OldEarth ARAM Encounter E-Book

A. K. Frailey

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: OldEarth Encounter
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 443

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Enjoy a family saga novel series that spans generations, traveling from Earth to the outer reaches of the universe.

Aram must lead his clan to safety, protect an innocent man, forgive his wayward wife, and challenge a curse that haunts his soul. As Aram encounters both good and evil, an alien world watches and waits for their part to play in humanity’s future hope or despair.

Where the Newearth world began, before Last of Her Kind, discover OldEarth Encounter.

RELATIONSHIP-CENTERED, HISTORICAL SCI-FI

HUMANITY IS BEING OBSERVED.

ARE WE WORTH SAVING?

One extended family traverses history through Aram, Ishtar, and Neb in a world of wild beasts, craven spirits, and noble souls. Generations later, in the first century AD, Aram’s descendant, Georgios, battles a world of dark secrets, deceptive promises, and hope renewed. Four hundred years later, Georgios’ descendant, Melchior, struggles against opposing forces while trying to hold his family together.

Leseprobe

OldEarth ARAM Encounter

A. K. Frailey

OldEarth

ARAM

—ENCOUNTER—

A.K. Frailey

Copyright 2025 A.K. Frailey

ISBN number of eBook Edition: 979-8-9943251-1-7

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions, contact [email protected].

A. K. Frailey Books

THE WRITINGS OF A. K. FRAILEY

Books for the Mind and Spirit

https://akfrailey.com/

Contemporary Literary Fiction

OLDTOWN Fly, Sparrow, Fly

OLDTOWN Brothers Born

Historical Science Fiction Novels

OldEarth ARAM Encounter

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter

OldEarth Neb Encounter

OldEarth Georgios Encounter

OldEarth Melchior Encounter

Science Fiction Novels

Homestead

Last of Her Kind

Newearth Justine Awakens

Newearth A Hero’s Crime

Newearth Progeny

Newearth Relevance

Short Stories

It Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories 2nd Edition

One Day at a Time and Other Stories

Spice of Life and Other Stories

Encounter Science Fiction Short Stories & Novella 2nd Edition

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The Road Goes Ever On: A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings

My Road Goes Ever On: Spiritual Being, Human Journey 2nd Edition

My Road Goes Ever On: A Timeless Journey

My Road Goes Ever: On Rise Again

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The Adventures of Tally-Ho

Wise Home

Wise Home on Lily Pad Pond

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Hope’s Embrace & Other Poems 2nd Edition

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Table of Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Seven

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Nine

AKFrailey

Prologue

—OldEarth—

I Shall Return

Teal exhaled a long breath as he started across the shadowy, evening expanse.

The moon, full and bright, wavered among sinewy branches. Light fragments splayed across the forest floor. In his lean, middle-aged human form, Teal stepped sure-footed among the ancient trees. His leather tunic swayed with each step. He stopped and glanced back only once.

A group of men and women huddled around a meager flickering fire. Their drooping heads and muted conversations bespoke mutual exhaustion and despair.

They were not his people, yet he cringed at the thought of abandoning these helpless beings to the ravages of an unforgiving wilderness. But his year was up, and he must return to his Luxonian home world. Duty called. The Supreme Council awaited his report.

He lifted his hand in salute. “Stay safe—I shall return.” Just before he flashed out of sight, Teal caught the bright eyes of a single human, a brawny man with black hair, who would either lead his people to safety—or die trying.

Chapter One

—Woodland —

The Land Beyond

Aram shivered despite the sweat trickling down his spine. A shower of drops splattered across his face as he beat back the forest’s dangling vines and springy saplings. Exhaustion sapped his last bits of energy. With the back of his mud-smeared hand, he wiped his face.

Visions of a warm fire and venison haunches sizzling on a spit caused his heart to momentarily fail. His weary limbs demanded rest, but he only shook his head. Not yet—but soon.

His people staggered in stupefaction. Their flight seemed never-ending, their search futile. Danger lurked in every dark motion of the forest.

As his muscular body plodded through the root-gnarled muck of the late rainy season, a new light grew in his mind. He could still see the tawny-colored fur and glittering eyes of the beast as it snatched its first struggling, screaming victim. When he had heard the throaty growls and the moon’s glow had cast uneven shadows on the beast, he had frozen with horror in the face of the cat’s great size.

It had struck in twilight when light danced with utter blackness. His wife, Namah, hunch-backed and morose, had been directing the meal preparations. Her orders rang out shrill and abundant—as usual. The other women had obeyed with their typical, sullen compliance.

He had glanced at Namah as the mighty feline landed on its victim, and though her wide-eyed terror had matched his, she had thrown a rock at the retreating creature. Despite her crooked spine, she showed strength of mind—not unlike that of the cat.

Even when he had thrown his spear and others joined in the action with cries of fear and anguish, he knew it was too late. The night was too dark and the cat too mammoth to hunt in the gloomy forest.

Aram had known the youth well and agony had gripped his heart, but his mind would not respond to his grief—only to fear. If he gave his clan time to rest, their anguish might turn to madness. If he kept moving, they might outrun both beast and terror.

A child squalled.

But they were past exhaustion now. The lands of their forefathers lay far behind them. They would soon enter lands unknown to his memory. They had always gained life from familiar trees, made suitable shelters, and found peace beneath their branches. The ancient woods gnarled together in a forest of immeasurable depth. But their frantic travels led them into a foreign land.

“Do you know these trees?” Namah leaned on a staff near his elbow, burdened by the weight of all the earthly treasure she had managed to bundle on her back. No children hindered her grasp. Nearly doubled over, she huffed and her toes squelched, sinking deep into the muck.

Aram surveyed the thinning woods. “Well enough.” He swung his oak spear, swatting a sapling out of the way.

“How far have we come?” Namah’s unfocused stare feigned calm disinterest, but a weary whine seared her words.

Women swung crying infants over their sagging shoulders, while men grunted in displeasure, adjusting bulky, threadbare packs. An old man groaned as he leaned upon a thin, ragged child’s shoulder. A little girl wailed and a resounding smack bore testimony to raw nerves and worn tempers.

Aram grunted as he considered the woods’ strange lighting, the speckled texture of the tree bark, and the warning in his bones.

“Isn’t the land different here, Aram? The trees appear more spaced apart, and the ground lays flat. Where are the hills and ravines?” Namah’s gaze flickered to her husband. One inquisitive eyebrow arched.

Aram nodded. He had known land like this—long ago. “We’re near the forest edge. It’s been a generation since my people passed this way.”

From some forgotten abyss, a memory flickered to life. Aram’s grandfather had once recounted the story of a huge beast that struck the unwary in the dark of night. The tale had seemed nothing more than the caution of an old man meant to keep the youth from wandering into dark places. Aram swallowed back fear and squared his shoulders.

Two nights ago, the nightmare returned, and the beast had struck again. It had followed them as they edged nearer his grandfather’s territory. After the cat struck, they headed straight for the border. Now they had to make a break into the unknown.

“Do you know who lives in the land beyond?” Namah panted and leaned on a shaggy, grey trunk.

“No. I grew up far from here. My father’s long dead, though perhaps some of his people still live. I had a brother—” Aram rubbed his chin, his stomach tightening.

Namah shifted her pack.

“He ventured to the high lands. His clan included many women and children—so he favored the safety of mountains. I’ve not seen him since I was very young.”

“And your grandfather—had he no brothers?”

“One, but they disputed over a secret matter and separated. I’ve no wish to meet my grandfather’s brother or any of their kin. They’re not to be trusted. We’ll do well to keep our distance.”

Namah snorted. “Surely, such ancient differences could be put aside at a time like this. Perhaps they know of this beast and could help us defeat it.”

Aram scowled. “You know nothing of the matter! We don’t need help. We’ll keep to ourselves.”

Namah bowed her head servant fashion. She cast her gaze to the broken path behind them and lowered her voice. “Would the beast travel so near the edge of the forest? Wouldn’t it fear these strange lands?” Her gaze searched his face as the sun drew level with the horizon.

Tilting his head as he considered it, Aram exhaled and raised his hand. “We’ll rest here for the night.”

Grunts and sighs issued as bundles slid to the ground and knees sank to the earth in relief.

Studying the landscape, Aram’s gaze roved the expanse. The dense woodlands had fallen behind; open space gave way to patches of bare ground covered only by tall, swaying grasses.

Namah’s black eyes narrowed.

A voice snapped loud and abrupt. “Aram!” The largest man in the clan, Barak, strode forward his fur cloak lay slung far over his shoulders and his barrel chest thrust out as if preparing for a weighty pronouncement. His head cocked to one side like a bird intent on its prey. When he came alongside Aram, he folded his arms across his chest. “We’re tired of running. The women are beyond their strength, and some of us question the direction you’re taking.”

With minimal effort, Aram’s eyes rolled to the side.

Those looking on frowned in puzzlement.

Aram clasped his hands and faced the assembly. “Tonight we build many fires instead of one. Make a great circle of flame, and we’ll sleep inside its protection. Tomorrow we’ll travel into the treeless plains.” Striding over to an enormous, ancient pine tree, Aram unwound his cape and tossed it upon a bed of dry needles. Leaning against the tree and pillowing his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes.

Namah surveyed the uncertain crowd and masked a wavering smile. Her voice rose in command. “Gather kindling and seek fresh water!”

She gathered ideas as a bird hoarded twigs for a nest. With patience, she would rule—in her own way. Her gaze swung from her husband to Barak. A smile rose up inside as her heart fluttered in excitement.

Chapter Two

—Ingoti Trading Vessel—

—OldEarth—

Intercept Course

Ingoti—large beings that originate from the planet Ingilium, range from six to seven feet tall. Extremely heavy due to their extensive weight and girth, they are also fast and powerful. They are never seen outside of their bulky techno-organic armor, although their faces—typically free of masks—appear quite human.

Like a ship jerked loose from its mooring, an Ingoti trading vessel slipped into Earth’s atmosphere…

Zuri, an Ingoti trader renowned for his clever deals, braced for impact, but there was little he could do to protect his co-pilot.

Gem crouched, covering his head with his arms and hoped that the restraints would hold.

The small vessel plowed a deep furrow into the lush dirt and crashed into an earthen hillside.

As the dust settled, Zuri blinked and returned to consciousness. He studied his biomechanical techno-armor. Seeing it intact, he sighed in relief. Hobbling to the main console, he reviewed the status of the ship. Various systems blinked offline, but life support held firm. Glancing back at the cargo hold, he ticked off the needed repairs in his mind and stepped forward.

Gem lay sprawled across the floor unconscious.

Crouching by his side, Zuri made a quick diagnostic review of Gem’s bio-suit life signs. With a chuckle, he lightly slapped Gem’s ruddy cheek. “Get up, lazy fool. We’re already behind schedule, and Crestas aren’t known for their patience.”

Rising on one elbow with a groan, Gem shook his head like a confused Ingoti bullock. “I thought I was done for. What happened?”

Zuri stood and rubbed his back. “That replacement Orbital Maintenance you bought blew and sent us spiraling right into the atmosphere. Should’ve guessed. It was too cheap to be an honest deal.”

“Blast! I’ll pay them back for this; don’t worry.” Gem rose and started toward the console. “How long before we’re ready to set off again?”

His gaze rising to the ceiling, Zuri crossed his arms. “It’ll only take a few hours with both of us working on it. But, I’ve heard about this planet—how about we take a little tour?”

Gem scowled. “I’ve heard about humans, too. Primitive and—”

“I didn’t say anything about humans. By the Divide, if I wanted to go to the zoo, I’d visit the one on Helm.” He stroked his chin. “No, how about scouting around a little? We might find resources we could use. The Ingilium would pay dearly….”

A crooked smile crawled across Gem’s face.

While struggling through dense woodland, Gem wiped his sweaty brow. “How does anyone survive here? It’s not fit for habitation!”

Zuri shrugged. “Not where I would’ve chosen to land—”

A low growl stopped them dead in their tracks.

Slowly, they turned. Zuri raised his Dustbuster and aimed as a tawny, four-legged beast drew near.

Gem swallowed. “That thing’s enormous!” Turning at the sound of human voices, he grinned. “Ah, it’s tracking them.” He pointed to a clearing where a large group of humans had settled down for rest.

Crouching low, Zuri peered between the branches and observed the throng.

Men, women, and children crowded around a central figure—a tall, muscled man with long black hair.

Peering back at Gem, Zuri shook his head. “They’re practically naked—without any techno-armor at all. Amazing they’ve survived! They must be brighter than they look.” After stepping back, he sent a low-power beam searing through the foliage near the stalking cat, frightening the beast into the thick woods.

Gem scowled. “What’d you do that for? Let the whole planet know we're here, why don't you.”

Zuri pointed the Dustbuster at Gem. “Is there anything left of you—on the inside, I mean? We were once naked and helpless too. If the Cresta’s hadn’t taught us—”

“They used us in their studies. They weren’t being generous.”

“But we learned from them! That’s what counts.”

Gem stared at the Dustbuster in Zuri’s hand. “So, what’s your point?”

Shoving the weapon into his armor holster, Zuri shrugged. “I’m just giving them a chance to live and learn.” He stalked back toward the ship. “It’s time we left. I’ve got enough data to make up for the time we’ve lost.” He grinned as he swiped a branch out of his way. “The Cresta will pay for both the cargo and the information.”

Gem marched behind. “And the Ingilium Supreme Command? What’ll they say?”

Zuri turned, and, clasping Gem’s shoulder, he lifted his eyes to the sky. “Contrary to my expectations, I foresee a day when humans and their primitive world will be quite useful. We’re on an intercept course. In any case—information always pays.”

Chapter Three

—Grassland—

Veil of Death

Onias gripped his obsidian knife and considered the wooden figure in his grasp. He sighed.

“If your eyes are hurting, go inside and rest. You don’t need to sit out here. It’s cooler in the shade.”

Sitting cross-legged, Onias peered up at his wife, Jonas, and smiled at her mothering tone. He wiped his sweaty brow and laid aside his knife. Blinking, he glanced down at his work. The figure of a boy carved from the root of an old gnarled tree stared up at him.

Wood spoke to him, creating images in his mind. Only recently had he begun to carve bits from broken branches and twigs, enhancing the impression of a face or animal. A shiver sped through his body. Propping his head on his hand, he vaguely wondered if his fever had returned.

Jonas lugged a heavy fur blanket out of their mud-and-straw dwelling into the sun where she strung it up between two stout posts—the same posts that Onias had driven into the ground not long ago when he was still healthy. Rhythmically beating out the dirt and sending billows of dust into the bright sunshine, her face glistened with sweat.

The steady thwacking, in tune to the gentle humming of bees, enchanted Onias. The scent of new life and the whirl of insects responding in ecstasy to all of creation’s possibilities widened his eyes as he gazed across the vast, undulating grasslands. He enjoyed the contrast of the fresh green grass against the immense blue sky.

Leaning back against the earthen wall that made their dwelling, he admired their village of neat little one and two room huts laid out in a semicircle formation. A wide oval space dominated the center where the clan gathered in the evenings to share stories and settle disputes. He had always enjoyed listening to his clansmen as they shared their hopes and discussed their fears. His jaw clenched. Before long, he would be too weak to sit and too weary to care.

He peered across to the mountains in the northeast. Fluffy white clouds blew across the wide expanse and dominated the landscape in their own impersonations of mountains. They were but changing things, those clouds. They were pretenders at best and deadly illusions at worst. As a fog that disappears before you can touch it—such is the power of a clan leader.

Onias’ eyes followed a young shepherd as he trailed after a flock of goats to a nearby pastureland where they spread out and grazed in placid trust.

Jonas shaded her eyes with her hand and peered across the landscape, mumbling. “Where have Jael and Tobia gone now?”

Returning to the wooden figure in his lap, Onias smiled at the beauty that had flowed from his fingers. What was this magic that entered his hands, allowing him to give new life to old wood? The figure seemed to come alive as he shaped it. As tall as a man’s hand, the likeness to a real boy with his arms outstretched in welcome startled him. What god had given his hands this skill? How could he become a creator—even in so small a matter?

Grasping his knife, his hand trembled. He closed his eyes and swallowed back bitterness. Who had the power—and desire—to destroy him? This question tormented him even more than the fevers that wracked his body with increasing frequency. What lay beyond the veil of death? In their old age, his mother and a season later, his father had turned cold and their breath ceased in the veil of night. Where had their vital, engaging spirits gone?

Onias leaned his head against the wall and gazed at nothing, his hands still. A vulture circled far above, searching out the weakness of all below. Lowering his gaze, Onias peered at his wife, but he knew better than to ask impossible questions for she would merely peer deep into his eyes, make him swallow bitter medicine, and send him off to bed as if he were a child. He closed his eyes and let the warm sunlight soak into his chilled bones.

Jonas clapped her hands in motherly authority. “I said—go in now. You’re tired and need rest.”

Rubbing his eyes, Onias hunched forward. There was no use arguing. She was right. It made no difference that his soul cringed at the sight of the dark entrance to their dwelling. Laboring to his feet, he gathered his knife and the boy-figure and limped to the doorway. The cool shade beckoned, but he yearned for the sunshine. He paused on the threshold. His heart pounded. Where would he go when his body went cold? He stumbled backward.

Jonas hurried forward. “Has your headache returned?”

He forced a wearily smile. “No, I’m fine.” On impulse, he clasped her hand. “But I have a question.” He pointed to a shady spot next to their dwelling.

“Oh?” Her steady gaze faltered. She nodded, assisted him to the enveloping shadow, and sat at his side. “What is it?” Her tone reflected practiced cheerfulness.

Peering up at the lowering sun, Onias blinked at the blinding glare. “What will you do when I’m gone? Who will help you with the boys?” He paused and glanced away, his gaze falling to the earth. “Obed is a good man.”

Staring wide-eyed, Jonas turned away. “Onias—no.”

Running his fingers down her back, Onias stretched out his legs. It wearied him to see how thin they were. No wonder he felt so tired; he was half-dead already. “I was thinking that since Obed is so good to us, and he’s here so often, that after I’m gone—”

Jonas clutched Onias’ hands and dropped her head to his shoulder. “No! Don’t speak of this. Just rest. Wait and see. No one knows the future. Live for today. Don’t ask me to think about— I can’t!”

He smoothed her long brown hair with the flat of his hand. His eyes wandered back to the clouds drifting over the horizon. His eyelids closed, and he sighed.

Suddenly, footsteps stopped in front of them.

Onias glanced up.

Jonas sat bolt upright.

Before them stood a thickset man with a full beard and shaggy brown hair loosened from a braid that ran down his back. Everything about him was solid, even the braid. His thick legs were spread far apart to support his massive build. Leather pants and a rough, sleeveless tunic adorned his body. His muscles gleamed in the warm sun. He appeared too massive to be blown by the mightiest wind, yet he swayed with unnatural, punctuated jerks. His grim mouth formed a hard line, though suppressed delight sparkled in his eyes.

Jonas swallowed. “Yes, Eoban?”

Eoban’s deep voice boomed. “I suppose these are yours?”

Jonas’s gaze fell from his mighty face to the shifting and wiggling cloak as Eoban, with difficulty, managed to expose the hind ends of two small children.

The boys squirmed vigorously in their feeble attempts to kick themselves free. Their muffled cries alternated with moments of quiet as they tried to catch their breaths.

Jonas burst into laughter. She stood and lifted her hands, ready to receive her children. “What have you two been up to now, I wonder? Where did you find them, Eoban?”

“No place special.” Eoban’s eyebrows rose to dangerous heights. “Just up by the lakeshore. I was coming back from a trip in the north when I decided to stop, and to my surprise, I found not fish but two boys who hoped to grow fins. It was a good thing that I happened along.” Without further ceremony, he plopped his captives on the ground where they landed with earthy thuds and cries of anguish.

The taller of the two shook his fist at Eoban. “We’re all right. We knew what we were doing.”

Jonas frowned in warning. “Jael.”

“And you didn’t need to pick us up like that just when we got to the village. We’d have come and told—without your prodding.”

His miniature copy, Tobia, frowned as fiercely as his older brother.

Jonas’s hand flew into the air in a firm but silent command. Her black eyebrows arched. “I warned you the last time you two went wandering. I hold you, Jael, responsible for your brother. He’s too little for such distances.”

Jael flushed as he put his arm around his sibling. “He’s faster and stronger than you know.”

Tobia beamed.

Muted afternoon shadows slanted across the land as clouds gathered.

Jonas wagged a finger at the two boys. “You’ll go to bed without your evening meal. That should give you a reason to pause the next time you feel like wandering. You’re lucky that Eoban came along.” She glanced over. “How many times has this been, Eoban?”

The two vagabonds glowered alternately at their mother and then at Eoban, rubbing their arms to massage the blood back into circulation.

Eoban forced a disapproving scowl into place. “Three times, Jonas. Three times I have caught them. Only the gods know how many times they have wandered far afield.”

“That’s three times too many! I have been too lenient.”

“But Eoban travels!” Jael wailed. “He goes north to trade and learns news from afar. He goes wherever he wants.” His eyes flashed angry sparks of resentment.

Onias rose and laid a hand on each of his sons’ shoulders. “Your mother is wise. She’s seen wild animals attack the unwary and watched loved ones suffer sickness and death. Do as she says. Go in now.” He ruffled their heads in gentle reassurance.

With hunched shoulders, the two boys ambled inside their dwelling.

Onias turned to Eoban. “Thank you, friend. You’re always good to us. How would this village survive if you weren’t here to save our children from their foolish pranks?”

Sucking in a deep contented breath, Eoban shrugged in mock humility.

“For time out of mind, we wandered and endured, and now that we have found peace, our young want to travel to foreign parts.” Onias’ gaze wandered back to the mounting clouds. “Are we missing something?”

Eoban folded his arms and rocked on his heels. “A boy is not unlike the seed of a great tree. They both must go to a place of their own and push everything out of their way as they stretch toward the sun. They’re alive and growing. Someday their daring will come in useful.”

Jonas stepped to the dwelling and peered in.

Eoban’s voice dropped low as he leaned toward Onias. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’d be good to have more wanderers who trade and hear the news of the world. We’d do well to prepare ourselves for whatever may come. Besides, I seem to remember a time when you liked to roam far afield.”

Having stepped beside her husband, Jonas laughed outright and hugged his arm.

Eoban squared his shoulders. “It’s true; the clan depends much on me.” He waved this concern aside. “I can stand it for a time, but you must teach your boys to take my place when I’ve grown old and need a rest. Three or four sons should do the job.”

Onias chuckled as Jonas shook her head.

Eoban threaded his way through the village, then turned and called back. “And tell the boys, I’m having roast pig for supper, and I’ll have to eat it all by myself since they can’t come help me.” He turned and was lost from sight behind a dwelling.

A soft smile played on Jonas’ lips. “You see? We never know who’s looking out for us. Let’s see what the future will bring.”

Onias peered into the sky as the clouds converged. Soon they would be enveloped in a blanket of night. Only in memory would twinkling stars and a crescent moon speak of a distant, unseen light.

Chapter Four

—The River—

Haunted

Ishtar knew that if it got much darker, he would miss the landing spot. They had to paddle faster. Night was coming on. His mission and three canoes full of his father’s warriors depended on him to do his part. The water—still cool from the snow melting off the distant mountains—contrasted sharply with the steam rising from his weary body.

He thought again of his father’s directions and his mother’s scornful gaze. He was too young for the task, his mother had said, though they both knew this was not strictly true. Other men his age were going on raids, and so far, all but one had been successful.

With a shake, he willed himself to concentrate on the shoreline and to find the exact spot he and his father, Neb, had reconnoitered months ago.

During a long hunting trip in the dry season when the nights were chilly, his father had seen signs of a village to the south. After investigating, Neb had smiled in his grim manner. There before his covetous gaze, a village flourished. The inhabitants appeared strong but not warlike.

Ishtar recognized the gleam in his father’s eyes. Their bold warriors would make a surprise attack and take as many prisoners and tools as they pleased. Neb’s greedy heart had rejoiced.

As the paddle sliced into the black water, Ishtar set his jaw. He knew his duty and what his father required of him. Neb followed with a larger force. He sent Ishtar ahead to spy out the land and see that all was secure. Ishtar would make his report as soon as his father had landed.

Each warrior had been reared from his early youth to consider it his highest purpose and greatest achievement to be fearsome in battle. Some slaves even acquired their freedom through daring exploits endured for the good of the River Clan.

Ishtar knew that the number of slaves they brought home would determine the success of this raid. They needed healthy young men and women. If he failed, he would be punished.

Swallowing, Ishtar remembered the punishment meted out to Elam when he failed their last campaign. He closed his eyes. Neb was good to those who served him well, but terrible to those who failed. The image still haunted him at night. He could imagine Elam’s laughing eyes as they had played in the water as boys. He pictured the pride-filled look of a strong young man with a bronzed body, thick black hair, and the first signs of a man’s beard. He thought he could do no wrong. Then came the day of battle when Elam had led his small band of clansmen to the wrong destination. The skirmish had failed, and Elam’s eyes filled with shame and anguish.

But Neb’s eyes hardened like that of a stalking cat at night, red and glowing like fire, yet cold with no mercy.

Soon after, Elam died from the infliction of too stern a justice. Ishtar did not understand Neb’s reasoning. He only knew the sight and sounds of a man in torment before he dies.

Ishtar shook his head to clear away the webs of doubt. His father had not always been so harsh. He had changed, like a tree overgrown with vines that loses its original shape. It was after they had broken ties with the great clan. They crossed vast open plains and finally arrived at the long-sought river lands, which contained everything they needed. Everyone had seemed so happy.

But a silent scourge slowly intruded on their joy, and the clan turned bitter. A few years later, they made their first raid. Ishtar knew little of secret matters, but he did know that he and Elam were like brothers. Neither his mother nor Elam’s mother had other sons or daughters. Perhaps more children would have tempered his father’s warrior nature. But these thoughts tread dangerously close to questions considered heresy by Neb, and this Ishtar could ill afford. After all, if Elam could be treated in such a manner for a simple failure, what would Neb do if he knew his own son harbored doubts and secret accusations?

Sweating in fear, Ishtar paddled furiously. His brown eyes widened and his long hair sprawled loose across his back. The black water sprayed over his face as his aching arms moved in silent rhythm to the pounding of his heart.

Chapter Five

—Woodland—

The Rising Sun

Aram woke to the sound of discontented murmuring. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and crawled out of his makeshift tent. As he stood, he reviewed the scene before him. Not far away, Namah pointed into the distance. Others grumbled around her, and she vigorously shook her head.

Shrugging off a weary sigh, Aram rose. A remembered glimpse of his nightmare froze him in place. The monstrous cat had been on his back, biting his skin. He still felt the cold, sharp teeth and smelled the dank odor of wild animal. Shuddering, he rubbed his arms. Glancing about, he reassured himself that the vicious cat was nowhere to be seen. Then he gazed at the crowd. His clan’s discontent was not so fierce, but dangerous nonetheless.

“The plains are before us, and we have no shelter there. We need to move back into lands we understand.” Barak, a frown mounted across his forehead, waved his arms as if he had said the same thing several times over and no one was listening.

Aram almost felt sympathy for him.

“You fear the open lands too much.” Namah hissed her scorn very effectively. She saw Aram and offered one last taunt before she backed away. “What do you fear, Barak—the birds or the grass?”

Chuckles spread through the crowd.

Barak shook his loose arms as if wishing to put them to better use. “We don’t know those lands or the people that live there. Warrior clans will enslave and kill us if we’re not careful. We’re exhausted and with no protection. We need to return to a land where we’ll be safe.”

Aram strolled to the circle of agitated clansmen. He eyed Namah as she dutifully backed away. He spoke clearly, though not loudly. “Barak is right; we don’t know these lands, but we do know what’s behind us.” He peered at the crowd. “You want to go back to certain danger when we don’t know what’s before us?”

Aram glared at Barak. “Yes, we’re tired, and we need rest. But we may discover a pleasant land not far from here. We’ll never know if we perish in the woodlands.”

Heated conversation and arguing broke out.

Barak’s deep voice rose above the general roar. “Is not a war clan more to be feared than a mere beast?”

Everyone froze.

Aram offered Barak a twisted smile. “You’re still young, Barak. I fought in clan wars when I was younger than you. Because I was strong, we’ve not had to fight for many long years. But I still remember how. You’ve never tasted battle. I don’t fear meeting another clan—warriors or not.”

Barak shook his head, his eyes growing wide. “Yet you fear a cat! I can defeat the beast, and then we’ll live in freedom and not in fear. Later, if need be, you can test your ancient skills against an unknown tribe.” Barak’s black beard, black eyes, and black hair shone in radiance as the sun streamed over his defiant form.

The clan members shifted nervously, peering from Aram to Barak. Namah backed into the fringes of the gathering. A child wailed, and a mother swung the little one up into her arms, hushing her. Birds twittered in the treetops, then rose and flew like a cloud toward the rising sun.

Aram rubbed his chin as if considering a request. “I give you permission—go and kill the beast, Barak. But we move on after tomorrow, and you’re responsible for following our trail and finding us. I’ll not send scouts looking for you, for I need everyone to help move this camp. I will, however, allow four men to join you—if any want to.”

Aram clamped his jaw tight. He could not speak of his haunting dreams or of his paralyzing fear. The cat was not just looking for prey. It was looking for him, and it would not stop until he got clear of the forest.

The clansmen scratched their jaws and leveled their gazes between the two men. In the light of the morning sun, the great cat diminished into nothing more than an insignificant animal. Aram knew that Barak’s courage shone brighter than his fear.

Picking up his spear, Aram marched forward. “Go, Barak. Take your weapons and meet your death if you so choose. It’s time our people moved out of the dark tree lands.” He stopped and peered at the crowd. “You might kill this one beast, but there’ll always be more lurking in the depths of the forest. We’ll make a new settlement on the plains where no beast or clan can surprise us. You go back. We follow the rising sun.”

Flinging his arms wide, Barak thrust out his chest. “I will kill the cat and bring its skin back for—” He hesitated as his gaze searched and found a pair of piercing eyes. “Namah.” It was a childish taunt, but he smiled at her blushing grin.

Namah watched Barak stalk into the woods, a grin playing on her face.

Aram’s eyes narrowed.

Her gaze dropped to the ground. Limping forward, she tended the campfire. Sharply, she commanded a child to get water.

The little one sped off in fearful obedience.

As Namah’s hands bustled in efficient duty, her gaze returned to Aram.

He stood in the middle of the campsite, his eyes fixed on her even still.

With her gaze, compliant and sober, she nodded.

Grunting a command to the air, Aram returned to his tent.

Eymard sat cross-legged on his pallet, humming tunelessly to himself. A tiny fire flickered in front of him.

Nearby, a lithe black-haired girl crouched over a worn leather bag and picked out nuts and seeds, which she popped into her mouth and crunched with evident pleasure.

The wizened face nodded, the eyes unfocused, lost in deep thought. “Eh, Milkan, you will see great changes soon. In you runs the blood of a once honorable clan that turned to corruption, but a scion has sprouted anew. This clan may yet rise to greatness.”

The girl peered around. Her luminous blue-eyed gaze fell on Aram’s retreating figure.

Chapter Six

—River Clan—

Battle Cries

Ishtar’s body ached for sleep, but images danced before his haunted eyes. His father had waited to make the attack. When the villagers were sound asleep, they struck. Neb had ordered them to kill as many of the old people as possible and slay all young men who resisted. “Leave the women and children for slaves.”

They were practiced warriors. Blind obedience ruled. Shortly before their attack, they had danced around a roaring fire and chanted in unison to Neb’s wild battle cries. They had drunk to their satisfaction, and their blood ran hot with the desire to match their strength against the enemy. When they rushed forward into the silent camp, their screams echoed across the vast expanse. The shrieks of terrified women and children and the protests of feeble elders boiled into a melee of madness.

Ishtar had heard vivid accounts of raids before, but nothing compared to the nerve-ripping reality of thrusting his spear into a defenseless old man. Sobbing women and children were dragged from their homes, while fathers and brothers fought in vain to save them. His senses magnified the horror, yet he felt as if he were a mere spectator, even as he committed his knife and spear to the action. No one could question his ability to kill. Blood dripped from his hands and even smeared his bare feet.

As he lay before the fire, he lived the attack over in his mind. Pitiful eyes haunted him. He had been warned that this would happen. Other warriors had returned home after their first raid bearing red-rimmed, grieving eyes and tight lips. But after the slaves had been sorted out and the tools shared to everyone’s satisfaction, the village returned to its daily routines. Even the slaves seemed resigned to their fate and did not pine to be returned to ruined homes and disheartened people.

But Ishtar could not close his eyes in peace or ignore the images of the frightened villagers who realized death was upon them. Even the glazed, unseeing gazes of those who had no power to resist rose and spoke as no words could. The children spoke the loudest—though their lips only trembled. A powerful wave of questions crested in Ishtar’s mind. Flailing, he thrust them away.

He strained to see through the black night.

No stars shone. Even the moon hid from sight. Clouds must have crept up and covered the distant lights that had aided them in their murderous campaign.

The face of an old man Ishtar knew in his early years floated before his eyes. A gentle servant who had no family to speak of would watch over the children. Ishtar would sit with the old man and eat scraps of dried meat and nuts from his bag. He told stories of a great Creator God who formed the lands with His mighty hands and scooped out vast lakes and rivers. He sent rain and storms, pulled up the mighty ball of fire each morning so we would have day, and dragged it back beneath the Earth so we could rest in the coolness of the night. Each story entertained Ishtar and fed the wellspring of his being.

“Oh, my old friend, where are you now? I wish I could sit beside you and listen to your stories once more.”

Putting his hands over his mouth in stiff fear, he sat up. A hot sweat broke over his face while a chill ran down his back. Surveying the quiet slumber of the other warriors, he stifled a groan and lay down. A stone pressed into his back. He rolled over, scrambled for the stone, and tossed it aside.

Neb’s head popped up from the other side of the sleeping circle. His catlike eyes searched and then rested on his son.

Ishtar froze. He could feel his father’s burning gaze. He waited. Slowly, Neb’s silhouette settled down. Everything was quiet. Ishtar closed his eyes for the hundredth time.

In his mind, a woman with eyes the color of the sky at mid-day appeared. Her skin glowed like polished copper, and her hair shone as black as the earth near the river. She lifted an admonishing hand, her eyes troubled. “Why do you follow your father into evil?”

Ishtar’s throat constricted. An ache built behind his eyes.

“The innocent cry out.”

Ishtar’s heart pounded as if it would break free from his chest.

“You’ll be held accountable for every deed you’ve done tonight.”

As if the ground under him was collapsing, Ishtar gripped his cloak and tried to steady himself.

“But do not despair, for even those guilty of great evil may yet choose another path.” The woman faded into the black night.

Ishtar’s gaze traveled over the silent camp. He exhaled a long, slow breath and closed his eyes. Someone jerked his arm roughly. His father stood over him.

Neb peered through the darkness. “Wake up! You whimper like a woman!” His voice snapped like dried branches.

“Yes, father.” Ishtar clutched his stomach. “I ate too much after so much excitement.” He forced a smile to cover his confusion.

Neb peered over the sleeping assembly and then offered a twisted grin. “Go back to sleep. We’ve got work to do in the morning.”

Ishtar rolled onto his side and listened to his father’s footsteps pad away. Evil? Ishtar pondered the word from every angle. How could everything that he had been reared to think as right be so terribly wrong? Questions flooded his mind. Maybe this is the beginning of madness! Tears burned in his unblinking eyes. He forced himself to remain still.

Where could he go? To whom could he turn? “Oh, help me, my old friend. Someone—help me.” He squeezed his eyes tight as his fists.

A vision of the old man rose before him, his voice gentle as ever. “Evil is not the strongest force in the universe.”

The terrible tumult inside Ishtar’s head eased and a single tear pursued its course down his face.

Chapter Seven

—Grassland—

Race Against the Wind

Obed sat on a smooth white rock by the stream’s edge. The water flowed in bubbling currents over small stones that paved its meandering path from the north hills to some distant, unknown land far south. His gaze roamed lightly over the sparking water.

A slight breeze broke across the plains and stirred the languid grasses. It blew through his hair, which had escaped from a leather tie. He rubbed his short brown beard, which matched the color of his flowing hair.

Holding a gnarled root, he studied it. A few goats and pigs ate this particular root and later grew ill and died. It didn’t seem to make them ill every time but only after a prolonged diet of it.

A few days ago while visiting with Onias, Jonas had brought out a meal. Among the dainties sat a dish of this same root, cooked and mashed. When he asked about it, Jonas explained that she had discovered it only recently. Onias loved it, though the children didn’t care for it. Jonas was disappointed because she couldn’t fix it as her mother had, and it wasn’t as good as she remembered.

Could this very root be the cause of Onias’ sickness? If he was correct, then he could save Onias’ life.

Suddenly, Jael’s thin brown body came into view. He ran with his arms outstretched as if to catch the wind in his grasp. The child looked over at Obed. He ran faster, yelling “OOOBBED” into the wind.

Obed peered into the vast blue sky as if to ask the great space above to share its abundant patience.

“Obed, guess what? I know you don’t know. It’s amazing!” Jael rattled away as he grasped Obed’s hand. “You know that little sick goat we found? Well, it’s better now, and I made it better all by myself. Don’t look at me like that. You know I tell the truth. Remember how it wouldn’t eat, and you said it would die? Well, I thought about that owl mess you showed me once, and how owls have to spit things out so they can eat again. I thought to myself, maybe the little goat has something inside he needs to get rid of. So, then I went and got that weed that makes you throw up—the one you told me never to touch. I gave it to the goat. He didn’t want to eat, but I made him because I figured he was just going to die if I didn’t. Anyway, he did throw up and then lay down and closed his eyes. I thought he was dead, so I ran away, but then I came back, and he wasn’t dead. When I took him to pasture, he started eating like all the rest. I did cure him, didn’t I?” His dark brown eyes implored Obed.

Obed ran his fingers over the child’s thick hair, a smile hovering on his lips. “Yes, certainly. You’re quite clever and may have done more good than you realize, Jael.”

The child beamed, tugging Obed’s hand. “Come on. We’ll tell everyone. They’ll all be glad I saved a goat, won’t they?”

“I’m sure they will.” Obed let Jael pull him off the warm rock. He took one last look over the rippling water, then let Jael’s hand go as the boy raced against the wind over the swaying grasses toward home.

Chapter Eight

—Planet Lux—

Justify Your Evil

Teal stood holding a drink in one hand, tapping his leg with the other, and a frown building between his eyes.

The brilliantly lit hall filled with trailing green vines, glowing flowers, and an astonishing array of birds, barely scored his conscious mind. He had seen a million such rooms before. The company was different though. Luxonians in their human forms, Ingots, encased in their mechanical exoskeletons, and Crestas, lumbering along in their terrestrial bio-suits mingled in forced diplomacy.

Zuri, back straight, chest out, circulated amid an Ingoti throng across the room, which hummed with the uneasy murmurings of three races attempting to mingle in an uneasy alliance.

Putting his drink aside, Teal’s gaze shifted to his superior, Judge Sterling, who looked like he had been chewing glass for breakfast.

Sterling, dressed immaculately in a long, flowing robe and cotton pants, stood square-shouldered as he faced off a leading scientist of Crestar. Sterling’s eyes lowered to half-mast.

Boredom or loathing? So hard to tell from this distance.

A hand gripped his shoulder. Teal stiffened as he glanced at the mechanical glove. How did Zuri manage to sneak around him like that?

“Teal, correct?”

Clenching his jaw, Teal peered at the Ingoti trader. “You should know my name by now—you’ve complained about me often enough to the Ingilium—and the Supreme Council.”

Zuri’s form-fitting techno-armor, a brilliant red for the conference, nearly outshone his wide, practiced smile. “In truth, I’m surprised they let you come. After all, this is where we make agreements to respect each other and—”

“Like you respect the human race?”

Taking two steps into Teal’s personal space, Zuri waved a hand that could snap a neck. “Do you see any humans here? And why would that be? Possibly because they’re not evolved to the point where they can represent themselves at our level?”

Teal glanced ahead as Sterling wandered in his direction. Teal’s frown melted as he lifted his hand in salute.

Zuri backed off.

Sterling offered a slight bow. “Well, what have we here? The most infamous Ingoti trader this side of the Divide?”

Teal’s gaze bounced like a ball from Sterling to Zuri.

Flexing his impressive biomechanical exoskeleton, Zuri’s chest expanded alarmingly. “Don’t get jealous, Judge Sterling. Ingoti trade benefits Ingots, Luxonians, and Crestas—anyone willing to pay a fair price.”

Sterling tucked a stray lock of his luminous white hair into perfect place. “Pity, humans keep getting in your way. Teal has reported that humans seem to disappear when they have the unfortunate luck to wander too close to one of your mining operations.”

Zuri’s hands clenched. “I’ve taken plenty of native-sensitive precautions. I introduced three kinds of protective repellants and made bloody well sure that they appeared to be right out of one of their superstitious belief systems. I did my research!”

A bell toned.

The two Luxonians glanced at the Ingoti representative beckoning them to their next meeting.

Zuri kept his glare plastered on Sterling.

Teal glowered. “Like it or not, we need stronger non-interference regulations for undeveloped planets. You’re already exploiting their natural resources, and humanity will suffer from your greed.”

The tone repeated—louder.

Judge Sterling tugged Teal toward the conference door. “We’ll handle this issue in the proper setting.”

Zuri smacked his metallic fists together. “You think humans don’t exploit each other? What about that creature called Neb? And his son—Ishtar? Don’t tell me that their noble hearts will win out over generations of greed. I’m just doing to humans what they’ll do to each other given time.”

Teal pulled away from Sterling’s grasp and stared deep into Zuri’s narrowed eyes. “You don’t know who Ishtar might become or what’ll happen to Neb. Don’t justify your evil by insisting everyone is evil. It’s too simplistic—even for an Ingot.”

Chapter Nine

—Great Lake—

Joy

Aram marched ahead and studied his new world. Each day grew longer and warmer, and the dim forests were not so longingly remembered. This fresh open land, with its immense sky, invigorated his soul. In the north, low hills rose as if hulking moles had dug up mounds of earth in the imagined distance, and beyond those hills stretched colossal mountains.

Namah carried her bundles silently, occasionally nodding to the other clanswomen near her, her gaze most often downcast and serious.

Toward evening after an uneventful day of slow traveling, they climbed a low rise where a few trees spread freely in the open spaces. After they climbed the incline, they stopped in wide-eyed joy. An enormous lake of sparkling water shimmered before them in the slanting rays of the setting sun. Green grass rippled in the south and a rocky shore led to a high cliff on the north. The low west bank curved back, covered with pebbles and sand. The eastern shore leveled out with the grassy land.

As the clan edged closer, several trees, old leafy friends, met them with outstretched arms. There were not so many trees as in the forest, but their very presence spoke of welcome and good fortune. Children tried to scamper toward the bright water but worried mothers stopped them in mid run.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Namah slipped up behind Aram and placed her hand on his arm.

Aram gazed across the glorious expanse and sighed. He tilted his head toward her. “What are you afraid of—the water or the sunshine?”

She grimaced and glanced away. They stood in silence while the clan gathered around, peering at the panoramic view. Like proud eagles, they savored the breathtaking view.

Namah clasped her hands together. “Some might wish to stop here for a long time.”

A smile wandered across Aram’s face. “That’s putting it mildly.” He inhaled a deep breath. “Yes.” He squared his shoulders. “We could know peace here. From this vantage, we could see an enemy approach from every side. We have the comfort of many old and familiar friends among the trees. And from the lake, we can draw water and food.”

He nodded. Yes. Now that he saw this glory, he could only think that some Great Force beyond his reckoning had sent the cat and forced him out of the woods into this new land—like a child led home.

Barak could go off on a wild hunt, and Aram could almost wish him well. He would merely return with a cat skin and speak of noble adventures. But they would be peacefully settled in a new and better homeland.