The Adventures of Deacon Coombs (25 page)

Deacon tried to penetrate the being’s mind. There were feelings of emptiness, undecipherable garble. The savage jumped to and fro, feigning an escape, only to have Gem block the route. Deacon donned his hood, and then it touched him—the sound of a word. It was so clear, so terrifying, that it seemed to stab his brain with a chill. Astounded, he heard it again and again and again. The word that he heard from the Nicosian’s mind was
Urrrr
 
.
 
.
 
.
zelll.
Urrr
 
.
 
.
 
.
zelll
.

Deacon stepped closer; Gem was on the alert in case the creature should unpredictably attack. Deacon took a chance. Sitting on his haunches, twenty feet in front of the savage, he whispered, “Urzel.”

The being pranced around, jumped up and down, screeched, and then tried to run from the cave, but Quobit’s strength bounced the native off its feet. The Nicosian weighed his options and then crawled into a corner. Without a flinch of a muscle, the two squatted across from each other, keeping their distance, Gem standing behind Deacon, Quobit blocking escape, and Deacon trying once again to establish contact.

Time after time, he failed. Frustrated, he stood to pace and change his mood as Lyanna had taught him. Then it touched him again—a word so decipherable, so important, that he scampered excitedly to only feet in front of the creature, waiting to retrieve it. And it came.

The sound of “Urzel” filled his mind with elation and fear at the same instance. Finally, he revealed his secret to the others. “The creature thinks the word ‘Urzel.’ I heard it more than once in its mind.”

It became important to the group to find the meaning of this word. Deacon wondered if it was the word for the hooded ones, or a command, or a Nicosian god. Before they could figure anything out about the word, Travers disturbed them to say, “A band of N-n-n… Nicoshuns coming in our direction.”

Deacon wanted to interrogate this specimen further, so he ordered Gem to stun the being, and after Gem did so, the Owler flung it over her shoulder like a limp, inanimate sack and they hurriedly departed. “N-n-n-not wise.” Travers shook his head. All the way back to the
Heritage
, Travers attempted to convince Deacon to abandon the Nicosian.

“Overruled,” said Deacon. “The Nicosian comes with us. Let’s go.”

Hastily they scurried to the location where the
Heritage
was parked. Once the creature was inside, the force field around the ship was activated by Jim. Soon the ghastly odor emanating from the Nicosian permeated the entire space inside, discouraging Deacon from eating, and causing Quobit to remark on the contamination of the air. Upon regaining consciousness, the creature continued to wail. Jim gathered some fresh raw meat near the ship and offered it to the captive. Deacon sat intently watching as the Nicosian chewed, its large jaw oscillating up and down, side to side, the sharp razors ripping the flesh into shreds in seconds. The jaw on this creature was one-third of the entire length of the head from top to neck.

The being was strapped into a chair with only the arms free to eat. While Deacon changed his moods frequently to intrude into the Nicosian’s mind, Travers retreated to his room, where he opened his door infrequently to spy, watching only from a distance. Deacon washed, disrobed, tossed his hood garment away, and revealed his true white-skinned identity to the creature. A look of inquisitiveness filled the face of the Nicosian as it stared back. It screamed just as Travers emerged, and he threw his hands into the air to signify that he was tired of this routine. Deacon cautiously moved forward to touch the creature’s wounded arm, gently stroke it, and observe the being’s fangs—cautiously, lest it decide to bite him. The texture of the hair was bristly.

“Urzel,” Deacon calmly said.

The return was garbled but understandable. “Ur-r-r-r-r… zel.” Even Jim and Gem were now captivated by the bonding.

“Gem, unleash our visitor.”

Travers immediately slammed his door, Jim retreated to protect the controls, Quobit blocked the portal to the lower deck, and Gem set the laser gun on high stun to protect his master while standing beside him.

“Deacon,” Deacon said, pointing to himself.

“Urzel,” the creature yelled in return.

“No, no, no,” Deacon emphatically said. “Deacon.” As he continued to recite his name to the Nicosian, he pounded his chest. An hour of this prompting led nowhere, so they stunned the creature and bound him once more.

“Master, what do you intend to do with him?” Gem inquired.

“I am trying to have him uncover the meaning of the word
Urzel
for us. He fears the hooded ones, so I am attempting to win his confidence by discarding the hood. We have treated his wound, fed him, and kept him alive. We can now only hope his basic instincts will repay us.”

“By doing what?”

“By taking us to Urzel. Uncovering what Urzel is.”

“No!” Travers screamed as Deacon jumped. Travers had been standing behind Deacon during his conversation with Gem. He hung his head and whispered, “The l-l-l-l… last time here.”

“Gem and I will go, Travers. You will remain here on the ship with Jim.” This he said to Travers as he placed his arm around his shoulder. “We don’t go to confront Urzel, just to locate, identify, and then flee.”

Travers shook his head. “I will g-g-g… go with you. I know where.”

The next day raised further frustrations with the individual until the second feeding time, when the savage, with a mouth full of food, stunned them by saying, “Dak-k… k-k-k… kit.”

Deacon rose and grinned and marched toward the creature, saying, “Yes, me Deacon. Dakit.”

“Dakit!” the primitive howled proudly, shaking the air inside the craft. “Dakit,” he said again in a resounding, thunderous voice.

Deacon looked at Gem. “Primitive, but effective.”

Gem unleashed him after the feeding, and then Deacon reluctantly moved forward to give the bestial, grimy Nicosian a tight hug, detesting every second of the embrace. The claws of the native etched into his back as the Nicosian hugged him back. Deacon broke the lock and took three steps back to say, “Urzel.”

The creature went to the corner and picked up Deacon’s hood. “Urzel.”

Travers interpreted the remark. “See, he m-m-m-m… mistakes us for Urzel, the hooded ones.”

Even Deacon was confused. “Well, I see we’re no further ahead. Urzel could be the hooded ones, the leader of the hooded ones, the hood itself, or the ones who carry the laser weapons.”

“All are possible,” Quobit said.

Deacon walked to the creature, extracted the garment, and then placed one hood on Gem and another on Travers. Taking hold of the Nicosian’s clawed hand, he led the creature to Gem first, and then Travers, each time saying, “Urzel.” The savage looked about in the room, puzzled. He stared into Gem’s eyes first, and he then stood in front of Travers, his face so close that Travers choked on the beast’s putrid breath as it peered deeply into his eyes. Then the native ambled to Quobit to gaze into her eyes. While Deacon looked on in confusion, the native positioned itself in the center of the room, placed his paws over his eyes, and then—slowly spreading his arms open wide—looked away from all three but stood and declared with a yawp that shook Deacon and resounded in his ears, “Urzel!”

Now totally bewildered, Deacon repeated the process with the identical results. The room became silent as Gem, Travers, and Deacon pondered the actions. Deacon spoke first. “I think it is trying to tell us that we do not resemble Urzel. The motion of covering the eyes could mean that the eyes of Urzel are distinctive. The spreading of the arms leaves me at a loss, except that it could be a signal of worship, a godly gesture, meaning that Urzel is a presence, he is everywhere.”

Deacon knew that somehow they had to urge the savage to lead them to the meaning of
Urzel
. He looked at Travers. “We leave tomorrow, whatever time tomorrow is. You can remain here, Travers.” Travers neither agreed nor objected but stood stoically. The creature was drugged, the interrogation over, and Deacon retired.

However, he found that it was impossible to sleep before the big journey. His body was confused, his metabolism in chaos. Over and over, he mulled the facts. Shipments of arms—enough to equip a small army—had disappeared; then a space trading vessel had been diverted by Travers to the forbidden zone. But why? Records revealed that primitive savages had come into the possession of laser guns. Were they part of the missing shipments? The sole member to retain his sanity on the
Sleigher
was a sickly Aralian whose life seemed to be entwined with this Urzel. Urzel. God or idol or devil? Alien or superpower? Robe or presence? And the creature?

What
a
case!
A
father
has
turned
against
his
son.
The
trial
of
Travers
was
a
hoax.
Geor
and
Como
are
dead.
Morris
Mydloan
of
Alliance
security
turned
assassin.
Why
was
the
Sleigher
released
with
Travers
to
tell
the
tale?
Why
was
Morris
Mydloan
in
the
library?
To
kill
Rande
or
me?
Did
Chubby
Eaves
follow
us
to
Nix?
Deacon’s mind wandered over and over.
Schlegar,
Lyanna.
Rande,
Lyanna,
Morris,
Gem,
Landrew,
Travers,
Como,
Geor,
Chubby,
Schlegar,
Mydloan,
Quobit,
Maretz,
Landrew,
Travers,
Lyanna,
Miram,
Maretz,
sleep,
sleep,
sleep.

The trek begins

The time for the supreme test had arrived, and he had sleep deprivation to fight as well as fear. They bound the Nicosian in chains to Gem, asked Quobit to join them, and left Jim behind as they trekked toward the nearest ridge. Deacon yelled the word
Urzel
at the creature, pushing him harder and harder. After an hour of ambling aimlessly, the savage made a significant move by pointing at a mount barely visible on the distant horizon in front of misty, lit fumaroles.

They weaved in and out of rock cover, struggling to reach the destination that the beast had identified. How much time had passed, he knew not. With Deacon barking the word
Urzel
to remind him of the objective, with Quobit playing vigilant scout at their rear, with Gem constantly on alert, focused on their safety, with Jim in the
Heritage
monitoring their every move, and with Travers spying in all directions for danger, they trudged forward laboriously, impatiently, slowly. As they grew more distant from the ship, Jim relocated the
Heritage
to a locale closer to the party as they confirmed each revised position.

As Deacon was about to abandon the day, the savage became animated, gesturing to the side of a high mount, yelling, “Urzel!” He repeated the ritual of inside the ship by folding his arms, covering his eyes, and then thrusting his arms out horizontally, screaming, “Urzel!” The beast was hysterical, mocking, jumping, prancing, pointing, and grabbing Deacon.

Gem and Deacon agreed that it would be advantageous for Jim to relocate the
Heritage
to near the base of the destined mount, where they would commence the trek uphill after nourishment and rest aboard the ship. So Gem contacted Jim as they maneuvered behind the mount to a flat spot and awaited the
Heritage
’s arrival. As the bold-colored ship emerged, Deacon felt a security blanket over him—to be close to both Gem and Jim, to be in running distance of the ship. Once on board, Travers was deathly silent. Deacon, however, got caught casting a penetrating glance his way, so Travers decided to retreat. The native was fed and fell into sleep. Gem and Quobit mapped a cross-country path for the journey to the mount. Deacon sat to ponder. He was thoroughly confused about what the Nicosian had told them. Was the mount named Urzel? Did a being live there? Was Urzel a ritual performed there? He knew that they had to answer these questions soon and return to Earth.

Deacon placed his hand in his pocket and remembered that the paper he fondled was the note from Lyanna. Opening it, he read her dearest thoughts about him, warm wishes cast his way. He heard her delicate, soothing voice reciting each word. Warmth crept inside him. It was short-lived, for only moments later Deacon collapsed into a trance. Upon rising, he spied Gem scurrying around, making preparations for the upcoming trek.

Deacon decided that both Owlers should accompany them for this last mission. So the
Heritage
was positioned at the base of the mysterious mount between two high, jagged rocks camouflaged with force fields set to repel all uninvited visitors. A further code would prevent proximity and entry of the
Heritage
if the force field was compromised. The engines were left in an idling state so that a hurried departure could be executed if peril arose. Energy food pills were taken so they could travel lightly. The plan was for Deacon and Travers to wear personal force fields, but the humidity at this particular site interfered with proper functioning on a permanent basis, so Jim’s great idea was abandoned. The quest to solve mysteries began.