Princess of Amathar (30 page)

"What are you doing way out here?" she asked.

"Our battle cruiser sustained heavy damage during the assault on Zonamis. We were forced to crash land a short distance from here. I have sentry duty in this area. Come, I will lead you back to the encampment."

It was not quite a mile from where we had been found to the site of the crashed cruiser. The great ship, its cannon still pointing skyward, lay upon the plain like a vicious dog who had been run over by the wheel of a car, it's back broken but its teeth still curled back in a snarl. Around the remains of the vessel, in military formation, were numerous tents, and beyond those, fox-holes and make-shift battlements. Hundreds of Amatharians were going about their business in the camp, chopping wood, repairing mechanical equipment, stacking supplies, and cooking meals.

As soon as the crew members of the ship caught site of Noriandara Remontar, they began to crowd around us, and by the time we reached the great mass of the battle cruiser, we had a sizable group of onlookers with us. Though they were clearly excited to see their princess, they became silent when Norar Remontar stepped from the hatch of the vessel and looked upon his sister for the first time since I had met him. The grandson of the Overlord rushed forward and lifted his sister in his arms and spinning her around in the air. Then, setting her down, he pressed his dark blue cheek to hers and began to weep. The scene was such a personal one, that I felt compelled to turn away, and when I did so I came face to face with the dog-like snout of my friend Malagor. I started at first, for his open maw reminded me all too much of a fierce beast. But of course, in this case, the fierce beast was smiling. I took hold of his shoulders and pulled him to me. I was so happy to see him that tears came to my eyes, and Malagor let out several small yips of excitement.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see your ugly face,” I said.

"I was just about to say the same thing to you," he replied. Norar Remontar finished welcoming his sister and came to grasp my hand in a very earthly handshake. The Princess herself had already been taken away by a group of friends and well-wishers who wanted to ascertain for themselves whether she was in good health. Moments later, her brother followed them, leaving Malagor and myself momentarily alone.

"This feels a bit anti-climactic," I said to myself.

"You were expecting a parade and a festival in your honor," replied Malagor, without any apparent sarcasm.

"I guess I wouldn't have minded." I looked around, seeking a particular blue face among many, but I didn't see it.

"Are you hungry?" asked the alien.

"As a matter of fact I am," I replied. "Very."

"Come to my quarters. I shall fix you a feast."

Though I was doubtful as to how great a feast my friend might be capable of providing, since I had eaten his cooking before, and the circumstances in which we now found ourselves seemed less than ideal for culinary creation, I followed him as he led the way to the small tent which was his temporary home. The camp had been laid out around the fallen ship, but the tents had been spaced apart in case of enemy attack. Malagor's own tent was a short distance away. It was set up beside a large piece of the hull which had evidently broken away while still in flight. It would have taken a dozen or more men to move it.

Once inside the spartan little room, which was furnished with only a sleeping bag and a crate used as a chair, Malagor laid out an eclectic collection of gathered fruit and stored food from the battleship.

"I hope somebody has thought to feed Noriandara Remontar as well," I said.

"I do not doubt but that they are taking very good care of her," replied Malagor.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Not very long," replied Malagor. "We sustained several hits during the battle over Zonamis, but managed to keep in the battle until all the forces were withdrawn. When we reached this region, our power converter blew up, and we were forced to crash land."

"I didn't know you were familiar with power systems."

"I'm not, but I heard one of the knights say that this was what had happened."

“I almost forgot!” I said. “There were several Malagor freed by my men in Zonamis.”

“I know,” he replied. “In fact, they are here.”

“That’s great,” I said, my mind beginning to focus once again on my own concerns. "Is Vena Remontar here?" I realized that I had been wondering for some time.

“She is in the camp.”

“Where?”

“Even though you are an ugly alien,” said Malagor. “I know you so very well.”

“How so?”

“As soon as I realized that you had returned, I found out where Vena Remontar was. I knew that you would ask about her sooner or later.”

“Why?”

“You are in love with her.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“But I told you that I was in love with the Princess.”

“You may look like a pale Amatharian,” replied my friend. “but inside, you are more of a Malagor. How could you love a female whom you had never even met, never talked to, never exchange devotions with?”

“Where is Vena Remontar?” I asked.

“She is serving picket duty on the far side of the encampment. Ask directions to post wind-23.”

Without another word, I turned and strode out of the tent. Food no longer seemed important. I had to see Vena Remontar. Of course what Malagor had said, that I was in love with her, was not true. What did a strange dog-like, ape-like alien understand of human interaction, let alone human love? Still, I had to see her. I had things that I had to tell her. Yes, that was it. I had to tell her of Tular Maximinos, her fiancé. It was my duty to relate the events surrounding his death— to tell her that he had died bravely. I made my way to the far end of camp. Rather let me say that I arrived at the far end of camp, for I have no idea how I actually made my way through the tents, and wreckage and milling people. I don’t even remember having stopped to ask for directions, though I must have. I simply found myself in the location that was designated as picket post wind-23.

Vena Remontar was standing alone with her back to me. I knew her immediately. Her black hair, cut short for an Amatharian woman, would have made her stand out, even had I not recognized the flawless form. I did. She was standing with her weight upon her right foot, with her right hand behind her back and her left hand resting on the hilt of her long sword. The black cloth of her body suit amply displayed her muscular, yet feminine arms and legs, and her surprisingly white tabard hid a wealth of charms beneath it. Had none of these things revealed her to me, I would have known her by the golden crest upon her back, the same one she shared with her cousin Norar Remontar— a flaming sun with outstretched wings.

I stood and watched her for a moment, not sure what I should say. How should I begin the conversation? Which conversation should I begin? How should I greet her? In the end it was decided for me. She slowly turned around to face me. When her eyes met mine, she stopped and looked at me for what seemed like a long time. No expression showed on her face.

Suddenly she launched herself at me, grabbing me around the neck and knocking me to the ground. I didn’t know what to do. I had no desire to fight with Vena Remontar. At the same time, I had no desire to be injured by her. I put my hands up in an effort to protect me face, but it was no use. She sat atop my chest as I lay sprawled upon the ground, and she bent her face, that perfect, beautiful face, down to mine, and smothered my mouth with kisses from her perfect dark blue lips. I thought for a moment that I would die of suffocation, and then I decided that to die in such a way was my destiny. I pulled her close to me, and let myself fall into the passion of the moment.

Chapter Thirty: Vena Remontar

I had completely surrendered to the moment. There were few joys I had ever experienced which approached the pleasure of kissing Vena Remontar. At last though, my mind returned to the present, and I gently pushed her face away from mine, just far enough that I might look into her eyes. In their depths I saw nothing but joy at seeing me. How could this be? Was I delusional? Was I dreaming?

“Alexander Ashton,” said Vena Remontar, her voice a husky whisper. “I am so happy to see you, I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.”

I was at a loss for words. My brain was useless. My mouth assumed the dominant position in my body.

“Um,” I said.

“Somehow deep inside,” the beautiful woman continued. “I knew that you were alive and safe.”

“Um,” I said.

She raised her head a little bit and looked at me.

“Did you rescue my cousin?” she asked.

Finally she had asked a question that seemed to take my mind out of the numbness in which it was mired. I at least had an answer for this question.

“Yes,” I replied.

A look of sadness came over her face.

“I understand,” she said.

She understood what? What did she understand? Was there something for her to understand? Why didn’t I understand? For some reason, at that moment, nothing seemed to make sense to me. Was Malagor right? Was I in love with her? It wasn’t like it had been with Noriandara Remontar. That had been something almost ethereal or magical. Vena Remontar was my friend. I liked her. Before I could sort out matters in my head, a voice spoke nearby.

“I have come to relieve you of duty, knight.” It was another Amatharian soldier, this one with no crest upon his tabard, indicating he was a warrior or a swordsman.

Vena Remontar stood up and then reached down to help me to my feet, a move that would have seemed strange had it been performed by any other woman.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”

I don’t know how she knew that I was hungry, having not eaten when I should have in Malagor’s tent, but it was obvious that I needed to be cleaned up. I probably still had the smell of the Bloobnoob upon me. We walked back toward the camp, the same trail which presumably I had used to find her, at first in silence.

“You have heard about Tular Maximinos,” I asked, at last.

“I was informed of his death,” she replied stiffly.

“He died bravely.”

“I do not need to be told that,” the beautiful woman said. “Tular Maximinos could have died no other way than bravely.”

“Of course,” I replied. I knew that Vena Remontar would have never said anything else of the man who had been her betrothed. And I knew that it must be true, for Vena Remontar would never have betrothed herself to a man who would act in any other fashion.

We reentered the area around the damaged Sun Battlecruiser 11, and she guided me back to Malagor’s tent. At the entrance, I could smell the aroma of meat being cooked over an open flame. Malagor had produced quite a feast for me, apparently sure that I would return. The Amatharian woman entered with me, and watched as I sat down to be served by Malagor, but then she turned and headed back out of the doorway.

“Eat,” she said. “I will see to a bath for you.”

I allowed the strange and mixed sensations of my reunion with Vena Remontar to fall into the back of my brain as I feasted on one of the best meals that I had ever had. Malagor had evidently been given a great deal of help gathering together a hero’s feast. He had flame broiled a large piece of the steak-like meat which often found a place on the Amatharian table, and he had been provided with several different dishes on the side made from fruits, roots, and vegetables which had been harvested around the area of the crash-landing. The food was delicious, but as I neared the completion of my meal, I began to think once more of my predicament with the two outstanding women in my life. But I was granted a reprieve from the mental stress.

Norar Remontar entered the tent and set up a folding chair beside me. He smiled warmly at me.

“I want to thank you for rescuing my sister,” he said.

“No thanks are necessary,” I replied. “We are, after all, kinsmen.”

“That we are. And I am proud to say so,” he continued. “I cannot believe what you have accomplished. I saw in your eyes that you had planned this all out, way back on the great plain where we first met. Now you have done it.”

“I didn’t really plan all that much,” I confessed. “I usually just go along with what comes naturally, and sometimes it works out for the best.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“I want to go home,” I replied.

“To Amathar?”

“Yes. I am an Amatharian.”

“You are,” he confirmed.

At that moment, Noriandara Remontar joined us in the increasingly confined space of Malagor’s quarters.

“I wanted to thank you for returning me to my people,” she said.

“Our people,” I corrected.

“Of course,” she smiled, “I am happy to call you kinsman. Fair you well.” Then she turned on her heel and left.

“So, what is going on around here,” I asked her brother.

“We sustained heavy damage and were forced to put down here. We were already well off course from the rest of the squadron, as we had been chasing two escaping Zoasian ships.” He grinned with grim satisfaction as he reported, “We destroyed them.”

“As soon as we set down here, I sent several of the small craft back to Amathar to order an extraction unit for us.”

“That reminds me,” I said, finishing up my dinner, “we found one of your shuttles not far away.”

“Yes. That was a messenger that we had dispatched to another ship during the battle. He was attempting to follow us and return to his ship. Unfortunately he did not quite make it. A lot of good warriors did not return. It was worth it though. It will be a long time before the Zoasians will be able to use Zonamis effectively as a base of operations in this area. And now we have my sister back as well.”

He smiled and stood up. “Now I must leave you to your rest.”

As I watched the tall Amatharian knight leave, I realized just how much of a rest to which my body thought I was entitled. I was barely able to get up from my seat and make my way to the pile of blankets which Malagor was using for a bed. The blankets, which in the way of all Amatharian linens were man-made yet resembled animal skins, smelled like my alien friend. It reminded me of the time when I had first arrived in Ecos, and he had nursed me back to health in that small shack on the edge of the great plain. I passed into unconsciousness, and slept the sleep of the dead. I awoke to a hand slapping me lightly upon the face, and my shoulders being shaken. I was groggy and my eyes did not seem to want to work, but at last I managed to come back to reality enough to see the flawless face of Vena Remontar hovering above my own. A look of deep concern upon her brow made her look, though not more beautiful for indeed nothing could, but more attractive to me.