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The starplane rocked in the wind.
After a time, Rach drowsed, hunched uncomfortably in a seat far too small for him.
He woke suddenly to see the alien pointing to an irregular mass of color on the
screen. They were well above the timber line, crossing a steep plain of jumbled rock.
"I think that's it," Blaise was saying to Graf.
"Can we land here?" Graf asked doubtfully.
"They did, sort of." Blaise studied the screen. "I don't think this snow is very deep
anyway. The wind is scouring it away." He brought them down slowly, in an awkward
landing that left Graf clutching the back of Blaise's chair.
The ranger looked up at him. "You stay," he told Graf. "Blaise and I will go out." He
did not want to leave the alien alone in the shuttle.
Without giving the other man time to protest, Rach clambered out into the storm.
The wind nearly took his breath away as he felt the pilot stagger against him,
groping for his arm. They crept forward using a mechanical torch from the shuttle,
until the ranger stumbled against an obstruction.
Releasing his grip on Blaise, he grasped the ice-sheathed edge of a wing. The
crumpled upper part was outlined against the blowing snow, tilting downward.
"Great Bear!" he muttered, but the wind blew his words away. Something was
crawling toward him. It was as though a corpse had dug itself out of the ice. The
ranger recoiled in horror from the sight of its hollow, frostbitten face.
Blaise struggled to the man's side, the light swinging in his hand. "Help me get him
inside," he shouted as Rach recognized Heth Wolfbane's ravaged features. He and
Blaise fairly dragged the aviator back to the shuttle.
"Bers," the man whispered, struggling as Rach tried to hold him. "Get Bers."
Blaise was nearly bent double with cold and Graf shook his head. "I'll go with you this
time, Ranger," he said. Rach was too tired to argue.
They found Bers Wolfbane still in the plane. He didn't rouse even when they jarred
his broken leg carrying him, nor did he show signs of life in the warmth of the
shuttle. Blaise had made Heth comfortable--shaming the ranger for his mistrust--but
he looked sober when he saw the other Wolfbane.
Heth grew quiet, seeing that his cousin was safe, and squinted up into the ranger's
face. "If I did not recognize you, Rach Bloodbear, I would think the All-Seeing had
sent for us."
Rach clasped the flier's hand. "You're alive, Heth," he muttered. "Alive!"
"Thank God for that," Blaise said quietly, still looking down at Bers. The alien was so
cold, his words came out in little bursts between fits of shivering. "You are strong
people to live in this place."
Graf crouched in the space between the seats, bundling his own coat about the
injured man. "Yes," he said in a low voice, "this is a hard place, Starman." He looked
up then at Blaise. "You haven't really flown in such weather before, have you?"
"No," Blaise admitted.
"You might have stayed on your own world to--to teach?"
"I might." Blaise climbed stiffly back into his own seat.
Graf frowned. "Did your father serve this god of yours?" he asked.
"In a way."
"But not your way, I would guess," the warrior said shrewdly. "You chose more."
Blaise peered at the screen, sweating now despite the cold. "Not more exactly," he
said. "But I seem to be getting it."
Rach stared at him, though he heard a faint chuckle from Graf. This alien, the ranger
was thinking, is no older than Heth Wolfbane and I. What god could ask this of a
man, that he should leave his home and all that he knew to come among strangers
who threatened his life?
Colleen Drippe' © 2009
After a time, Rach drowsed, hunched uncomfortably in a seat far too small for him.
He woke suddenly to see the alien pointing to an irregular mass of color on the
screen. They were well above the timber line, crossing a steep plain of jumbled rock.
"I think that's it," Blaise was saying to Graf.
"Can we land here?" Graf asked doubtfully.
"They did, sort of." Blaise studied the screen. "I don't think this snow is very deep
anyway. The wind is scouring it away." He brought them down slowly, in an awkward
landing that left Graf clutching the back of Blaise's chair.
The ranger looked up at him. "You stay," he told Graf. "Blaise and I will go out." He
did not want to leave the alien alone in the shuttle.
Without giving the other man time to protest, Rach clambered out into the storm.
The wind nearly took his breath away as he felt the pilot stagger against him,
groping for his arm. They crept forward using a mechanical torch from the shuttle,
until the ranger stumbled against an obstruction.
Releasing his grip on Blaise, he grasped the ice-sheathed edge of a wing. The
crumpled upper part was outlined against the blowing snow, tilting downward.
"Great Bear!" he muttered, but the wind blew his words away. Something was
crawling toward him. It was as though a corpse had dug itself out of the ice. The
ranger recoiled in horror from the sight of its hollow, frostbitten face.
Blaise struggled to the man's side, the light swinging in his hand. "Help me get him
inside," he shouted as Rach recognized Heth Wolfbane's ravaged features. He and
Blaise fairly dragged the aviator back to the shuttle.
"Bers," the man whispered, struggling as Rach tried to hold him. "Get Bers."
Blaise was nearly bent double with cold and Graf shook his head. "I'll go with you this
time, Ranger," he said. Rach was too tired to argue.
They found Bers Wolfbane still in the plane. He didn't rouse even when they jarred
his broken leg carrying him, nor did he show signs of life in the warmth of the
shuttle. Blaise had made Heth comfortable--shaming the ranger for his mistrust--but
he looked sober when he saw the other Wolfbane.
Heth grew quiet, seeing that his cousin was safe, and squinted up into the ranger's
face. "If I did not recognize you, Rach Bloodbear, I would think the All-Seeing had
sent for us."
Rach clasped the flier's hand. "You're alive, Heth," he muttered. "Alive!"
"Thank God for that," Blaise said quietly, still looking down at Bers. The alien was so
cold, his words came out in little bursts between fits of shivering. "You are strong
people to live in this place."
Graf crouched in the space between the seats, bundling his own coat about the
injured man. "Yes," he said in a low voice, "this is a hard place, Starman." He looked
up then at Blaise. "You haven't really flown in such weather before, have you?"
"No," Blaise admitted.
"You might have stayed on your own world to--to teach?"
"I might." Blaise climbed stiffly back into his own seat.
Graf frowned. "Did your father serve this god of yours?" he asked.
"In a way."
"But not your way, I would guess," the warrior said shrewdly. "You chose more."
Blaise peered at the screen, sweating now despite the cold. "Not more exactly," he
said. "But I seem to be getting it."
Rach stared at him, though he heard a faint chuckle from Graf. This alien, the ranger
was thinking, is no older than Heth Wolfbane and I. What god could ask this of a
man, that he should leave his home and all that he knew to come among strangers
who threatened his life?
Colleen Drippe' © 2009
Excerpt From
"Lost Rythar"
by Colleen Drippe'
"Lost Rythar"
by Colleen Drippe'
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