Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (13 page)

“We have wounded,” Ampris protested. “We should wait at least until daybreak—”

“What happened down there?” Harthril asked her. His blue eyes bored into hers. “Why they so determined to get you back?”

Ampris hesitated a moment, stunned by his question. “No one recognized me,” she said. “They want all the slaves. The group would bring good prices at auction—”

“Patrollers raid, search a little, then move off,” Harthril broke in. “Don’t keep searching and searching. Something else is reason now.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Ampris said.

He gave her a flat look of disbelief.

Ampris’s puzzlement grew. Something in the air seemed wrong. The tension she had sensed earlier was stronger. She broke away from Harthril’s gaze to look at the others.

Nashmarl’s face peered at her from behind the Kelth newcomers. Foloth crouched on the ground beside Robuhl, petting the old Myal absently. The look in Foloth’s eyes made her back her ears suspiciously.

“What is going on?” Ampris asked.

Velia came up to her. “You have become a problem for us,” she said without preamble.

“What?”

“You,” Velia said, pointing. “It was your idea that we come into this region in the first place.”

Ampris glanced around again and saw their faces, harsh with criticism and blame. The newcomers were wide-eyed spectators. Velia’s attack would only unsettle them more, but then Velia had never known when to time anything.

In annoyance, Ampris squared her shoulders and faced Velia again. “We all agreed to come,” she said. “We discussed it. There was no game left where we—”

“But it was your idea to come here,” Velia insisted. “Here, nearer to Viis settlements, where trouble is close to us all the time.”

“But we—”

“And it was your idea to raid the fields,” Velia said. “We all thought it was too risky, but you insisted. Elrabin told me you had enough grain stolen early in the day, but you wanted more. Your greed got you into trouble, and you dragged Elrabin and Paket into it. Now look what has come of it. We are all in danger.”

“Yes. I made a mistake,” Ampris said. “But the plan was working—”

“We have no food,” Velia said. “Where is all the stelf we were supposed to be eating? Elrabin brought us four heads. Four! To feed all of us. And at what price? Paket’s death?”

“Enough!” Ampris roared. She glared at Velia. then at the others. “Yes, the cost was too high. I grieve for Paket. I blame myself for what happened to him. But—”

“We must leave tonight,” Harthril interrupted her.

Ampris looked at him with her ears flat against her skull. She looked at Velia. She looked at her sons, watching her in wide-eyed silence. “Traveling at night is dangerous.” she said.

“You are no longer a good leader for us. Ampris,” Velia said. “You should no longer give orders.”

“And who should lead us instead?” Ampris retorted. “You?”

Velia pivoted and pointed at Harthril. “Him. At least he is not wanted by the patrollers. They know who you are. They must know. Otherwise, they would go away.”

Ampris snarled at her and shook her head, but inside she began to have her own doubts. Maybe the fat overseer had recognized her. He’d been too interested in her all along. If Kuma remembered who she was, others probably would as well. For years she had hoped she was believed killed in the Vess Vaas explosion, but perhaps there was still a reward for her.

“Now you see. Ampris,” Tantha said. “They betrayed me. Now they turn on you. Fine family we have.”

“We vote now,” Velia said, her eyes fierce and excited. “Harthril or Ampris.”

In moments it was settled. Ampris stood there, swallowing the sting of rejection, and telling herself perhaps it was better if Harthril took over.

The tall Reject came forward into the firelight and swept his blue gaze around at them all. His rill was flushed a faint pink, but otherwise he appeared as calm as ever. “Hah,” he said. “We pack up camp now. We go.”

Despite herself, Ampris had to speak up. “What of our wounded? Elrabin is hurt. Robuhl is hurt. Tantha has just given birth and is not yet strong. Is anyone else injured?”

Nashmarl came to her then, tugging at her arm. “Mother, I’m tired,” he said. “I don’t want to walk all night.”

Harthril overheard and his rill stiffened, turning a darker shade of red.

“I’m not trying to undermine your authority,” she told him. “I just want to know how we’re to carry the injured—”

“Not care how it is done,” Harthril broke in harshly, flicking out his tongue. “Just that we go fast. We go now.”

“But—”

“Ampris,” he said with exasperation. “I make decisions now. Keep your place.”

CHAPTER
•FIVE

Daybreak dawned hot and still, with not even a stir of the usual hot, dry wind to offer them relief. Following a long, arduous climb, they reached the top of a broad mesa while the brassy sun was rising above the horizon. Harthril called a halt, and with groans of relief, the group sank down to rest.

Ampris sat next to a scratchy bush whose leaves were curled and dead. Foloth and Nashmarl joined her without having to be called. Foloth crouched beside her on his haunches, but Nashmarl flopped flat on the ground and flung his arm across his eyes.

“I’m thirsty,” he complained.

“It isn’t time yet for another sip,” Ampris said to him. Tipping back her head, she inhaled deeply and sifted through the mixture of scents that filled her nostrils. “There’s no water source up here. We must be conservative.”

Foloth closed his eyes, yawning.

Nashmarl sat up and glared at Ampris as though it were her fault. “Figures,” he said and turned his back on her.

She ignored his complaints. Both cubs were exhausted. and she felt drained by weariness. They had walked all night, the adults taking turns carrying Elrabin and Robuhl. Now in the rose-gilded light of early morning, they needed a good, easily defended camping spot where everyone could rest during the hot hours of the day. But this mesa offered no site that Ampris considered suitable. There was no running water that she could smell. Without water, there would be no game to hunt. The flat ground looked scorched and brown. Almost no vegetation grew except the low scrub, and even most of it looked dead. She could see for kilometers in every direction, as though she’d reached the top of the world. Which meant anyone else who searched here would see them. Why Harthril had chosen to bring them up here, she could not understand.

But she was no longer the leader. No longer the one who made the decisions.

Ampris sighed, telling herself to rest. But she could not. Although she sat there quietly while her cubs slept, her mind continued to work over their problems. She turned her weary, burning eyes in Harthril’s direction, wondering what he meant to do now.

The Reject stood a short distance away, his back to Ampris. The rising sun cast a long spindly shadow from him. Deep in conversation with Luax, his mate, Harthril did not seem tired. His rill stood extended behind his head, and his gaze remained locked on his mate. Luax was pointing across the mesa and gesturing vehemently. Nodding, Harthril listened and occasionally flicked out his tongue.

A few minutes later, the word was passed along: They had to get up. They were going on.

Some of the Kelths yipped and wailed in protest. Ampris heard the disturbance as though from far away, then blinked herself from her doze and forced herself to her feet.

She bent over Foloth and Nashmarl, tugging at them. “Wake up,” she said. “Wake up now and gather your gear.”

Foloth opened his dark eyes and grimaced in mute protest.

“We’re going on,” Ampris told him. “Get up.” Foloth obeyed her, grumbling to himself, but Nashmarl lay on the ground with one arm still across his eyes. He refused to move.

Ampris nudged him harder with her toe. “Nashmarl,” she said firmly. “Now.”

He snarled. “I’m asleep. Go without me.”

“Get up.”

He snarled again and would not move.

Ampris glanced at Foloth, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me, Mother. If he wants to stay behind and live on his own, we’d all be better off.”

She swallowed the involuntary growl that rumbled in her throat. Bending down, she gripped Nashmarl by his clothing and hoisted him bodily to his feet.

Nashmarl’s eyes flew open, and he yelped in startlement. But he was on his feet. Ampris released him, and he staggered to catch his balance.

Glaring at him, she pointed at his belongings. “Get your gear and move.”

Anger brightened his green eyes. He opened his mouth, but Ampris turned away from him, too tired and grouchy to deal with his protests.

Around them, others were getting to their feet and picking up their crude pouches and bedrolls. Ampris saw Velia coaxing Elrabin. The Kelth looked shaky and unwell. He stood there, swaying, with one hand to his head. Compassion filled Ampris. She hated seeing her friend like this. He needed rest and care, not this forced march.

Wanting to help him, Ampris started in his direction, but Velia took his arm and gently got him walking. Ampris halted, backing her ears. Her mixed feelings confused her.

“Mother!” Foloth said sharply from behind her. “Nashmarl’s got the water skin!”

Ampris swung around and saw Nashmarl clutching their precious water skin to his chest as he raced away.

“Nashmarl!” she called after him. “Come back!”

But he ignored her and darted all the way to the head of their scraggly column, positioning himself at Harthril’s heels.

Ampris saw him tug at the Reject’s sleeve and say something, but Harthril ignored the cub and lengthened his stride.

“Mother, he isn’t supposed to have that,” Foloth said huffily as the line formed and the Kelth ex-slaves shuffled past them. Foloth circled her, indignant. “He’ll drink all our water and won’t share it. You know how he is.”

“I know,” Ampris said wearily.

“You have to do something,” Foloth insisted. “Make him bring it back.”

Grimly she picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulders.

Foloth grabbed his bedroll and kicked Nashmarl’s pack aside. “The idiot will be sorry tonight that he left this behind.”

“Don’t call your brother an idiot,” Ampris reprimanded him automatically. “Take his pack for him.”

“I won’t!” Foloth said in outrage. “It’s his responsibility. He took our water. Why should I carry his things?”

Ampris started counting to herself, trying to keep her temper. “Because I asked you to.”

“Well, I won’t do it,” Foloth said. “It isn’t fair. You’re always taking his side.”

Ampris picked up the pack that Nashmarl had abandoned. It was very heavy, and she wondered what he had put inside it. Nashmarl was apt to fill his pack with rocks and leave his clothing behind, if he wasn’t watched. Resisting the urge to look inside, Ampris slung it over her shoulder.

Foloth watched her critically. “If you won’t go get him I will,” he said. “I’ll make him behave, since you won’t.”

He started past her, but Ampris reached out and snagged his arm. Holding him back, she looked into his dark resentful eyes, Aaroun eyes that seemed so foreign in his Viis-like face. “You will join the line,” she said firmly. “I’ll take care of your brother.”

Leaving him, she limped toward the head of the line, already panting from exertion in the heat.

Several of the Kelths glanced up as she passed them and muttered among themselves, but Ampris ignored them. She passed Velia and Elrabin, who was marching grimly along with his head down, saying nothing in response to Velia’s constant chatter. For a few moments Ampris kept step with Tantha, who had her mewing cubs bundled in a blanket which she carried on her back.

The younger female Aaroun walked steadily, with her muzzle wrinkled in a snarl that betrayed her exhaustion. Ampris eyed her, knowing a forced march in this heat could render her unable to feed her cubs. She wanted to ask Tantha how she was doing, but in the end said nothing and hurried on.

Nashmarl was still skipping along at Harthril’s and Luax’s heels. Ampris could hear his nonstop chatter, which the Rejects ignored. In her heart. Ampris felt a pang of sadness at her poor, unlikable son. He never seemed to understand when his company was welcome and when it was not. He wanted so much to be liked and accepted, yet he could not be depended on. He was forgetful, irresponsible, and impulsive. He tended to say whatever popped into his head, whether appropriate or not. And he was both stubborn and willful. Ampris could see so many faults in him, yet she saw his potential too. Nashmarl was more sensitive than Foloth, more aware of people around him. His heart could be tender, and his passions ran deep. But, oh, he had so much yet to learn, so much growing up to do.

The Rejects were setting a hard pace, their long Viis legs seemingly tireless. Limping behind them, Ampris realized she could not catch up. “Luax,” she called.

The female Reject glanced back and stopped at once, waiting until Ampris caught up with her. Nashmarl saw his mother, and defiance filled his green eyes. Tucking the water skin beneath his arm, he hurried on at Harthril’s side.

“A well day be yours,” Luax said formally, giving Ampris a nod.

Panting, Ampris smiled back. “A well day be yours too,” she said, returning the Reject greeting. “It’s already a hot one.”

Luax let her rill droop upon her shoulders as she fell into step beside Ampris. “I was about to scout ahead for water. Can you smell any?”

“No. The mesa is dry,” Ampris said. “And if there’s no water, there’ll be no hunting.”

Luax flicked out her tongue. “This we feared. Better to keep going, keep moving fast.”

“We can’t force-march long in this heat,” Ampris said. “Elrabin—”

“He is walking,” Luax said without much sympathy.

“But that will sap his strength further. He needs—”

“Elrabin is Velia’s worry,” Luax said.

For a moment the two females locked eyes. Ampris was the first to look down. Her tongue felt dried inside her mouth. She had nothing else to say when Luax put it like that.

Then she saw Nashmarl taking a long drink from the water skin. Her frustration came boiling to the surface.