Samuel drains the bottle. “Amy, I’ve got to agree with Bets on this one. We need to be cautious. I’ll take first watch.” He glances at English. “I’ll rouse the lush later tonight.”
I’m not particularly worried about Fromer’s safety, but just in case I say, “You’ll be sure to not fire on the stranger unless he’s dangerous?”
Bets looks at me curiously. “Why’re you so concerned about the safety of a prowler?”
“Just want to be sure we don’t hurt some curious villager. They’ve been mighty generous. And, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve had enough of death.”
“I’ll be careful, Amy. Quit worrying and get to sleep.” Samuel wraps himself in a blanket and flips off the safety of a short range firearm that Troll called a pulse shotgun — a weapon with no mercy. It hums as it powers up.
Morning arrives with no further sightings of Fromer or his twin. We pack up and begin moving slowly along the coastal plain, tracking back frequently to hide our trail. My leg’s tight and throbbing, but the pain’s dulled. The infection is no worse but neither is it receding. I’m running a slight fever and my mouth’s dry sand. Midday, we stop at a new camp, overlooking a deep river valley. We’ll have to find a way across the water tomorrow. If it was spring, the gorge would be swollen with snow melt from the mountains. This time of year, we should be able to find a shallow riffle.
English returns from hunting, uncharacteristically out of breath. “Well, I’ll be damned. Samuel was right. I was tracking a doe when I felt something tracking me. I tried acting coy — you know, like I wasn’t privy to my tracker. It kept following me and I ditched it behind a thicket. Got a good gander at it. Big, black. Head like a bug.” He shakes his head and gulps something that looks like lamp oil. “It looked around and I swear it saw me through the briars. It smiled, pressed a button on its sleeve, and shot straight up in the trees. Scared the crap outta me and I ran right back here.”
“Thresh? You think she’s got something to do with this?” Bets throws her knife at a tree.
“Don’t think so.” Theo pulls out his tablet and examines the area. “I don’t see anyone but us on this thing. Dunno how far it can see, though.”
The magpie returns, landing on Phineus’ back. I’m the only one that seems to notice. I close my eyes and I’m suddenly looking back at myself from the vantage of my horse. My body’s slumped on a blanket. Theo’s nudging me. “Amy, what’s the matter? Wake up.”
I fly the magpie around my body and Theo nods his head in understanding. “Why, hello Amy. I suggest you fly around and let us know whether you see our guest.”
Flying is exhilarating and so natural. I gain altitude and use my heightened magpie senses to search for a giant black beast named Fromer. Not far from our camp, I spot a thick, glowing, steel-black creature sitting in a patch of grass, leaning against a tree stump. He’s munching on something in a silver pack. He looks like Fromer, but is clearly different in stature. His skin is darker and his head’s completely bald. I land the bird on a nearby branch and examine his face and clothing. Fromer’s face had familar, human-like qualities. This creature is more insect-like, although not at all frightening. He’s wearing clothes that look much like Bets’ hunting garb, except it is fashioned from some exotic leather, with metal buttons. He seems happy in a buggy sort of way.
He looks right at me. In a raspy, deep voice, he says, “Hello bird, or should I say, fellow traveler.”
I wonder whether he’s lonesome and taken to talking to animals or whether I’ve been found out. He then appears in the void of my mind — the same place that Thresh and I quarreled what seems like years ago.
“I am called Etch. Who are you?”
“Where’s Fromer?” I ask.
The creature’s silent for what seems to be a lifetime. “Excuse me? Did you say Fromer?”
“Yes, I did. I assume you know who he is. You seem related.”
“Well, I will be ever surprised. This cannot be a coincidence. Fromer is a very old friend. He seems to have been busy. It is time for me to visit you and your companions. We have important business.”
“Before I lead you back to camp, I’d like some answers.”
“I can answer all your questions in time. What’s your name?”
I hesitate. “Amy Marksman.”
“Well, Amy Marskman. I am like you. I can see things that elude others. I can read minds occasionally. And I have the ability to pilot star ships.”
Beautiful blue, white, and yellow stars fill my mind and I know I can trust this creature.
I’m back in the magpie, flitting from tree to tree, and Etch follows me toward our camp. He moves effortlessly across the terrain, as if he would float away if he leapt higher. I’m back at camp in no time, with Etch a few minutes behind. I reluctantly retake my body. The pain’s worsening and the swelling has risen in my leg. I sit up to everyone’s surprise. “Listen to me. The creature’s coming. Don’t be alarmed and whatever you do, don’t fire.” I give Bets a stern look.
Etch appears at the edge of camp, with Samuel and Bets swinging around and pointing their weapons. A shot fires from English’s rifle, as I try to stand and block him. My leg gives out and I fall forward. Strangely, Etch seems unharmed, sparks swirling before his chest. He’s holding a strange, glowing, staff-like weapon with a humming blade on its end. In his thick, throaty drawl, he says, “What kind of greeting is that, my friends?”
Theo dashes in front of English. “What the hell are you doing? Control yourself.”
“Sorry ’bout that, Theo.” English lowers his gun. “We’re all a little jumpy round here. Lucky I’m a shitty shot.”
“You’re shot found its mark.” The sparks fade around Etch as he brushes ash from his chest. “I have special armor that stops projectiles most of the time. If you had chosen the plasma rifle, I would be compromised. What is your name, man?” He stares at English.
“English. And who might you be?”
Etch introduces himself, pulling a chunk of jerky-like food out of a patch. His staff folds in on itself and he tucks it into his belt. “I hope that you do not mind that I eat. Running through the woods and ducking gunfire make me hungry. I am, as you might expect, an alien to your world.”
“Well, that’s pretty obvious,” Bets remarks. “You’re not the first weird thing we’ve seen, including the aliens or whatever they were that killed our family and friends. Convince us not to kill you.”
“Well, thank you for that welcome, young woman. I doubt that you would be able to dispatch me if you tried. He pats the weapon on his belt. It is most unfortunate what is happening to your towns and loved ones. This is not our fault, although we might be able to provide assistance. Your companion, Amy Marksman, may hold a key to our shared dilemma. And we may be able to recover the child from the wayward telepath named Thresh.”
Bets responds. “You speak as if there are more of you. How many friends do you have? And why are you here?”
“We are exiles on earth. I am the pilot of a space vessel called the Fuerst. My companions are human, with the exception of one. You can meet them at our camp, where we can repair Amy’s leg. We should travel quickly and with stealth on our side.”
Chapter 53 – Return of the Fuerst
We follow Etch’s sleek, massive body moving expertly through the thick brush. The valley is oppressive, the air’s soaked with moisture, and I’m seeing creatures I’ve never encountered before — colorful snakes, enormous winged insects, and hundreds of unique, flamboyant birds. The more Etch moves, the better he smells — a mixture of lemon zest and mint.