Zonaton (6 page)

            Zonaton tilted his head to gaze down at her. The golden color slowly faded from his crystal eyes as he gathered himself. She'd learned long ago that, depending on his mood, his eyes took on a particular shade to reflect his emotions. When he was happiest, they could be the brightest yellow.

           
This should not take long. The storm is fast approaching, and I want to get you in a safe location, out of its fury, before it arrives.

            She nodded, then climbed aboard his shoulders. The geron shoved away from the ledge and kept to the updrafts until he reached the community. By the time they circled the village square, people had noticed them and were starting to gather. Zonaton angled downward, using his wings to halt their rapid descent the last hundred or so meters.

            For a long minute, Emmala scanned the sea of faces, noticing the complex emotions they revealed. A few were angry, which she could not understand. Several were fearful, which was to be expected. But the large majority appeared curious as to why they had come. She felt the knots in her stomach tighten as they drew nearer.

           
Do not fear, Emmala. I will keep you safe.

           
"I know, but I can't help myself. What if—" 
Her rising dread was soothed with a wave of affection from the geron.

            They landed in the center of the square. Immediately, the villagers began to press inward. They backed off slightly when Zonaton lifted his wings, and they remained at a distance.

           
"Shall I get down?"
she silently inquired the geron.

           
It is up to you.

            Between her thighs she could feel his body heat soaking through her pants. The wind was a bit chilly, and she wished she could cuddle in Zonaton's protective embrace. Brushing her hair away from her face, she addressed the crowd.

            "Good people of Genesis, my name is Emmala. We have come to warn you of possible danger."

            An older man threaded his way through the crowd and stepped forward. The hair on his head and in his short beard were streaked with gray. His eyes remained on Zonaton as he addressed them. "My name is Portesis. I'm the head councilman of this village. Let's go inside our meeting hall where it's warmer, and discuss this." He gestured toward a large, one-story building sitting at the far end of the square.

            Emmala gave his skin a slight tug. "
Can you fit in there?"

           
I can try. Either way, the man has a point. I would prefer you get out of this wind.

            A quick check over her shoulder showed the blood-red clouds roiling in the distance. The speed of the storm's approach was noticeable. Zonaton called it a rain of fire because of the way the droplets sizzled and threw up tiny clouds of steam when they struck the ground and surrounding rock.

            Sliding off his shoulders, she wrapped her arms around herself and followed the councilman into the building. The rest of the villagers tagged along, mindful to keep their distance from the geron.

            Fortunately, the ceiling inside the building was high enough to allow Zonaton to sit comfortably with having to bend his neck. He took his usual stance in one corner, perching on his bare bottom and locking his arms around his drawn-up knees. Emmala noticed he had deliberately chosen that location in order to keep an eye on the door, and the comings and goings of the villagers. Inadvertently, her gaze dropped to the veil of scales that covered his genitalia. When she was young, she remembered being told about how the first settlers had wondered if the gerons were sexless, or perhaps hermaphroditic. She knew now that they could withdraw their reproductive organs within their body cavities. Ordinary outsiders still had difficulty distinguishing the males from the females, but to her it wasn't hard.

            Portesis waved toward a high-backed chair and parked himself in a similar one next to it. Before she could speak, two more men joined them, drawing up their own seats beside the councilman. There was no introductions exchanged to identify them, leaving her to assume they must be more council members.

            "Tell us about this danger," Portesis requested.

            "They're strangers. Miners. They're located over by the prehalg
,
on the far side of the mountain."

            "What is a prehalg?" one of the other men asked.

            "It's a..." She lifted a hand, searching for another word, when an image formed in her mind. "You know that huge hole past the walking field?"

            "You mean the crater?" Portesis translated.

            "Yes! The crater. The really, really big one near the mountains."

            By this time, people were filling the building to capacity, standing silently as there were no other chairs, and watching. As always, there was an invisible circle around Zonaton, as if someone had drawn a ring on the floor to distance themselves just beyond reach of his arms, beak, and wings. The villagers were cautiously keeping up their guard.

            The other councilman spoke up. "Why haven't any of the other gerons come to warn us?"

            "The Elders said only Zonaton and I should come."

            "Zonaton?" Portesis glanced at the geron. "Is that its name?"

            Emmala frowned. "His name is Zonaton, and he's very intelligent. Please show respect and treat him as such." She looked back at the creature, who mentally smiled at her.

            "Why would you...two...be ordered to warn us, and not anyone else?"

            "Because I came from here." Truthfully, she was guessing that was the real reason. Zonaton had not told her the question or try to discover the reason why the Elders had made their decision, and she knew he would not have asked them himself.

            "If the strangers are at the crater―" began one councilman, when the other interrupted him.

            "Wait. You say they're miners. Human miners?"

            "No. They're from another world."

            "How do you know? Did you meet with them?" Portesis inquired.

            Emmala shook her head. "No, but Zonaton told me they've been here before. They attacked the gerons, but were driven off the planet. By coming back here, there is the possibility the aliens could attack the villages. You'll need to send word to the other towns, if they haven't already been notified."

            "But you said they were miners. Why would they attack our villages?"

            She shrugged. "I don't know. But apparently the Elders believe they're enough of a threat to justify warning you."

            One of the councilmen gave a derisive snort. "Why would the gerons worry what happens to us? You'd think they'd be excited about the possibility of having us killed or forced off this planet."

            She gave him a hard stare. "That's not true," she snapped. "The gerons are fiercely adamant with regards to preserving life."

            "Which is why they make our children take The Walk every year," the other council member sneered with undisguised sarcasm.

            A voice from behind the councilmen called out. "How do we know the gerons aren't planning some kind of attack on us?"

            "Yeah!" another voice joined in. "After all you're in cahoots with them already!"

            Emmala started to reply when there came a commotion coming from within the crowd. Fearful for Zonaton's safety, she got to her feet and backed away from the councilmen, toward the geron. She knew he could defend himself without her help. Still, she felt protective of the creature.

            "Emmala!"

            The crowd parted enough to allow an older man to shoulder his way through them, halting in front. His eyes froze for several seconds on the immense creature sitting at one end of the room, before he jerked his gaze away to look at her.

            "Emmala?"

            She studied the man as her memory of him from so long ago slowly fit together the bits and pieces she thought she'd lost in the passing years. He had changed, but not enough to keep her from recognizing him.

            "Papa?"

            A smile of relief and joy spread over his face as he held out his arms. She walked over to him and allowed him to hold her tightly against him.

            "Emmala. My little Emmala."

            Papa was not as tall as she remembered. In fact, she was nearly as tall as he was. Her chin almost cleared his shoulder.

            He hugged her hard. Lifting her hands, she placed them around his waist and tried to reciprocate. After another enthusiastic squeeze, he released her and stepped back, cupping one palm against her cheek. He studied her from top to bottom, brushing away her hair that threatened to cover her eyes.

            "You look like your mother. You always have." The comment, although sincere, was like a blow to her stomach. Weakly, she managed to smile.

            "Where is Mommy? Is she here?"

            "She's outside with Markeem."    

            Emmala gave him a puzzled look. "Who is Markeem?"

            Papa chuckled. "Your little brother."

            "Has he taken The Walk yet?"

            "Yes. Yes, he has, and he finished it." Her father checked to see if Zonaton had moved from his position, but she already knew he hadn't. She would have felt it if he had.

            She also looked back at the geron. During the entire time they had been inside the meeting hall, she hadn't received a thought or emotion from the creature. Although she wasn't bothered by the lack of communication, the extended silence did worry her. This wasn't like him. Even when he was away from her, his presence remained within her, inside her mind and heart. She caught the alien's eyes, and noticed they were a bright blue. He was fearful.

            "Come. She wants to see you."

            Papa took her hand and pulled her into the crowd. Reluctantly, Emmala allowed him to lead her outside. People patted her as she passed by them. There were smiles on their faces as they greeted her and welcomed her back.

            Mommy was standing just beyond the outer doors. A younger male version of Emmala, except with lighter hair, stood by the woman's side. Tears rolled down Mommy's face and her lower lip trembled.

            "Emmala."

            As Papa had done, she was pulled into her mother's arms. The woman sobbed, wetting Emmala's shirt. Next to her, the little brother stared wide-eyed at the older sibling he'd never met until now.

            Mommy grasped her shoulders and leaned back. A weak smile etched her face. "How are you doing? Are you well? Are you getting enough to eat?" Mommy's hands felt her upper arms. "Is that thing treating you well?"

            Emmala nodded, her smile stiff on her lips. "I'm fine, Mommy."

            The woman sniffed. "Why haven't you come to see us?"

            Papa immediately stepped forward. "Kell, don't."

            "No. No. I want to know. Emmala, why haven't you come to see us? It's been fifteen years. Is that thing deliberately keeping you away from us?"

            "Kell."

            Mommy ignored him. Giving Emmala a little shake, she persisted in questioning her. "Answer me, Em. Are you deliberately being kept away from us?"

            "No." She shook her head and tried to extricate herself, but her mother's grip was firm. "No. Zonaton isn't keeping me away."

            "Zonaton?" Her mother's expression hardened, and Emmala felt a twinge of fear go through her. "Why did you name him that?"

            "I didn't. That's his name."

            "They have names?" Mommy made a face to show she didn't believe her. "Never mind. You haven't answered my first question. Why won't you come see us? We're still you're family. It's not right for you to stay away."

            "No." She shook her head more emphatically. "No, Mommy. Zon is my family now. My life is with him."

            Mommy's anger increased. Her fingers dug painfully into Emmala's arms. Emmala looked around for the geron, but all she could see was the crowd closing in around them and growing larger.

            "What are you talking about, Em? That thing is an alien. It's not even human, and it's not your family. It'll never be your family.
We're
your family."

            Papa snagged Mommy's wrist and pulled her hand away from Emmala's arm. "Kell, she's Paired."

            "No." The denial came from between Mommy's teeth. She jerked her arm away from her husband's grip. "She's still our daughter. She's still my Emmala, and always will be." Looking back at Emmala, Mommy leaned toward her. "I don't care what that
thing
has told you. It's brainwashed you, and you don't know it. It's turned you against us, but I can forgive you for that. I want you to come visit us more often. You need to get to know your brother. No more of this disappearing. We expect you to come back home on a regular basis."

            It was a direct order. Her mother's tone made it clear she was to obey her parent. No arguing. No pleading.

            Emmala shook her head and tried again to release herself. "I can't, Mommy."

            "Why not? Why can't you? Of course you can. Don't be ridiculous. Come. The weather's turning nasty. Let's go to the house. I'll fix your favorite meal, and you and your brother can get to know each other."

            The grip loosened enough to where Emmala could put some distance between her and her parents. Mommy's look of surprise frightened her. She remembered that look. She remembered the punishments doled out whenever she dared to challenge the woman.

            "Mommy, I need to go."

            "Emmala, stop this nonsense right now and do what I say." The voice was cold. Worse, its tone sent a shiver through her. The woman was growing angry, and when she was angry, there was no escaping it. Mommy reached out to grab her. Emmala jumped away to avoid contact.