Zakku-Al-Rada
(The Winds of the Fey)        
By Eric S. Brown      

(continued)

Privates Thompson and Jones were chosen to keep the night watch with Robert, who sat leaning in a foldout chair by the sensor control terminal observing the data from the remote units.

Robert was the Doctor's most astute and energetic student. He knew almost as much as Ah-Val about the 'Fey' and their legend. Though tensions ran high between the students and the soldiers, Robert was glad to have their company. He injected a stimulant into his bloodstream to help fight his growing exhaustion and left the terminal operating by its A.I. alone, to join the soldiers where they stood by the tree line. Thompson was busy lighting a cigarette and failed to notice the student's approach. Jones, however, did not, and said, "Your boss is quite a character." Thompson glanced up at Robert, adding, "A madman's more like it. What the hell was he trying to do? Does he have any idea how much that equipment cost?" Robert laughed, "Sometimes risks are necessary. The doctor knows that."

"Was that crap supposed to be music?" Thompson snickered.

"Shreal aesthetics were far different from our own, to them it was probably as beautiful as one of Bach's concertos is to us."

"Never had a taste for classical music anyway," Thompson replied, returning his gaze to the trees. "Do you think the Fey heard that shit?"

"I'm sure they did," Robert beamed, "But it may take several tries before they respond. The music is ancient and hard to decipher. I'm not sure Dr. Ah-Val translated it correctly, but eventually they will answer all the same."

Doctor Ah-Val lay comfortably on the sleeping pallet of his enviro-tent dreaming of the days before mankind set foot on Gideon. In his mind, the Shreal danced to the music of the Xenoox with a passionate zeal both wild and fierce. The trees moved in time with the winds of Fey. A lone figure, angelic and regal, stepped from the trees, standing eleven feet tall. Sleek and radiant like the elves of Terran lore. White feathered wings stretched from its back, beating lightly. The creature looked upon the Shreal as a father would his children, fond and affectionate. The Shreal ceased their dance, kneeling before it. They offered it the treasures of Gideon: spices, cooked meats, bejeweled golden statues carved in its image. The creature nodded, leaving the offering untouched and moved with an unbelievable grace among their numbers. Ah-Val turned in his sleep, nearly snapping awake as its blue feline eyes turned upon his ethereal presence. In perfect Terran, it spoke to his mind. "You've slaughtered our descendants and now you come to us seeking friendship and our knowledge. It will not be given. Leave our world, our forest, for we will tolerate your intrusion no longer." The scene of Ah-Val's dream changed quickly. It became a nightmarish mass of energy storms purging human life from New Gideon in a fiery tempest that swept the entire planet's surface reaching even the Terran stations in orbit around the world, engulfing them. Ah-Val awoke with a start; sweat covered his body, his eyes wide with terror. Hours passed before he could put the images from his mind and sleep once more.

Soon after New Gideon's sun rose above the mountains, a message drone dropped out of Void space streaking into the camp. The message it carried gave Ah-Val new hope and determination despite his dreams. EarthGov not only pardoned him of his crime but also endorsed the use of the Xenoox in contacting the Fey. It appeared that the bureaucrats back home understood the importance of the expedition. Robert clapped Ah-Val on the shoulder supportively. It seemed the young student was about to burst with excitement. The day rushed by with even the Republic Marines in a good mood. Wilkins had given the OK for a small celebration because of the news even though he himself was not pleased with the EarthGov's decision. Ah-Val spent the day studying the Shreal composition intently making sure every note to be played after nightfall was as correct as it could be.

As the sun set, the weather took a turn for the worse. A heavy downpour erupted from the ominous clouds that had gathered through the day, dampening the rays of New Gideon's sun in the late afternoon. None of the three moons could be seen through their thickness and true dark came with the night.

There was a brief debate as to whether the Xenoox was to be played or if the group should wait for the weather to change but the earlier optimism prevailed. Dr. Ah-Val readied the terminal, gathering his cloak together about his body to help fight off the chill. Everyone waited expectantly for him to begin. Ah-Val hesitated, his fingers touching the keys as he recalled his nightmares, but he managed to overcome his fear, writing the dream off as paranoid delusion induced by the attitude of Wilkins and his men. He played the Xenoox as if he were Shreal, all his inhibitions abandoned. His heart and soul went into and cried out with each note.

The leaves of the forest began their shimmering rapture as the Wind of Fey blew across the camp, growing in its intensity. Robert stared as Ah-Val banged the keys so fiercely that the student wondered if the instrument could withstand the beating.

Wilkins gestured to his men, yelling over the roar of the wind, "Be ready!" he shouted, his knuckles white from his grip on his own weapon. He flicked the safety off and loaded a round into the chamber.

A sudden gust of wind struck so powerful it caught Pvt. Thompson off guard and flung him from his feet into the air like a rag doll. His body smashed against a rover and bounced, rolling along the clearing away from the camp. Students and soldiers alike fought desperately to avoid a similar fate, grabbing onto anything they could.

Only Ah-Val seemed unaffected by the gale force winds. He seemed to exist in almost a separate reality, suffering a far worse fate. His hair grew longer, dropping far below his shoulders, as his afternoon shadow grew into a beard, before turning gray. His skin withered with freshly formed wrinkles as his fingernails sprouted into long, curling monstrosities, hampering his ability to play. Then as quickly as they began the winds ceased to blow. Silence fell over the forest. Dr. Sedric Ah-Val's emaciated and aged corpse toppled to the ground.

Wilkins scurried about the camp screaming questions and barking orders to cover his fear as Robert stood beside Ah-Val's remains, mourning his mentor.

A light brighter than the midday sun erupted within the forest. At first, Wilkins thought perhaps a lightening bolt, unseen in the chaos of the windstorm, might have started a fire but as the sphere of light and flame hurled toward the camp he realized this was no ordinary blaze. Assault rifles chattered, spraying the forest with projectiles as the Marines panicked. The sphere expanded into an explosion of heat as it left the tree line, vaporizing everyone within the camp. A solitary figure stood in its wake amongst the trees, its feline eyes wet with tears. It stared at the blackened hulls of the human vehicles and the scorched remnants of the enviro-tents, and said a prayer for those who'd passed on. A gentle breeze arose in the stillness stirring the ashes of the dead, as it watched and wondered how many more would die before the Terran Republic realized that it was not ready for the knowledge it and its kin possessed. It prayed for those would come across the stars to avenge the death of the colony in their warships. It prayed because they too would meet a fiery end, there would be no other choice.

This story appeared previously in The Swamp.