Ch11: Stories Told of History's Day

Copyright © 2013 by P.A. Lackey
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No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. 

Chapter Eleven: Stories Told of History's Day

Night had encroached upon them, and the five found themselves a few meters from the Gray Tower. A starry sky seemed to move above the trees as the planet continued its rotation, and the moon had for a short time been up. No fire stirred before them, as they wished to avoid attention. Thus they ignored the cold which impinged their bodies.
Naturally the tower would have provided ideal shelter for the five, but it would have left them cornered if the enemy were to come upon them. Therefor Thorim thought it wise to keep a distance, though no one felt comfortable by it. There was a killer among them, and Arius knew that the others distrusted him. Even Thorim who was reluctant to accuse him, remained suspicious. Arius could tell by the way he behaved. Wary glances, and uncomfortable silence were a giveaway.
Gruegon and Brockumus kept watch for the night, though no one slumbered. Camus was the fifth mercenary among them, and even more than Arius, was probably the quieter of the bunch. He had over the trip developed a bond with Gruegon just as Rie with Grem, and Jayvolni with Dueson and Ruekrow. Arius supposed that Brockumus was his new friend during the trip which left Thorim as the loner. He didn’t seem to have any one friend among the mercenaries, but acted as their leader alone. Arius could only wonder what their commander was thinking.
A sharp clicking sounded in the camp, and they all reached for their wheel. A palm sized device that clicked off an encrypted message. The shape of it was a wheel, and engraved symbols ran around the rim. The top part of the wheel turned to press upon the bottom part, and a message was dialed from Jayvolni. It was their method of communications, as they had no radio or com. The wheel operated by a type of magnetism which only the corresponding devices were linked to, thus they were able to communicate no matter what their distance from each other.
“He has found a boat by the docks,” Thorim spoke aloud. “but it’s condition is in need of repair.”
“If he succeeds in repairing it,” said Camus. “Will we leave with him?”
“Our priority is the mission, but he is right to say that staying is dangerous,” replied Thorim. “We will go if we must.”
Another message clicked through the wheels, and Arius noted it as from Grem. The two had nearly made it back to the crash site, but there were many leathered savages there. It would be dangerous, but they dared to proceed in hopes of finding the ships transmitter.
Thorim replied with a warning, but they refused to take heed from their old commander. They were on their own now, and only communicated to remain informed. All became silent as soon as communication was over.
The insects upon the world had taken to their chirping for the night, and now Arius’ mind began to wonder. He thought of his future wife, and despaired for the great distance between them. Could he ever get back to her, or was his destiny there among men who did not trust him. Was all this really a ploy of his future father in law of riding him forever? Heat flashed through his body as he looked back upon his gullibility. Yawen Waid, the father of his future wife, had tricked him. Arius had trusted the man, and at one time considered him as a father he never had, but now he realized the usury.
Arius’ thoughts soon turned to the mission which Thorim thought so highly of. It was true, they were there to make history, but perhaps it was their demise they would find instead. They were hunting a man of legend, long thought dead. What would his business be there, and what was he planning?

Arius recalled the stories taught to him as a child. A plague that devoured worlds, turning brother against brother, son against father. The great Plaigeanic Wars led by the Lord of Plagues, as the adversary called himself.  Worlds were in peril against his corrupting hand, and plague like armies, but a deliverer came to free them from the Lord of Plagues. Archaies was his name, and by his hand the adversary was put to death, the plague done away, and peace restored. Now here they were several hundred years later, hunting the man they once adored. The man Archaies, the one they once called deliverer. 

Thanks for stopping by, and sorry for the late post. Be sure to check out my book, Ground of Oam which is available for both Kindle and Paperback on amazon. 


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