Blood & Dirt

By Dai Alanye

Tasked with rescuing a kidnapped bride and restoring her to her lovelorn groom, it's not investigator Roger Fee's typical line of work. He's mighty hesitant until a hefty check is waved under his nose.

Now he must hypno-learn an alien language while aboard the ultraship headed for primitive and chaotic Nov Austrasia. Assuming he finds the kidnapper's hideout, he'll rescue Vera Dardani from her abductor and see that she returns safety to Earth. Simple enough, but how's all that going to work out?

No such luck. Before long Fee is dodging pirates and disputing with contentious natives. Then it's a rugged jungle trek while being hunted by murderous humans and ravening beasts. Worse yet, There's nothing Vera would like better than to free herself from her valiant rescuer.

Or will she choose to seduce him?

Crazy mixed-up witch! Sure, she's beautiful, but what's wrong her head?
* * * * * * * *
Vera now whined in English, "I'm thirsty."

"Look in the chests—you found my gun easily enough."

"Did you expect I'd let you kidnap me at will?"

"You wanted a boat ride, and I gave you one."

"You lied!"

"Never mind! Get drinks for us all."

Resentment showed in every line of face and body, but she brought jugs for us before slumping with her own into the farthest corner.

I gulped deeply, then eyed her. "You surprise me. I expected more hardiness from one of your nation."

She scowled, not meeting my eye. "I am no true daughter of the eagle, raised like a goat among white crags."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dai Alanye
• Release date: Dec 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311851161

Dai Alanye

No superheroes nor anything supernatural (thus far, at least.) Expect merely ordinary people - you and me, as it were - caught up in extraordinary circumstances. Plots are character-driven, and the characters themselves are complex and often contradictory. I aim to appeal to the reader who has an ample sense of humor and an appreciation for irony. You can expect adventure and romance, but graphic violence and sex are at a minimum - think PG or PG-13 at most - and suitable for mature youths as well as adults.

Book preview

Blood & Dirt

#1 in The Exploits of Roger Fee

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by Dai Alanye

Copyright 2013, 2019—Dai Alanye

Edition 1.26

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If youish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not download it, or it was not downloaded for your use only, please return to your retailer and download your own copy.

Blood & Dirt is an original work of fiction. All characters, locations and incidents are creations of the writer's imagination. With the exception of possible satirical references, any resemblances to actual happenings or to persons living or dead are strictly coincidental.

Blood & Dirt is a specially-edited version of the earlier story Blood & Earth, modified to serve as the first volume of a series: The Exploits of Roger Fee.

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Blood & Dirt

Chapter 1 — Give Me the Female!

There we were, Vera and I, bobbing in the middle of the Great Lagoon, our small single-master locked to a pirate's larger craft and facing the boss sea-raider himself.

He called out in Flœklægh, the lingua franca of the lagoon and its environs.

Hear, man of dirt—give me the female and it will go better for you.

I managed to keep my return shout steady, partly due to the concentration necessary when speaking an alien language.

So, man of blood—what use have you for a female of dirt?

Before the grapnel had been thrown I'd maneuvered to keep the outrigger toward the pirate boat, preventing their immediate boarding. Waves hissed and slapped in the fifteen feet of water separating me from the muscular bronze humanoid—too close a distance for comfort.

The pirate glanced at the audience—his crew—then back.

Pay heed: When has a true man no need of an additional female?

Hoots arose behind him—even on Nov Austrasia it was deemed wise to laugh at the boss's jokes. But the crossbowman beside the chief laughed not, nor did his aim stray from my chest.

The pirate continued, If no use to my lusts, yet might she gain us costly gifts.

So: I hated this guttural throat-clearing tongue, not least due to the need to make each statement a declamation. "Might not I also gain you gifts?"

Know this, man of dirt: The true man rejoices not in wealth alone, but in deeds of boldness—the quelling of adverse life and the desolation of lands. Yet give up the dirt female—this woman of Earth—and your death shall be speedy. Thus say I, Bahkælt.

How wonderful. But I signaled agreement, remembering not to nod—for such meant negation here—but rotating my head as though relieving a stiff neck.

Thus I bring her.

I stepped to the cockpit where Vera Dardani lay prone and stiff with fear—shanghaied by me, and now facing capture by these savages. Reaching down for her, I continued the bend into a dive to the deck.

The archer's bolt skimmed my bare back as I snarled at the little witch who'd put me in this position.

"Now will you give me that pistol?"

She made no response, and I snatched the automatic from her flaccid hand. Wriggling under the deck, I laid my right eye against a sliver of light between shrunken planks of the aft starboard side. The pirate chief was starting to edge along the outrigger's rear boom, and no doubt the crossbowman was climbing to a vantage where he could shoot at my lower frame. No time to think of that.

I brought the muzzle up to the crack, resting the barrel against my temple and trying to aim by kinetic sense. The discharge half-deafened me as the bullet plowed the crack wider. Muzzle blast blinded my right eye, and the left snapped shut in excruciating sympathy.

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Chapter 2 — Welcome Aboard

Curled into fetal position under the deck, I tried to convince my good eye to open, but the right had closed so tightly the left refused to obey. And now the girl began to scream.

Are you hit? I shouted.

The screaming continued.

Prying open my left eye, I managed to make out through tears that no blood spurted, though a bolt stuck deep in the boards near her hip.

"Shut up! You're not hit!"

She screeched on.

I raised my head and blearily made out the bowman on top of the pirate deckhouse. His bolt clipped the top of the combing at the right place to take out my teeth, had they still been there. I was slow to peek again and saw the crossbow rising into position. I snapped a shot off-target but at least his missile went wide.

Bobbing up once more I caught the bowman with his foot in the stirrup, cocking the weapon. Taking careful left-eyed aim and timing the dipping of the boat, I placed a shot in his gut. The bronze figure twisted before rolling off the deckhouse.

I kicked at the girl's shoulder, stopping her in mid-scream. Left eye still propped open, I lay back half under the deck, waiting for boarders to show above the combing. None did but—Lord love me!—the pirate's mast was moving. I sat up as their sail began to rise, thinking of taking another shot. But no—no point needlessly taking life even if I could shoot. And more important under the circumstances, ammunition wasn't available at what passed for weapon shops on Nov Austrasia.

Odd, though—I heard splashing to starboard.

·

I extended an oar to the barbarian I'd shot—the first one—and he clambered over the gunwale, coughing and blowing after his dunk. Sprawled on the deck, he drew his chopsword and tossed it aside. A heavy cough shook his sturdy frame.

Heed Bahkælt's plea: I offered you, man of dirt, a speedy death. I now beg the same.

This was more like it!

Listen: I said. Your life you shall keep if you take oath to serve me.

He turned aside, speaking as if to himself.

"I! Serve this pale misshapen male who brought me down with alien thundermote, not honorable edge? My soul would shrivel within me—my body enfeeble."

It was the indirect speech employed among acquaintances, conveniently avoiding the declamatory mode.

Hear, Bahkælt: Have you not, by accepting my aid, given up your life to me?

Nay, man of dirt. I am become, rather, your guest just as the newborn offspring—thrust unwilling into the world—is esteemed a cherished gift, to be offered all welcome and hospitality.

What gall!

Know, man of blood, that it is otherwise on the dirt world. Thus must I declare—become my aide and minion in full ardor or resume on the instant your previous means of reaching land.

He again spoke aside. What choice is this—low slavery or a grave beneath billows? Who is made made fish-like to cleave the sea to depths unplumbed? Better the first, which will surely end some day at death—his or mine—if not before. He turned to me. Know that I, Bahkælt, accept your dictate, lacking in honor though it might be.

Thus take… I caught myself. Better to use ceremony, however slight, in this society. I snatched up his sword—short, heavy and one-edged—and handed it back to the him.

Retain your ordnance for use in my behalf should occasion arise.

The pirate graciously accepted the return of his weapon then displayed the cause of his fall into the sea—a bloody groove on the inside of his right thigh. Painful enough and fearfully close to his reproductive tackle. A pretty good shot, considering.

In the middle of my dressing the wound Bahkælt said, "I ask, glaucous master: Do