Dragon of the Second Moon

By Christian Tamblyn

Exiled on a fertile world through the chasms of space Alex must forget every assumption of his old life. Here none of those rules apply. He must adapt quickly to the hazards of this wilderness and its mysterious, unexpected inhabitants. He must explore his own hidden mystical talents to survive the fued between these ancient races and his deadly encounters with Jibahal, dragon of the second moon!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Tamblyn
• Release date: Nov 25, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452308890

Christian Tamblyn

Chris Tamblyn was born in 1967 in Parramatta, Australia and was raised in the NSW county town of Kempsey. He joined the RAAF at age 16, where he became qualified as an Aircraft Engineer and also formed a longstanding D&D group with friends, beginning his interest in mythology and fantasy writing. He is currently living with his wife and two boys in Brisbane, Australia where he still works as an Engineer for a major Airline and devotes his free time to family, writing and classic car restoration.

Book preview

DRAGON OF THE SECOND MOON

by

CHRISTIAN TAMBLYN

Smashwords Edition (amended 2018)

Copywrite 2009 Christian Tamblyn

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

What others are saying about ‘Dragon of the Second Moon’

It’s not often I come across a sci-fantasy book that I would read to the very end – but 'Dragon of the Second Moon' is a surprising exception. The author not only has a vivid imagination, but he has a deft hand at writing a well-polished and entertaining fantasy novel. It’s a very original work that commands the reader’s attention from the first page … A very engrossing fantasy world that is a credit to its author.

Wendy O’Hanlon, APN Newspapers

I don't usually do this however I thought you would like to know that I really enjoyed your book. I bought it from you at the Armageddon expo in Melbourne and started reading it on the train home and didn't put it down once I started it. I found it a lovely read, especially for a first novel. It had a lot of substance and I really liked the way you had thought about and built a whole world with its own customs and beliefs. Nothing was too small or left out. Which meant that I really looked forward to my 90 minute commute every morning and evening. I'm really looking forward to your future books regardless of weather they are related to Zanderhal or not. All the best for the future,

Sue from Melbourne

Have just returned from holidays and thanks to wet weather most of the time, had plenty of time to read your book. Have enjoyed it, finished it off in no time. Keep up the great work. Look forward to you next. Cheers,

Bill from Brisbane

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CHAPTER 1

Something intruded upon the tranquillity of his silent existence. Calling to him, luring him from his floating sea of peace. He resisted at first, comfortable in his isolated place of calm.

‘Come!’ it beckoned. Tempting him with glimpses of intense feeling and vibrant senses that could not be denied. It slipped away and he followed hungrily, rising from the depths in which he languished. He gave chase, trying to grasp it as it rushed ever upwards, faster and faster. Finally, he caught it in triumph only to discover that this messenger sent to draw him from the pit was called Pain.

Air flooded into his lungs from a regulated bottle bringing with it a rush of biting agony to his chest. He coughed spasmodically into the snug facemask and drew a second gasping breath. The pain lessened this time as other senses exerted themselves on his growing consciousness.

A whistling screech filled his ears and heavy vibrations shook his entire body. The shaking became a series of heavy jolts that threw him around  aggressively in his tight enclosure and tested his restraints to the limits of their endurance. With the violent movements came a series of loud bangs that assailed him from all sides. Then all noise and motion stopped just as suddenly as it had begun.

He lay dazed and disorientated in the renewed serenity. The pains subsided and his breathing became normal. Feeling flowed down his arms and legs in ever lessening waves of pins and needles, leaving his fingers and toes tingling electrically. Eyes long closed now opened. A neat cluster of red glowing lights greeted his blurring vision. He strained to focus on them as they formed shapes he could not recall. His mind struggled to regain its normal patterns of thought, so long suspended. He stared in blank incomprehension for some time before it came to him.

‘Mission cycle terminated.’ stated the tiny L.C.D console that hung inches from his face.

Time passed. Flashes of thoughts and memories imposed themselves on his sluggish mind, giving back his identity in erratic spurts. One burning thought came to the forefront and obscured all others, daring him to believe it.

It had worked.

Alex lived again.

The peace within the cramped capsule was broken by the hiss of extending pneumatic rams. The coffin-like door cracked open on the capsule’s side and light flooded into the almost total darkness of the interior, momentarily blinding Alex with its dazzling brilliance. He didn’t see the yellow package fall from beneath his feet to the ground below until it had expanded to form a tent covered raft of about eight feet in diameter. He hung trapped at an odd angle within the toppled craft while marvelling at the expanding piece of brightly coloured equipment. His restraints automatically released, spilling him sideways to the tilted earth beside the raft.

The spacecraft lay on its side in a shallow trench of its own creation. Around the battered capsule was an open clearing of long grass and lush ferns. At the furthest edge he glimpsed the slow running waters of a small creek. This clearing was enclosed on all sides by a forest of thick, ancient trees marred only at one point by the fresh scar of his pod’s recent crash. Along the path of his craft’s trajectory for a distance of two hundred yards was a shattered line of broken scrub and branches. Several small fires burned amongst the damaged foliage and tatters of silken parachute hung festooned like bizarre Christmas decorations throughout the area. The most prominent sound was the capsule’s shell still hissing loudly in hot protest where it contacted the moist soil and grass of the upturned ground beneath it.

Alex lay motionless and dumbfounded for some time, attempting to absorb the meaning of his new surroundings. A flash of vivid memory invaded his mind.

The thought was of an elderly woman from his past. She stood before him with her features partially obscured by a colourful shawl while he lay motionless on a bench in a cramped medical theatre. She had smiled wanly to him with a tear in her eye as the others in the crowded room had rushed diligently about their assigned tasks. The cold fluorescent lights of the low hung ceiling glared down at him while those about him went methodically on with their duties.

He barely noticed as the large surgical needles were inserted deeply into the arteries of his inner thighs, nor when the multitude of sensors were attached to all parts of his body. But the feel of the thin temperature sensor being inserted deep into his abdomen had made him flinch, even with the mountain of painkillers they had forced upon him. The sensation was terrible to experience. Like being skewered for a spit roast.

His vision and hold on reality had slowly slipped away as the blood was drained via his right leg and the burning injection of ice-cold saline was pumped in through the left, bringing with it violent fits of shivering as his body temperature plummeted. A plastic blanket filled with blue coolant gel had been his last image of the world as the mounting wave of cold had engulfed him into utter blackness.

He snapped out of the vision, back to the present and his new surroundings. It had somehow all worked beyond his wildest hopes. Here he lay on the surface of another planet. Heaven only knew how far away from Earth in time and space he had travelled. It was seldom, during his schooling on the space station that Alex had ever seen or experienced any natural environment of plants and soil. Access to the Ag section of his satellite home that produced much of their food and oxygen was restricted to the horticulture specialists.

Now he was lying on a patch of deep, lush grass in an expanse of old forest growth under the open sky. The warmth of the sun felt exquisite on his pallid flesh. Then he noticed with amazement the oddity of not one but two orbs of fiery light shining down on him from above. Two suns, a finger’s width apart in the sky, followed each other across the pale blue heavens.

Feebly, he stood up to look about, stubbornly fighting the stiffness of his complaining limbs. Looking down at himself he realised that he was completely naked with a myriad of sensors and electrodes still attached to him. The worst of these being the thin metal probe skewered uncomfortably through his middle. Wires from these attachments trailed back like tangled spaghetti to the craft’s tiny interior in a bizarre parody of an umbilical cord. Bright copper cores shone through the melted insulation where they touched the hot outer shell of the cooling vessel. Painfully Alex withdrew the long probe from his abdomen, stopping the small flow of dark blood with pressure from his thumb when he had finally pulled it free. He ripped the remaining patches from his chest and head with his free hand, letting them fall unnoticed to the ground as he staggered back to the spacecraft’s side.

He peered into the dim interior of his recent tomb and soon found the object of his search. He freed the small kit of supplies from its secure location in the gap by his headrest. Taking care not to burn himself on the cooling shell of the hull he clumsily unlatched the holding straps. Grimacing in concentration through this exercise, determined to make his reluctant limbs and digits obey his commands. With his prize held victoriously under one arm he retreated to the brightly coloured plastic shelter.

This small amount of activity had been a colossal effort for him and he planned to relax and take time to assess the bag’s unknown contents. It was as he entered the flap of the tent-raft that he felt violently ill and fell dizzily to his knees outside the entrance. Nausea overcame him and he vomited a choking jet of thick, yellow bile streaked heavily with blood. His head slowly cleared and the agonising stomach cramps subsided. Gradually, he felt better but was conscious of how extremely weak his body felt.

‘What’s happening?’ he thought.

‘That’s right’, he remembered, ‘it’s a normal reaction after the resuscitation. I must eat something and get some rest.’

Grabbing the bag, he crawled the short distance to the raft’s inflated edge and flopped wearily in through the access flap. He fumbled with the pack’s zipper and eventually opened the stubborn pouch. A creeping fatigue was getting the better of him as he strained through this task.

The first contents to reveal themselves were several muesli bars in clear, plastic wrappers. Taking one of these he opened the packet with shaking fingers and forced himself to immediately eat the contents. He positioned himself as comfortably as possible, propping his head with the bag as a makeshift pillow. With the contented feeling of finishing his small meal came a curtain of dreamless sleep brought on by utter fatigue.

The cold, grey glimmer of a new dawn woke him. Shivering in his still naked state he squinted through the gloomy shelter’s interior and was gripped with the burning desire to find warmth. He could not abide the cold and the thought of tolerating it for even another instant drove him to fervent action. He quickly found the kit bag that had doubled through the night as his headrest and was pleased to notice that the movement of his body came easier than on the day before.

He emptied the contents in a jumble onto the floor before him. Even in the dim half-light permeating the vinyl walls of his shelter he could recognise one crumpled blue lump as his old familiar pair of heavy overalls. He quickly put them on and huddled down into a tight crouch, trying to get warm. To distract himself from the cold he methodically sorted through the other contents of his pathetic survival kit.

He placed them all in a neat row. There was one thin, woollen blanket, which he immediately wrapped around himself and his own old socks and boots. These too went on immediately to help fend off the frigid morning. What remained after these bulky items were removed was a dismal collection of inadequate goods. There were two more muesli bars, two protein tubes, half a box of matches, a water bottle, a pocket-knife, a small book entitled Tobin’s Wilderness Survival Guide and a heavy lump wrapped in grease paper.

Alex smiled sardonically to himself. The occupants of the space station may have abhorred the idea of killing but the exile system, of which he was a victim, was only a thinly veiled way of doing just that to their unwanted extras. His survival kit mirrored the limited expectations of his mission’s success. The clothing, blanket and water bottle were all his possessions. Taken from his quarters on the satellite. The Swiss style army knife was barely recognisable and none of the utensils could be opened. The trip through space had converted it into a badly corroded lump of useless metal. Alex tossed it out through the tent flap in disgust.

He then picked up the last carefully wrapped item and peeled open its sticky protective wrapping. This move immediately revealed the mysterious identity of his last piece of equipment. The paper contained a handgun of some sort, heavily greased and sealed away neatly within the waxed paper that enclosed it. He forced the stiff wrapping paper open and it virtually crumpled away at the touch of his fingers. Unlike the knife, the gun at first glance appeared to be in perfect working order. It would have been gladly stowed in his kit by the space station’s administrators as a convenient method of removing the unwanted item from the station.

It had always been drummed into its occupants that guns, war and violence were intolerable evils. The desolate earth they orbited in a makeshift satellite station had been a constant reinforcement of this message. Never the less, some weapons had been present on board the satellite for the policing of law and order in emergencies. The attitude of the new generations on the station had made them virtually obsolete. Most of the small community had recently petitioned for their complete disposal, hence the presence of this pistol in his survival kit.

Alex was about to throw it out, after the useless knife when a sudden sobering image came to mind of some indescribable predator attacking him from the shadowy tangle of the surrounding woods. It made him hesitate. He kept his hold on the weapon and edged unconsciously back from the rafts semi-open flap.

‘Better hang on to this for now,’ he stated aloud to himself for reassurance. ‘You never know what’s out there.’

Peeling off the grease paper and dropping it to the shelter floor, he turned the pistol over in his hands, wiping the excess grease off with the corner of his blanket as he did so. A small latch released the magazine from the base of the handgrip. Alex let this fall into the palm of his left hand. He methodically removed and counted the seven bullets within the clip before replacing it with an audibly satisfying click. Being a maintenance fitter by trade he could not help but appreciate the finely machined precision of its lines. The side of the pistol was engraved with a short collection of words. He looked at the engravings blankly. Still finding it difficult to recall the meaning of these letters. Finally, it came him, Smith & Wesson, Springfield USA, .45 ca,. Satisfied with his decision to keep the gun he fitted it snugly into his hip pocket and closed the heavy zipper.

After consuming to contents of a protein tube that tasted like salty porridge and draining his canteen completely of its stale, tasteless water he decided the time had come. Alex drew aside the brightly coloured flap of his tiny shelter and ventured out into the growing light of a new day.

The world was a living wonder. One footstep outside the raft Alex stopped to marvel at the army of tiny blue six legged ants that gallantly fought off a band of larger orange opponents for the salvage rights to his vanishing patch of vomit. He also became conscious of the constant buzz of noise all around him as he exited from the flap. Birds sang, insects chirped and clicked, the wind blew through the trees, branches groaned and leaves rustled. Even the play of water over the stones in the nearby creek added to the chaotic melody that assailed his ears.

Being used to only the soft hum or click of the occasional gadget on the space station made this cacophony of sounds unsettling. Unwanted thoughts of danger raced through his mind, making him irrationally fearful. Images came to him of thousands of tiny insects crawling unseen in the long grass as they made ready to swarm upon him. Wild creatures, like those he had studied from his native earth, stalked him from the forest's edge hungry for his blood.

These thoughts summoned an edge of illogical panic that gnawed at his will. The other factor that added weight to this growing dread within him was the presence of the clear, blue sky smiling down from above. Every day of Alex's life had been spent in enclosed passageways and cramped living quarters. The open sky above him made him feel worse than naked. He felt vulnerable in a way that was totally new and unexpected to him. While trying to subdue the fears that assailed him he still forced himself into motion towards the creek. He eyed the grass suspiciously as he moved. Driven towards the water. Besides his litany of phobias the only other thought dominating his mind was the growing thirst and hunger that nagged at him from inside.

Carefully, he picked a path across the small distance from the clearing to the water's edge. The thick carpet of grass was almost knee-deep in places and the lush green colour of it was flecked with tiny purple and yellow flowers. The creek at this point was about six feet across and appeared only a few feet deep. At shallower areas away from this small pool, the water could be seen rippling in swirls as it jostled around protruding stones at sections of small rapids. Alex knelt in the thick grass growing right to the water’s edge and dipped his hand in the gently flowing stream. The cold surprised him and he quickly withdrew it as if he had been stung. Realising the silliness of his action he scolded himself.

‘Idiot,’ he whispered to himself. ‘What’s it going to do? Bite you?’

His immense thirst overcame his hesitation. Cupping his hands, he dipped them again in the brisk water and gingerly drew a mouthful to his lips. The cool, sweet taste surprised him. This was not the clinically treated and recycled water of his upbringing. Even such simple things as drinking water here were to bring a whole new meaning to life.

Again a memory flashed vividly in his mind. The strength of the images was frightening but he maintained his calm by strength of will. Such visions, he had been told, were to be expected in the aftermath of the cryogenic freezing process. While some memories would be lost permanently as a result of the storage process, others returned in random flashbacks. Sometimes persisting for years after the reanimation process.

He was back in the medical theatre floating in a disembodied state above his body. He watched as they shunted his body from the stainless steel bench to a mobile trolley packed with ice. He watched in detachment until the old woman turned to look at him. Not at his semi-frozen corpse below but at the ceiling where his spirit hovered. It was Greta, an old Polish woman that he visited frequently as a youth. His last visit to her quarters had been an unpleasant one that had soured their strange and complicated friendship.

She drew a tattered square of paper from beneath her shawl and held it up for him. It was a card from her well-used tarot deck. The faded grinning skull of the reaper easily identified it as the death card, even from a distance. She spoke clearly and directly at him as he gazed down upon her.

‘Alex, my boy, you should have seen deeper than the obvious. There are two sides to old Mr Death here. Death and final loss is the obvious face of this powerful figure but he has another side that you have chosen to ignore. He also represents hidden opportunities, new beginnings and opening doors. You should not have been so enraged when I drew this card for you. You never let me explain. Hang on to your hope, Alex, or death will surely claim you for good. That would be a shame. I sense that your life has not yet even truly begun.’

She had been right, he suddenly thought while the words of his old friend came back to him again across the boundaries of space and time. I have not yet begun to live.

The memory faded back into the reality of the clearing around him. Inspired by his recollections Alex drank without hesitation from the crystal clear waters of the creek pool and quenched his nagging thirst. He then sat idly stirring the water, lost in a daydream. His hand trailed in circles within the pool while he thought fondly of the old woman and tried to recall more of his muddled past. Life times and light years away.

It was then that the creek did bite. Sharp teeth sank into the fingertips of his left hand and with a terrified yell Alex yanked his hand from the water with all the force and speed his adrenaline could muster. Out from the water, trailing behind his hand, came a long shadow rising into the air. It separated from his hand in midair along with a fair share of skin from his two middle fingers and fell writhing to the ground three paces from the water’s edge. It was three feet long and as thick as Alex’s wrist. That was all he noticed as he ran panic stricken back to the safety of his yellow tent. He dived headlong through the flap to the safety of its enclosure. Nursing his throbbing hand under the other armpit he looked back in expectant dread. Fearfully waiting for the thing to leap in after him at any moment.

It never came. His pulse slowed and the panic subsided. A closer inspection of his hand revealed several nasty teeth marks leaving cuts to three of his fingers. Despite the damage he could still flex them properly and use the hand.

No nurse here, he thought to himself as he assessed the damage. You’ll live this time.

What in the world had bitten him? He had no idea. One thing he was sure of, if he was to survive more than a few days in this new and surprising place he had to learn very quickly about his environment and its hazards.

‘Treat all things with caution,’ he stated loudly. Reaffirming his conviction. ‘Study everything carefully. Take nothing for granted.’

Summoning his courage and the loaded pistol from his hip pocket, he once again left the shelter. He slowly approached the spot where the encounter had happened and caught sight of a movement in the grass not far from the water’s edge. Alex edged closer with the gun pointed threateningly and soon came upon his assailant. It flopped weakly on the grass gasping for air with an open mouth of jagged fangs. In earth terms the creature at his feet looked like an eel. It regarded him with slowly glazing eyes. Soon its movements stopped and the panting ceased. Alex mustered his courage and poked it with the toe of his boot. There was no response, it seemed to be dead.

An idea struck Alex and he made his way to the damaged space pod to search the interior again. The interior panelling was made of thin sheet metal as he had hoped. He located a sturdy branch that lay broken in the path of the capsule and broke away the smaller offshoots. Forming a stout stick about five feet long and two inches thick.

Using the stick as a pry bar Alex levered a trim panel from the pod’s interior by tearing it from the mounting screws. He collected sticks from the forest edge while constantly watching for movement amongst the trees. Then assembled the collection of tinder on the bare patch of soil in the trench behind the space pod. The ground had been laid bare by the ploughing action of the recent crash. He brought out the precious matches from the tent and used two of them before he could coax a steady flame from the gathered tinder. He tended the fire diligently until it was truly stable then took the steel plate and made his way down to the creek again. Stopping by the dead eel. He sat the plate down next to the creature.

‘So what do you taste like?’ Alex asked the eel.

The eel stared back through dull, unseeing eyes.

‘You needn’t look so shocked,’ he continued while brandishing his wounded fingers at the eel. ‘You tried to eat me so the least I can do is return the favour.’

Using his boot he nudged the eel onto the plate and carried it back to the fire then made a dismal attempt at cooking the eel. The plate was much too thin for the intense heat of the fire. The skin of the eel burnt badly and stuck to the hot surface. Turning it with his stick did little to prevent the damage. Eventually he pushed the plate from the fire to survey the blackened remnants. Hunger got the better of him. Using a corner of the steel plate that had torn from the larger panel Alex scraped at the burnt exterior of the eel. A section of the skin and flesh fell away revealing steaming, white meat inside highlighted by strips of thin bone.

He picked out some of the better looking morsels with the pointy end of the makeshift tool and tasted the sample. It was far from delicious with a burnt, muddy taste throughout. It was, however, edible and in his hungry state he gladly picked over the corpse to salvage what he could.

Afterwards he fetched the survival guide from the shelter and sat in the growing shade beside the pod. The shell of the craft had cooled over night and made a comfortable backrest. He was physically exhausted by the morning’s events and decided to tackle the challenge of reading. The words came slowly at first, but after some efforts his reading skills returned in a rush of understanding. He sat for the entire day reading through its most relevant chapters. Moving only to avoid the direct sunlight of the strange dual orbs as they shifted across the clear blue sky.

Well into the afternoon, he grew thirsty again and summoned the courage for another visit to the creek. This time he took his water bottle and some tiny scraps of the eel’s charred flesh. Throwing morsels of the meat into the pool brought swirls of life to the water’s surface as it was devoured hungrily. At least one more occupant still called this pool its home. He threw more of the meat in at the stony rapids downstream where it drifted off unmolested in the current. He cautiously drank from the stream here and then filled his bottle, without incident. Drink from the rapids and fish from the pools, he made a mental note.

Occasionally, throughout the day he fed the embers of his small fire to keep it burning until the night. He wanted a fire to see by in the evening and did not wish to waste more of his precious matches.

By the time darkness came he had read most of his solitary book. Learning how to build temporary and permanent shelters. A log cabin or mud brick house made interesting reading but seemed impossibly daunting without the proper tools. Other topics he covered where strategies to hunt for food. The section on edible plants was totally useless as it applied to a different world entirely.

The only useful hint on that subject was to observe which fruits and berries the other creatures around him ate. These he could consider safe, maybe? The best ways to get meat were by spearing, setting snares and fishing. He was inspired by this to burn the end of his trusty stick in the fire. The book had said this would harden the wood and make it easier to form a point. He ended up with a nice sharp tip on one end after only a little work with his steel scrap. Although Alex was sure at this stage, if a creature large enough to spear came anywhere near him, he would be too busy running in the other direction to bother with his newly fashioned weapon.

The chapter on snares seemed a more promising proposition. All he needed was some wires stripped from the spacecraft. They could also be used for fishing line as a much better alternative to his fingers.

By the time he had taken several useful lengths of wire from inside the pod it was nearly dark and the only useful light was the flickering orange glow from his tiny campfire. He rolled up the wires and placed them in the shelter for the next day. Then he sat beside the fire to watch the night unfold. As the sky blackened, it slowly filled with a multitude of stars that Alex found comforting as well as a familiar. He recalled spending countless hours aboard his satellite home gazing through one of its rare portholes, looking out into boundless oceans of space.

The constellations were new to him but the assurance of their glittering presence was the same as he had always known. He wondered which of the tiny specs might be the sun around which his distant home revolved. His musing over this puzzle was interrupted by the appearance of a small, odd-shaped moon that rose above the forest. Its deeply cratered surface and stark terrain reflected a cold, pale light onto the world below. Alex fell soundly asleep beside the comforting glow of his small fire as it continued its slow progress across the heavens.

The cold bite of the early morning hours woke him again and he sat up shivering. The glow of one tiny red coal marked where the fire had burned so warmly the evening before. Above him in the heavens hung the softly shining orb of another moon, this one quite different to the first, which had now vanished from sight beyond the horizon leaving this newcomer in its place. This second moon was huge in comparison to the first and marvellous to behold. It seemed to be a living world in itself and many times larger than the first orbiting chunk of rough, barren rock. This one was covered by scattered white clouds over areas of brown, red and green earth. Even several small, blue oceans could be seen through the cloudbanks and a patch of frosted white hinted at the presence of a small polar icecap.

‘Two suns and two moons!’ he exclaimed in fascination. ‘What a strange new world I have found myself.’ Again strong memories of satellite life returned to him with this vision.

He recalled pausing in the middle of fixing an air-conditioning valve, spanner still in hand, looking out another porthole down to the surface of the Earth. From the safety of The Arc, his space station home, he thought how majestic and peaceful the planet looked as it drifted past, yet he knew its surface harboured many deadly secrets.

He thought how deceptively peaceful worlds can look from a distance and wondered what secrets this fertile moon concealed.

A noise drew his attention away towards the creek, breaking his train of thought. Perhaps, he should keep his focus closer to home for now and discover what secrets the world kept hidden before looking further afield. He was certain that ravenous eels would not be the worst of it. Looking in the direction of the creek he saw a large shadow moving methodically across the dimly lit clearing.

Anxiously drawing the pistol from his pocket he crept towards the dark shape that meandered across the grassy space. He shivered from the cold bite of the chill night air and a little from his anxious fear. He came within twenty feet of the strange shape then sat motionless, watching. The light of the fertile moon outlined the creature in clear detail now. It was big. It stood about five feet tall at the shoulder and was at least six feet long with four slender legs. Its head was down, busily cropping at the long grass. He could hear the soft crunching noises of its busy grazing. A short tail flicked frequently at its hunches. Suddenly the eating spree stopped and its head shot bolt upright, sniffing at the air. The wind had shifted, bringing news of Alex’s presence to its sensitive nose.

Standing before Alex was a magnificent deer of stunning proportions. A set of antlers crowned its regal head with many points. It stared suspiciously at his close crouching position. While he approached he had thought of shooting the creature for meat but all thoughts of this were dismissed as he huddled, staring in admiration at this noble beauty. The animal froze, regarding him in return with its deep penetrating gaze. In an instant it turned and fled. Leaping the creek in an effortless bound and vanishing off amongst the trees. The occasional fading crack of foliage under hoof was the only lingering trace of its passing, then finally silence.

Alex crouched for some time with the image of the deer clearly imprinted within his minds eye.

‘Magnificent!’, he stated softly to himself.

The constant shivering of his limbs finally broke his daze and he moved back to the fire that was now completely dead. Moving into the shelter he found the single blanket easily in the bare, dark interior. He wrapped it about himself and curled up on the floor, promptly falling asleep for the second time.

He woke late the next day from a dreamless slumber to be confronted with a new surprise. Rain hammered a soft rhythmic tune upon the shelter’s vinyl roof. Alex was delighted by this new and unusual experience. He stripped the restrictive overalls from his body and ran naked into the grass clearing. Drenching himself thoroughly while he danced under the refreshing downpour. The novelty soon wore off and he returned to the tent’s sheltered protection, putting on his overalls when the worst of the water had dripped from his body. He then sat on a dry patch of floor and resume his reading.

The day passed uneventfully. He ate his last muesli bar and protein tube. The rain finally stopped near dusk. The overcast sky masked the wonders of the heavens that night and it was impossible to start a fire. That night was spent in fitfully patches of sleep feeling cold and miserable in the oppressive, damp weather. Everything was wet now. His clothes, blanket, boots and even the survival book had somehow become wet during the course of the day. The rain had relentlessly worked its way in everywhere.

‘And to think I danced in the bloody stuff,’ he cursed softly as he tried to will himself back to sleep during the night.

Morning eventually came and Alex was up early. His first priority was the warmth of a fire again. He loathed the cold. The feeling of it brought on a sense of dread and fear that he could not explain. He thought his frozen sentence in the space pod was the likely source of his new phobia. Whatever the case, he desperately wanted to be warm again. His desire forced him to venture deeper into the forest canopy than ever before in search of dry wood. Four more precious matches later and with the sacrifice of a few pages from his book, he managed to coax a steady flame from his damp kindling. He sat with both hands extended welcoming the heat as the morning stretched on.

In the afternoon he spent his time assembling the signal beacon from his disabled craft. Within the capsule he had found all the components required for the device. Before his exile he had been shown the workings of the communication equipment. It was a solar powered transmitting beacon designed to send a concentrated signal from the planet’s surface. They had explained to him the theory behind its presence on board. It was possible in future that they might detect the signal back on earth and confirm he had safely reached his destination. He laughed at the thought of it.

He could only guess at the minuscule odds of the beacon’s success but he built it anyway. It comforted him to think he was still linked no matter how remotely to the people he had left behind. By nightfall the small box and reflective dish were assembled and anchored to the top of a large boulder in the centre of the grassy clearing. Its concave face pointed skywards, emitting a silent call to the heavens above.

While relieving himself at the forest edge several days later he noticed a burrowed hole dug into the soft earth beneath a large tree root. He decided this tunnel would be the target of his next snaring attempts. The past few days of scrounging for food had brought limited success. Since waking up that day, cold and damp yet again, his gnawing hunger had been nagging at him incessantly. He went back to crouch beside his dismal fire with a fresh resolve of grim determination. A new source of food was his first priority and he would try anything today to fill his stomach. If he did not find something to eat soon he would become totally useless.

The survival book had suggested eating worms and other grubs that were easily found in this area, but he felt ill at the very thought of it. That was his last resort. His main plan was to place snares at any burrows he could find. He would also try making a hook and attempt fishing in the creek pools. Hopefully there were more than just eels within those crystal waters. Scavenging deeper into the forest after edible vegetable matter was another tactic. If he could ever summon the courage to attempt it. The possibility that there were berries and fruit growing beyond the clearing’s edge had to be explored despite his fear of what might lay concealed within the undergrowth's shadowy folds.

He marvelled how so many things on this world were similar to Earth so far away. The vegetation and animals he had seen already, while different in slight ways from their earthly counterparts, were strikingly similar to those of his old world.

He left the comfort of his campfire and began his preparations in earnest by twisting wires, stripping branches and bending hooks. By noon he had laid snares at several burrows on the gently sloping banks beyond the creek and also at the edge of the closest tree line. Then he sat beside the tranquil waters of the pool’s edge to try his hand with a newly constructed fishing line. With worms from beneath field rocks, he clumsily baited his rough hook and dangling it from a fine copper wire.

His unsuccessful and frustrating attempts at angling were soon disturbed by an odd noise from across the clearing. He thought it strange and amazing how his ears could already filter out normal sounds and alert him to the unusual. Had one of his new snares trapped him a fresh meal? Possibly the deer had returned to the tempting grasses of his lush clearing. He anxiously rose from beside the creek and carefully stalked off in the direction of the odd sound. He squinted into the shadows beneath the looming trees hoping to catch a glimpse of his unknown quarry. Then a stray thought entered his mind. It may not be the deer at all or a harmless bunny caught within a wire snare. What if it was something far more dangerous? What if he was the one being stalked by a menacing, predatory carnivore. Perhaps this was the equivalent of an earthly tiger or bear lying in wait for him. He would not miss the chance to see any new wildlife but experience had taught him caution.

Opening the zipper of his hip pocket he drew forth the reassuring weight of the pistol. It annoyed him that he relied on it constantly for security but he grudgingly accepted that he had little choice in a dangerous world. He crouched and weeded out a small stone from amongst the grass with his free hand then crept across the clearing towards the location of the unusual sound. He stopped at the edge of thick ferns where the creek angled back into the forest’s heart. These ferns stood waist high and were perfect for concealment. Within them, he guessed, was the source of the noises he had heard. Alex stopped dead, frozen with terror, when the ferns not twenty feet in front of him rustled with unnatural life. They grew steady again and there was silence. Fear of the unknown gripped Alex like a vice and he did not have the courage to go any further into the high ferns.

He stood his ground in the shorter grass of the clearing and decided to scare the hidden creature into action. Taking a deep breath he deftly tossed his small stone at the canopy of ferns before him. He let out a sharp, loud yell as the rock fell from sight and then brandished the pistol in a white-knuckled grip aiming directly at the spot of movement.

The ploy worked. A creature shot up from beneath the underbrush and stood at its full height before him. Alex was shocked into immobility. Not twenty feet away from him stood a full-grown human male.

CHAPTER 2

The man appeared to be about forty years of age, had a small goatee-style beard and sandy hair tied up in a ponytail. This was streaked at the temples with visible highlights of white. His features were almost Asian but difficult to place as opposed to Alex’s pale freckled skin and cropped orange hair that easily betrayed the origins of his Irish heritage. The stranger wore open neck shirt of plain linen, soft leather pants bound at the waist by a rope belt and a knee-length cloak with a hood that was pulled back to expose his head. The cloak’s corners were attached to his wrists with decorative leather lacing so the movements of his arms gave off the impression of bat-like wings.

As Alex stared in disbelief the man lifted his left arm in a defensive posture. Levelling it in front of his chest and concealing his body behind the shroud of his cloak. His right hand came up before his face holding a small, purple crystal the size of a walnut. He held this between the thumb and forefinger of that hand.

‘I must be dreaming,’ Alex exclaimed, still holding the gun pointed vaguely at the man.

The stranger responded to Alex’s voice with a deep frown of obvious fear and anger. Recovering some composure Alex tried to talk directly to the odd person that stood before him.

‘Who are you?’ he questioned slowly. ‘Are you exiled here from Earth too?’

Speaking to the man only seemed to make him more edgy. Almost driving him to the point of panic.

‘I’ll put the gun down,’ Alex stated as he lowered his aim and held his hands extended in a gesture of peace, ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you. Do you understand English?’

Alex’s thoughts raced. How could another human possibly be here on this planet. He had to be another exile or explorer who had somehow reached here before him. How else could it be explained? Unless he was hallucinating from the effects of his long frozen slumber. He had heard the mind could play many tricks soon after reanimation. He had struggled with his memory, which came back in vivid flashes but this vision seemed too real and substantial.

Alex’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the man’s voice. The stranger had begun chanting in deep musical tones, words Alex could not understand. An eerie light sprang from the heart of the crystal between his fingers. Then his voice stopped as quickly as it had begun and the man smiled smugly to himself.

Alex tried again to communicate while he absently wondered how the stone could glow like that of its own accord. His words had barely begun to leave his mouth when a strange feeling descended on him like a thick curtain. His mind clouded as though he was drunk or fatigued. He struggled to bring his thoughts back into focus. As he began to resist this feeling, a strange thing happened to the ground directly between the two men. The grass bulged as though pressure forced the earth up from beneath the surface. Finally it split and fell away. A formless lump of soil grew out from the ferny ground. Impossibly rising up to a height of seven feet until it obscured the older man from view. A new thought formed itself in the back of Alex’s head.

It must take form, insisted the thought.

As he had thought this it did indeed take form. Before him the formless mass of living turf grew into a hideous, humanoid shape like a demon from the horror films of his youth. He watched mortified as the seething lump took on its newly defined shape. Its long fangs dripped yellow ooze from their sharpened tips. Its skin writhed on its flesh with a life of its own. The penetrating eyes glowed deep red with an iridescent inner fire. It flexed the razor-like talons of its grasping hands.

Alex was paralysed with shock at this overwhelming sight. In the back recesses of his mind a small spark of clear consciousness fought back against the slurry of confusion that enveloped his mind. This can’t be happening, the clear thought asserted as it grew bigger. You’re having a dream or a hallucination. Demons aren’t real!

To his staring eyes this new train of thought appeared to be true. The demon seemed less substantial now, almost transparent. Alex was also now aware of the frantic yelling coming from behind this apparition of evil. The mysterious man was raising his voice desperately and two more figures popped up from the ferns at both edges of his field of vision. These two newcomers seemed to be other humans but Alex’s attention was completely engrossed by the monster directly in front of him. The other men started to approach from each side. Alex noticed no more about them as the demon reasserted itself on his struggling mind.

‘Oh, I’m real all right’, it seemed to say in his head as the fogginess descended once again, ‘and I will rend you limb from limb and feast on your entrails.’

The very solid looking demon smiled its evilest grin and took a slow deliberate step towards him. The tiny speck of clear thought within him was almost obliterated. The demon reached out with questing fingers. Seeking to grasp Alex in a deadly embrace.

The small clear spark of logic within him fought in desperation against the will that attempted to dominate it. It found in Alex an untouched reserve of strength that he now used in his defence. The strength was founded on his fierce disbelief and denial of all things unnatural in his solid and orderly universe.

In an explosive fury of defiance he rebelled against the madness that confronted him and screamed at the top of his voice, ‘You are not real!’

He forced both hands up clenching the gun tightly, flicked off the safety and fired two deliberate shots at the demon’s chest while yelling his protest. The first clawed finger of its skeletal hand touched upon his cheek as the shroud around his mind was rebuffed. It vanished in a flash that left stars popping before his eyes. He steadied himself while his vision and senses cleared.

Then he noticed the unmistakable changes around him. Where the demon had stood moments before was now fresh green fronds of untouched ferns. The man behind the monster no longer stood. He lay sprawled in a patch of flattened ferns, motionless. The two others Alex had noticed at the edges of his vision were still there. They were younger than the other man, in their early twenties. Both were dressed similarly and to his dismay they held vicious-looking, long knives clenched menacingly in their hands. The pair turned tail at the sight of their fallen comrade and fled back into the forest.

Alex stood frozen in a befuddled daze. His cheek stung and felt oddly wet where the vision of the demon had touched him. He fell to his knees, dizzy and weak with growing fatigue. Dropping the gun from his limp hands he reached up to touch his face. He pulled away his fingers and found them covered with fresh blood. The touch of the demon’s hand had cut deeply into his left cheek. The sky spun wildly above him then went black. He slumped sideways, unconscious onto the grass.

Sometime later he woke. How much time had passed? He was not sure. Picking up the pistol he stood shakily and looked about uncertainly, not sure of what to do. Then he saw the man’s body lying nearby. Face up in the flattened ferns.

He picked his way through the waist high greenery to where the stranger lay, motionless and cold on red sodden earth, eyes open to the heavens. An expression of complete surprise was on the dead man’s face and two neat holes in the centre of his chest betrayed where the bullets had struck. Alex knelt beside him and cried with grief. Killing another person was unimaginable to him. The preciousness of life had been deeply instilled throughout his upbringing.  Shooting another person was personally inexcusable. Squatting on his haunches, close to the dead man, he hugged his own legs and rocked back and forth, silently grieving over the death.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said to the dead man.

Reaching over he closed the man’s eyes. The skin was cold and inflexible. Alex was repulsed by the contact but persisted. He could not bear to weather the look of their accusing gaze.

Looking at the man brought the events rushing back to mind. He had no clear idea of exactly what had taken place. It seemed as though it were a dream. He had seen three men, of that he was sure. One lay dead before him now as evidence to this fact. An unspeakable monster had sprung from the ground at this man’s command. Was it real? He could not tell. The cut on his face from the creature’s touch said it was, but the bullets had passed through and killed the man instead. These facts contradicted each other and only confuse him further. Would the demon have killed him? He thought so. Still he felt a great weight of guilt for shooting the man, even in self-defence.

‘Why did you have to do that?’ he asked the dead man in anguish. ‘What’s so wrong with a simple friendly greeting. I know I had the gun but I would never have shot you, honestly! Now you’re dead and I’m a murderer. Just great!’

Alex’s remorse changed to annoyance. Why did the meeting have to be a deadly confrontation? He remained squatting in a foetal ball, rocking back and forth as he stewed over his predicament.

Eventually, his curiosity resurfaced and he began looking closer at the dead man. He definitely looked human. The only peculiar thing he noticed was the man's thin, pointed ears. Alex’s inquisitive nature forced him to leave his squatting position. He hunched forward for a closer look and this inspection revealed that his ears were not naturally pointed at all. A section from the back of his ears seemed to be missing. The normally rounded part from the lobe to the top had been cut away. The straight, scared edge at the rear left them with an unnatural point at the top.

The other thing that now caught his attention and curiosity, was a small leather pouch attached to the man’s belt. He felt compelled to see what the small bag contained. Alex loosened the drawstring and reached in. He pulled forth an odd collection of trinkets and placed these on the dead man’s cloak for better scrutiny.

The largest item was a flat disc shaped disc six inches in diameter. It was soft and flexible wrapped in green leaves. Peeling back a corner of a leaf revealed a spongy brown material. A pleasant smell wafted up from it and his mouth began to water profusely with the delicious aroma. It was obviously some kind of food, possibly a cake of some sort.

Alex peeled away the remaining leaves and gingerly nibbled at the edge. It was crusty outside but the inside was soft, moist and delicious. It reminded him vaguely of bread but the texture was much rougher and heavier. It was slightly sweet with a scattering of soft lumps throughout and tasted like almonds. Sampling it made him realise how ravenously hungry he felt. This was the best food he had eaten since arriving on this world and he ate the rest greedily while sorting through the other possessions.

There were two small crystals wrapped in a soft leather cloth and a finely decorated container carved out of bone with a cork lid. The entire surface of the container was covered with intricate symbols. Alex checked its contents, hoping for more food. When he pried the lid off, the container fell from his shaky grasp spilling the fine, white powder it contained. A cloud of dust billowed up and then settled in a mist over the body and surrounding ground. Alex sneezed violently in reaction to the dust, shrugged in puzzlement and went on to the next item.

It was a roll of several fine pieces of opaque paper covered in intricate inscriptions and symbols. At the centre of each was a complex pattern of holes punched neatly through the paper. These were another puzzle to him so he put them aside and went on. The last items were a length of strong cord and a piece of jagged rock.

Alex thought the collection was an odd assortment of mysterious rubbish. He was about to move away from the body when he remembered the glowing stone that had been held in front of him. The man’s hand was now empty but a quick search of the grass uncovered the stone. He picked it up for a closer inspection. It was another crystal similar to the two he had discovered in the pouch and was now dull and opaque. The only difference being in the variation in colour. This one had a slight purple shade at first glance but as he looked closer he saw within its heart a rainbow pattern of colours that demanded his full attention. The colours mesmerised him, drawing his thoughts away, down into its core.

A brilliant glow sparked up from within the stone’s heart as Alex stared. With a yell of surprise his thoughts snapped back into place and he dropped the crystal as though it had stung him. He shook his head groggily to dispel the odd sensation that had assailed him with the glow of the stone.

What is wrong with my head? He thought to himself. This whole place is turning into a bad dream. Why can’t I make sense of what is happening? I must be having hibernation sickness. I’ve heard of that happening after long storage. I’m hallucinating or having flashbacks or something. But this dead man is real! Perhaps he had nothing to do with my vision of the monster. Did I shoot an innocent man?

Alex was snapped from his revere by the distant blare of a mournfully horn. Its notes sounded forlornly on the passing wind. As he wondered about its significance another horn replied to the first from much closer at hand. It had a desperate vengeful tone about it that made him fearful. With unsettling certainty Alex suddenly knew their meaning. Their vengeful notes bayed thirstily for his blood. They were coming for him.

CHAPTER 3

Wild panic gripped Alex as he responded to the harsh cry of the blaring horns. Fear and nourishment gave new reserves of energy and speed to his actions and decisiveness to his thoughts. If these were friends of the dead man they would surely kill him on sight. He had to flee the clearing and abandon the haven of his landing site to try and evade their search.

He had only just tasted a glimpse of a new and exciting life that awaited him here on this world. He had escaped the sterile existence of his past life on The Arc and succeeded in crossing the boundless voids of space to start afresh on this new world. His time over the past week held more excitement and wonder than he could recall from the rest of his entire life. The presence of other people here made that prospect even more exciting.

His thoughts flashed back to a vision of his life on the satellite. A clear image came to him of a day spent trudging the cramped corridor between endless rows of silver capsules fed by intestines of piping. The capsules had been the sole purpose of the station’s existence. They were cryogenic chambers housing the remnants of humanity. Mankind slumbered through the aftermath of global disaster while a small maintenance crew, including himself, kept their haven safe and operational. At each capsule he stopped and checked the array of gauges, adjusting valves where necessary to keep them at optimum efficiency.

The horns brought him back to reality but now also filled him with grim determination. To be killed now after a handful of days would be inexcusable. He felt duty bound to ensure that he lived a long and fruitful life on this world, not only for his own sake but also for the others who wasted away their lives upon The Arc. Sacrificing their existence for the sake of those who would one day in the future reawaken.

He especially needed to live for Greta, his old gypsy friend who had inspired him to keep his hope on the brink of death. Her vision that he would someday be reborn upon another world had helped to carry him here through the void.

Without a moments more hesitation he turned and made his way at a