Harvest of Ancient Sorrows

Preview Chapters 22-24

Update: Draft 1 of the book is finished. Thus, this will be the last sneak peak. I am shooting for a July release of the book, so I have to hustle. A lot.

Warning: The chapters that have been provided for your reading pleasure are not professionally edited and they there will be small and major changes to them.

Chapter 22

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 81

Abu blinked several times, trying to dispel the red spots in front of his eyes. It had been over two Aaruan months or yarns in the Aaruan language since he’d left Grrommerrk and traveled downstream to Kerma City. Like his first visit, the secretive stirithy sailors covered his eyes as they traveled through the underground river to their hidden destination.

His vision cleared, and his breath caught at the sight before him. An’s setting rays created a palette of ochre, rouge, and violet to paint an impressive backdrop for the magical forest city of Grrommerrk.

His thoughts came unbidden, So beautiful. So peaceful.

Would his mission help to keep it that way? If they lost the coming battle, Grrommerrk might become another casualty to the ripvor invasion. Abu was anxious to succeed in his primary reason for visiting the stirithy capital city. Yet, his nervousness about visiting Zanna set his knee rocking up and down.

The foxlike oarsmen in their boat pulled hard on their oars, keeping up a steady cadence that propelled their vessel toward the giant tree in the center of the city. Within the hour, he’d be coming face to face with the first girl he’d ever loved. How would she take what he had to say?

A black, four-thumbed hand landed on his thigh, stilling his jittering, and Rrummblinss said in Greek, “Neverr let a woman ssee yourr nerrvousnessss.”

Abu pointed a finger at his chest. “Nervous? Me?”

The flamboyant stirithy purr-chuckled. “You arre going to confessss your love. No?”

During the last two days, he and the stirithy army captain hadn’t discussed this other purpose. The trip back upriver had been uneventful other than passing a multitude of boats packed full of stirithy metal singers going the opposite way. They were being sent to help prepare for Kerma City’s defenses against the coming horde of reapers.

Abu and his traveling companion had discussed history on Earth and Aaru, the best restaurants in Kerma City, and nothing else of import. Thus, Rrummblinss words had caught Abu off-guard. What was Abu so scared about?

If he couldn’t get the words out without shaking like a frightened little boy, was he ready for what came after? What if she accepted his proposal? No. He was confident in his love for the young elven girl. And if either of them wasn’t quite ready to be intimate, they had time. Then again, when he left the city this time, it might be forever. Still, he was determined to let her know the decision he had made in that regard.

Abu’s romance mentor cleared his throat, bringing Abu out of his introspection, and he answered Rrummblinss’s question with his own, “How’d you know?”

The stirithy tilted his snout upward and sniffed twice. “I ssmmell it. The ssweetesst ssccent in the worrld.”

Abu shook his head. How long would he need to live on Aaru to become accustomed to friends who were upright, walking, and talking diminutive fox-raccoons, hairless, flying baboons, and giant wolves? He was curious what the stirithy version of Casanova would tell him.

Seeking love advice from Rrummblinss and Umrao might not be one of Abu’s wisest decisions. He should have spoken to Dr. Ben, but Abu was sure his guardian would act like every other parent. He’d forbid him from taking such an adult step. Abu had been through too much to be treated like a child. Let’s see what Don Juan has to say.

“You’re right. I am going to tell Zanna how much I care about her.”

“That will lead to a brroken hearrt.”

Abu frowned. “It might. I know she and I can’t be together, forever, forever.” He puffed up his chest, trying to show bravado even if he didn’t feel it. “I want to be a man she never forgets.”

The always confident swashbuckler’s voice was tinged with regret as he said, “You arre lucky. I have looked mmy entirre life forr a love like that.” His ears twitched, and he lifted the lip on one side of his snout as if giving Abu a wry grin. “The love I’ve known is but a blurrrr of a mmemmory. Good luck.”

They sat silent, each with their thoughts as the boat made its way around one of the roundabouts in the river before turning into another canal. They kept moving toward the heart of the city and Abu’s destiny.

__________________________

“That young man is back to see you,” said Urash.

Zanna looked toward her father’s assistant with a furrowed brow. “Who?”

“The Earthling.”

“Abu?” she whispered.

A skipped heartbeat later, Zanna jumped from her desk chair and ran out of the room. She flew down the carpeted hallway and took the marble stairs two at a time toward the ground floor. With most of the embassy’s elven workers in Kerma City as part of the defense forces led by her father, she didn’t see another soul. When she reached the landing, she eased her pace, taking deep breaths to slow her frantic heartbeat.

Zanna had never expected to see Abu again. The letter she’d sent to her father hadn’t been answered. She didn’t know if the young man she’d given her heart to had even seen what she’d written. The letter had been as much for her as him. A mental exercise, a way for her to let go of her first love.

With her heart still in her throat, Zanna pulled her shoulders back and walked with confidence into the embassy’s front sitting room, where visitors waited to meet their hosts. Abu stopped pacing. Eyes wide, he stared at her like a fawn, looking for the source of a broken twig.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. The frozen thread of unbelief they shared shattered at Abu’s sudden movement. It was real. He was real.

Abu crossed the geometric pattern of the plush Kurran carpet in three long strides. His strong arms enveloped her, and she lost all sense of time and place. She’d never know if it was his touch or inhaling his cinnamon-scented musk that brought forth a torrent of joyful tears. She nuzzled into the curve where his shoulder met his neck and squeezed him hard, afraid he’d turn to smoke if she let go.

His voice cracked, “I’ve missed you. I love you.” His hands came to her cheeks, urging her to look at him.

With him an inch taller since she’d last seen him, she tilted her chin until she stared into his eyes. She dove into his beautiful brown pools, swimming in the love rippling within.

A tear dropped onto Abu’s cheek as he leaned toward her. She marveled at the contrast. His lips tasted of a salty sweetness so intense it threatened to lift her very soul to heights yet unknown. The exact opposite of their last kiss, when their love drowned in bittersweet tears.

He pulled away. Stunned by the sudden vacuum of emotions, Zanna’s fingers clutched at his linen shirt, locking him to her.

Abu stared into her eyes for another long moment and said, “I read your letter.”

“I’m glad. I feared it hadn’t been delivered.”

A mischievous smile grew on his face. “You didn’t trust your father?”

Zanna shook her head. “No. He’s very understanding of my feelings. It’s just that he’s so busy.”

“Ah.” His grin faded. “After your letter, I thought about following your advice. To move on.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“But.” She started to tell him he must when Abu placed a finger on her lips.

“Don’t say it. We both know how this ends. But the lamentations made me think about what I want the most. You know, about my future.”

A worry wormed into her thoughts. Abu loved her too much, and she’d bring him nothing but heartache. “And?” She held her breath.

Zanna saw a glint of fear in his eye before he straightened. “You know that I love you. And if I can’t be your only or your last, I want to be your first.”

“Uh.” She clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t know what to say. She loved him, but she wasn’t ready for that.

As if he had read her mind, Abu said, “It doesn’t need to be today. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready. I want to honor you with that special place in my memories. I never want to forget you.”

“And me?”

“I want you to remember me no matter how many An you live.”

She smiled at him. “And if I’m never ready?”

Abu laughed. “I thought about that and left myself an escape clause.”

Zanna’s eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips.

“I’ll wait for you until I fall in love with someone else and love them as much as you.”

“Then I’ll need to make sure that never happens.” Zanna’s heart sank at the thought of Abu loving another. She knew the right thing to do was to push him away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. More doubts crept into her mind as she wondered if she loved him enough to give him up.

Just a little longer, she thought. For just a little longer, I want him to be only mine.

Chapter 23

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 82

Masako stared at the blank parchment. Nothing. She tapped her piece of charcoal over and over on the paper, leaving little dots. I am sick of this.

She looked up, seeking Emperor Poo Face. For weeks now, she’d been held hostage. The worst part of her captivity had been the constant boredom. At least as a slave, they’d kept her too busy to be bored. Her only respite from monotony came each morning when her minder and guard followed her around the legionary fort on her hour-long walks.

In the far corner of the pavilion, the emperor leaned over a map in conversation with the unnerving old man, Aquila. Her skin crawled anytime the man came close or she caught him staring at her. It was not one of the normal predatory looks she came to fear from the welves. No, this was something more sinister, as if she were a bug to experiment with.

Focused back on the blank parchment, her anger boiled over. This must change.

She looked over at her afternoon minder. Younger than most women assigned to watch her and at times, entertain her, she looked as bored as Masako. The brassy-skinned woman sighed as she twirled a long strand of obsidian hair around her finger. Masako thought, I hope you don’t get hurt.

Despite the potential danger to the woman, Masako could no longer sit idle. Without thinking, she reached over her drawing pad and patted the woman’s knee.

“I’m sorry.” Masako jumped to her feet.

The woman’s eyes bulged. She reached for Masako and yelped as the hair wrapped around her finger yanked her head to the side.

Masako skipped away from the struggling woman and ducked under the guard’s hand. She ran toward the emperor’s table in the corner. Once she passed the temporary throne, her guard called out a warning. The two men closest to the emperor stepped to meet her. One’s hand reached for the handle of his gladius.

Emperor Octavius glanced up from the map and looked right at her.

There was no way to reach Emperor Kabuah Butt, so Masako shouted, “I need to speak to the Emperor.”

The closest legionary stuck a large hand out to block her way, and she stopped, staring at Emperor Octavius, who stood up straight.

Her minder rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. Hard. “I’m sorry, Imperator. I’ll take care of this.”

He sighed and held up a backward-facing hand. “Let her come.” He curled his fingers, waving her forward.

Masako’s minder lowered her head and said, “Yes, Your Majesty.” She released Masako’s forearm.

Taking in the map and its contents, Masako rubbed away the sting as she walked to the table. Scattered around the map were small hand-carved men and horses. She had no concept of what the lines drawn on the vellum represented. Her lack of understanding prompted her to change her demands at the last second.

“I want tutors,” Masako demanded.

One of the emperor’s eyebrows shot up. “You are a hostage.”

She put her hand to her chest. “I am a princess of Alexandria and Yuhi, and I am bored.”

“And what exactly would you want to learn?”

“Everything.” Masako gave the bully of a man the best imitation smile she could muster. “I need to learn Greek and Latin. I want to understand the history and politics of Aaru. Of my countries.”

“Is that all?”

Masako tapped her chin with her finger. As much as she didn’t like it, learning to do more than add and subtract would be helpful. “Math, too.”

Octavius rubbed his chin with his hand. “As you wish.” He turned to the frightening older man. “Aquila, see what you can do.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The emperor’s eyes lit upon Masako. “Princess, let this be your first lesson.” His gaze flicked between her guard and minder. “Aquila, have these two receive five lashes each.”

The minder gasped, “Forgive us, Your Majesty.” She fell to the floor and prostrated herself, her entire body trembling.

The guard gave Masako a vicious side-eye before facing the emperor. He saluted with his fist over his heart. “I live to be an instrument of Ahura Jupiter’s light.”

Masako hadn’t flinched. She had hoped there would be no reprisal for her small rebellion, but she had already calculated potential punishments into her decision before she chose to act.

The emperor turned back to the table, picked up a carved soldier from the map, and leaned over to place it far from its original location.

Masako waited for another few moments, thinking he might dismiss her. When nothing came, she returned to her designated prison pillows. A different guard trailed close enough behind her to smell the reek of onion on his foul breath. She looked back. Her minder, still sniffling, shuffled toward the exit while the guard walked with a straight back.

Masako plopped herself down and, picking up the charcoal, tried to capture her guard’s vengeful look.

My first lesson? Masako pondered what it was she was meant to learn. The problem tumbled around her mind, and without knowing she was doing it, she stared at the emperor.

The fortunes of nations, much less mere servants, were decided by a simple word from the man. But, in this situation, it was not the emperor’s reaction but her actions that caused those two people to suffer.

Power, Masako thought. My power?

Not entirely convinced about her conclusion, she jumped between her two best explanations. Was Stupid Face showing her that because she was a princess, her decisions could have huge ramifications for those around her? Or was he trying to teach her that using her power to achieve her goals came at a cost? A cost that others might have to pay.

The emperor continued playing with his toys, and it dawned on her those weren’t figurines. They represented real men. Soldiers whose lives were in the hands of a man who shuffled their wooden representations around like a god.

Today, she had played the role of a tiny god, toying with the lives of her minder and her guard. Was it worth it? How much had Masako been willing for those two to lose so that she could end her boredom? What if he had killed them?

The thought didn’t surface the horrified internal reaction that Masako had expected. Instead, she grasped that for the first time in her mostly helpless and subservient existence, she had authority. It was a wonderful feeling.

Chapter 24

Hills surrounding Via West, Zoru, An 5660, Day 83

Roused from his bedroll two hours before sunrise, Djoser ate a cold breakfast and was in the air just before the black sky on the western horizon diffused to a charcoal gray. With only eight wind singers out of their original thirty still alive, the expedition was down to two flyers per four-hour shift. He patrolled along the expedition’s left flank at the highest safe elevation as the three different allied units began their march.

For the last four days, the allies would set a trap, and the chasing reapers would rush into it. The results became repetitive. The allies punched the reapers in the face and ran away. Several times during this Caracal and zehorg game, the enemy sent their fastest soldiers around the allies, attempting to set up a blocking position. After the allies’ wind singers warned of the impending attack, the army sped up, and the lizard-bird hybrids didn’t have the speed to slam the door shut.

Once, the reapers even tried to send a group of their flyers to make a night attack. The allied singers heard them coming, and the Earthlings deployed something called flares to light up the sky. Outlined by the light, the reaper wind singers became easy targets for the Kerman rifles.

After yesterday’s allied ambush of the ripvor, the Earthling commander convinced the other two that they didn’t have the supplies to lay any more traps. It was now a simple race to the finish line, and Djoser felt like he’d been running forever. Whenever Djoser thought his nightmare couldn’t worsen, patrol duty came up.

Frozen, aching all over, and low on reserves, Djoser hoped he had the strength to survive. He tried to bolster his resolve and said to himself, Three more days. Just three more.

An intense headwind added to his chill, and he tried to fight off a case of shivers.

Djoser flew in a figure-eight pattern, counting every minute until he could return to his resting spot. During each revolution, he scanned with his eyes and his listening song. In the back of his mind, he dreamed of the end of his shift and the blanket in the bed of one of the army’s supply wagons. He’d eat, then try to sleep for eight hours, bouncing over rough terrain to refill his singing stores before prepping again for the next mission.

Djoser turned his head away from the wind and yawned. He’d never seen it happen, but he’d heard of flyers choking to death on a flying insect. At this altitude, he didn’t need to worry about swallowing a bug, but breaking a good habit, even intentionally, seldom led to good outcomes. A wind singer respected the gift, or he’d end up dead.

Turning his face forward, a tickle came from his sound-sensing song. At the edge of his range, there were unusual disturbances. More like absences. Down and to his left, ripvor wind singers tried to block the swooshing sounds they generated. He angled down and toward the signals. If his count was correct, several hundred reapers flew westward, away from the allied column.

Damn! If they were leaving without attacking, they must have been transporting something or someone. He sent a message to General McGehee and got no response. Either he was too high, or some of the reaper wind singers were between him and the army, blocking his messages.

Double damn! Djoser popped on his own bubble to mimic the reaper flight pattern as he angled into a steep dive aimed at where General McGehee should be.

In seconds, eight sound bubbles, a thousand feet below him, shifted to intercept. They flew in a double-diamond formation, weaving a giant, puffy, sound-smothering blanket. If Djoser could not get below that barrier, he couldn’t warn the general.

What am I doing? Djoser had a few seconds to ponder his reasons for doing this act of foolhardy heroism which went counter to who he was. He didn’t owe the emperor his life and sure didn’t owe the men below anything. Pretend to be dead and fly away. That should be his plan. How far would he need to run? How long before he’d have to run again?

If the reapers win, there’ll be no place to hide, and I’ll never have my noodle shop, Djoser thought as he clenched his jaws.

The location of the enemy flyers formed in his mind, and he shifted his flight pattern, aiming for the optimal place to puncture their sound-catching web. The near darkness would make it a little more difficult for the ripvor flyers to get a good shot at him. Then again, like him, he was positive that wind singing reapers used their songs to simulate visual sight. That meant he needed to do some fancy flying to survive.

The formation of enemy flyers shifted, and the four closest angled into dives to surround him inside their bubbles and put him in crossbow range.

For the noodles, then.

Djoser popped his own sound bubble, shifted his arm, and turned his straight-line dive into a corkscrew. With minor hand adjustments, the width of each twist varied. He popped inside the reaper’s sound-blanket. The rushing wind still caressed his skin, but the sound of the air and all the other sounds he tracked cut that instant.

The gray to the west had become a little less dark, but still, he couldn’t find any enemy flyers. Without his ability to track the enemy’s flight patterns, he had to do the next part on instinct alone. He sang a cone-shaped storm of wind around him, blowing in the opposite direction. He made a hard right turn. Out of the corner of his eye, a darkness flashed by.

Missed me.

Djoser dove straight down, a murky, ominous presence rising to meet his fall. He pictured the hills and woods below and knew he had only a few more seconds before he had to pull up. Another dart flew toward him, his little storm deflecting the bolt down just enough to have it fly under his stomach by mere inches. His ears popped as all sound returned.

His warning call went out to anyone within a quarter mile of him. Below, a dark blob turned into the fuzzy outline of a rock outcropping. Djoser pulled up hard and twisted to his left. He heard the incoming whistle of another bolt and started an evasive roll as the curtain of silence returned. The bolt flashed by a few feet in front of his face.

Yards above the canopy of trees standing on the crown of a hill, he leveled out. The easy part was over. Now, he’d find out just how good of a flyer he was. He dipped a few feet to the left and zipped between two tall pines.

__________________________

Ben yawned. It had been two decades since he’d been this bone-weary. Pulling on his horse’s reins, he guided his mare around a fallen tree. Their first week on Aaru had been a piece of cake compared to this. The daily cadence of riding for hours, pausing only long enough to set an ambush and then be in the saddle until sundown, had taken its toll.

This expedition brought forth all the memories of his years in the Texas 6^th Cavalry and the almost four years of constant fighting. The difference, of course, was that he wasn’t a young man anymore. One positive change to those years, back then, his nights had been full of nightmares and cold sweats. Fighting these seemingly unfeeling creatures didn’t cause him any more angst than killing a rattlesnake might.

Last night, he’d rested as best he could with a saddle as a pillow. He’d dreamt good dreams about Louisa and Abu. He wondered what they had been doing while he was away, thankful they were safe in Kerma City. Thoughts of Abu caused him to glance to his left.

Umrao rode beside him in the middle of the column of 1^st Kerman Rifles, who acted as the vanguard at the front of the army. They had been serving rearguard duty until today. Having firearms meant Ben’s men had been given the most demanding jobs since the mission began. The night before, he had convinced Prince Tambal and General Kinya, the angry brothers, to give his men a break. Ben prayed he wouldn’t see a reaper today.

Nervous that his thoughts might bring forth evil spirits, he glanced around the small valley their column made their way through. With An still below the hills to the west, refracted light lit the sky just enough to cast a hazy gray over the landscape. They rode through calf-high prairie grass that covered the rolling hills except where small, wooded areas had taken root.

If they stayed ahead of the reapers, there should be no fighting. Besides, they couldn’t afford too many more engagements. Ben’s men had enough bullets for a few more running skirmishes. And that was it. Their best weapon now was speed. Thankfully, the ripvors’ faster top-end speed was short-lived.

The reapers: Were they birds or reptiles? At times, Ben leaned toward lizards, while other times, he was sure they had the personalities of predatory birds. The reapers could sprint for short bursts of about a hundred yards. While the allies’ horses maintained a faster pace over long distances. Even changing mounts often, the horses required significant rest to keep them from going lame.

Thus, the two armies danced an accordion-like polka each day. The allies would lengthen their lead for the first part of the day, and then the gap would shrink before each army bedded down at night.

Ben patted the stallion’s neck. His two mounts were as tired as he was, but they seemed to sense what would happen if they didn’t keep going. He marveled at the survival instincts of all God’s creatures. Even the unfeeling ones like snakes and ripvor.

“Ambush! Ambush!”

Djoser, the wind singer’s frantic cry, boomed in Ben’s head. His eyes snapped to his right and left, scanning for any sign of an enemy. In the field, twenty yards past Umrao, a mound shifted. A grass golem with a long neck and beak-shaped earthen face rose as if grown.

Shit! Metal Singers.

Ben yanked his mare’s reins hard and kicked her side. His mount twisted and side-stepped closer to the young lancer. His second horse, the mare, fought against the pulling tether, and his stallion stumbled before righting himself.

Leaning out, Ben grabbed Umrao’s collar from behind. Ben kicked out of his stirrups and fell off his horse, pulling the young man out of his saddle. Upside down, Ben watched between Umrao’s horse’s legs as the grassy creature’s tail whipped to the side, flinging a spear.

Ben slammed head-first to the ground. His pork pie hat and the long grass must have cushioned the blow because he rolled to his knees without his head spinning. Gunfire and screaming shattered the morning as Ben pulled his revolver. Umrao was moving up to sit, his eyes wide. Blood oozed from the young man’s nose as he pulled his Enfield revolver.

The loudest eagle call Ben had ever heard rattled in his ears as Umrao’s horse reared up and galloped away from the monster, Ben’s horses following. A giant, angry, grass lizard raced toward them, its scythe-like spear leading the way. Still kneeling, Ben aimed for the murderous eye staring out of the grass. He squeezed off a shot that missed but must have found flesh. The monster screamed, its beak going wide.

Ben snapped another shot off toward the reaper’s maw. The golem gurgled and tumbled, its scythe jamming point first into the earth, halting its momentum.

Nearby, a horse let out a blood-curdling screaming squeal. Ben didn’t turn to find it. His eyes were locked onto the two reapers barreling toward him and Umrao. The creatures had released their camouflage songs because patches of sod slid off their green-colored armor as they raced forward, churning their strong bowed legs.

Ben grabbed Umrao under his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Take the one on the right.”

A spear-wielding tail rose above the reaper of Ben’s side as Umrao’s Enfield revolver erupted twice in quick succession. Like throwing darts, the ripvor tossed the javelin-sized spear at the young lancer. Ben pushed Umrao hard in the shoulder, and he stumbled. The steel-tipped shaft whooshed between them, missing Ben’s arm by inches.

Shooting from the hip, Ben emptied his revolver into the midsection of the spear thrower. Umrao righted himself, squeezing off three more shots. Ben couldn’t see the results of the lancer’s bullets. Ben’s target had slowed but kept coming, too close for Ben to grab his other revolver. He threw the gun at the creature’s head and yanked his long knife free of its sheath.

The reaper shifted his war scythe to the side, ready to swing the halberd-like weapon in a wide arc to cut Ben in half. Ben braced himself, calling on his own instinctual survival animal. The monster-filled him, his vision slowing and becoming sharp.

The gunfire and screams of the bigger battle faded while all his senses intensified. The clean, grassy scent of morning dew and the musky bird smell of reapers filled his nostrils. With the ripvor bearing down on him, his inner beast evaluated the situation in a fraction of a second.

Umrao, unaware of the danger, might be struck if Ben ducked the creature’s strike. From the distant trance that his humanity watched, Ben thought, this is gonna hurt.

The charging reaper’s death stare locked onto Ben’s midsection, and its scaly clawed hands twisted, human-sized arms swinging. The scythe-like blade raced toward Ben’s stomach. He took two quick steps forward as he raised his arm.

The shaft slammed into his ribs. “Ugh!”

The monster inside Ben raged, the pain coming with a burst of energy. He wrapped his arm around the shaft and ducked down. Lunging low, he thrust his shortened saber blade below the creature’s armored anklet and through the ripvor’s foot. Using one leg, the reaper hopped backward, pulling Ben forward and his hand free from the D-shaped grip of his knife. The blade stayed where it was skewered in the lizard’s clawed foot.

Pain shot through his broken ribs as the ripvor tried to shake the shaft free of Ben’s grip. He glanced upward and locked glares with two murderous golden orbs glowering down at him over a curved beak.

Refusing to accept defeat, the furious beast within Ben scrambled to find the revolver grip on his left hip as he let loose an animalistic scream, “Grr Argh!”

Hoofbeats thundered in his ears as the beak sprang forward at the end of the reaper’s long neck. Ben let go of the war scythe and fell backward. The razor-sharp point at the end of the reaper’s hawk-shaped beak hooked his shirt. All the buttons popped free as the creature’s head recoiled, and Ben landed on his butt.

Something flashed in Ben’s peripheral vision. The man part of him watched, enthralled. A horse and rider galloped by, the curve of a saber, barely visible in the pre-dawn, whipped across the reaper’s neck.

The bird-head separated and tumbled as a geyser of green shot up and behind the reaper’s body as the sinuous neck kept moving backward. The head rolled down the creature’s green-armored midsection. It struck the ground, coming to a rest on one side of its face between Ben’s spread legs.

Ben stared into that lone hate-filled eye. The beak opened. Ben scrambled back, pushing and kicking his boots against grassy sod as the beak slammed shut an inch from his thigh. Ben jumped to his feet and pulled his other revolver free, aiming at the head. He eased off the trigger. The luster in the reaper’s golden orb had faded away. Relief at having survived washed over him, and the monster loosened its grip.

After a small internal struggle, Ben regained control from his battle-lusting demon and turned in a full circle. Lance Duffadar Ram was wheeling his horse around and trotting back toward Ben. Farther to the right, Ben saw Umrao point his revolver at a horse lying in the grass. A reaper’s javelin protruded from the animal’s side. The young lancer grimaced and pulled the trigger. As the echoes of the shot faded, the absence of more gunfire signaled that the fight had ended. In its place came pained moans and calls for life singers.

Ram’s big grin was white in the increasing light as he reined in his stallion beside Ben.

With a nod, Ben said, “Thanks. I want us on the march again in thirty minutes. Gather the horses that ran. I’ll help triage the wounded to save as many as we can. We’ll make an accounting once we are on the move.”

Like all the dangerous, intelligent creatures on Aaru, Ben needed to keep specific technology out of ripvor hands as long as possible. Ben yelled to Umrao. “Sowar Singh, take a squad and collect every rifle, revolver, and bullet.” When the two men waited for more instruction, Ben said, “Now. Go.”

Umrao saluted and started yelling at the closest men on foot. Lance Duffadar Ram spun his horse around and galloped toward a group of still-mounted riflemen.

There were dozens of clumps in the grass representing his men and their horses. Always a little superstitious, Ben couldn’t help but blame himself as he looked around. His wish for a quiet day had come back to bite him in the ass.

If it hadn’t been for Djoser’s warning, he and Umrao would probably be dead. When the wind singer returned, he’d have to find out how the ripvor were able to get in front of them to set an ambush after he thanked the standoffish babiakhom.

Ben stepped forward and pulled his blood-covered saber free from the headless creature’s foot and then walked behind the body in a slow pattern until he kicked his other revolver. He holstered both guns and moved toward the sound of a human moan.

A giant wolf-man emerged from the shadows, one of the expedition's twenty life singers. Ben jogged toward him, praying the reapers couldn’t keep this up. A thought came to him then. A way to discourage these ambushes from happening again. Ben changed directions and headed toward Umrao and the small group of men he had gathered. As distasteful as it would be, instead of burning their dead like they had after each fight, they needed to load the bodies onto spare horses and empty supply wagons to take with them.

He carried on an imaginary conversation with the ripvor general leading the horde. You will find nothing but your dead troops and a few dead horses.