Chapter Two

The storm lashed heavily against the shuttered panes; rain tattooing madly, wind howling angrily as it unsuccessfully tried to rip its way inside, and the villagers huddled shamefacedly in front of the central fire. One of their own was outside, ridiculed into braving the maelstrom of wind and water.

None had pleaded with him to stay and truthfully none would miss him, yet they were not heartless people and their actions had been brutal and surprisingly out of character. Kalum, the malformed son of the dead gravedigger received no love from his fellow humans. Even his mother, now remarried, avoided him when she could, a servant bringing the poor youth food and clothing on an irregular basis. His own mother carried the shame of his birth and the obvious evidence of the gods’ disfavour. She sat, pinch-faced, wrapped in her cloak next to her new husband, slightly apart from the others.

A frightened silence gripped them. They neither prayed nor cursed, stoically waiting for whatever the storm would ultimately bring.

*

The boy did not run, he rather hopped and shuffled, his misshapen right leg and foot, his bowed back and oversized head, were not conducive to speed. On such a night, when speed was of the essence, he felt himself handicapped even more. Lightning bolts flashed to the earth, searing the ground in their actinic fury. Horizontal rain stung the boy’s face and arms, even though he kept his thin cloak wrapped as tightly around his body as he could, the wind driving the water through each and every tiny gap.

Pealing thunder rolled menacingly and the storm intensified, as though the gods themselves were angry. This Kalum could understand. It had been beaten into him since he was a small child. Crops failed, milk curdled, animals were still-born and all of this was laid at his door. Deep down inside he accepted it; had not his own mother cursed the day he was born, wishing she had never laid eyes on his father?

Kalum was glad his parents had met, even if his mother’s love had turned to vile curses and hatred. He had at least some remembrances of his father, of his love, and he clung onto them with all his might. Doggedly he toiled onwards, the cemetery coming ever closer, with each painful and hard earned step. It was the one place that he had shelter and solace, among the remnants of both his and his father’s life.

An explosive concussion threw him to the ground, and he rolled over and over, down a slight incline until he was brought to an abrupt stop by the bole of a spindly tree. Looking back, he saw the ground on fire, heaving and boiling from the titanic strike. This was the mother of all storms and he had somehow walked into hell itself.

Another bolt screamed downwards, driving the breath from his lungs with its overwhelming pressure wave. Again the earth complained and molten fire arced upwards in angry response. This was unreal, never had he seen so many lightning strikes so close together, and the colour, not the usual blue-white but a bright orange-red. Climbing to his feet and shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, he started off once more, leaning into the wind as he fought his way forward.

Suddenly, Kalum was knocked to the ground by a running figure and a third bolt flew close overhead, tearing into a standing rock and smashing it into tiny pieces. His vision blurred, Kalum strained to see his rescuer, the rain running in rivulets down his face. A flash lit up the sky and he saw him; reflexively he tried to scream, but a huge hand was clamped over his mouth and the boy sank gratefully into unconsciousness.

*

Hyas gazed down on the crumpled form beneath him in wonder, could this really be him? The boy’s cape rolled open as Kalum stirred and Hyas gasped in astonishment, the belt! It lay there before him. His search for the scion of the House of Urion was over.

He roared in pain as the needle round struck him, blood spraying outwards. With a snarl he turned, reaching over his shoulder to draw his axe, but his enemies were hidden by the storm. Weapon held firmly in one hand, he grasped the back of Kalum’s cape and dragged him away, bent double in order to minimise his enemies’ target.

Twigs slapped against his face, as he turned away from the lashing of the rain, his long curly hair plastered against his forehead. Another flechette round struck a nearby tree, sending shards of bark spraying in all directions. This would not work, he needed to see them if he was to negate their threat.

Leaving Kalum propped against the bole of a nearby tree, he hunched down and waited, his axe gripped firmly in two huge hands.

*

“Did you get him,” Lepus whispered to Karson, as he peered into the storm-tossed night.

“Yes, but not fatally,” replied Karson, his fingers tapping restlessly against his rifle stock. “He can’t have gone far, though.”

The big man waved peremptorily at his men and a group of them moved away in an attempt at flanking the Tauran.

*


Kalum slowly regained consciousness, his eyes blurry not only from his befuddled state but also from the torrential rain still pouring down. He wiped a grimy hand across his face and stared at the bulky shape of the man crouched next to him.

Lightning flashed, highlighting his saviour and Kalum gasped in shock, the noise causing the man to turn and gaze down at him.

“W-w-who are you?” asked the boy, scrabbling backwards away from the frightening apparition.

The man laughed in a deep bass rumble and then smiled. If this was meant to calm the boy, it didn’t work. His chest bare; the man’s huge muscles rippled as he moved, flicking sodden and curly hair away from his face. Droplets scattered every which way as he shook his head; the pair of curved horns jutting from his brow, showering the boy with the displaced water.

“My name is Hyas,” he said, bowing slightly, “I am a Tauran, as you can see.”

Blinking slightly in perplexity, Kalum said nothing, waiting for any sign of this Hyas’ intent, for good or ill.

“Don’t worry,” Hyas grinned, “I won’t eat you!”

The boy’s widening eyes told Hyas that Kalum had only just considered that possibility, and he laughed again.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now, following Lepus on his search. Thankfully I got here in time, at least to avoid them turning you into some sort of burnt offering.”

“W-w-what …?” gasped Kalum, completely bemused.

“Don’t talk,” said Hyas concernedly, “you’ve had quite a bit of a shock, and we need to get you out of this, before Lepus and his cronies catch up with us.”

He raised his hand, as Kalum began to speak and looked quickly out into the darkness.

“Time to move, boy”, he said, his great axe now visible in his right hand, “we can talk later.”

Not really understanding why, Kalum followed, the strange looking man radiated confidence and he at least seemed concerned about the deformed creature that was Kalum. It was the first example of genuine interest that anyone had showed, since the death of his father.

Then, distorted by the wind and rain, he heard voices and scurried to catch up with Hyas.

*

“We’ll never find them in this,” whined Lepus, clutching his drenched cloak more tightly about himself, “Let’s get back to the ship and wait out this storm. They can’t go anywhere either and if Hyas does take off, we’ll quickly spot him.”

“But my Lord, “protested Karson, “we’re close, I can almost taste him!”

“Almost, ALMOST!” shouted Lepus, “Well that just isn’t good enough. Now, back to the ship, that’s an order!”

Karson followed Lepus, grumbling under his breath all the while, whilst from the shadows Hyas watched, his hand gripping tightly onto the axe’s shaft. They had been very close, too close for comfort. He needed to get the boy safely onto his ship, and then they could work out what to do next.

“Oh, and Karson?” mentioned Lepus, almost in passing as they slogged their way through the now muddy ground.

“Yes, My Lord?” responded Karson, still muttering as he toiled along behind his Master.

“There is one more thing we should do tonight. The kind of job you like, and one that will cheer you up no end.”

“My Lord?” queried Karson, puzzled at the change in Lepus’ manner.

“Once on board,” said Lepus, his voice hardening, “I want you to personally take charge of the destruction of the boy’s pathetic village. There is to be no trace left of my brother, anywhere on this planet. The whelp we will deal with later.”

“Yes, My Lord!” grinned Karson, in an almost cheerful manner, “Anything you say!”

*

At last, Hyas and Kalum reached the Tauran’s ship, the big man activating the entry code and almost pushing the boy on board, his eyes wide as saucers as he saw the myriad of flashing lights and inexplicable machines.

“As I said,” commented Hyas, “There’ll be time enough for explanations later. Let’s get dried off and I’ll sort us out some warm food and drink. I get the feeling we’ll have some time to kill.”

Kalum winced at Hyas’ choice of words, but he was really only too glad to get out of the storm. The only thought in his head now was of the warm food and drink. As with most young people, he lived in the now and thought little of the consequences of his actions, and certainly not how they might affect other people. In this instance, he could not have known; the evil machinations of someone like Lepus were well beyond his simple comprehension.

*

“Ready, my Lord,” smirked Karson, his fingers hovering over the control panel in front of him.

“Just get on with it,” sighed Lepus already bored with the idea, “then we can continue our search for the brat, with at least one loose end tied up.”

Karson viciously slammed his hand down on the panel, the energy beams already locked on their targets. Once more the night sky was rent by the lashing force of strikes, the power of lightning, in this case, harnessed by man.

*

None of the villagers had changed position. Grouped tightly around the fire, they sat in a less than companionable silence. Kalum’s mother’s lips were set in a tight disapproving line. She could not understand why she had to belittle herself here with the rest of them. Her thoughts briefly turned to Kalum, who she also blamed for this, as she did everything. True to her nature, the last thought that ever crossed her mind was a cruel and spiteful one.