Through the Kisandra Prism (21 page)

‘We are the Galla Qualls and the Ida Jaade from Quilla Prime… from a distant Quadrent,’ Zander announces.

‘We are the Gols,’ answers the senior Gol, some kind of Elder. The small deformed creature whispers in this Gol’s ear. The Gol Elder changes his answer.

‘We are the Narib-Gols,’ he corrects himself.

‘Why do you carry a Narib on your back?’ asks Zander.

‘We work for the Naribs…in return one day they will give us the magical secret of iron,’ answers the old Gol Elder.

‘What work do you perform for the Naribs?’ Zander asks.

‘We provide meat for the Naribs from our animals – for they can only eat flesh – we are vegetarian.’

‘Then… you have little livestock left to give,’ says Zander. ‘What are you building in the distance?’

‘That is a stony bridge from the rocky ground across to the grasslands,’ answers the Gol Elder, ‘when the bridge is finished we will build rocky paths into our villages for the Naribs.’

‘When all work is finished,’ adds another Gol, ‘the Naribs will give us the magical secret of making iron.’

‘Our warriors also protect the Naribs from the Nemesians,’ pipes up a Gol female, ‘Nemesians have a taste for the flesh of Naribs…they…’

All three small Naribs hiss threateningly at the Gol female who then holds her tongue.

‘And what do the Naribs give you in return?’ asks Zander.

‘They advise us, supervise us – they have much knowledge,’ answers the Gol Elder, ‘when our work is finished the Naribs will give us iron. Our plough blades will be much sharper. We can then return to our fields, tend our cattle, orchards and hives and grow crops more efficiently.’

‘I see,’ answers Zander, ‘it is hardly a symbiotic partnership. You will soon have nothing left…what will you then give the Naribs?’

‘Our agreements are not your business,’ hisses the Narib on the Elder Gol’s back, unable to contain himself any longer.’

Zander addresses the small malevolent creature that is a Narib.

‘We Galla Qualls do not tolerate any form of slavery or exploitation…I believe your species have a sinister objective!’

‘You have slaves,’ screams the enraged Narib, ‘These reptile people.’ He points a thin crooked finger at the Ida Jaade warriors.

Valus the Centurion answer the accusation.

‘We owe our lives to the Galla Qualls – we fight for and serve them willingly.

‘You lie,’ hisses the sneering Narib. ‘You are slaves of the big eyed one – serving him – because he is cleverer than you – he has secrets that you do not.’

‘Release all the Gols immediately!’ demands Zander.

The small Narib ignores the order and whispers again in the Gol’s ear; the Gol seems reluctant to relay the message of the hideous little Narib, but is clearly afraid;

“Was it pressure from the small Narib’s sinuous tail wrapped around the humanoid’s neck?” Blodwyn wonders.

‘You must leave this planet,’ says the Gol Elder ‘…you are not welcome….we are happy serving the Naribs.’

‘We are on a quest,’ answers Zander, ‘we want nothing…only information… for which we will pay with Antares gold ducats.’

The Gol is about to speak…but then clutches his neck grimacing in pain! The small, dark, grotesque Narib on his back wrenches the Gol’s head around with thin wiry arms and whispers in his ear; the Gol Elder speaks.

‘We have no need of gold – you cannot plough the ground with gold – iron is much harder,’ answers the Gol, ‘iron is more valuable than gold here – only the wise Naribs have the magical secret of making iron.’

The filter that suffices as the Galla Qualls’ mouth turned up in a faint smile.

‘Who leads the Naribs?’ asks Zander.

The three Naribs on the Gol’s backs remain silent however all the Gols turn and look at the Narib riding on the Elder Gol’s back.

‘His name is Nargg,’ says a female Gol, gaining confidence, ‘I just want to take my children home – the Naribs are starving us – they wont allow us to tend our fields and protect our cattle from the Stabasades.’

‘Why do you starve the Gols, Nargg…why is the making of iron a secret?’ asks Zander ‘…it is a simple procedure…the Gols should benefit from it… they are still in the Stone Age.’

The Narib’s face floods with rage; his hanging sinewy tail lashes the Gol Elder’s back in anger.

‘There will be plenty to eat for the Gols,’ hisses Nargg, ‘when the rocky bridge is finished. Then we will give the Gols the magical secret of iron.’

‘I believe when your species has finished with the Gols… you will have other motives. Release all the Gols… let them return to their villages immediately,’ orders Zander the Galla Quall.

The small Narib’s face now twists in rage, his split pupil eyes narrow.

‘Kill the big-eyed one first!’ screams Nargg, ‘then kill all the lizard men.’

Instead, the Gol warriors lower their weapons. In one quick movement the Narib leader throws his small iron spear at the Galla Quall. The Centurion Valus quickly parries the spear before it embeds itself into the soft jelly-like body of Zander.

An Ida Jaade picks up the iron spear and sniffs it,

‘Commander Zander – this spear is tipped with poison – the Narib’s saliva!’

‘Now I understand your power over the Gols,’ says Zander, who then nods to the Centurion. Valus places his short sword to the scrawny neck of the Narib and demands,

‘All Naribs untwine your tails and climb down from the Gols’ backs,’ the Ida Jaade demands.

The three Naribs hiss, angrily and refuse to dismount.

‘I will cut your throat – if you do not obey,’ exclaims Valus.

‘We will only dismount on rocky ground,’ says their small, grotesque leader, Nargg.

‘You will dismount now!’ orders the Centurion, or I will take off your evil head.’

Blodwyn watches as the three Naribs reluctantly untangle their snake-like prehensile tails from the Gols bodies and throats; awkwardly, they slip to the ground.

The Gols rub their necks in relief. Reaching the ground the three Naribs find it almost impossible to move over the short smooth grass and sand, where their squirming, snake-like legs could find no purchase.

The group watches as the sinister Naribs struggled to reach the rocks, cursing and hissing in anger. After much effort the Naribs finally reach the rocky ground; their ungainly struggle for movement on the grass and sand soon turns to the sinister, silky and rapid movements similar to that of a fleeing octopus under water.

All the while Blodwyn could see the Naribs serpentile leg-tails were constantly searching and probing for a crevice big enough to make their escape into; again, just like a fleeing octopus. Almost before the Naribs reach the large rocks and the accompanying crevices they are pulled back by three of the Ida Jaade who then pin them down underfoot.

‘Fools!’ shouts Valus to the Gols, ‘can’t you see why the Naribs need the bridge of rocks and the paths of rocks into your villages – they wish to enter your villages – they cannot move over smooth ground.’

The Galla Quall motions Valus to him.

‘Centurion do not judge the Gols too harshly… they are naïve… gullible… as the Ida Jaade once were when dealing with the Dandy Indra.’ Zander knew from the skulls in the cave of Nemesis that the brains of the Gols were only half the size of those of the more astute Naribs.’

Valus turns to the Gols,

‘I apologies…forgive my anger.’

‘Where is everyone…women and children?’ asks Zander,’

‘On the rocky side,’ answers the leader of the Naribs, struggling under the Ida Jaade’s foot and trying to bite the warrior’s leg,

‘they are working for us – you will never find them.’

‘Release all the Gols you have immediately.’ orders Zander. The three Naribs hiss defiantly, ‘never – never!’

‘Where do the Naribs live?’ asks Zander.

The Gol Elder points to three dark mountains in the far distance.

‘The Naribs live in the end mountain, in rocky holes.’

Zander communicates with the Galla Quall Time-ship, hidden under cloak high above them.

The giant warship un-masks and shows its immense size. The whole group now stands in the imposing shadow of the Galla Quall War-hawk Time-ship – the most powerful and fastest battleship in the Antares Cluster.

The primitive Gols and the grotesque Naribs watch open-mouthed as the two, orange-tailed Hydra torpedoes streak towards the two mountains next to Naribs’ mountain home.

The two orange streaks of light are the only clue of the two Hydra torpedoes passage to their targets. Both mountains explode and crumble; such is the power of a Galla Quall, Hydra Torpedo. The two small sinister Naribs hiss at the Galla Quall with anger and fear.

Their leader Nargg, climbs onto a prominent rock; aware that an Ida Jaade Tellium arrow was pointing at his back. Reaching the top, the leader of the Naribs filled the single lung in his cylindrical chest and let out what sounded like eerie wails that echoed and rebounded off the massive granite boulders. Within a dozen Terasil heartbeats, a large group of Gols both male, female and children appear over the rocky ridge and make their way down to the grassy valley, overjoyed at their sudden freedom.

Zander the Galla Quall dismisses the three sinister Naribs with a wave of his three-digit tentacled hand; the Naribs leave quickly with many backward glances and threatening hisses.

‘How did the Naribs enslave you?’ Zander asks their leader.

‘I once led a group of warriors across the ridge into the land of the Naribs to find the rock that’s makes iron. When it became dark, we slept amongst the rocks. When we awoke we had Naribs clinging to our necks, they refused to leave. They promised us the secret of iron in return for work. When we tried to remove them they threatened to bite us – for Naribs belong to the ‘poison beings.’ They made us kill our cattle to feed them and fight the Nemesians.’

‘The Naribs will always remain a danger to your species,’ says Zander. You have seen how well the Naribs move over rocks but struggle on smooth surfaces. I also fear the Naribs are in the first stages of becoming parasitic… you are their future intended hosts. In time their attachment to you will become permanent!’

‘How will we protect ourselves?’ asks the horrified Gol Elder.

‘We will destroy the rock bridge with Hydra-cannon and will give you the knowledge to make iron. Your bows greatly out-range the Naribs’ spears. On no account destroy the barrier of short grass and sand between you and them. Post guards night and day. Did the Nemesians attack you before you became slaves of the Naribs?’

‘No, we were always on friendly terms with the three Nemesian hornet Queens before we were forced to protect the Naribs. Their workers used to collect pollen from our many orchards and feed from our hives. When their workers disappeared, the Queens used to frequent our orchards and groom each other and pick wild flowers to place in their hair. We left them alone – leaving meat as a gift for not harming us – for the three Queens only eat flesh!’

‘Then continue that practice…you will be safe… the Nemesians will prey on the Naribs…control their numbers. Also leave a wide band of short grassland around your villages… Remember stone walls will not keep the Naribs out.’

‘We are a poor people,’ exclaims the Elder of the Gols and have nothing of value to give you …’

The Gol Elder is interrupted by loud shrieks high in the sky; all eyes turn upwards. Blodwyn could see a large flock of what looked like giant bats with long legs hanging down; they twirled and dived on two smaller, pale flying creatures – glimmering in the sunlight. Both creatures were indistinct in outline, looking like pulsing glitters of light.

‘Damned bat-winged Yarbies!’ exclaims Valus the Centurion, ‘attacking some unfortunates.’

Zander the Galla Quall had the most efficient eyesight and soon recognized the victims of the Yarbies.

‘The Yarbies are attacking two beings of legend … beings that are in our ancient chronicles…beings not seen for a million Quilleian years… Calara-Shimmerings…the purest of the pure… one Shimmering is badly wounded. Centurion…intervene… engage the Yarbies…shoot to kill!’

‘Archers!’ orders Valus the Centurion, ‘prepare to salute the Yarbies with a volley of arrows.’

Six Ida Jaade archers stand abreast, each attach a magazine of five Tellium arrows to their bows.

‘Fire!’ orders Valus.

Thirty high velocity Tellium arrows climb swiftly skywards. A dozen Yarbies fall, spinning to the ground. The dead stay silent, the dying defiantly cursing the Ida Jaade; for that is the nature of the Bat-winged Yarbies. The wounded Yarbies are soon dispatched by the Ida Jaade using swift strokes from their short gladius swords.

The remaining Yarbies cease their attack and gain height – suddenly they notice a Galla Quall is present; for their mistress – the Ora-Pellas, higher beings, look kindly on the delicate Galla Qualls. The two Calara Shimmerings are forced to land in an orchard, one supporting its wounded companion. Both delicate Shimmerings cower as the fierce looking Ida Jaade warriors rush towards them. In fear, they begin to shimmer again breaking up their outline, their only form of defense, for Shimmerings are gentle innocent beings. Seeing the Calara Shimmerings fear, the Ida Jaade stop and wait until the slower moving Galla Quall catches up.

Blodwyn felt sorry for these two frail and helpless lovely beings, now huddled in fear. She noticed that only the small wings of these beings were feathered, covered with the smallest of feathers – hardly visible; they were of the purest white. The rest of their bodies were a delicate pale; apart from the wings they were frail, pretty humanoids, with perfect features and delicate bone structure. Blodwyn picked up a pure white feather from the grass. The pair of Shimmerings – a male and a female, were no more than three feet tall with slender, graceful bodies. They had the bluest of eyes.

Green blood dripped down the wing of the male Shimmering which had placed itself between its female companion and the attacking Yarbies. Reaching the pair, the Galla Quall speaks in gentle tones.

‘Peace and friendship to your kind…my Ida Jaade and the Gols will not harm you…we Galla Qualls hold your species in the highest regard… you are part of a legend in our chronicles.’