"I'm sorry about that," Aaron said. "I never intended that to happen."
I may have intended to rip the colony apart. I may have intended to steal an invaluable piece of property. I may have not given a damn if one of my friends died—or you died, Cadmann.
But I never intended to break you. That I would not have done.
It was utterly strange how clear that voice rang in Cadmann's head. Strange how certain he was that that message passed from Aaron's mind to his. Strange. It was an apology of some kind. And odder still, he found that he accepted it.
They studied each other for almost a minute, and then, hesitantly, almost shyly, Aaron smiled. Then he stood, and held his hand out to Cadmann. "Come on," he said. "Let's keep moving."
"If I don't, I'll stiffen up." He dusted his pants off. "Don't ever get old, Aaron. It's no fun at all."
"I'll keep that in mind," Aaron said, and again, they both laughed.
The conversation ceased as they toiled up a mountain crest. Cadmann was beginning to enjoy himself. These kids were stronger and fitter, but he knew how to use what he had. Knew how to relax between steps, husband his resources.
They stood up at the crest for a few minutes, sipping water, and breathing hard, looking down as if they were titans bestriding the world. All of Avalon seemed stretched out beneath them. They might have been balanced between worlds. To the east, grendel country, and the forests and savannahs that would eventually be crisscrossed by the roads and cities of an expanding human empire. To the west, desert and terra incognita.
Who knew what existed out there? Sandworms on speed, maybe.
Directly below them now, a branching curl of river, a ribbon of blue down at the base of the mountains. "We're going to a little valley we've spotted from Geographic and mapped by skeeter," Chaka said. "Nobody's done it on foot, and we need to look around. There's running water, but we won't get close to it."
"Grendels?"
"You bet. Lots of samlon. Last time through, it was fairly working with them. I think it's getting to be that time again."
"Damned glad your bloody base camp isn't near running water."
Aaron chuckled. "No. You wouldn't have let us do that, Cadmann. The First would let us get away with anything at all, as long as we carry those great stinking stacks of Cadzie-blue blankets; but not that. And even when the weather changes, and the rivers swell, we're not likely to get grendels. Too far from the water."
"Of course, if it's raining hard, that will cool them just as well."
"This is true," Chaka admitted, "but we've got our defenses, and our shelters. And there are no guarantees."
"No there aren't. I'm not even sure I wish there were."
They descended the ridge, making their way down toward flatlands. A small valley was visible now, a verdant crease. Chaka guided the conversation as they walked.
He pointed to the eastern horizon. "Storm clouds?"
Chaka and Aaron studied the cloud patterns. The clouds were moving south, and unlikely to bring rain or grief to Shangri-La. But there had been small storms, little atmospheric disturbances almost constantly for the past month. What was coming was coming faster, that much was sure.
"The weather's never been like this," Cadmann said.
Aaron said, "I finally did get to Surf's Up. Absolutely scoured by waves. They had to move all of the kids back to colony. Most of the beach houses are gone. Mine too. There's nothing but foundations left."
They talked broadly and companionably of weather and atmosphere, climate and crop conditions, blue skies and hailstorms, for almost an hour as they descended to a glade. Chaka pointed to an ancient, overgrown mound. "I saw this from my skeeter."
Cadmann approached it cautiously. "Beehive?"
"Yes. I wasn't certain from the air, but it looked abandoned. Weathered. Maybe they migrate. Maybe they raid an area for everything it has, and then die out. I don't know."
Aaron nudged it with his toe, thoughtful. The mucilaged earth tower crumbled a little. He pushed against it some more and a chunk of it broke off. "It's brittle. Resistant to most weather, though."
"How long abandoned?" Cadmann asked.
"A year or two," Aaron said.
"Look! A cluster of Joey bones." Chaka was up in one of the trees, peering around.
Cadmann grunted and dropped his backpack, climbed three or four meters up the trunk, alarmed at how heavy and clumsy he felt.
A trio of little Joey skeletons greeted him. They were snugged between branch and bole, dead in their own nest.
"Definitely bee country," Cadmann said soberly.
They continued along, spotted several more abandoned bee nests and more caches of old skeletons. Often the bones lay as if carefully placed by some nitpicking archeologist. Bees didn't leave enough on the bones for it to be worth any scavenger's time to drag them away.
They reached a lower shelf, even thicker with trees and brush and grass. Then took another steep decline, and reached another shelf.
And more bones.
It was Cadmann who first mentioned that the animal sounds had died away.
"You noticed it too?" Chaka asked. I was wondering if that was just my own morbid imagination."
"No, it's not." Cadmann looked back at Aaron, trailing slightly to their left, a thoughtful expression on his face. Whatever he thought, he was keeping to himself.
The terrain was looking more and more... well, picked over. No pterodons. No birdles. No Joeys. Nothing. The back of Cadmann's neck itched.
"Look," Chaka said soberly.
Chaka pointed at a skeleton the size of a small deer, with short forelegs. It poked out of the ground. Chaka knelt and dug carefully with his knife, and unearthed the rest. Cadmann turned his head away.
This creature had died digging into the ground. Its head still remained, and its shoulders, a sort of monkey-looking thing with sharp paws. The attempt to claw its way into the ground had failed. The mummy was hollowed out, its mouth still open, clotted with dirt. Its eyes were open. Staring into its own grave.
Chaka made a blowing sound and stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He walked in a widening spiral, and found two more skeletons, of similar creatures that hadn't been as successful at burrowing. "This is wrong," Chaka said. He walked to the ridge. Below them was another flattened area, and then a cliff. Distantly, they heard rushing water.
Cadmann said, "Lovecraftian, maybe. What are you thinking?"
"Wrong." Chaka ran down the slope, digging in his heels. He saw Aaron skid down after him. There was a tight, controlled expression on Aaron's face, one that Cadmann hadn't seen before. Some game was going on here, and he was one step behind the other players.
He scrambled down the next decline, using roots and rocks to steady and slow his descent. He watched, increasingly disturbed, as Chaka poked about. This was a lushly wooded area, girdled with bushes and trees and grass. There were signs that it had been lusher still, but some of the vegetation had been badly chewed.
Except for the distant mournful skaw of a pterodon, it was just too damned quiet.
They found bones. Bones of creatures mouse-sized, rabbit-sized, and one as big as a wolf.
Chaka pulled his belt knife and cut into the wolf-sized creature's rear leg bone. He poked around in the dark interior. "Until we've got a better word, we can call this stuff marrow. This is still moist. I think that all of this death happened within the last seventy-two hours."
Chaka pushed himself up and walked out to the edge of the cliff, looking out over the valley beneath. His face was deeply troubled.