Read Online By Force of Arms by William C. Dietz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: William C. Dietz
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maiden, named Windsweet.
His grandfather was smitten, very smitten, and soon fell in love. But the whole thing was wrong. Wrong according to the Legion, wrong according to the Naa, and wrong according to her father. Windsweet helped the legionnaire escape, bandits gave chase, and a patrol saved his life.
Later, after returning to his unit, the soldier tried to forget the maiden and the way he felt about her, but found that impossible to do. That’s when Booly’s ancestor did something which Booly himself, as an officer, could never forgive: William Booly I went over the hill.
The dooth rounded a comer, rocks clattered away from its hooves and fell toward the scree below. They rattled, started a small slide, and tumbled down the mountain.
The noise caused Nocount to jerk his animal to a halt. He turned to Dimwit. ‘The motherless alien is halfway to the lop.”
“So?” his friend inquired sarcastically. “If he can make it, so can we.”
“I know that you idiot,” Nocount responded impatiently.
“But why bother?”
Dimwit frowned, processed the words, and brightened.
“We could wait here!”
“Now there’s an idea,” Nocount replied sarcastically. “Let’s try it. No point in doin’ all that work if we don’t have to.”
Dimwit agreed, swung down from the saddle, and headed for some likely looking rocks. He needed to pee.
The trail wound through the site of an ancient rock slide, shelved upwards, passed through a rocky defile and ended on a windswept plateau. A crust of icy snow covered what remained of the ancient walls. Yes, Booly thought to himself, whatever roamed below must have been very unpleasant to force the old ones up here.
The officer dismounted, took the dooth by its reins, and led the animal toward a rocky spire. It was there if memory served him correctly that his mother and he had camped.
Not on the surface, at the mercy of the groaning wind, but below, in chambers created by the ancients.
He located the spiral stair without difficulty, pulled a torch out of his pack, checked to ensure that the underground common room remained habitable, and allowed the light to play over some empty ration boxes. Others had camped there since his childhood visit, but not for many years, judging from the dust on the containers.
Someone had left a mound of somewhat desiccated dooth dung, however, which meant the legionnaire could enjoy a fire and a more pleasant evening than he had counted on.
But dooths came first, as all Naa learn the moment they are allowed to ride, and Booly returned to the surface. He removed the animal’s saddle, rigged a nose bag filled with grain, and hobbled its feel.
Then, confident that his mount would remain nearby, the officer carried his gear below. It took the better part of a hour to build a dooth dung fire, clear the room of trash, and prepare a simple meal. Firelight danced the walls as the story retold itself.
Having deserted the Legion, his grandfather went back for the maiden, and took her away. Knowing that her father would follow, and fearful of what might happen if the two of them came into contact, Windsweet led her lover to the high plateau.
The Hudathans attacked Algeron shortly thereafter. Booly’s grandfather went off to fight them and left Windsweet by herself. And it was there, in that very room, that his grandmother threw the Wula sticks and learned that the child in her belly would be male.
Was that what his mother meant? That what he needed was here? Buried among old memories?
Something caught Booly’s eye. Something white, something beyond the dance of the flames, something almost obscured by graffiti.
The legionnaire stood, circled the fire pit, and found what he was looking for: the badge of the 13 th DBLE. A coincidence? Or something more? The officer discovered a lump in his throat, wondered why the room felt so warm, and took his coat off. That’s when Booly knelt on his parka, felt for his combat knife, and started to dig. The
His grandfather was smitten, very smitten, and soon fell in love. But the whole thing was wrong. Wrong according to the Legion, wrong according to the Naa, and wrong according to her father. Windsweet helped the legionnaire escape, bandits gave chase, and a patrol saved his life.
Later, after returning to his unit, the soldier tried to forget the maiden and the way he felt about her, but found that impossible to do. That’s when Booly’s ancestor did something which Booly himself, as an officer, could never forgive: William Booly I went over the hill.
The dooth rounded a comer, rocks clattered away from its hooves and fell toward the scree below. They rattled, started a small slide, and tumbled down the mountain.
The noise caused Nocount to jerk his animal to a halt. He turned to Dimwit. ‘The motherless alien is halfway to the lop.”
“So?” his friend inquired sarcastically. “If he can make it, so can we.”
“I know that you idiot,” Nocount responded impatiently.
“But why bother?”
Dimwit frowned, processed the words, and brightened.
“We could wait here!”
“Now there’s an idea,” Nocount replied sarcastically. “Let’s try it. No point in doin’ all that work if we don’t have to.”
Dimwit agreed, swung down from the saddle, and headed for some likely looking rocks. He needed to pee.
The trail wound through the site of an ancient rock slide, shelved upwards, passed through a rocky defile and ended on a windswept plateau. A crust of icy snow covered what remained of the ancient walls. Yes, Booly thought to himself, whatever roamed below must have been very unpleasant to force the old ones up here.
The officer dismounted, took the dooth by its reins, and led the animal toward a rocky spire. It was there if memory served him correctly that his mother and he had camped.
Not on the surface, at the mercy of the groaning wind, but below, in chambers created by the ancients.
He located the spiral stair without difficulty, pulled a torch out of his pack, checked to ensure that the underground common room remained habitable, and allowed the light to play over some empty ration boxes. Others had camped there since his childhood visit, but not for many years, judging from the dust on the containers.
Someone had left a mound of somewhat desiccated dooth dung, however, which meant the legionnaire could enjoy a fire and a more pleasant evening than he had counted on.
But dooths came first, as all Naa learn the moment they are allowed to ride, and Booly returned to the surface. He removed the animal’s saddle, rigged a nose bag filled with grain, and hobbled its feel.
Then, confident that his mount would remain nearby, the officer carried his gear below. It took the better part of a hour to build a dooth dung fire, clear the room of trash, and prepare a simple meal. Firelight danced the walls as the story retold itself.
Having deserted the Legion, his grandfather went back for the maiden, and took her away. Knowing that her father would follow, and fearful of what might happen if the two of them came into contact, Windsweet led her lover to the high plateau.
The Hudathans attacked Algeron shortly thereafter. Booly’s grandfather went off to fight them and left Windsweet by herself. And it was there, in that very room, that his grandmother threw the Wula sticks and learned that the child in her belly would be male.
Was that what his mother meant? That what he needed was here? Buried among old memories?
Something caught Booly’s eye. Something white, something beyond the dance of the flames, something almost obscured by graffiti.
The legionnaire stood, circled the fire pit, and found what he was looking for: the badge of the 13 th DBLE. A coincidence? Or something more? The officer discovered a lump in his throat, wondered why the room felt so warm, and took his coat off. That’s when Booly knelt on his parka, felt for his combat knife, and started to dig. The
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