Snippet of The Luminous Citadel

my Taco Tuesday serial continues

I have had a rather large gap, so if you need to refresh your memory, here you go!

Dione, Helikon, and the others Wilt did not know were far enough away now that he wasn’t certain who was who. They were converging on something near the distant treeline. Wilt, knowing he couldn’t be of any help to them, tore his eyes off the formation and scanned the meadow, paying attention to the wind ripples, and the rocks. If someone was creeping through the long grasses, he thought, they would disrupt the patterns. The rocks were also an opportunity for concealment. He was thinking of the paintball games he’d taken part in while still in undergraduate. Rough and ready, but some of the players joining them had real tactical experience they had passed on. Wilt was glad now he’d paid attention.

A curious shape in the ceaseless stirring of the meadow caught his attention. It was almost an arrow, pointing straight at him. He stared at it, wondering, then shook his head and did a quick scan, before returning to it. It was, he was sure, moving slowly in his direction. He took a step back, then stopped himself. He gripped the cool metal of his weapon, but did not raise it. Instead, he moved his eyes so he was no longer staring at the spot where something was lurking, stalking him. They could see him, and he wanted them to think he couldn’t see them. Not yet.

Wilt wished there was a way to get a message to the others, who were rising and falling at the treeline. If there was a way to communicate long distances in this world, he hadn’t yet seen it. Nor, he thought, was it possible...

There was a sudden blur of motion and he swung the weird gun up, in the direction of whatever was charging him. The man, creature, whatever it was ran on two legs, but his head was wrapped in loose brown fabric with rags fluttering behind him in motion. Wilt pushed the button.

With an eerie shriek cut short, the attacker went down. He fell into the tall grass and disappeared from view. Wilt stared hard, sweeping his gaze across the meadow near him, within range for another rush, and saw no more telltale arrows. He caught movement from above, and started to track with the weapon, then lowered it, realizing it was some of his friends returning in a hurry to see what had happened. Helikon plummeted from the sky, toes first, then executed a neat snap-roll maneuver that slowed him to a stop a few feet above the grass where Wilt’s attacker must be lying. The grass ripples told Wilt the creature hadn’t moved since he fell.

Dione landed next to Wilt, made a gesture towards him, like she wanted to embrace him, then drew herself upright and gave him a small, formal bow. Wilt returned it, but then kept watch again. Helikon landed in the meadow, and Dione walked out into it to join him. Wilt still didn’t trust himself to have that kind of control over the weird gravity of this place, so he stayed put.

“You aimed well,” Helikon called to Wilt. “We were drawn by a decoy, and this one would have gained entry to the village had you not remained here.”

Wilt nodded. He didn’t know what to say, and was trying not to think about what aiming well really meant in this case.

Dione returned to his side, and this time she did give his forearm a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at him.

“How many more will there be?” Wilt shouted at Helikon, who was making arm gestures, broad enough to be seen by the fliers still airborne.

“Hard to say. We see three, rarely five, in attacks. There are others who do not approach.” Helikon turned and walked with careful movements out of the grass. “They, the ones who do not fight, stay in the shelter of trees. The ones who venture out from the shadows wear coverings over their eyes, because the light pains them.”

Wilt turned this over in his mind. If they had split from the upper peoples, and lived for untold generations in caves, that made sense. They would have adapted to the available light, and this was not a world with any technology he’d seen yet.

Which brought forward a question he’d had fleetingly before. “Have you any books?”

Helikon, as though he had not heard Wilt, turned and spoke to Dione, who answered him with a little worried wrinkle between her eyebrows and a tone that hesitated. Wilt, still on watch for the possibility of more intruders, wished he understood their language, or that Dione could speak in his with Helikon so he knew what they were saying.

One of the distant fliers stooped like a hunting hawk, a flash of silver stretched out before him, and Wilt pointed, with a strangled cry. Helikon and Dione both leapt toward the grassy verge less than a pace from where they were standing, and soared into the air. Wilt paced along the verge, looking again for the telltales of a creeping marauder.

Out in the meadow, there was a brief scuffle between the swordsman who had set upon one of the night people, and then the flier took to the air again. He set his course towards the village, and as he drew close to Wilt, the bloodstain on his side became clear. He landed clumsily, clutching with one hand at the wound. Wilt went to him, and offered his assistance in the form of a shoulder to lean on. He supported the fighter until they were met by three women, who bore a basket with medical supplies, and as they tended to the fighter who lay on the velvet green turf, Wilt turned back towards his self-appointed patrol area. Casualties on both sides now, he thought, and his stomach cramped. This was no game.