Author's Note: Chapter 21 is nearly written so I thought I would go ahead and submit 16. Hopefully this one will not take as long to be approved as 15 did. If you ever want to know what progress I am making, just look on my profile. I've begun posting updates there. Please be assured, I am going to finish this story. I have the plot worked out and I know how I will be wrapping it up at the end. It's the last few chapters that are giving me trouble. I have to tie everything together and have it all make sense. Often I write half a dozen paragraphs and realize they don't serve the story and end up deleting them. It takes time to get things right. I have no wish to just throw words on the page and let it go. Rambling stories irritate me and I will not write one. I could easily update faster, but I don't think people would enjoy reading this tale if I did.
Many thanks to those readers who have left comments or sent messages. Those sending messages, though, should understand that this is a story with a plot. I'm not going to put in more sex scenes just because you tell me I should. As I have stated several times: If you want that kind of story, either look elsewhere or write your own.
Again, thanks for all the comments and messages. They do keep me motivated to finish this tale.
Chapter 16
Out in the western valley, on the hillock where Liam had been struck by lightning, he stood on almost the exact same spot, facing the nomad's camp. Liam did not try to conceal himself, but Tem'Ma'tel lay in the grass behind him and to his left. Her field-gray shipboard fatigues blended well enough with the long grass to make her virtually invisible. Even her ruddy gold fur did not particularly stand out. In her hands was a fero-plas pistol, its stock folded. Though clad in his armor (freshly cleaned to make a better impression) Liam carried only his EP 12s and his knife. They'd chosen their armaments for practical reasons. If there was a fight, these weapons would be more than enough to counter anything the nomads possessed. If there was no fight, these weapons were less threatening than the large fero-plas rifles. And if they had to run the pistols were less likely to get caught in any undergrowth.
Liam watched as a hunting party of nomads stalked a herd of antelope. Today they had come closer to the villa than they had since the first encounter. The hunters moved stealthily, as they always did. Short bows and bolas were all they carried, but as Liam had seen before, these were enough to get the job done. They took down three antelope in rapid succession. Only after the kills were made did the hunters spare any attention for the strange figure on the hillock.
One, apparently the leader of the hunt, gazed up at Liam, assessing him for threats while the others prepared their kills for transport. Before they finished the leader turned and called to one of the hunters. He gave some command or other and made a gesture back towards the nomad's village then turned his attention to Liam again. The hunter darted off at impressive speed, making for the village.
Liam continued to watch the hunting party, tracking the progress of the sprinting native with his sensors and scope. In less than ten minutes the runner entered the village. Liam kept track of what was going on there, but did not dare focus his attention on it while the hunters lingered so close. He knew M'pel E'kmel and Clot'ilda would be watching for any threats from atop the wall, and they were more than capable of dealing with them. It wasn't long before a group of riders came at a canter, making for the hillock.
"Here they come," Liam said to Tem'Ma'tel. He did not turn his head or otherwise indicate she was there. If the shit hit the fan she was his closest ace in the hole and he did not want to give up any portion of his advantage.
The group from the village reined in next to the hunters. In the lead was the nomad wearing the blade-beast cape. Today he sported a cluster of feathers between his horns, also. Liam decided he must be the chief or headman. Half a dozen other riders milled about as the chief questioned the leader of the hunt. Liam could not be sure, but from their body language it seemed the two did not like each other very much. As best he could tell, they were about the same age and roughly the same size. Maybe the leadership of the tribe was in contention between them. Or maybe they just didn't like each other.
After a brief exchange of whistles, chirps, clicks and gestures the riders dismounted and as a group the nomads climbed the hill, stopping a few meters down slope of Liam. The chief said something in their strange, musical tongue, all flowing syllables, tongue clicks and whistles.
"I don't speak your language, but we figured it was a good idea to come out and introduce ourselves," Liam replied.
The strange words confused the High Grass folk. Chief Seschiqal looked to his cousin, but Keeper of Wisdom Sneisqlik only shook his head.
"
Is it alive
?" Seschiqal wondered.
"
Beetles are alive
," Sneisqlik replied. "
It looks like a giant beetle. It makes the noises like Stolk described. Stolk is young, but he tells the truth
."
"
Should we not approach and stand on equal ground with it
?" demanded Stilmnah the huntsman.
"
It is not your place to ask
," Seschiqal said dismissively. Always Stilmnah pressed for more than what was his right. Always he wished to be seen as more than the leader of the hunt. One day, Seschiqal knew, Stilmnah would challenge him for the tribe.
"
I am the Huntsman
," Stilmnah replied coldly. "
I found it. I called you only out of courtesy. I could have killed it and brought it to the village. That would have been my right and place
."
"
You surrendered your right and place when you sent for us
," Sneisqlik replied mildly. It was not his place to stand for his cousin, but as Keeper of Wisdom it was his place to render judgment on laws. "
And I think you would not have been able to kill it
."
"
Stolk, come here
," Seschiqal ordered the young hunter who had ridden with them from the village. When Stolk stood close Seschiqal asked, "
Is this the same one you told us of
?"
"
It sounds the same, Seschiqal, but it looks very different
," Stolk said. He squinted at the large thing which seemed even larger on top of the hillock. "
The face looks the same, though it was not covered in amber before. The rest is different
."
"
Are you alive
?" Seschiqal asked the huge, dark figure slowly and a little louder than necessary.
"I don't speak your language," Liam said again. He reached up and removed his helmet, revealing his bearded face and shaggy hair. "I don't mean you any harm."
"
It comes off
," Stilmnah said, impressed with how clever the creature was to cover itself with the strange headdress. "
Does it still look the same, Stolk
?"
"
That is the same creature that gave us the antelope
," the young tribesman confirmed. "
There were three others with him that were very different. I think they may have been his pets. A mated pair and a young one
."
"
Yes, Stolk
," Sneisqlik said wearily. "
You told us three times already
."
"
Him
?" asked Seschiqal. "
Why do you call it him
?"
"
It's male
," Stolk replied simply with a pop of his lips, a shrug in the manner of the grassland folk.
"
How do you know
?"
"
It doesn't smell female
," the young hunter said.
Seschiqal and Sneisqlik exchanged a glance and then both leaned forward a bit and sniffed.
"
No. It does not smell female
," agreed Seschiqal.
"
But it does not smell male, either
," Sneisqlik said, wiping his nose. He found the scent of the thing unpleasant.
"
It is a male
," the Chief said irritably with a chop of his hand. "
It is male until we learn otherwise
."
"
So be it
," Sneisqlik conceded.
"
Stolk, you said there were others.
Where are they now
?" Seschiqal asked, glancing about. "
Hunters, spread out. Do not let one of them sneak up on us
."
Liam shifted his stance warily when the hunters opened up their formation. Several placed arrows on their bows and Liam laid his hand to the butt of his pistol.
"I didn't come here for a fight," he said grimly. "But I'll kick your asses up between your ears if you start one."
"
He growls
," Sneisqlik cautioned.
"
It will attack
!" Stilmnah said, readying his bow and taking two steps forward, placing himself ahead of his leaders.
Liam drew his pistol, but did not train it on the edgy nomad. He was certain the bow lacked the power to even scratch his armor. He was pretty sure, though, that at this range the Faun could put an arrow through his eye.
"
Lower your bow
!" snapped Seschiqal. "
He has not made to attack us. He speaks. A foe would not speak. He grows nervous with so many of our folk and their bows
."
"
May I approach him, Seschiqal
?" Sneisqlik asked. "
Perhaps I can make myself understood
."
Seschiqal considered that. His cousin was well known for speaking three languages. The path of the High Grass folk frequently crossed with the paths of other tribes in the south. Here in the midlands they rarely saw any but their own folk. Perhaps this strange being had come down from the north out of the forests. Very dangerous things lived in the forests and that was likely the reason he wore the beetle shells. Seschiqal gave Sneisqlik a nod and his cousin stepped up the hill to stand just below the creature.
"
We are the High Grass folk
," Sneisqlik said carefully. "
We do not speak your tongue. Can you not speak ours
?"
"Like I said, buddy, I don't speak your language," Liam told the Faun he dubbed the ambassador. Liam pointed his pistol at the aggressive hunter. "Tell Elmer there to back down the hill before I shoot him. It's jackelope season and I'll fill my tag, starting with him."
"
He threatens me
!" snarled Stilmnah and raised his drawn bow.
Seschiqal smacked the weapon aside and shoved Stilmnah down the hill, kicking dirt on him as a sign of displeasure. All the nomads looked at the two elders as their chief berated the huntsman.
"
Not your place
!" snapped Seschiqal. "
Peace! We will have peace with this being until we do not. Rise but do not give me cause to strike you. I will not be gentle
."
"I guess that settles that," Liam said to the ambassador. He lowered his weapon and gave a nod to the leader in the cape. "Thanks, Chief."
