none of the other men snickered at Evan's ignorance, which was perfectly understandable for men from the tropics. Ifans caught his eye and smiled with satisfaction.
"I told you these were hand picked scouts, all serious no nonsense soldiers." Finn nodded and answered the young scout saying:
"A glacier is a river of ice. At high elevation the snow never melts even in high summer. It just piles up snowfall after snowfall. In time its own weight packs it into ice. Then that weight and the force of gravity send the front of the glacier sliding and flowing downhill. Yes, I know, ice is solid, but it can and does deform under pressure and will flow very slowly, its movement lubricated by water melted at the very bottom of glacier by its great weight. The snout or mouth of a glacier in the lower and warmer regions is always melting away, but new ice keeps flowing down from higher up to replace it. Got it?"
Evan smiled. "Got it, sir."
"One more thing; to coordinate our four aerocraft during flight we won't be relying on the usual signal flags and megaphones. Lord Dahlderon can link us via Mind Speech. Mostly it will be just us four pilots talking. I'd like General Ifans linked in too as a matter of course, in case he has a suggestion or wants to offer a comment. Anyone else who needs to link in should tap his pilot on the shoulder."
Corwin turned to the twins and teased:
"Finn's introduction was probably the last time for a long while when referring to you as `the famous twins' won't help strangers recognize you but will only draw blank looks, just as it happened in Amazonia."
"What an appalling notion!" the twins chorused.
"The people who live in the mountains might not even realize what friendship tattoos mean and take them to be merely decorative."
"Perish the thought!"
"They may also be ignorant of druids." Dahl said, "None of us has ever operated so far west."
"That kind of mutual ignorance works both ways. They are as much strangers to us and our ways as we are to them. They may not even know what a parley flag is," Drew noted, then added mischievously:
"Poor Finn! He'll need a whole new battle cry if he hopes to impress or intimidate those folks."
Finn frowned. "How so?"
"Because the next time you raise Mjolnir to the sky and shout By the power of Thor!' the locals will just look puzzled and ask themselves Who the hell is Thor?'"
"Impudent scamp!"
Chapter 2 Tactics
The expedition flew west for three days and made camp at the base of the front range of mountains which rose for ten thousand feet directly from the flatlands without any intervening foothills. Invisible beyond that first wall of mountains surely lay higher ranges with snow and ice on their peaks.
The stony ground in that area had never been farmed. It was overgrown with stunted trees and thick brush save for natural clearings such as the one they had chosen for their camp.
After supper the principals sat around a campfire under a starry sky undimmed by magical globes of light to discuss tactics for approaching the strange peoples they would soon encounter. The flames danced and crackled illuminating their faces with a ruddy light as they savored the aroma of freshly brewed kaffay.
Finn started out by observing:
"Our expedition is different from the one made by the original Corps of Discovery. That was a completely civilian endeavor flown in three privately owned aerocraft. Its object was more than just exploration and discovery. We had a larger purpose, to open lines of communication with peoples of whom we had a least some slight knowledge of. Nor did we show up empty handed. We brought the gift of aviation, and introduced them to the wonder of flight. And we did it without military aerocraft, soldiers, or swivel guns."
"No one saw us as a threat but only as friend and even saviors. Everywhere we went we helped folks: we fought reptilian raptors, a dragon, a mosasaur, and even a plague of locusts. We rescued trapped miners and tamed a mud volcano."
"I know what you did in the Northlands," Ifans told him, "thanks to Altair's best selling book which chronicled your adventures. It was a real page turner. I could hardly put it down when it was time for bed."
"It was a page turner to me too, General, and I already knew what had happened. My point is this. We know that our intentions are benign. Our purpose is exploration and discovery but to the mountain folk and later to the coastal peoples we will look mightily like an armed reconnaissance as a prelude to an invasion by an aggressive and expansionary power. By what right, they well may ask, do we bring armed soldiers among them, cross their borders uninvited, making maps and terrain sketches as we go, and with a military officer, a general no less, engaged in what they could only regard as reconnaissance at best or espionage at worst."
"Your points are well taken, Ragnarson. I made much the same points myself when I argued against sending me and the scouts and the transports and swivel guns, but I was overruled. We are both under orders, so we will have to do our best to defuse suspicions. For instance, if we see folks in trouble we will lend a hand, slay their dragons so to speak, and so gain their trust. We will pass off our scouts as an honor guard, intended to do no more than safeguard and uphold the dignity of our envoys."
"How likely are they to believe that? Having caught us in a lie, how can they then trust us?"
"Don't worry too much about the honor guard, a claim which they will regard not so much as a lie as a polite fiction such as are necessary in diplomacy and negotiations of every kind. And no I don't think that is a particularly cynical point of view."
"All right." Finn conceded. "I yield on that point to your wholly uncynical mind."
Ifans' lips twitched in a hint of a smile then he continued:
"We may face hostility and even treachery, but at least we will not be taken unawares. The druid is telepathic and can read his interlocutor's surface thoughts and immediate intentions, regardless of the words that come out of his mouth. However, many people have enough psychic ability to detect telepathic eavesdropping. I am thinking of healers, beast masters, shape shifters, and especially wizards. Some people can even raise psychic shields to conceal their thoughts, for instance a wizard like Sir Willet Hanford, master of Concealment. After all Concealment works by clouding the minds of others."
"Speaking of which," Dahl interjected, "Sir Willet recently taught me that skill. Now I am nowhere near as good at it as he, but Concealment may well come in handy. Please go on with what you were saying General."
"Now mine is the gift of empathy. I cannot hear a man's thoughts, but I can see into a man's heart and do it undetected. My empathic ability made me an unbeatable interrogator in the service of the Despotate, one who never needed torture to get the truth from a man. Torture is overrated. It is needlessly cruel and mostly ineffective. It just gets a man to tell you what he thinks you want him to say. With my gift, I can extract the truth from a man who refuses to talk. Answer or not, his mind and body still react to my probing questions, and I can sense that."
"Now that is a trick few know about, one I'd like to keep up my sleeve. So don't bruit it about."
Finn nodded, having made up his mind.
"All right. From now on we will be on the alert physically and psychically. Chief Borden, post two sentries at night whether in camp or in lodgings. Leave at least two scouts with our aerocraft when the rest of us are out and about."
"We'll keep our air guns slung over our shoulders, bayonets fixed but still in their scabbards. Don't carry them at the ready. The locals would take it as a threat. They won't ever have seen airguns, but they would recognize them as weapons."
"If trouble looms we will try to talk our way out or to withdraw. If trouble breaks out, we first try non-lethal force. That includes everything from fists to clubbing with the butt of the air gun or poking with a blunted bayonet to martial arts. Altair will yank the weapons out of their hands or use those soporific darts of his instead of whirling his deadly spheres and discus or hurling a cloud of twin pointed dowel nails at our foes."
"I myself will call lightning but only to impress or intimidate. I will restrain the small electric discharges which play over my body so that they sting or stun rather than kill. Same approach for you Klarendes. Use your ball lightning as a shield not as a sword."
"Klarendes will also use his healing magic and maybe put people to sleep rather than give them a heart attack."
"We probably don't want to have our foes fall asleep and drop at our feet," Corwin objected, "not in our own camp or on ground we want to hold. For then we would have to disarm them and perhaps take them prisoner. That is too much bother. No, better I use my healing magic to inflict blinding headaches and ear aches, terrible itching, vertigo, incontinence, etc."
"If I really want to give an object lesson in what happens to those who threaten us, I can inflict kidney stones on our foes, than which there is no greater pain. Remember though that my powers are limited and can affect only a few persons at a time. Our druid friend has fewer such limitations."
Finn agreed. "I will leave it up to you. Same thing goes for you, druid; don't turn the contents of their stomachs into spiny sea urchins."
"Spiny sea urchins? What a wicked idea that is, Ragnarson," the druid said dryly. "I only wish I had thought that one up years ago to use on the trolls."
That got a quick nod from Finn who went on to say:
"Jemsen should do no more than create a quagmire under their feet to hold them fast rather than make the earth yawn and swallow them up. Karel should harden air into a shield rather than a monomolecular blade to chop them apart, while Dahlderon and I throw up our missile shields."
"So start thinking about your best non-lethal tricks. Be ready with them when the time comes. If we have to get serious and start killing, I will give the order or maybe just signal with my actions. If I take off a man's head with Mjolnir or blast away with lightning bolts, then throw down and hit them with everything you've got, but do it smart. Don't get in each other's way. For instance, Karel has to let Altair get his spheres or discus out there and into play before he throws up a shield. I know that my lightning bolts will pass right through such a shield."
"Talk it over among yourselves, devise signals or code words to help coordinate your actions. Practice and drill but only where you cannot be observed. The druid can help there by throwing up a Concealment, which will be good practice for him."
Ifans shook his head in admiration.
"And here I'd thought I was the master tactician."
"If I am that, you, sir, are the master strategist. I must say that you are being a good sport about not being in charge of the mission."
"No, Ragnarson, I am not a good sport but a good soldier. My job is to observe and to advise, nothing more. It is better that you take charge. Ours is essentially a diplomatic mission, one for which you are experienced in ways I am not. Besides you are one of the Dread Hands of the Commonwealth, so you authority is plenipotentiary when you care to exercise it. Moreover, command of a reinforced squad is no job for a general officer."
"Beneath your dignity, eh?"
Ifans shrugged.
"It's a job for a junior officer who deals with his men one on one. As a general officer I work through a staff and a chain of command."
Finn acknowledged with a nod.
That night was their last before plunging into the unknown. To cope with the dangers ahead of the they would have to keep their guard up at all times. There would be little opportunity for romance. To the scouts of their escort, persons they met along the way were off limits. From here on out liaisons with locals were security risks and potentially a flashpoint for discord and conflict. Some scouts were of Evan's persuasion and fancied boys. Evan and his mates had been strangers before being picked for their assignment, so they were still sorting things out romantically.
As to the principals it would not be proper for them to consort with anyone in their escort even if both parties had been so inclined. That would violate the rule against fraternization between officers and enlisted which would be prejudicial to good order and discipline. There were no restrictions on what one did with one's equals, but superiors never took up with subordinates. In any event most were like Chief Borden and General Ifans who consorted exclusively with the female half of the species.
Among the principals other than Borden and Ifans there was no shortage of partners. Their relationships went back years. Dahlderon and the twins had been lovers off and on since Balandur and Dahl had encountered Jemsen and Karel during their first trek across Valentia when the late Dread Hand was escorting the teenage elf-boy to the Great Southern Forest to be trained as a druid. Finn and Drew and Corwin and the twins had been room mates and lovers for going on two decades.
It helped to keep their romances going that their magically enhanced constitutions and/or healing magic kept them perpetually youthful. In all ways except chronologically they remained teenagers.
The only one who had changed physically since his teen years was Finn Ragnarson. He too had not aged but was now much larger and stronger than before. His gift had manifested gradually at first as a growth spurt but had come upon him in full on the eve of the battle of Flensborg. For it was in their darkest hour that a great hero had arisen among the frost giants. Magic had transformed one of their own into an avatar of Thor, a mythic figure from the days before the galactic empire of yore. Thor was the thunder god of the ancient Norse, the remote ancestors of the frost giants.
Chapter 3. The Front Range
The first order of business was an aerial reconnaissance of the front range. Rising ten thousand feet above the flatlands, the mountains were covered by trees all the way to their summits.
Here and there were small plots of land cleared for gardens, some with crops growing amid dead trees, killed by girdling to make them lose their leaves and let sunlight reach the crops planted in their garden plots. Other plots were slowly reverting to forest, and a few plots still smoldered from fires deliberately set to clear the brush and turn it into ash to fertilize the soil. Those were clear signs of slash and burn agriculture. Steady bright lights in the evening darkness proved that some of the locals could Call Light, so they probably had the usual mix of magical gifts.
The aerial reconnaissance ranged three hundred miles north to south but penetrated only about twenty-five miles into the great massif. After that came the slower and more laborious task of a low order topographic survey. The autogyros touched down briefly on peaks or ridges where the twins took bearings on landmarks, took barometric readings for altitude, and made terrain sketches.
At first no attempt was made to contact the locals. That was left for later. Their own camp sites were deliberately remote from any sign of settlement, and the escorts scouted no farther than half a mile from the expedition's nightly stopping places.
It was during one of those brief stops that the expedition accidentally made first contact with the locals. Scouts Evan and Hugh Loring, a sandy haired young human, were just about to turn back to camp when they heard the roar of a tiger. Shouts in the common tongue called for help against the big cat. The scouts pushed through a screen of brush onto a trail to find a party of five was under attack by a tiger. One man was already down though whether dead or wounded they could not tell. His companions were shouting and poking at the tiger but were armed only with fishing tridents, hardly the best weapon with which to face a big cat.
The scouts stepped closer, leveled their air guns, and started shooting. Their first two volleys wounded but did not kill the beast. It whirled and charged at them. It nearly reached them as a third volley caught it in the chest. The scouts fended off the dying tiger with their bayonets as it slumped to the ground and bled out. Neither scout had been injured in the confrontation.
"The gods be praised!" the locals cried.
Evan resisted the urge to ask just why the gods should be praised. What miracle had their gods performed? Had a lightning bolt flashed from the cloudless sky and killed the tiger? Had their gods not in fact looked on indifferent to the man's fate and done nothing during the tiger's attack?
The fact was that its victim was still alive only because of his comrades' own conspicuous bravery. Instead of running away while the tiger focussed its attention on the wounded man they had fought to save him. The remaining four had pressed around and harassed the beast and kept it too distracted to finish the wounded man off even though they themselves were armed with wholly inadequate weapons. Surely they deserved more praise than any do-nothing invisible disembodied beings up in the sky whose very existence was suppositious at best. And was not some credit due to Evan and Hugh, two mortal beings at whose hands the beast had died?
Hugh was less forbearing than Evan and complained:
"There's ingratitude for you. And if they had to give away the credit for what we did, did they have to throw it in our faces? That's piling insult atop ingratitude."
"Hugh, I don't disagree, but drowning men will grasp at straws. It is human nature."
One of their number, a man of early middle years, broke away from the group and approached the scouts. Dressed only in a breechclout and moccasins and with a feather in his hair he was tanned and healthy with a lean wiry build and regular features.
"Welcome strangers. You were surely sent by the gods themselves to aid us in our hour of need. Know then that while we are usually wary of outsiders you have just proved yourselves to be friends. My name is Owen."
Evan and Hugh gave their names and asked after the wounded man. Would he live or die?
"That is in the hands of the gods. Alas, we forest folk live dispersed in small bands not all of which include a magical healer. For the most part we rely on herbalists and midwives and wise women. I would send for a healer who wields magic, but she could never get here in time to save our friend."
"Then let us offer you the services of our own healer. He is quite close by. Can the wounded man be moved?"
Indeed he could, so with sudden hope on their faces the band of forest folk took up their wounded comrade and followed the scouts back to camp. Hugh shouted to warn the camp that he and Evan were coming in with five locals. Corwin saw that the man was so severely wounded and so close to death from loss of blood that natural medicine could never save him. So Corwin invoked his gift which manifested as an immaterial nimbus which engulfed his patient. It pulsated in and out and fluctuated in hue going from pearly white to green and back again. When it died away, Corwin checked the man and pronounced him healed if not fully restored.
"He is still very weak and will need supportive care while his body restores its blood supply. You got him to me just in time."
Three of the fisherman left to carry the wounded man on a borrowed stretcher to their own campsite nearly a mile away. Owen remained behind to answer and to ask questions.
The forest folk were just one step up from hunter-gatherers. Their system of slash and burn agriculture made for a semi-nomadic life. Plots of land cleared by girdling and fire exhausted the fertility of the soil in just a few years forcing the forest folk to move on. In time the forest would reclaim the abandoned plot. New trees would grow beside those the farmers had killed, and in a generation the band might return to and reclaim the plot.
The forest folk exploited all the resources of their environment though always on a sustainable basis. To supplement the produce from their gardens they hunted and fished and gathered nuts and mushrooms and tubers and greens. Their women gathered and processed edible seeds, roots, mushrooms, berries, and seeds like acorns to make journey cakes and porridge.
Their possessions were few, but they were healthy and reasonably happy. Most important of all they were free. The forest folk were the descendants of runaway serfs, refugees from the Flatlands fleeing starvation and oppression under the old regime. They might not have much in the way of material goods, but they had full bellies, they lived in peace with their neighbors, and they answered to no lord and master.
Owen was full of questions himself. What were the strange weapons with which the scouts had slain the tiger? Finn explained that they worked on a pneumatic principle. He operated the charging lever of his own rifle to demonstrate and fingered the pressure release. Compressed air from the reservoir shoved a lead bullet down the smoothbore barrel after which its momentum carried it to the target.
Owen nodded. "So your weapon is like one of our blowguns only the impetus to the missile is imparted mechanically instead by a strong puff of breath."
Finn was impressed by the man's quick grasp of the underlying principle, ignoring the superficial differences. A lead bullet was round, small, heavy and metallic; a wooden blowgun dart was long lightweight and pointed with a fletch at the base made of down, feather tips, or animal fur.
Owen next asked about the odd contraptions parked nearby. Were they really capable of flight? Was that how this Corps of Discovery traveled to the mountains? Why had they come there anyway?
Finn spoke of the Corps of Discovery keeping his explanation simple. He also spoke of the reforms in the Flatlands that had swept away the old ways and abolished serfdom, ushering in an age of peace and prosperity.
Owen finally left after inviting the scouts and Corwin plus Finn to a celebratory dinner. He was sorry he could not invite all of their party but a small band of forest folk had so few resources.
The next day the strangers arrived at their camp by autogyro utterly astounding and delighting their new friends. Everyone who wanted to got to go up a demonstration flight. Afterwards, the army pilot showed how he could take to the air without a machine, simply lifting himself by his flying yoke.
"You folk of the Commonwealth have wondrous machines and strong magic." Owen told the visitors. "We ourselves have more modest gifts though ones of great importance in our lives: Healing, a Green Thumb, Calling Light, Kindling Fire, electrum sparks, and Unerring Direction. They make the difference between bare survival and a good quality of life."
Finn assured him that that was true of most people of the Commonwealth. It was just that with a population of one hundred thirty millions, even the small fraction with powerful gifts was very large. The Corps of Discovery was disproportionately made up of such persons. Owen and the forest folk were astonished to hear of such a huge population.
The celebratory dinner featured roast peccary, an animal much like a pig only smaller and with a gamier taste to the meat. Woven mats served for seats. Food was served on trenchers made from strips of bark and was eaten with the fingers. The forest folk lived in modest wigwams -- dome-shaped huts made by fastening bark over a framework of bamboo poles. It kept out the wind and rain and gave them some protection from prowling animals. As Owen put it:
"A bear or a tiger could easily push its way through the wall of a wigwam or slash through the flap over the entryway but not without making enough noise to wake those sleeping inside. Alerted to the threat they might respond with electrum sparks, call light to englobe their head, or resort to spears or poison darts from their blowguns. We extract the poison from the skin of tree frogs. It is particularly handy for hunting monkeys. They think they are safe up in the trees, but one prick of a dart and in moments they lose their grip and fall at our feet."
"So despite the tiger attack you are not much afraid of predators?" Evan asked.
"No, we are not. In the forest big fierce predators are rare; otherwise they would soon run out of prey. Most animals fear and avoid humans and their sharp weapons and fire. At night we don't cower in the dark. We sing around the campfire and tell stories or just chat and socialize. We can call globes of light which hover overhead till we put them out, letting us look out and see what is out there."
"So no, we don't live in fear, though as yesterday's events show you never can tell. I was just bad luck that the tiger pounced on the one man out of the five fishermen who might have driven it off with electrum sparks."
Owen asked Finn to tell his band about the changes in the Flatlands. What Finn had told Owen sounded good, though he doubted that many of the forest folks would abandon their familiar way of life. Most likely it was the adventuresome young who might leave the mountains to seek their fortune and a future in the new world Finn had spoken of.
A trio of unattached young men did question Evan and Hugh at length about what life was like in the Flatlands. They thought they just might go there and see for themselves. Owen assured Finn that news about the new state of affairs below would spread among all the neighboring bands which traded and intermarried with each other.
Regardless the forest folk would end their long isolation which had been their shield against possible efforts by the descendants of their former owners to recapture them.
Finn then asked what they knew of the lands to the West beyond the front range. Owen shuddered and said that beyond the front range was an intermontane plateau which lay in the rain shadow of the front range. Hence much of it was open forest or meadow.
To hear the forest folk tell of it, the plateau was a place of ill omen, one the forest folk kept well away from. Those few who had ventured there and returned alive told of rapacious carnivorous birds twice the height of a man with huge heads and beaks. The birds were the apex predators of the plateau, fast runners and utterly unafraid of human beings.
The expedition had previously found several rough passes through the front range. No roads or trails crossed the intermontane plateau beyond which lay ever higher ranges of mountains. Who knew what monsters or hostile peoples roamed those still distant lands. Owen hoped their weapons and powerful magic would protect them since they seemed bound and determined to push westward. Good luck and may the gods watch over them.
In a whispered aside Hugh commented sardonically to Evan:
"Sure their gods will watch over us benignly but do nothing as we get torn apart by monstrous birds."
Evan shrugged.
"Bullets can kill birds as easily as tigers; the bigger the bird, the bigger the target."
Chapter 4 Angry Birds
The Corps of Discovery stood atop a ridge overlooking the intermontane plateau and peered at the ground below through far-viewers.
"I cannot tell much from this high up. Has anyone spotted giant birds down there?" Finn asked.
"I have." Dahlderon answered.
"I am looking through the eyes of a hawk which is soaring only a couple of hundred feet about ground level. What Owen told us is true. This is an avian paradise. There are the usual flying species in the trees plus many unfamiliar species of ground dwellers including some real giants. Mammals are very much second class denizens down there."
"Is it safe, sir?" Hugh asked.
Finn snorted.
"With our numbers and our air guns and magical powers we have nothing to fear from birds however large. However, anyone can be the target of a surprise attack, so keep your eyes peeled."
"Can't we just observe from a safe distance. Why not orbit overhead down where that hawk is flying, make our observations, then fly away beyond where the giant birds hunt."
"I don't think that is going to happen, do you Lord Dahlderon?"
"Hardly, I want to study this strange avian fauna up close. Remember as a druid I can control animals much as a beast master does. You would be in no danger in my presence, Scout Loring. I won't let them attack you."
"The druid is right Loring," Finn agreed. "Now where shall we set down? Er... what's that you are pointing to Lord Dahlderon?"
"That butte near the middle is where we should make camp. Its sides are nearly vertical, and its top is more than a hundred feet high. No ground birds will get us there during our stay."
"How long a stay are we talking about?"
"Oh, I think we'll be staying for four or five days."
Hugh groaned. Chief Borden shot him a sharp look to shut him up, but then realized that Hugh needed help not a chewing out.
"Scout Loring, sometimes the best way to deal with your fears is to face them squarely. Why do these birds frighten you so?"
Hugh explained that as a boy he had been chased and badly injured by the kick of an ostrich after he had stumbled on its nest.
"Ah, that explains why you are so leery of big birds." Corwin observed.
"Aren't you sir?"
"Of carnivorous birds yes, but I once mounted an ostrich and stayed on its back for some minutes before dismounting. It was exciting -- a lot of fun really."
"How did you dismount safely? It would have tried to kick you."
"That is just what it would have done, Hugh, if I hadn't used healing magic to put it to sleep."
"Ah!"
There was plenty of room atop the butte for their four autogyros. In short order they had set up camp including a garderobe at the edge of the butte which Jemsen formed with earth magic. Now stone cannot flow into a new shape as earth does. It either breaks or in this case crumbles into dust which Karel blew away with a jet of air. Left behind was an incised rectangle containing a two seat latrine. Wastes dropped down the undercut cliff straight to the bottom.
The top of the butte also held a shallow pond, a depression filled intermittently by rain showers. So they had a place to bathe. Drinking water came from water butts filled earlier at a stream then purified by healing magic.
Meanwhile Dahlderon and Drew got ready to take off in Drew's speedster.
"There's room for three. Coming Scout Loring?" the druid asked. Hugh hesitated then set his jaw.
"Sure, I'll get my gear."
That drew an approving nod from Borden and a clap on the shoulder from his boyfriend Evan.
The trio flew slow and low, landing from time to time to get close to examine particular specimens. The druid kept the animals docile as he studied them not only with his eyes but with his psychic senses and even peered through their eyes to see the world as they saw it.
Both Dahl and Drew Altair drew sketches of the various species. A stick figure of a man would let viewers gauge size. Hugh kept his air gun at the ready just in case.
One heavy bird was as tall as a man. Dahl recognized it as Diatryma. It was a very large bird with a short torso and neck and vestigial wings like those of a cassowary plus a massive skull and a huge beak.
"It's such a fearsome creature." Hugh opined.
"Not to worry, Loring." Dahl assured him.
"Admittedly it looks fierce, but it's really harmless. Look close, see how the tip of the beak is straight without the hook familiar to you from avian raptors like eagles and hawks. The toes on its feet have no claws. No, this is no hunter. This is a herbivore. The large beak lets it feed on tough plant material and seeds. Just don't get too close. If it feels threatened it will kick at you. Claws or not, a kick driven by its powerful leg muscles would hurt."
Later Dahl observed
"Now this other somewhat large specimen is a scavenger. It intimidates the smaller avian predators with its size and drives them from their kills so that it might feed."
Finally the trio got really close to a terror bird, not quite close enough to touch but near about.
"Here is the most fearsome of the lot, the apex predator of this region. Owen called them terror birds, and we can see why. The top of its back is eight feet above the ground but with its head held high it stands twelve or thirteen feet. Like the others it has a short torso, a massive skull and large beak -- in this case positioned at the end of a long and highly flexible neck that can suddenly stretch out farther than its prey might imagine. And see the raptorial hook at the end of the beak? There is no doubt about it. This is a predator."
"I've killed a tiger with this air gun of mine so I guess I could drop an overgrown chicken with it too, if it comes to that!" Hugh said gamely.
"That's the spirit!"
Dahl released the terror bird so he could watch it in action. Sure enough it took after a flightless bird as big as a bustard. Its long legs let it cover ground fast. At top speed it ran thirty miles an hour. When it caught up with its prey the terror bird gave it a hard kick to inflict an injury severe enough to immobilize it.
Standing over its victim and holding it down with its huge claws it struck downward with its fearsome beak, finishing its prey off with pecks and slashes finally using the raptorial tip to rip the flesh from the bones.
The trio collected feathers which the birds had lost and even the skull of a terror bird and the bones from one leg, but left the rest of the disarticulated skeleton where they found it.
When the autogyro returned to the top of the butte Jemsen and Karel were just gearing up. Drew asked if they wanted a lift, offering to drop them anywhere they wanted.
"Thanks, Drew but we can get down and back up on our own."
"Okay but where is the rest of your gear? No air guns, just a kukri? That is not a good idea."
"It will be OK. We're not going trophy hunting. We're just going to tease the terror birds and get them to chase us. It'll be fun! Besides, we need the exercise to stay in shape. Travel by autogyro makes you soft and lazy."
"Are you guys crazy? You're armed only with your kukris and are stripped down to laced up moccasins and breechclouts plus those safety helmets and goggles. Like what is wrong with this picture?"
"Why there is nothing wrong at all. Watch and see."
"All right, but if you guys get yourselves killed don't come complaining to me."
"You must have greater faith in us Drew. After all, are we not the Dragon Slayers?"
Drew rolled his eyes and said to the others. "These guys are starting to take their press clippings entirely too seriously."
Karel hopped up piggyback on Jemsen who shuffled forward then stepped off the edge of the butte. Of course the twins did not plummet to their deaths. Jemsen was an earth wizard who used gravitational repulsion to slow their descent.
After they touched down the twins walked toward a terror bird which regarded them with suspicion, wondering why such potential prey should be approaching it instead of running away. It straightened up, its great head and beak towering more than twice their own height and glared at the interlopers. The boys yelled and waved and taunted the bird with their version of the broken wing trick. It worked. Hungry and angry the avian predator charged at them.
The twins turned and literally ran with the wind at their backs. As an air wizard Karel could call a jet of air to push them along as they ran. This was a well practiced maneuver which took advantage of the fact that, with every stride, a human runner was airborne for just an instant. The jet of air lifted and propelled them during those instants so that instead of taking strides of less than two yards, theirs were six or seven yards. That let them reach a sustained speed of a mile a minute, twice the terror bird's best speed.
Only boys like the twins with enhanced physiques and reflexes could have managed so stay on their feet as they rushed headlong at a mile a minute. A runner with the wind at his back had to watch the ground ahead carefully, lest he trip and fall and likely break bones. At least their heads were protected by the helmet and their eyes shielded by goggles from the wind of their own passage.
The twins showed the terror bird their heels and laughed and waved to their friends above. They ran secure in the knowledge that Karel had taken the precaution of forming a small air blade just overhead which kept pace with them as they ran.
At one point a second terror bird raced to intercept but Jemsen blocked it with a ridge of earth he suddenly rose forcing it to veer off. That left it frustrated but unhurt. Karel's air blade would have cut it in half.
The twins circled the butte just the once. Satisfied that they had made their point, they halted and rose to the top of the butte via gravitational repulsion.
"That was wild!" Karel chortled.
"Yes, it was." Finn told him in a severe tone.
"It was wild, irresponsible, risky, and totally unnecessary. There will be no repetition of such nonsense, no stunts, no practical jokes from anyone during the rest of our mission. Are we all clear on that?"
Everyone nodded.
"Anyone who wants a closer look at a terror bird should just look through a far-viewer," he declared before stalking away.
"Sometimes Finn takes himself too seriously." Karel grumbled to no one in particular.
Ifans shook his head. "Maybe, but not this time, Karel. That was a damn fool stunt just now. For all the mischief in your soul, you are level-headed enough that you will soon realize that yourself."
Karel hung his head. Finn and Ifans were right. He and Jemsen had behaved like a pair of jackasses. Well, when you were in the wrong, you admitted it and apologized.
"Sorry Finn, I mean Sir. We shouldn't have let our animal spirits get the better of us. It won't happen again."
Finn's nod ended the matter. He was satisfied that the irrepressible twins had learned their lesson.
Around the campfire that night Dahl remarked to Corwin that the plateau deserved a full scale survey by a team of natural philosophers like the one they had met in Elysion. Their leader was Professor Scolari, a botanist and mycologist, an expert on mushrooms, but their zoologist was Evander Blok. The third member of their team was a geologist named Johan Klutz.
Dahl agreed. He too had met the scientific team, though later in Elysion.
"Why don't you pack up those feathers and bones along with your sketches and send them to Evander Blok right away through a space portal? That should pique their interest. I am sure Blok would be grateful for a chance to describe a type specimen in the scientific literature."
Hugh wondered how an expedition of scientists would protect themselves.
"First of all they would fly in and set up camp here atop the butte. In case of a confrontation Evander Blok can throw levin bolts and Johan Klutz is a powerful fetcher. Both served with the forces in Amazonia against the trolls. So they would not quail, you should pardon the expression, at terror birds."
"Hey, I just thought of something." Corwin began.
"The natural philosophers should hire forest ranger Dylan. He is a beast master and so could keep them safe without harming the animals they want to study. Of course they will want to take specimens. In that case Dylan can hold them still while Blok and the others take pot shots at them with their air guns."
Dahl agreed that all it would take was one look at his and Drew's sketches to set things in motion. Their institute would very likely dispatch an expedition which would almost certainl set up camp on the very spot they were on, atop the butte.
With their insatiable curiosity Jemsen and Karel wanted to know why the isolated plateau was the realm of birds rather than of mammals. Had not terror birds gone extinct on Old Urth long before humanity built its first civilizations much less voyaged to the stars?
Dahl explained that Haven was a planetary refuge not only for humans, elves, dwarves, giants, and other sapients, but also for many species of animals and plants including those long extinct but brought back to life by the super science of the galactic empire of yore.
The mix of species was artificial but intentionally so. Not even the ancients, wise as they were, could predict how the biosphere of Haven would evolve. So many species were introduced with the expectation that those most adapted to conditions would succeed and survive while others would lose out in the struggle for existence and die out.
Corwin and Drew put the finishing touches on several news-paper articles which described their findings, accomplishments, and adventures so far. Dahl linked with Axel Wilde via Mind Speech and read through it, mentally dictating the journalists' copy to the wizard's aide whose gift of eidetic memory let him mentally record the texts. After the druid broke contact, Axel transcribed the copy and got it over to the Capital Intelligencer.
As they prepared to go to sleep, Chief Borden pointed out that they were safe and secure atop the butte so they really needed only one sentry at night. That let the scouts enjoy a respite from their two sentry regime.
Evan and his new boyfriend Hugh Loring put their opportunity to good use. Randy young lads that they were and just getting to know one another, their couplings were enthusiastic and acrobatic, as they explored each other's bodies and learned what each like to do and have done to him.
The others paired off too. Corwin went with Jemsen, Dahl with Karel, and Finn with Drew. Their relationships were of long standing, so their lovemaking were a way to express the romantic love they had for each other. But it was also an affirmation of their friendship, their comradeship, and their implicit faith in one another.
The next morning the lovers woke up to the smell of kaffay, bacon and scrambled eggs. In that avian realm there was no shortage of eggs some of them larger than an ostrich's. Dahl had pointed out a nest where the eggs were fresh laid. Drew had been about to fetch eggs from a nest where chicks were about to emerge from their shells. That would never do. With his telekinetic powers Drew filched three recently laid eggs from the nest to contribute to their larder.
Author's Note
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This story is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead. It is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends' and published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon, elf-boy and druid, appears in these stories in a supporting rather than starring role. Each story in the sequence focuses on one or a few of the large cast of characters in the ongoing saga which now exceeds Tolstoy's War and Peace in word count, if in no other measure.
Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The series 'Andrew Jackson High' relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.