Outward Borne (16 page)

I sat down in the dry grass and
hugged Livida, she smelled of earthy must, and tried to avoid her
tongue as much as I could. She became excited whenever I got down
to her level; she seemed to enjoy it so. The craft, as it turned
out to be, took a long time descending for it was searching our
lands seeking an open landing place. The giant ship was whisper
quiet as it flew overhead time and again, coming ever lower. We
were in awe to see how truly immense it was. On its final circle,
the craft disappeared out of sight behind the western hills.
Dagobert and some other boys ran off to follow it, but before they
went far, it had returned and came directly over our heads. It was
now emitting a continuous and deafening roar, even the air seemed
to shake. It was going tremendously fast and came very near, just
over out heads. It was heading toward that long grain field next to
the woods.

The lander kicked up a huge cloud
of dust when it passed over the recently harvested land, and left
deep scars in the dirt where it touched down. We ran as fast as we
could and watched it still moving, but slowly, at the far end of
the field, all the time with a loud roar and a mantle of dust
billowing behind. When it reached the end of the flat ground, it
turned to face us and came to a stop. The noise ended completely.
Livida and two smaller dogs were capering about just in front of
us. We stood in awe of the huge, strange thing that lay before us.
It stood partway across the stubbled field. It was bigger than any
built thing we had seen, someone could probably walk underneath its
outstretched wing if they dared to get that close, but no one did,
not at first.

I climbed the nearest hillock to
get a good look at it. The setting sun gave the gleaming skin an
orange and golden glow. People continued to arrive to stare at the
shiny thing all through the evening. They stood scattered around
the surrounding hills, watching. Some thought it was creature of
the gods, but our gods were of the forest and nothing like this. It
might be a war machine like the old Romans were said to have, no
one knew. After its loud, spectacular landing, the ship now sat
silent and motionless. Gunthar thought it had died, but you could
see waves of heat coming off its wings, though it did not move
again or make any more sounds.

It sat so for several days. Some
of the wilder boys ran toward the ship and threw rocks at it, but
they bounced of with a clunk. They proudly claimed success, but
their strongest blows could not harm its skin, which was very hard
and smooth. Old Murtha, who was once our finest blacksmith, thought
it must be made of silver like an old goblet he once owned, hard,
very thin, and shiny. We all agreed it must be thin and light in
order to fly as it did.

The great ship stayed motionless
day after day without change. Interest in it slowly wore away to
complaints that it was sitting in the middle of an otherwise good
grain field and what to do if it was still there for the spring
planting. Dagobert was always bringing home kits or cygnets or some
old sword he had found. He kept Gunthar in thrall, so it was no
surprise that he and Gunthar became the most dedicated watchers.
The boys spent hours sitting under a tree keeping a lookout over
the ship. Even they gave up for a while, when the weather changed
and it became cold and rainy, but it eventually cleared and they
went back.

One day at dinner, the boys began
talking about some bird-like things had flown out of the ship, very
fast, and disappeared into the trees. They ran after them, but
couldn’t find where they went. They thought they saw something
flash very high in the sky, but if that was so, it never landed or
even came close enough to see clearly, Gunthar said that it had
move, but Dagobert would not agree. When nights were upon us and
with the hearth fires lit, the spacecraft was the main topic of
speculation. Some of the neighbor men came around in the evenings;
no one knew anything, of course, about why it came, what it was, or
what it would do. For once there were no stories of past valor that
presaged this event, no sagas, only the legend of the raven, the
dark chooser of fates. It was certain, though not spoken, that we
could do little to stop the machine from doing what it wished or
even to make it go away. Many boasts were made and schemes hatched,
but we did nothing.

Much had happened on our farm
since I left. With father dead, mother had traded father’s beloved
draft horses for four dairy cows and a promise to supply their
former owners with fresh milk. Our fields had been sown with grass
and we were now a dairy farm. Mother was optimistic that next year
would bring her good fortune and more cows. She was a better at
running the farm than raising children, I must say. To us, Gunthar
and I, she had been a hard, uncaring presence. We had fended for
ourselves most times, and looked to our father for hugs and
support, though I should not say it.

After a while, the flying machines
began to show up around the village and our farm. Round things,
shoe sized, they flew about and quietly landed high in the trees.
They just sat there as if they were watching us. Hogarth shot one
off a branch with his bow. It was like a smooth ball and had two
rings of squared-off blades that spun around and enabled it to fly,
and a shiny round indentation that might be some type of eye. It
was so hard and strong that he could not pry it open to find out
what was inside.

Early one morning, not long
afterward, Gunthar and Dagobert came running into our cottage
excited and out of breath. Swarms of flyers were streaming out of
the lander, traveling in wavering streams to the north and south,
following the Nehdun-Lindisport road perhaps. These were smaller
than the others, the ones that sat in trees, and there were so many
they could not count. Very fast, Gunthar said, no way to catch
them. They would be in the other villages before anyone could get
there, even on Thorhund, the fastest horse in the valley, but maybe
someone should go see if anything bad had happened. Wolfhere was on
his way to Nehdun to buy a horse and talked of following the
flyers. I do not know if he ever returned.

In the following days, larger
things came out of the lander. Heavy, they left deep wheel tracks
in the dirt, like wagons that moved across the field and into the
trees of the north forest. No one saw them leave, perhaps they came
out during the night. By noon, Hogarth had gathered some men to
track them down and kill them off before they could cause any
trouble. I worried about that landing craft. It was interesting and
a great topic of excitement as it sat in the browned out sward, but
there was a menace in its latest activity. The giant thing had come
here for some reason and I was beginning to think we might not like
it.

The ObLaDas found that most of the
fertile planet was populated by rather large two-legged beings, a
clearly intelligent species that was on the verge of technologic
advancement, or so they thought. Many other species, some quite
social, lived there, but no others used tools or weapons. The lead
species still survived within their own means and did not employ
any power sources beyond a few domesticated animals and some water
flow. The probe surveyed several areas of the planet for a
population suitable for capture, a sufficiency of people,
organized, developed, but relatively isolated. There were many such
places, so it was and act of fortune that they landed in the midst
of those three isolated Saxon villages. It was, however, a
fortuitous choice for the ObLaDas. The villages had a much wider
genetic diversity than most isolated tribes of that time. Diversity
was key for the survival of a small population over many
generations, so they would be a good breeding stock.

The main tasks began once the
robots reassembled themselves from their stored configuration and
confirmed their operational integrity. A good deal of time was
devoted to the evaluation of the diet and physiology of these
people to determine if they could be maintained within the confines
of the Outward and, as that seemed to be the case, to collect
sufficient food to enable them to survive the first adaptive
months. Targets were identified, mostly younger adults and older
children, but a problem arose during the observation period. It
seemed that the lives of these people were unduly dependent on a
large, but less intelligent, four-legged species. The ObLaDas were
surprised and dismayed by the possibility that this might be a
symbiotic relationship. These furry creatures accompanied the
intelligent ones wherever they went, helped gather food, caught
prey. The two species ate, slept, and played together, and the
four-legged ones could understand the other’s language to some
extent. If this were so, some of these beasts must also be
collected to assure overall survival. It would cut down the number
of humans to a dangerously low level, however. The mission might be
in peril if there were many fatalities during the return crossing.
It was necessary to obtain a large number of genetic samples and
reproductive organs would be needed in order to manage the
procreation of such an inadequate population sample.

It was a
terrible thing that happened. I can hardly think on it even
now.
Eudovig
, his
new wife Cilar, his younger sister and brother, Ursilet and Lothar,
as well as two foreign men of the Red Brigitae’s crew, had left
Lindisport to spend the winter on Eudovig’s lands north of Nehdun.
The group should have been large enough to travel safely, but they
had gotten started late in the day for womanly reasons and progress
was slow once they were on the muddy, rutted road. They could not
reach the halfway shelters by the time night fell, so Eudovig
called a halt. His wife had recently become pregnant and he did not
wish to see her over tired. They made camp in a copse of birch off
the side of the road. They would be fine he thought. They shared
the abundance of bread, ham and wine that Ursilet had packed, built
up a good fire and settled around wrapped in their plaid wool
blankets and talked, as fine a night as Eudovig could
remember.

When Eudovig woke, both Cilar and
Ursilet were gone, their blankets and packs were still there,
though tossed aside, and covered by the fresh snow. The snow was
undisturbed. They must have been gone for some time. Eudovig called
for the dogs, there was no response; the four dogs were also
missing. Brush around the camp had been crushed and wheel tracks,
some quite deep, crossed the campsite, the ruts easily traceable
beneath the snow cover. Other tracks joined from deeper in the
forest and all led back to the silver ship.

Woodsmen were out as long as there
was light searching the forest, streams and trails around the camp.
With the evening came the worst of news. Cilar had been found. Her
body was not frozen, in spite of the lowering cold. It had not been
there long. She had been dumped in the forest, her body naked. She
had been cut from her throat to her sex; all of her organs were
removed and missing. Wolves, thought Hogarth, the old hunter,
sometimes they do that, just eat the soft tissues, but no, Cilar
had been sliced with a sharp blade in one long cut. The bodies of
two dogs were found the next morning. The wild pigs had gotten to
them, but you could tell they were badly cut up before that.
Ursilet was never found as far as I know. The men gathered from all
the villages and farms to see to the murder. They were convinced
that something in the ship had done it. Many more tracks were found
around the machine now. It was becoming more active, but what could
we do about the vile thing?

More troubles began soon after.
People all over the area were being cut. Some were set upon in the
dark while they slept. Others saw the flying things come toward
them, they felt a sting, and fell suddenly asleep. All awoke with
cuts around their sex. Sometimes a piece of flesh was taken from
the lower abdomen, just above the hip, where the leg bent. Some
women had deeper cuts into their lower abdomen and men had a
testicle cut off. The cutting caused a panic. My mother and I
stayed in our hut day and night with the window holes covered; only
the cows came and went during the day. The cutting went on for two
days and nights. Then it suddenly stopped. Gradually people came
out into the open to gather and talk of what they had seen. Most
would not admit they had been hurt and hid their wounds. At least
they did not take sick, and strangely, the cuts did not
fester.

We heard a terrible bellowing from
our barn late that night. Loboc was in an uproar and all but tore
down the door of our hut. I was afraid for him, but could not hold
him back. Gunthar lit two torches and I took down father’s short
sword. Mother wanted us to stay, but we went anyway, cautiously
afraid of what might lie outside the rim of our feeble light. Loboc
was still barking furiously, but he had moved off into the woods.
Two of mother’s cows were down, one had been cut to pieces, and the
better part of her hind leg lay across her gut. Dagobert came
running into the barn. Attacks were happening all around the
village, he yelled, and went running off again. All through
Feldland, heavy raids were being made on granaries and livestock
pens. The silver machines were still out in the woods with some of
the dogs after them. The food thefts continued, in the day as well
as the night, but without enough fighting men, we could not do much
to stop them. Forest animals were also being taken, Hogarth said,
then our dogs were shot down, not all, but most of them. They died,
but Loboc was safe. Then suddenly the killing stopped and the
spaceship sat, as it had before, motionless and silent.