The Troyuan Chronicles...Book 2

By Ernest Velon

"All the Universe is Amazian..." so sings the poet, "and are blessed in an age of golden aspirations!" But, with this golden light exists the darkness of malevolent designs. So, to battle the criminals of darkness is Alack Troyus, a knight without armor. He is the vanguard of the Silent Army, whose job is to make the Universe safe so law and order can flourish.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ernest Velon
• Release date: Dec 1, 2009
• ISBN: 9781102469681

Ernest Velon

Ernest Velon, the master of antiquities, is an expert on Roman History, who applies his talents to the future. A lover of mystery and sci-fi, he created the Alack Troyus character to fill a void in current literature.

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THE TROYUAN CHRONICLES…BOOK TWO

By Ernest Velon

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to www.smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this Author.

Copyright © 2005 by Ernest Velon

Discover other titles by Ernest Velon at www.smashwords.com.

Revised by the Author on 6/2015

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

THE WILDERNESS AFFAIR

THE PERMANENCE AFFAIR

THE FLORENTINE AFFAIR

THE MILITARY AFFAIR

About the Author

FOREWORD

My wife and I ascended the summit of the Mastravine Hill and sat down amongst the bramble and ruins of a once mighty mansion. A time long ago, before the disease of endless decay, this area was protected by gleaming domes in steel and porcelain cement. Their balustrades of fancy designs, massive in their gigantic stands, going up to dizzy heights touched the blue-green heavens of Amazia. But, now from our viewing point, only the tottering ruins and the nakedness of the Capital Area snaking in wreckage to obscurity, remains below.

The silence is offensive. No longer do we hear the roar of the axel grinding the wheel of justice from the Capitaline Imperium. Her courts and halls of legislation are torn down, her accumulated treasures in Silentium pillaged, and her works of art long since interred by layers of debris. The ruins of the great Urban Towers, line the horizon like the broken teeth in a fallen Giant’s shattered jaw. Now, only the creeping brambles and forbidden stickers climb over the wrecked monuments.

But, to those with a fertile mind, can rebuild this jumble of ruinous chaos about. So, once, long ago, this area was the center of a colossal titan! Whose grasping limbs stretched outwards, never ending, touching the four corners of our galactic cluster. Reeling from the revelations, our eyes fail and again focus upon the shadows, lying in descending ruins; is all that remains of a mighty edifice of government. Our pulse stumbles, and we ask our selves how much the spectacle of this forgotten world has crumbled? How silent are the wind-swept ruins and the sleeping blocks, covered by a veneer of growth, before us. How terrifying the twisted girders grasp at emptiness! How naked and shameful the shells of the pediments now lie! As if some behemoth’s twisted skeleton picked clean, we weep over the glory once was and over the majesty planted eons ago.

With somber tears and windy whispers, we open further the tales of Alack Troyus of the Special Services, and relive those wonderful times. We now cherish an undying fantasy, one that cries in our imaginations, hoping to survive these stupendous ruins and allowing us to dream further of past fortunes unbound.

Ernest Velon

Larentia 1/13/9815 U.C.

THE WILDERNESS AFFAIR

By Ernest Velon

Magistrate Valulon and her traveling Regi-Court staff arrived at the wilderness export center called Hiyonda City. The long trek and caseload through the Regent of Byloria seemed endless as each Curlator petitioned her services from dozens of planets. The number of cases, those dealing with the Imperial system and not the local Zoferin planetary courts, seemed far more than usual. Then again, more planetary systems are slowly gaining prominence within the vast hegemony of the Amazian economic system. With the coming of prosperity so does new faces, names and races trying to make a fast credit the illegal way.

And so it is with this particular case from the wilderness world of Microsus III. A fine habited planet in a slightly elliptical orbit about the blue-white star Maximo, falling neatly within the Habitation Zone for life to evolve. Humanoid in appearance, fulfilling the standard programming of natural selection, the Microsians evolved into a fine human species. They first occupied a chain of small tropical islands, and moved over the seas to one of three large continents. Here, settlements evolved into civilizations, which spread throughout the world, culminating in the arrival of the Amazians during the Zaterian Wars.

Eager to be part of the new dominion called the Amazian Empire, they quickly supplied the vaunted Task Forces of Zaterite with supplies, gaining the mad Emperor’s favor. With the fall of the Zaterite regime in 2033 the new Emperor Dwitinton sought to bind the vast Imperium through a Code of Laws and economic freedoms. He made available the Imperium’s immense resources allowing races and subjected nations to rise and prove themselves. Taking advantage of certain programs the Microsians realized they had a gold mine in exporting the fine goods their race produced, especially the uncivilized tribes on the Maramosa continent. This vast uncharted wilderness, encompassing more than half of the planetary land surface area, is slowly in the process of conquest by various nations. But, after seeing the quality of goods the tribes are making, the new planetary Curlator decided to withdraw all efforts of civilization on Maramosa.

Ambitious business men are reigned in, undaunted settlers are withdrawn, heavy industry forbidden, and the entire area declared off limits. Treaties are made with the hundred or so tribes, letting them live in peace, and offering them trade agreements. Bartering became the main source for the tribes to gain simple tools, clothing, supplies of rare foods and basic materials to produce products of exquisite craftsmanship. The balance of basic needs fulfilled everyone’s expectations. The tribes remained free, the merchants got rich and the planetary coffers filled.

With the coming of the Civeronians to power in 2041, this system is further enhanced by placing regulation under the auspices of the AOP, the Administration of Planets Ministry. This government agency further guaranteed the freedoms and safety of not only Maramosa but billions of developing worlds. This allowed the Curlator to divert resources to improving the standard of living on the two smaller continents and island chains. But Maramosa, with its frosty mountain peaks scraping the sky, with its immense unending forests, giant Sequoia trees taller than a modern building, with its rolling plains harboring countless herds of bipeds and quadrupeds, with its great inland river called the Madria traveling the length of the continent to empty its sustenance into the sea of Maramosa, has one outpost of modern civilization.

And it is here, at Hiyonda City, that Valulon and staff found themselves.

They arrived first at TermiDome, a gigantic five Sectal square shipping transport facility a good Sectal (under one mile) from the Madria Delta along the shallow waters of the continental shelf. Greeted by two gentlemen representing the Curlator’s Cabinet, they boarded a high-speed monorail taking Valulon and her six clerics to Hotel Aquanautic. Arriving at Hiyonda City, they are quickly observed by the Hotel’s Maitra’D getting into another ground vehicle. From this point Valulon and her staff are never seen again. The four Service Guards, with Service Captain Zarzosa in full dress uniform, waited thirty minutes until one had the bright idea of calling the main Transnet learning she arrived ten minutes before they did. Going frantic, Zarzosa is told they never registered at the Aquanautic, and what the doorman reported declared a General Persons Alert. Hiyonda City is shut down, all TransTubes are stopped and a small army of Service Guards began a massive search.

By the time they got to the ferry wharfs along the eastern warehouse districts, where a continuous stream of boats bring the priceless cargo’s in from the interior, Zarzosa realized the worse, they are kidnapped. Up the vast steamy Madria River, an eyewitness saw a routine of unusual people get on a side-wheeler and vanish into the morning mist. Intercepting by Zo car, breaking a dozen laws, Zarzosa boards the riverboat but finds the routine is a religious sect belonging to the ‘green back’ settler communities. These off-world colonizers are part of a religious group that believes in going back to basics to find spiritual fulfillment. They, and a few others, permitted to farm the soil, to hunt the abundant game, maintain peace with the tribes, but build no cities, nor abuse the environment with modern civilization. Their secret job is to keep an eye on the numerous tribes and report to Zarzosa of anyone tampering with the balance of things.

Through the investigation of the ‘greenback’ settlers and a few tribal chiefs, who are very loyal to the status quo, Zarzosa learned the kidnappers are hired by Konchart the Merchant. If there’s anyone powerful enough, audacious enough and desperate enough to steal away an entire Imperial routine, it’s Konchart. Kingpin of the Seven Tributaries, Master Trader of the Zequana and Umptfizzi Tribes, Sky Brother of the Rocklines, who is married to their chief’s daughter, Great Benefactor and a host of other titles, Konchart has connections even beyond the flatlands of the interior. His trading posts and forts dot the upper Madria like a constellation of stars in a black foreboding wilderness. Operating deep in the interior, from a place called Konchartboro, the Master Trader journeys to Hiyonda once a year to attend to the more modern aspects of his vast holdings. Plus, to keep and eye on his priaritors and clerics so the inventories are accurate.

Zarzosa, who is investigating Konchart because certain warehouses holding the goods of his competitors were raided, discovered evidence leading to this number one man. Secretly building a case the Service Captain had acquired enough evidence to open a hearing on Konchart’s nefarious activities. Requesting Magistrate Valulon and her staff to review the evidence, he is prepared to arrest Konchart during the Merchant’s next visit. But that crafty Trader struck first and snatched away the entire routine. Zarzosa’s decision to go Imperial, than the local Zoferin courts, is because Konchart is Amazian, not Microsian, he will appeal to the Amazian Emperor. Saving time, for a quick judgment and sentencing, before Konchart can act, Zarzosa thought he had out maneuvered his adversary. But, somehow, someone tipped the scales of justice and knocked down the Winged Victory.

The Service Captain, caught with his pants down, most reverse the situation before Konchart takes the next step. Informed where in Konchartboro they are held, Zarzosa puts together a strike force of fifty Service Guards and lands secretly a Sectal from the trading outpost. Advancing at night to the southern wall, where a ‘greenback’ clerk will open a gate, the column is attacked by savages. Totally taken off guard, the Servies managed to form a square, get off a few shots of photonics, and are over-run by hundreds of wild screaming natives. Properly organized, the fifty Guards could have easily fought off the attack with modern weapons, but because of the ravine they are in, the hemmed in rocks, the density of the forest and quickness of the attack, they died to the last man.

When a yelping warrior from the Zequana tribe tossed a bundle of decapitated heads at the open door to the transport, Zarzosa realized he had made a fatal error.

Returning to Hiyonda City, then on to the Curlator’s palace on the Macros continent, Zarzosa reported on the criminal case, the kidnapping and the slaughter of his men, then resigned.

And so, Alack m’boy, when the light is away, the darkness comes to stay. That’s why you’ve been summoned.

The youth with the black brownish long hair parted in the middle, over his intense forehead and curling slightly hiding his tall uniform’s braded collar, stretched his handsome face in a smile.

His pearly teeth anticipating another adventure, big brown eyes seeking more info from the elderly man behind the desk, and those heavy eyebrows bent in concentration. Alack Troyus is almost rocking in the soft office chair in his navy blue uniform with gold trim.

You’re past experience on Quenar and Kudor Thor, plus your own childhood is why I know you’ll be perfect for this assignment. You have that sixth sense for survival and hunting skills. You should feel at home on Maramosa. Alack nodded ‘yes’ wanting to hear more, any further and you’ll fall off that chair. Muttered T.A., head of the Special Services, as I see it, you are to go there in disguise as a representative from the Greenback Spiritual Church, as per the SCS, checking on the status of the colonists, to see if they are conforming to the precepts of their doctrines. There are certain tribal factions who don’t like Konchart and his people, make contact, set up a rescue operation and get Valulon and her staff out of there.

What about Konchart himself, do I get him? the deep heavy voice firm and serious.

This guy is no Karl Modicy, but a real woodsman, and has the rank of ‘pathmaker’ from previous trading concessions, so don’t underestimate his abilities. To answer your question, if you please, try and bring him in, but, Valulon and her staff has priority if a choice has to be made.

Alack glanced at the stack of disks in the purple pouch T.A had thrown at him. The Service Column, do you want me to get revenge for the massacre?

That’s a good one... mumbled T.A. rubbing and stretching his ruddy lined face with his fingers. They are our boys...only if the opportunity presents itself, understand? Alack nodded in the affirmative. So, you got this, and that, and this, T.A. went through a list wanting to keep the youth in his office longer than Alack wants to remain. You’ll be dealing with a lot of savage tribes, Alack m’boy, softly began T.A. showing concern, that bundle of heads and Zarzosa’s sudden resignation, bothers me. This Konchart fellow bothers me. The betrayal and massacre of the fifty Service Guards bothers me. Right now as I sit here and stare into your stupid face, the whole mess bothers me... Alack stared back at his boss and benefactor feeling genuine concern. About to say something, T.A. finished up. There’s far more going on here, and I’m sure after you’ve assimilated all that data, you’ll agree. Watch your back young man and trust no one on this assignment, not even our own people.

Alack reviewed the large assortment of data disks when he arrived back home. He studied the seventy or so major tribes and their cultures, their habits, their dress, their warrior codes and their vital characteristics. All wild and very human with various skin colors caused by the mineral environments from which their foods are acquired. Most are rustic, heavy facial lines, ruddy complexions from outdoors, almost reddish to dark hue. Their eye color ranges from black to deep blue to a uncanny white. Noses are hooked with great gorilla nostrils for sucking in quantities of air. Mouths have very thin lips but sharp mandibles for tearing and ripping apart meats and vegetables. Ears are like great flowers that can receive the slightest noise from padded feet while hunting. Chests are barrel shape to encase their huge lungs so they do not tire when running after their game. Arms are short but muscular, for close combat with animals and foes alike, holding palms and short fingers containing an unreal dexterity. These people, having great pumping legs that can drive a warrior over distances without getting exhausted, gave them an advantage when hunting wild game.

Clothing varies from a simple G-string to leather hide shorts to a full pants and shirt combo. Some tribes developed just leggings and a simple kilt, which they put on quickly when attacked. Others, a full tunic of cross hides and feathers with leather beaten straps holding pockets for weapons. Footwear is from sandals made of bark and leather to a full boot with feathers and straps. Some tribes have elaborate headgear of precious metals, gem’s studded bands of rubber-coated leaves, to a vast peacock of brilliant feathers attached to a skullcap. Some warriors have brilliant embossed shields, others nothing more than a hunting spear. Others full segmented leather armor to bare-chested warriors with flamboyant dress in feathers and gold. Some of the weapons used Alack recognized, the throwing Atlatls, bow and arrow, war club with spikes, obsidian tipped spears, one tribe used a long throwing knife similar to a Bowie.

The females in all tribes are protected and cherished. Some tribal codes treat them like beasts of burden, others are more sophisticated, but all are considered valuable pieces of property, and with the more civilized tribes, used as a treaty exchange for alliances. Their faces are round, lacking the wrinkles and lines of the men. Ears small, with sharp hazel blue eyes, small noses and delicate pearly mouths, made them unique. Their necks are long because they need the space to sing and hum for their men. Arms lacking muscles, firm breasts and small buttocks, their legs are slender, overall, shorter than the men by a good 24 Illos (a foot). Amongst them lie the education, the crafts, the learning and tribal conformity with sexual rituals. They repair the broken spears, smashed axes and blunt knives. They do the weaving of clothes, the cooking of meals, the caring of the sick, the raising of children until a certain age and are the hand maidens to the religious leaders.

Alack then went to his identity, and covert personality with the hierarchy of the Greenback Religious Movement. Founded in 2010 by the Andromeke scientist Borsales, and his clerical assistant Fellia Torsal, became obsessed. Both, who became appalled at the way technology is destroying entire worlds without environmental regulations and uncontrolled population growth, abandoned their allegiance to their nation and moved to the Imperium. Settling on Amazia’s largest moon, Titon (Titan), becoming involved with archaeological digs on Krillsea (Enceladus) and the colossal destruction of the moon’s surface, further enhanced their desire to get their movement in motion.

Both sought future financial security by creating the movement as a religion and gathering a flock of followers. Discovering an old legend on Titon, based upon the purity of one’s soul as to the way one lives, false ancient texts are written, buried and then discovered, by the husband and wife team.

Playing upon the uneducated and simple minded, Borsales and Torsal set up a religious center for teaching a simple life style long since forgotten. Using modern scientific texts, plus the Borsalis Tablets, they enhanced their new philosophy with environmental concepts. The first community is established on Amazia in 2033, under a more enlightened government. Up holding basic farming, using only natural fertilizers and food growing techniques, plus abstaining from all forms of modern devices and conveniences, the colony thrived. Discovering that certain herbal commodities are in great demand the ‘Greenbackers’ began selling food and vegetables in a number of supermarket chains. By 2041, Borsales, Torsal and a few others found themselves very rich.

The wealth eventually replaces their simple philosophy and they are living in automated mansions. In 2043, an Elder, named Bryan Alcaon, discovers the hypocrisy of the founders, causes several legal cases to ensure, the entire movement splits apart, and Alcaon partitions the Administration of Planets for a new home. With a following of several thousand, plus an agreement to keep a surveillance on developing races, the ‘Greenback Communal Church’ is given a mandate to set up colonies on new planets. As long as they do not interfere with the normal development, nor pollute the society with modern devices, they may live on a world deemed safe along with another developing race. Not only does this fulfill the church’s requirements it allows the AOP to keep watch on the vast number of worlds still slowly advancing towards stellar maturity.

By the 2060’s, not only is the ‘Greenback’ movement very successful but many other races and humanoid groups have joined, re-discovering their roots, and are placed in colonies similar to their bio-types; the religion is recognized by the Bonasticy and the Ministry of Religions, under the fifth Amazian Emperor. Alcaon still retains some form of simple religious worship to the old doctrines to add cohesion to the order, but now sends out Autokors once every five years to check on the colonies. These judges make a circuit of the dozens of established communities in the lower First Forsex seeing certain principles are followed and doctrines up held. They report back to the Center Greenback Society and headquarters on Titon, the Suprema Kor (Alcaon and church council), and with the AOP.

It is this disguise Alack now finds himself assuming.

The three day trip on decent cargo shuttles to Microsus III allowed Alack to learn the various languages by subconscious sleep technique and develop his ‘Greenback’ personality. A quick briefing by the planetary Curlator, the new Service Captain and the AOP’s resident Fieldologist, took place on a remote island. Here, Alack sees the fine products produced by the many gifted tribes, the reasons for a delicate operation and further criminal evidence against Konchart. By the time he lands at Hiyonda City, he is a fine traveling judge sent from the mother church to gauge her far-flung children.

The delegation from the Greenback colonies waited by the docks nervously, anticipating the worse, but determined to show no fear. The leader, a tall lanky fellow called Shander, stood adamant with his two sons, all armed with crossbow and hunting knives. Shander’s white flaxen shirt, heavy cotton pants and high polished leather boots, made a statue figure amongst the others. His tall top hat, held a rustic nose, ruddy lined face, angry black to gray hair and a set of heavy fiery veined green eyes. His jaw is like a rock holding a mouth slim and ready to tear apart the first one who shows disrespect. This is the forth judge to arrive in the Colony’s history, the last one was a fool, blundered and drank too much of the ‘squizen wine’ popular in the Spring and Fall festivals.

A mist had risen from the early morning haze, rolling off the lapping river waters, and up beyond the warehouses. The sound of heavy boots brought anxious eyes to bear upon a terribly tall obscured shadow, almost unreal in height and form. Slowly, as if some ghoul escaped from the river’s mud to walk amongst the living, it parted from the misty bank to clarity. A sigh of relief followed behind Shander as the tall stranger in black button waistcoat towered over the mass of cringing colonists. A large heavy hand cuffed with white under shirt went up and removed a tall top hat. The face is awfully young, from a boy to a man, long immaculate trimmed hair hanging down to his high collar then curling up. A pare of large kindly brown eyes, a normal sized nose and a pair of heavy lips supported by a round chin.

I be the Autokor, Licis Falacon. came a humble rumble of a voice, heavy with a strange accent. You be Colonna Aurealia, Elder Shander?

I be such, Autokor Falacon, and give thee welcome, in His Righteous Name.

And to you, your sons, friends and family, may your farms fill your lofts with His bounty.

And fair travel has been with you, Autokor, least the Demon of the Morning Twilight terry’s not by your side.

To all your brethren, whoever may be, His blessings of thy fruit upon them!

And to the Order of his High Holiness!

And with that they embraced in a bear hug slapping another on the back.

Boarding what resembled a long catamaran with a flat bottom and a center paddle wheel, they took positions up by the bow seats. The sounds of whips against the backs of laborers filled the air as the great circular Ferris wheel began to rip into the murky greenish waters of the Madria. Hearing the cries and squeals, Alack made a grumbling sound, stood to his 158 Illo height (almost seven feet), and stoically went over to the starboard hatchway. There, in the depths, a dozen naked deformed natives turned a huge crank, the same existed on the port section; they supplied the power to this crude vessel.

Seeing the Overseer with his whip slashing away making skeletal streaks on emaciated backs, Alack grabbed a weighted sack, and heaved it at the chest of the man, knocking him off his feet. Totally enraged, the brut of a fellow glared up at the hatchway and beheld a pair of great shoulders, bellowing hair and a tall stove top hat in silhouette. A voice from the angered heavens thundered down, the finger growing larger as it pointed. Know the written verse that commands! ‘Treat all your brethren and those who labor under the yoke with kindness and His Glory will manifest in abundance for yee’. Whoa to those who use the lash without compassion! Totally dumbfounded by this amazing image, the brut Fellow fell to his knees slobbering forgiveness, and shedding further tears.

With that, Alack turned and went back to his seats with the others in the bow section.

You have some of the spirit, Brother Autokor, but wasted on those deformed beasts.

Do you not believe all creation is His handiwork? Written it is, ‘that His truth is infinite variety working in infinite harmony,’ Brother Shander?

Yes. His most high glory is manifested for our eyes to behold!

Then, even the deformed are His creations, because He has allowed it.

But such are bestial, imperfect, cast away from a degenerate generation of fleshly sins.

Brother Shander, began Alack in a very soft tone giving the Elder deep eye contact, sin will always present itself, especially in the most sacred and unexpected places. But, the sin only magnifies His Glory and Greatness. It is our job to reverse this ageless process, and this is done by compassion, up holding the Canons and believing in ourselves, that we are Knights of Light fighting in a great darkness, but we must tell no one, only through our actions we are to be known, and only recognition is to come from Him.

And from you! Autokor Falacon.

Alack leaned his head back, closing his big brown eyes, concluding. My voice is only a whisper in the night, if no one is there to hear, it goes unattended.

The paddle wheeler took them to a small inn called the O’Chronics Rift, a series of shacks and thatched warehouses located along a stack of lava flows fingering out into the muddy Madria. Here, docks and planks lead to a rambling pile of huts and hovels, connected over the years, as the outpost became a trading center. Trails lead inward towards the inn complex from vast stretching grasslands called the Kchotic Rolls, which made up a huge expanse centering the Maramosa continent. A crude map, drawn in animal blood and plant dyes on a great beast’s hide hanging on the far wall, told them were they are, and how far they had to go.

Sitting at rough hewed tables and crude butcher-block benches, they gathered for a morning’s meal. From where they sat, Alack had a clear view of the hide map, he frowned, his heavy dark eyebrows inverting. Where they had to go is still far, over portions of the Kchotic Rolls. Brother Shander, how much longer to your settlement?

Not long. See that shadow from yonder window, when it reaches the lintel we will see the roofs of Aurealia. Alack nodded, since this planet is in the Habitation Zone, and he learned the time cycle from the modern half, he guessed a good three hours UT (Universal Time). So, let us take this moment to fill our bellies and give thanks for His blessings. They all nodded in agreement.

The bar maid came over, saw who they are and smiled displaying a pair of rotting teeth. She gestured towards a wall with symbols, banners, crossed spears with feathers, hanging ornaments, pieces of strip leather with colorful beads in patterns, and a pentagram star with a plough and sickle in the middle. This told Alack, from his studies, the Inn is neutral territory amongst the local tribes. Their standards and agreements are hanging on the wall, also, the Inn’s kitchen can prepare meals that suit their culture.

Mugs of small wooden barrels arrived of a heavy tasting milk, it took both hands to hoist one. Then fruits and cooked vegetables, breads and cheese, arrived in fairly large quantities. Alack’s bottomless belly roared its satisfaction, but he had to perform the meals prayer giving thanks. This he did gently, with a softness that amazed the others, quite different than his fire and thunder at the taskmaster on the boat. Controlling his appetite between light conversations, he did manage to fulfill his needs by finishing off everything, the hard wood plates licked clean.

His will be done, Brother, began a younger member of the delegation, with a hunger like that even Big Moss would be hard put at the Harvest Festival. Shander explained that after harvesting all the crops for the wintertime, a festival of thanks is given where all the local tribal leaders, their families, join the Colony. Games are played, dancing, music, and various strong man contests. One test is how much Staulking can be eaten, a big hefty corn used to make meal. So far only Big Moss has been the winner. We’ve got to show him Big Moss.

Alack, who suddenly became again hungry, but can’t explain why, replied. He sounds like a fine Servant of His Glory. Alack stood, Excuse me Brothers. And he made his way to the rest rooms out back. Not having to go, Alack took one pill from his concealed utility pouch and swallowed the Expander. A few seconds later he felt the growing mass of proteins and carbohydrates stretch his belly stopping his annoying hunger. ‘That should hold for three hours,’ he thought returning to his fellow brothers of the faith.

They are now standing outside on the porch, Shander lead the way up the path away from the river and Inn. Past warehouses with trading tables, loads of hides, sacks of goods, all are inspected and recorded by the clerks. Alack had a chance to see the fine tapestries, the brilliant jewelry, the enchanting pottery, the handsome rolls of weave and hundreds of other hand crafted items from the Low’ands. A total barter system, these tribes received domesticated animals, farming instruments, fine tools for more delicate craft works, various foods grown by other tribes, clothing, herbs, medicines and vanity items. Noting this, everything is for living purposes, nothing is for war or destruction.

Alack learned these tribes along the lower Rifts of the Madria are all peaceful, hardworking, helping another; good tribes. The ones further up north in the great endless forests, are the hunters and killers. What comes down from them is very different, Autokor, almost obscene, but your concern is not there. commented Shander.

The crude foot worn path twisted and turned around other shanties until it climbed up a hill to a different structure. Here, a large two-story log cabin type building with an extended platform for a roof projected outward front wise. Atop waited other colonists, natives and hunters, holding bags, sacks and items for transport. From his researches, Alack knew they have a form of crude wagon transport system over the Kchotic Rolls. During the decades a networking series of worn paths became flattened dirt roads connecting the colonies along the outskirts of this vast endless tableland.

This is Alack’s first view of the boundaries of these unending grasslands that cover the interior of the Maramosa continent. Similar to the ‘tabl’ands’ of Seminia and the flat tundra weed of the Amazian Vasins, they stretch onward for thousands of Sectals. Enormous herds of a huge quadruped, a cross between the Terran bison and the Androvian heifer, populated this land without end. ‘It is said when one herd moves, the planet trembles, if they all move at once, we are domed!’ The Kchotic Tribes, nomadic peoples, follow selected herds protecting them, and using the great shaggy beasts for all their survival needs. It is from them that brilliant and delicate ivory and ‘stone-bone’ carvings come fetching great prices on the stellar exchanges. Other smaller herds of faster quadrupeds exist but the great Shag’ots are semi-sacred and used for all their living needs, including trading.

As they waited Shander motioned for Alack to join them climbing the heavy wooden stairs to the platform above. Wondering why they are to wait for the ‘win’wagon’ way up high confused him but he said nothing, and obeyed the Elder. A moment later the forty odd people moved towards the railing where a gate is. A native attendant dressed in a short worn coat of miss-matching hides stood up and began counting heads.

Alack noticed all eyes are to the east, down the winding dirt road, which vanished over a hill. As he squinted his keen eyes, a breeze began to strike them, almost a delicate head wind without interruption. Over the small knoll a light rumbling sound is now carried on that breeze growing in volume. A long pole suddenly rose up over the hill, then another and another, higher they climbed with rigging, flags waving, men hanging from yardarms pulling something up and around. The mass rose even higher as pitched decks, with balconies, windows and gigantic wheels rumbled closer bellowing a cloud of dust. One main sail with a bird in flight painted on its straining surface filled the center mast.

A ship! Said Alack unconsciously, a wagon built like a sailing ship?

That’s the ‘Cloud Runner’, Brother, it uses the blowing winds of the Rolls to move, and carry us to our places, Said Shander, constant as the eye of the great Southern Bear.

Magnificent! Sputtered Alack awed. Truly a great creation!

The ‘Cloud Runner’, a land ship with three masts for sails, flying bridges up front, passenger decks, crew cabins and cargo holds, all suspended on four great wheels as tall as a house. She towered a good 960 Illos (forty feet) as this colossal mass of hard wood and metal trim gently came to a halt. Various crewmembers came up to the platform, hemp ropes are tossed to them from the ship and is pulled along side and anchored. A side hatch opened with gangplank, giving access to the first open deck. Controlling the mass of passengers, attendants guided the people off first, allowing the others to board. Alack saw other hatches opened below as cargo is emptied and loaded at a frantic pace.

They took their hard wooden seats on the fore deck, which commands a fine view of the Kchotic Rolls. After about thirty minutes a fellow with derby hat, long black waistcoat with many flashy buttons, began yelling from a megaphone. Crewmembers cast off the ropes from the building and others pulled them in. Alack felt the ship-wagon give a gentle lurch as other crewmembers climbed the rigging to unfold the other sails. Alack watched two heavy well-built men begin pulling a long tiller to the right, as a smaller wheel in the rear forced the ship away from the platform and warehouses. Moments later they are gaining speed, the sails straining above, the ship rattling and creaking, traveling into the Kchotic Rolls and away from O’Chronic’s Rift.

The constant vibration of the huge vessel made Alack irritable at first, but the others, far more use to these rustic conditions, seemed to doze off. He got up, walked about studying this remarkable wagon. The dirt road ahead whined and dipped over rolling hills eventually ending straight and flat, a cloud of dust bellowing behind in swirls. The Kchotic Rolls stretched in knee high grass as far as the eye can see. Occasional out cropping of rocky piles, with scraggly short flat-topped trees, bristled amongst the boulder masses. Called ‘belly bumps’ by the colonists, they are some type of landmarks made by an ancient people long gone.

Watching the ship’s master on his hurricane deck, Alack saw him consulting maps and charts, his aides using some type of device with an eyepiece, measuring course and speed. His keen mind reasoning at lightning pace, they know precisely at what time the winds blow and from where. Alack noticed there are other roads twisting off between the ‘belly bumps’ as they passed. Herds of the great Shag’ot began to dot the fields, more like the Unapiterian mammoth than what he read about in the reports. A huge beast of shaggy long black hair, great ivory horns protruding from its forehead, with massive elephantine rear hooves, small front ones and a tiny face resembling that of a monkey.

Great clouds of insects seemed to hover over the herd as smoke issued from the great animals. Other strange creatures of the Rolls followed these herds. Quadrupeds with long slender legs, tall necks and a rat like head where a long sticky tongue shot out to feast on the swarms of insects. Other smaller herds of four legged creatures followed living off the droppings and occasional Shag’ot that died, left behind for the scavengers. Avian life forms, birds of a deep shiny blackness, rode the giant Shag’ots picking away at worms and hair bound lice living within the mounds of hanging fur. This entire scene, Alack reasoned, is an eco-system all by itself, balanced out after eons of evolution by Matriand’s glory.

As Alack shifted position to other gun walls of the flying wagon, he caught sight of one of the many tribes that inhabit the Kchotic Rolls. A number of huts, built of the long stringy hair, supported by crossing poles, appeared off to the left. Campfires burnt, people with dark brown skins and leathery tunics prepared things for the evening meals. A group of young naked warriors on what resembled the Amazian Treout (horse) but much smaller and swifter, began to ride along side the rattling wagon. They are yelling and gesturing to the tall bridge of the ship’s Master. Eventually he stepped out onto the flying bridge raised a brass horn and blew a loud noise. One of his aides then heaved a sack of trinkets over the side as the young warriors surrounded it.

This whole scene lasted for a few minutes, the wagon-ship continued, leaving the village far behind in a cloud of dust. As the voyage continued, other villages are passed repeating the same procedure. At one place, Alack saw warriors in several lines drilling. They are armed with spears and almost diamond shaped curved hide shields. Dressed only in a lion’s cloth of hanging metal straps, they advanced, turned as one, laid down under their shields, leaped up and ran forward. Simple tactics for avoiding other warriors throwing spears and charging, but the precision told Alack some tribes are capable of offensive defensive warfare. For a civilization that has not discovered gunpowder or the short sword, these tactics would be very effective on a large-scale offensive.

The Greenback colony ‘Aurealia’ stretched along the Ceribala plains, the southeastern end of the Kchotic Rolls. Once covered with small ‘sage’ trees and ‘uymova’ bushes, now rolling fields of wheat, vegetables, fruits and the hard corn called ‘staulk’ replaced the plains. In the center, a cluster of red roof white washed buildings lined up around a rectangular square. At the far end a flat roofed structure with two front towers called the faithful to worship. On better days, services are held on the ‘park’ern’, the grassy centerpiece. Opposite this field with flowers and ornamented shrubbery bordering, another structure built of stone cleared from the plains resembling a fort, stood. The ‘redoubt’ or village administration center is where the governing body meets, the grange, and whatever else is needed in the way of government offices.

Near this building is the long porch of Stanchen’s Store & Hospice, an elegant two-story structure with flat roof, chimneys at both end’s, small shuttered windows and open sturdy doors on the first floor and porch. Stanchen’s second daughter, the youngest, is dragging a dead two headed monkey creature in from the back. Her father is busy studying the ledgers and counting his inventory, getting ready for the winter months ahead. He’s pulling at his white whiskers, rubbing his big nose, making a second list of items to order from the iron mining tribes to the southwest.

Paha, Paha, the Bungalu hung himself in my snare, I didn’t mean to kill it.

Stanchen looked up at his teenage daughter, a round baby face with freckles, burnt brownish tan from the sun, gold flaxen hair tied in a pony tail, a nose so small hardly noticeable and a pare of big green hazel eyes. She is his last, the other long since married off, but she resembles his wife more with each passing day.

The rotund man in his frock coat looked at the strained marks on the critter’s neck, nodded then remarked. So be it. Gone is one pest who won’t be raiding the storehouses. This hide can fetch a fine price girl, if made into some pretty worship shoes, ah?

A pair for me and two for your window?

Just about enough... he studied the red fur, or might be a mighty big hat.

Shoes...stay with shoes, Paha.

So be it. Do what has to be done child. And old man Stanchen went back to his books and ink stick. He paused watching the fine figure of his last daughter in her buck hide hunting garb skip outside with the dead monkey. ‘This one’s going to be difficult’, he reasoned, ‘she’s not into girly things but manly things. The folks here about wants a real woman, not a huntress.’ Nodding his graying head he went back to the stylus, ‘may His will be done thru patience.’ And began going over the blanket inventory.

The second time he’s disturbed from his musty old ledgers is a loud commotion outside. Like all small villages, whenever a large crowd of