Fallen

Prologue

The ship had settled in a small valley on the planet hidden behind the mountains. It was a smaller craft’ a research vessel equipped with only a Scout’s crew, a biologist, xenocryptologist, medic pilot, security officer and four guards. Most were female, the Anolian race’s female gender was driven more to the scientific than the males who clearly preferred the physical aspects of the job.

The females were tall, lissome, and generally attractive. It was rare one of the race was not, they had millennium to perfect the genes of their culture and had done so.

This was the thirty-eighth planet, they were investigating a solitary world out on the far fringes of this relatively small galaxy and was a pleasing mix of liquid and land ripe with vegetation and animal life. In the Valley, where the ship lay berthed was a broad swath of knee-high grasses waving in a soft, pleasantly scented breeze. Gentle hills covered in deciduous trees ringed them changing from subtle greens to shocking reds, oranges and blazing yellow. The quiet chuckling of water over rocks drifted into their hearing amid the sound of birds. Overhead a curious hawk whistled as it dove to study the four scientists as they set up a base camp under the lightweight synthetic dome. One woman twisted a dial on the outside panel and the dome shimmered and disappeared along with the ship, emitting a ULF beam that sent all fauna in the area scattering.

The biologist stared in delight at the large hooved, antlered ruminants and the smaller long-haired ungulates as they ran.

Birds flew in a dozen directions; one resembling a flying ball and another was a silent streak of white and gray feathers with a round inquisitive face.

Scanners picked up a large herd of quadrupeds south of here, four separate species, the Squad Leader said. He was taller than the women, broad shouldered, with large captivating eyes and had a relationship with the medical officer. He grinned at her as she set up her section inside the now invisible dome.

Inside the area divided into living quarters was a medical office, research area and kitchen, hygiene and security where the squad’s weapons were stored. The ship was also provisioned and kept as a stronghold should any natives breach the perimeter.

Anice, the security man murmured to his female. She turned from the exam table she had just set up and lifted one finely trimmed eyebrow.

Yes?

Will you be wanting native specimens? Both genders, if such be found?

No. Just a female. I want to study the reproductive cycle of the dominant species here.

Scans showed a small settlement, some 400 links from here. Primitive beings, mostly dwelling in caves. Bipedal, humanoid characteristics.

Perfect. Bring me a young one, before puberty and one that has had young.

Right after we checked the perimeter and set up the alarms. I have to report back to the Council.

Of course, our glorious leaders must know we’re actively pursuing assets for their war, she mocked.

Be grateful, we could be in the front lines, he returned. The Melos don’t care we’re only a research team – they would call us spies and hang us out for their war-birds to feast upon. Give me and my men four hours and we’ll be ready to capture your specimens. I have to offload the sleds anyway. He looked up as the two women, biologist and language specialist entered the communal area with boxes in their hands.

Riah, Kemah, he greeted.

Squad Leader Tylaeren, both nodded. Anice, did you find everything you needed? We have two extra packages. Marked ‘stuff’.

Oh yes, she said happily. Important stuff. Brandy and goodies from home. We’ll have a party once the center is up and running. Time for work tomorrow. The planet cycle here is twenty-four units long, nearly half in daylight, half in dark. We are in a semi-tropical area, the temperature during the daylight will be 2° above our normal and about 10° lower at evening. We have slightly over six hours until sunset.

She waved as the squad man exited the room and left them to the unpacking. His hand print opened the ship’s hold as his two-man team appeared from out of the grasslands, reporting on what they had seen. They had already taken it upon themselves to set up a perimeter alarm and to walk the circle.

Squad Leader, how long are we on this world? The youngest, Cire asked. He was baby faced and pretty, teased unmercifully by the others and ruthlessly pursued by every free female. Unfortunately, he had a major crush on his squad leader.

Until the scientists are done and the Council calls us home, he grunted, setting aside his weapon as he sat in the com-chair.

Interstellar communication was rapid, efficient, and nearly infallible so it was with some surprise that he was unable to contact either the Council or another ship.

The moon may be blocking transmission, he said finally and set it on auto-play where it would cycle every fifteen units until a link was established. Pushing back, he ordered the others to assist him in unloading the floating sleds and prepare for a two-day journey to retrieve specimens.

The squad traveled nearly halfway to their destination before setting down for the evening to allow the sled to recharge. They were surrounded by vast undulating plains of waving grasses broken by occasional gullies. In those gullies, trees grew, white barked with molting gray patches and soft grayish green leaves, they possessed a surreal beauty. The wind soughing through their crowns sounded like the soft moan of a woman in passion.

Tylaeren sighed, thinking of Anice, pulled out his pack to get to the tent and the perimeter screen apparatus. Ciré went in search of liquid and to scout for any livestock. The other two set up camp in minutes without having to be told as they had done it countless times before.

Tylaeren set the sled down and opened the co link back to base reaching Riah, the biologist. She sounded out of breath and frightened. Come back! She screamed, and in the middle of one breath, he heard her cut off with a gurgle. He wasted no time in trying to establish contact, but ordered his men back onto the sled pouring emergency power into the vehicle and running it as fast as he could push it without blowing the engines. Still, it took four hours to return and the sight that greeted them was devastating.

The ship was a smoking ruin, no way would she ever lift off the ground, a melted mass of space garbage. Nearby, the dome flickered as the last of its power shorted. No walls higher than 6 inches stood and the bodies of the women lay in the open, lined up and tortured. Anice had been disemboweled and her insides strewn the length of the compound. Blood was everywhere, it’s coppery stench thick on their tongues and cloying in the back of their throats.

Tylaeren sank to his knees next to his love and raised her shoulders, cradling her head so that he could stare into her eyes. Melos, he growled. They tracked us here.

Where are they? Ciré asked, staring around his weapon ready.

"They hit and run. They will be looking for our research ship. It will come back here. They know our tactics. We have to warn the Sinalle."

How? The ship’s com-link is dead, Ciré pointed out. The sled’s com isn’t powerful enough to reach orbit, let alone deep space.

We’re stranded here? Kam asked and the Squad Leader nodded.

"Until someone gets curious enough to search for the Cybelle, and with a war on, they’ll just assume we were casualties."

What about the auto-play message? Could it have gotten out?

Tylaeren grimaced. It’s probably how the Melos found and pinpointed us. If they do come back, we’d best be gone from this place.

Will the indigenous accept us? Ciré asked uneasily.

Tylaren shrugged. It’s not like we have a choice. Load up what we can salvage. I’ll take care of the bodies. He walked away towards the smaller stream near the huge trees and using a digger, prepared a grave for the four women. Last in was Anice and only then did he vent his grief in sobs and tears where his men could not see. He left no marker and when he returned to the burned camp he found pitiful few items salvageable, one of which were field notes on some edible plants and medicinal herbs. They had one medical scanner, one sled, two tents and five weapons, each with four recharges.

Let’s go, he said harshly and they set out for the small settlement. The sled’s power supply failed three quarters of the way there, necessitating they travel the rest of the way on foot. The four were experienced scouts and made appropriate time avoiding the obvious dangers.

Passing huge herds of horned beasts, they gave them a wide berth not just because of their huge size and horns but the stench from the animals was incredible. The dust left by their passing lingered for hours and coated every inch of exposed flesh. The land rose, mountains touched by snow caps grew before their eyes, trees became coniferous giants, the grass grew curly and broken by ledges of gray blue stones. The air chilled and the ground cooled underfoot. The creeks fed into rivers, blue with white water bordered by rocks and boulders covered with moss.

Fish jumped, black faced creatures watched them curiously from the water and chattered a warning before they dove into the depths.

This world is beautiful, Ciré muttered, tilting his head back to search the blue velvet skies. Feathery clouds broke the placid blue in front of the peaks and layered to midnight behind them.

Storm coming, Tylaeren announced as he studied the darkness. The trees closed around them as they marched like ghosts so it came as a shock when they turned a corner between a rock ledge and fallen tree to face one of the natives. She stared at them for seconds and ran, fleet footed as any creature they had ever seen. Tal ran her down and she fought him until he knocked her out with one swift blow.

The others reached him, and stared down at the female and saw beauty of what was clearly a woman as human as they. Long limbed, finely made, with long dark hair and blue eyes, she bore a decided resemblance to the ancestor goddess of their race.

These are supposed to be a primitive species, Kam gaped. She is clearly of Anolian ancestry. He lifted her hand and traced the five fingers and opposing thumb. If all the females are like her, exile here won’t be so bad, he grinned.

The bio-scanner will teach her our language if her brain is adaptable, Tyl said. We can set up a camp here, spend a few hours with her. Find out what we can about her people.

When she woke, she knew them, knew their words and told him of her world. He named her Anise.

She brought them to her village and the off worlders merged with the tribe, married into it and produced many children that became warriors of Legend, larger, faster and more beautiful than any of their spoken legends had ever told. Memories faded as the centuries passed, but the name of their tribe, the Four Fallen repeated down the centuries.

Chapter 1

Taleryn Ciré Rocher sat back in his haunches and waited for the six-point buck to step closer. Somehow, despite his careful and motionless stalking the young buck had scented him. Sweat dripped down his face into his eyes and he tasted it. No salt, and no human odor to give him away. He wanted desperately to wipe his face, but the slightest twitch of his muscles would give the buck the signal to bolt. He waited, breathing softly and evenly through his nose and had an arrow knocked and ready on the bowstring. With a flick of his ears the roebuck snorted, dropping its head to graze on the brush at his feet, tender fresh pine nubs lay scattered on the forest carpet in a small sunken dell, some eight leagues from town. Tall firs, hemlocks and pine surrounded them, leaving little grass available for browse in this coniferous forest. Not much undergrowth thrived because the trees’ crowns did not allow enough sunlight for young saplings, briers and berry bushes to take root. Mushrooms and moss were plentiful and Taleryn drooled at the sight of a basket full of beautiful morels. The buck turned his side to him and in one swift practiced action he loosed the broad-head and hit dead center behind the ten-point buck’s shoulder. It leaped into the air and bolted. Taleryn knew that even a mortally wounded animal could run yards before it dropped yet he prided himself on his ability to hunt without causing excessive pain to the animals he took.

He stood, shook his muscles loose as he been kneeling for nearly 40 minutes and was stiff. Tall, taller than most of his village neighbors by nearly a hand, he was dark haired, with large piercing eyes of a golden amber flecked with green and crystal highlights. In a land where no one was ill favored, he stood out as being extraordinarily so.

He wore well-tailored leather leggings, a long sleeve shirt with a leather padded vest over that, his sleeves rolled up and snagged back with a button made from horn.

His footwear were moccasins made from bison, tough, yet flexible and he walked toe down first feeling for what was underfoot before he committed his weight. He moved as silently as a wild animal.

His skin was fair for one who spent time outdoors, just the faint tan and there were no wrinkles on his cheeks, for he had barely turned sixteen, although already an accomplished hunter.

The buck was dead when he reached it, a hundred and half weight. Efficiently, the boy pulled his knife, set the bow down and cut the deer’s throat to bleed it. He lifted his eyes to the sky and gave thanks to the Four Gods and the Goddess for the venison before he gutted and butchered the meat.

Nothing was left behind, every part of the carcass served some useful function back in the village. After he packed up, he dragged his kill towards the creek and washed off the blood. He found his campsite and the rest of his gear packing up for the return trip home. It was moon-high when he dragged wearily into town to be stopped by the watch and challenged by the Constables.

Toby Markham was only too happy to puff out his chest and demand answers, even though he was aware of Tal’s identity and purpose.

Toby, don’t be more of an asshole than you already are, he grumbled. I’ve been dragging some 200 weights of meat for five leagues. Help me or get the hell out of the way.

Who ordered venison?

Prime Praetor, he returned, and Toby swallowed as he lent a hand. It was not wise to piss off the town’s Mayor and Marshal. Together they dragged the bundle of meat towards the cold house buried in the side of the hill and wedged the heavy oak door shut. Toby did not like to be inside with gutted hanging animals and left as soon as he could back to his guard duties at the gate.

The town was small, a village really. With a blacksmith, farmers’ market, Mayor’s manor, several small farm holdings, Gristmill, Herb woman and midwife. Schooling was done at home by parents and once yearly, the students tested for their knowledge. Those that could read and write were sent away to one of the larger towns, returning trained as either manor servants or apprentices. Those with physical skills became soldiers for the King’s army or Border Guards. Neither of those occupations ever brought any of them back home.

Taleryn had been born to a woman from another village from the north, one of the few survivors left as the Raiders came across the Boundary onto the King’s lands. She arrived in town with a cargo of beef hides more dead than alive in the throes of labor. The midwife had been forced to work on her, birthing the large and delicately featured boy child with the strange eyes. She lived long enough to name him, and begged the Mayor to raise him. The Mayor promised and promptly sold the babe to the next family needing a male for the King’s Quota, thus saving one of their own.

Superstitious, the Mayor refused to allow them to change the boy’s name, and although he was not formally christened, he was legally registered as the son of Anice Rocher, Taleryn Ciré Rocher.

No one babied him nor cuddled him. He was fed, kept warm and clean. As soon as he was old enough, he was put to work, picking up rocks out of the field, washing, cleaning, shoveling, raking and the thousand other chores of farm life. When the farm’s owner saw him, clean and dressed one day, he took him aside and claimed he had other duties. Tal fought him until he was beaten unconscious, but he left his mark on the farmer too, nearly biting off the man’s testicles.

He ran away. Was brought back in chains and fought like a wild thing until the Mayor’s Guards knew he would die before he would quit. He was given then to the Mayor’s Hunter and learned that trade with an eagerness and skill not equaled by any man in the village’s memory. Best of all, he was alone and no one could touch him again.

At the age of fourteen he entered the forest, and visited the farm where he once lived, had nearly died and took his revenge upon the bastard that lived there. No one ever found the farmer’s body, nor knew his fate. He simply disappeared between one hour and the next. The boy was seen miles away, questioned, and could prove he was nowhere near enough to have done anything. Because of their suspicions he was left alone save for the Hunter’s requests for venison, fowl or to dispatch dangerous stray wildcats.

Hunter Alain Mercer taught the boy how to shoot the bow, track and out think wild game, fish and survive in the forest, snow caps and plains. They hunted the mammoth bison, the wily and wary pronghorn, white tail and red deer, trapped fox, mink and marten for their fur and always to give thanks to the Four Gods and the Goddess for their blessings.

When the King’s call came for able-bodied males, both men and boys, Mercer went in place of Taleryn, drugging and hiding the boy so that he was left behind. He became the town’s hunter in his stead.

Chapter 2

Tal stood on the big rock just beyond the stone wall with deep forest behind him and the open fields before him. Just the other side of the rocks were the budding skunk cabbages and he wrinkled his nose at their burgeoning stink. The poor villagers picked them for greens in the spring, but he’d never been able to stomach their stench.

His belly grumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten, hadn’t been invited to the Mayor’s Spring Feast to partake of the deer meat he had brought. No, he had to make do with dried out hominy cakes and jerked rabbit scrounged up four days ago. He sighed and tucked his knees into his chest, his heels slipping on the mossy rock.

There would be pies and chicken, biscuits, roast venison, stewed bison and fish chowder. Ale, cider and fresh milk, may-hap even custards if Pennywise Goodman’s chickens had started laying. He’d been ordered out a fortnight ago, to track down and dispatch a wildcat that had been stealing hens two by two. He tracked it over the Fetterhorns and dispatched it with two arrows. Rather than bring the luxurious fur back for the Mayor’s greedy wife, he traded it to a wood-keeper for a quiver of iron tipped broad-heads and one silver coin, told the Mayor it had escaped and was punished with a clout on the head and a day spent in the cellar. Still, the Goodman wife’s chickens were safe and that fat wife of the Mayor didn’t get to show off a new fur coat.

Sam and Cheryn hopped over the stone wall to search for him dressed in the Mayor’s security uniforms of green serge, knee-high boots and crossed belts carrying both swords and knives. Sam favored the crossbow, but wasn’t as skilled as Cheryn and the Mayor spent only enough on training to give his men a sense of false skill. The war was far enough away from their village to leave them complacent. He watched them searching the ground for signs of his passage and unless he moved, they were inept enough to walk past without finding him. Their faces, both dark skinned, dark hair and eyes seemed particularly grim as Cheryn kept his hand on the hilt of his sword. Tal watched them curiously, remaining as still as a dove beneath a hawk’s shadow.

Roges said he came this way. I know he likes to wander this stretch of woods, it’s haunted, and he feels comfortable here. I wonder why the King’s Council wants him.

Specially to send the Palace Guard contingent all the way out to the sticks for him, he grumbled. He gets to stay in town and eat while we stumble around in the woods.

Just think of the reward, Cheryn drooled. Twenty-five gold talens. Enough to buy a manor house and a wife.

Taleryn dropped down off the rock silently and stood behind them, his hands filled with bow and arrow. Down his back was his day pack and a sword, not easily reached, but he was never far from his bow. Looking for me? He asked softly, and both men whirled around in shock to stand perfectly still under the drawn aim of the bow. They knew well how fast he could pull and release his arrows. What do you want?

Prime Praetor wants your presence at the Spring Fest, Master Hunter, Cheryn said smoothly.

Really? I’m worth twenty-five gold pieces, Sam, Cheryn? Why is there a price on my head? He retorted.

We don’t know, Sam answered moving backwards and Tal shook his head.

Don’t move, Sam. Unless you want one of my points in you.

The voice came from behind him, and he froze as a deep voice chuckled, best take your own advice, lad.

Taleryn dropped, rolled and was shooting, even as the two in front moved. He skewered Sam through the arm and chest, Cheryn just above the leg and into the ground, his hits incapacitating but not lethal. His roll took him into the cover behind the rock as a bolt skinned his own side, leaving a shallow furrow that burned icy before blood flowed.

The horse walked down the length of wall and Tal felt the thud as its hooves made the ground shudder. The rider sent the beast over the stones in a spectacular leap firing as he did so. Bolts hit the ground around him, missing by inches.

Come out, Master Hunter, he said merrily. Before I make a pincushion of you.

Taleryn pulled back his string and sent his own shafts over the rock and heard a grunt and clang.

Very good, lad. Your arrow hit my armor. Didn’t penetrate, though.

Taleryn sent his mind’s eye out, found the mind of a squirrel in a tree behind the rider and saw four more men sneaking around him in the woods. He turned and sent four shafts in four different directions. Using the eyes of the animals, he found and killed three men, wounding the fourth rendering him unable to respond.

The squirrel’s eyes found the mounted and armored warrior, Taleryn aimed, and saw the broad head hit the horse behind the rider’s leg. He felt remorse that he had killed the animal, but he’d done it mercifully. The rider hit the ground as the horse collapsed and found himself pinned under nearly a ton of dead flesh. Tal was on his way over to dispatch the knight when he heard the heavy rumble of a score or more mounted men approaching. He stood over the trapped knight and saw a man in his 30s, built like a soldier with broad shoulders, narrow hips in well fitted and expensive plate, a heavy silk lined cape of scarlet and gold in the King’s Guard. His hair and skin were darkened by weather and his eyes were cold steel gray. He was smiling as he wrenched at his trapped legs and one arm; in the other he held his blade.

Well done, lad. Your aim was lucky.

Was not luck, Tal said briefly. Carefully, keeping his own blade pointed towards the man, he searched the dead horse’s saddlebags for any papers and finding them, placed them inside his tunic.

Can you read, boy? It will not do you any good to steal those if you cannot, the man smiled.

I can read. Tal read the name at the top of the dispatch. Sir Callag Sandford. King’s Guard.

Now, Taleryn could hear the jingle of spurs and bits and hesitated. I give you your life, Sir Sandford. Taleryn ran, snatching back his shafts as he passed the two men moaning on the ground. Neither tried to stop him as he disappeared into the woods. In seconds, he was gone his senses with the frightened deer ahead of him, guiding him deep into cover and away from his pursuers.

Sandford’s men trotted into the small copse and his Captain dismounted to help haul him out from under the dead horse. Hurt?

No. His points were small hunting tips. Not powerful enough to pierce plate. See to those two idiots, Sandford said briefly and stared at his stallion. He’d ridden the horse in fourteen campaigns with nary a scratch. Penn? He called.

Aye, Sir Sandford? One of the mounted men gigged his horse forward. He was a few years younger and less experienced.

Ride back and bring in extra mount from the mayor’s stables. Bring my saddle and gear and track us. We’re going on after him. Jonas, ride double and leave me your mount.

Aye, Sir.

These two were wounded, neither wound is fatal, the Captain named Yarrabee reported.

He shot both under the idiot’s crossbow. He shot Goliath from behind that rock. Sandford pointed to the weathered boulder twenty yards away.

From behind it? You missed him when he stood up to aim? Yarrabee looked skeptical.

From behind it, Captain. He didn’t aim. He just shot and took me down with one arrow. A bird points.

Yarrabee looked thoughtful, pulled the arrow out of the horse and stared at the small tip. Then the rumors are true? He is one of them?

I don’t know what he is, Captain. I just know we have orders to bring him in. Or, failing that, bring his body back. He took the reins from his Sergeant and climbed aboard the small roan horse.

Penn, burn my horse. Leave these two here to see to him. I don’t want anything feasting on Goliath. You leave and I’ll kill you, he threatened the two Constables. Sam and Cheryan nodded in pain, but stayed to obey the knight.

They rode slowly, searching the ground for signs of passage and found none. Sandford opened the cloak and pulled out a silk wrapped package, taking from it a small glass orb. He wiped it twice on the silk speaking a few words and the globe’s interior lit up with a blue light that arced out and pointed to the West. They followed the line it set traveling deeper into the forest. Occasionally, the light flickered on a dark ruby spot and Sandford smiled as he pointed it out. I did wound him, I thought he held himself stiffly. Not much blood spilled. He’s either bound it or it was only a scratch.

Did you coat your tips with betethox?