John Smith, World Jumper Book One: Portal to Adventure

  I leave it to others to judge my fortune or lack thereof. It has been my experience that often a man cannot accurately determine whether a given situation either benefits him or the contrary until time has passed and it may be viewed from the perspective lens of looking backwards, taking into consideration the totality of his circumstances. So while you may judge my next awakening to be the height of misfortune, I ask you to wait until things may be viewed in a broader analysis.

  I regained consciousness and immediately realized that I was unbound. Apparently my captors, or I suppose more correctly my executioners, were of a frugal nature as they did not see fit to send me into the afterlife with any of their supplies. I had been divested of everything, be it the rope which had bound my hands and feet, the knives that had been stabbed into my chest, or even the rough burlap garment that had been my only raiment during my incarceration.

  While upon final retrospect I felt no great desire to be again in possession of the coarsely woven garment, I admit to a certain morbid disappointment upon feeling my chest and finding that the two blades had been removed. Rope, even in short lengths, can be quite useful, and I briefly lamented its loss as well before realizing that remaining tied would have been less than desirable.

  Pushing myself up to a sitting position a bit stiffly, I examined my surroundings as well as possible. I saw thankfully that while it was dark, above me I could see stars in the sky. I was outside. A chilling breeze drifted over my skin, and though I shivered in reaction I noted that I did not feel unduly cold.

  That I was no longer within the boundaries of the city was obvious both by the lack of either structures or artificial lighting nearby. In the distance, on the far side of several pine trees I could just make out the line of a raised roadway. It was the only evidence of civilization. Standing, intent on making my way to the roadway, I made a gruesome discovery.

  Stepping forward in the darkness my foot landed on something I initially thought was a large rock with a slimy texture. I slipped almost falling, and then the smell struck me, rotten and putrid. My “dead” body had been dumped, unceremoniously, some distance outside the city, and in a location apparently frequently used for that purpose. I stopped short of reaching down to feel the “rock,” for I had no desire to touch what I now suspected I would find laying on the ground.

  I walked with more care towards the road, nevertheless I stepped several times on other bones, some of them bare, some still fleshy and attached to bodies. I am not weak of stomach, but the smell in combination with the texture of death under my bare feet caused me to fight to keep from gagging. Eventually, and none too soon, I made the roadway.

  My relief at being finally away from that field of the dead was short lived however. Lining the opposite side of the road in both directions was a row of wooden crosses. The only seeming difference between the ancient custom of crucifixion as done on Earth and what I viewed, thankfully obscured by night, was the way the crosses were used, although both practices were clearly used as public examples of punishment.

  Instead of a single person being hung with arms outstretched on either side of the crosspieces, two bodies hung on each occupied cross. Arms tied together at the wrist, and feet tied together at the ankle, each of the several bodies I saw hung diagonally from the end of the horizontal crosspiece toward the central support, forming a human “V” shape. Any reason that some of them were upright with their arms tied to the crosspiece while others were suspended by their ankles, I could only conjecture at. I supposed some difference in crime or punishment warranted alternate positioning.

  My mood was dampened further by this insight into the mores of the civilization or at least one of the civilizations on this world. I looked both ways down the road in an attempt to determine the best direction to take. Thankfully at least none of the suspended bodies seemed as recently placed as some in the field of dead were. I also realized from an intellectual standpoint that I was lucky, as it were, not to have been hung on one of the crosses myself.

  A low growl sounded from one direction down the road, and I quickly decided to head in the opposite direction. Not wishing to trigger any kind of pursuit response from whatever it was in the dark, I began walking casually along the road. Another growl sounded a distance to my left, from the general vicinity where I had awakened.

  When a third, and then a forth growl, all from distinctly different directions reached my ears, I quickened my step. Looking back over my shoulder frequently, I weighed my options. While tending towards optimism in general, I have found that more often than not when dealing with dangerous situations it is beneficial to consider the worst thing that could happen and prepare accordingly.

  I hoped that whatever lurked in the darkness merely saw me as competition for its food, not as prey. If they were scavengers, intent on partaking of the dead laying around, I would move off and leave them to their devices. However, as they growled around me, I felt the disturbing sensation of hairs rising and tingling on the back of my neck.

  What I did next, I am not proud of. I do not hold in high esteem those who loot the dead, and in this situation I did somewhat worse. In my defense, I can only say that I was naked, unarmed, in the dark and surrounded by at least several unknown threats. Stopping briefly at one of the occupied crosses, I examined it quickly and found it far too sturdy to disassemble. In any case the pieces would have proven too bulky to wield, so I settled on the next available resource. Grasping one of the femurs from the nearest skeleton I yanked it free, testing its sturdiness with a thwack against the wooden cross.

  The wood resounded loudly in the darkness, and while it vibrated in my hand, the bone held. I pulled the twin of the first bone from its anchor. This one proved more firmly attached and it took both of my hands to separate the ligaments, sending other parts of the now disarticulated skeleton clattering in various directions to the ground.

  As I picked up the first bone, now holding one club-like femur in each hand, I heard repeated growling, now much closer. It seemed my cautious assessment of the danger had been accurate. I could only hope that the creatures in the darkness were more hungry than bloodthirsty, and that my resistance would cause them to move on to other, easier, prey.

  With no readily apparent defensible positions I settled for stepping off the road and backing against the trunk of a larger pine. The road offered me more mobility, but I had no illusions of being able to outrun any pack of hunting animals and did not trust my senses in the dark enough to avoid being hamstrung from behind by a sneak attack. I did not have long to wait.

  To say that I was relieved when the first animal edged towards me in the dim light, close enough to be recognized, is a bit of an overstatement. Still, after my brief encounter with the huge arachnid/crustacean like Others when I was newly arrived on this world I admit that the sight of the first wolf from this pack did lessen my apprehension somewhat.

  Understand that when I say wolf, the description is only partially accurate. For whatever reason, it was slightly lighter now than it had been when Layla and I encountered the first canines upon the ice. I could see more of these beasts, discern more detail as it were. But as I had little to compare them to from before other than their size, and the sound of their growl, I could not be sure if they were the same species, for they were somewhat smaller than the ones from previously.

  The beast was obviously of canine origin, and looked quite like a wolf. The main difference however was its size. I do not exaggerate when I say that it outweighed me, and by quite an amount. It was not in any great degree taller than other wolves, but it was stockier, with shorter legs and a wide, powerful looking face.

  In any case, as it approached growling, two more came into view. When the closest one approached it crouched slightly and I feared it was readying to spring for my throat. I shouted and swung one of my improvised clubs towards the animal, but my show did not seem to give it pause in the least. They clearly were not afraid of
humans, and I realized that my only chance was to drive one of them off by actually engaging in combat.

  The only factor which seemed to be delaying their attack was my failure to flee. Somewhere at the edges of my thoughts was the awareness that running would be disastrous to me, and only cause them to attack both quickly and with vigor. Just as the nearest wolf bunched his rear legs under him, I lunged forward and using the full range of attack that the femur allowed me, I smashed downward at its nose.

  The startled yelp which left the beast’s throat told me that I had scored a hit, and I followed up immediately with a swing to the side of its head with my other club. The second hit struck with a satisfying thump, and while it did not knock the beast from its feet it did retreat, shaking its head as it did so. Backing to my tree I resumed my shouts in the hope that now, since I had proven to have bite, my noise would have more effect.

  While the wolf I had struck stood out of range, the other two approached. Whether by accident or design, they came forward from different enough angles that I would not be able to engage both of them from my current position. I ceased shouting as it proved to have no more effect now than it had initially. My only options were to either engage both wolves at a disadvantage or move off from my cover in an attempt to stagger their attacks.

  I chose to move off to the left and engage them one at a time, but felt exposed as I left the cover of the tree. Fighting the urge to focus on the nearest wolf with tunnel vision, I actually managed to keep my awareness behind me in case I was approached from that direction. Seemingly quick learners, my downward swing at the second wolf’s nose met only air as it dodged back out of my reach.

  Luckily, as it lunged towards me, the swing of my second club caught it on the side of its head just below one ear. As it was moving, my blow caught it off balance and the beast tumbled to one side. The third wolf followed close behind and leapt for my throat before I was able to ready for another swing.

  For the first time in my recollection I somehow managed to recreate the altered time state that had heretofore been activated outside my awareness. As the wolf left the ground I felt a mild tingling, originating above my eyes and traveling through the center of my body and out each limb in a flash. I had not noticed that sensation before, and I knew suddenly that it was a critical step in controlling my power.

  My thoughts sped up, and as the wolf reached a point halfway to me in the air, it slowed down, traveling through the air at a snail’s pace. It was too close to allow me to lend any force to a swing so I threw myself backwards, bringing my arms up in front of me as it slipped smoothly overhead. Catching the wolf by its belly, my push sent me to the ground faster but also started the beast tumbling forward.

  It landed flat on its back shortly after I did, although the loamy ground under the tree cushioned both of our falls. I quickly regained my footing while the wolf bounced slightly, continuing its roll. Glancing around, I noticed the first wolf I had struck was moving towards me again, and the second wolf that my bone club sent tumbling was regaining its feet.

  Not knowing how much time I would be accelerated thusly, I perceived two options. One was that I could take advantage of my speed and put as much distance as possible between the wolves and I. The other action I could take was to attempt to disable the wolves as quickly as possible and then affect my escape.

  While I should have made the choice quickly, in this instance my accelerated thought processes did not aid me. As I have said before, along with my quicker thinking also comes an enhanced awareness and curiosity. My brain seemingly worked harder to fill up the extra time it had been given. I have been inclined to believe that my confusion was due to my unfamiliarity with this special state. With practice I have since learned to process an incredible amount of information and make decisions in the blink of an eye.

  As I looked between the wolves, attempting to decide upon my course of action I vacillated. Besides the appearance of several of the glowing portals which are ever present when I am in this altered time rate, a flood of other options invaded my consciousness. Several potential scenarios played on the screen of my mind, and with a sudden jolt I re-entered the normal flow of time.

  I did not fall unconscious, and did not notice any undue feeling of fatigue. This could have been due to stimulation caused by my awareness of the wolves, now moving towards me at a normal speed. Not overly happy with the end result of my prior episode of time distortion, I nonetheless had few options. I was overmatched by the wolves and had no idea if there were more waiting just outside of my limited range of vision for an opportune time to attack.

  Just as the nearest wolf began to lunge, this time towards my stomach, I imagined the tingling feeling I had felt just prior to time distorting itself mere seconds ago. Rewardingly, I again felt the tingle exit out the ends of my limbs just as everything slowed down. I stepped to one side, out of the way of the lunging wolf and intent on bringing one of my clubs down on its skull.

  As I moved a strange thing happened, from the corner of my vision I saw an arrow gliding through the air. Moving more quickly at least relatively, than the wolf, I nevertheless saw the arrow quite clearly as it nearly struck my leg. It was large, perhaps a half inch in diameter and nearly three feet long. In reality, at this point I had no idea what had fired it, whether a hand drawn bow or even a ballista of sorts due to its size.

  In any case I was glad that it missed me and impacted the wolf instead. Penetrating entirely through the neck of the wolf it stopped, sticking out from both sides in not quite equal lengths. Unsure of how fast the arrow would prove incapacitating, and being mid-arc in any case, I followed through with my swing and brought one club down squarely on top of the wolf’s head.

  I felt, and heard, the crunch of the beast’s skull in slow motion, but didn’t waste any of my time looking to see the result. At least two more wolves remained in close proximity. Still following behind the first, the only unwounded of the three began its slow motion leap at my throat.

  They were nothing if not persistent. With all the frontal attacks against me, and having no strong desire to be hamstrung, I glanced behind me to ensure another wolf was not attempting to flank me. I noted with some surprise that there had indeed been a wolf coming at me from behind. That it now lay on the ground with an arrow protruding from its body cemented in my mind the idea that I currently had a benefactor.

  For no other reason other than having not attempted it before, and feeling none of the fatigue that had overcome me during my prior episodes of time dilation, I attempted to sprint a short distance to gain a better position on the remaining wolves. If I had not been in a life or death situation, the results of my sprint might have seemed humorous. As I willed my legs to carry me as fast as possible and looked intently in the direction I wished to go I began moving very quickly, even for my enhanced perception.

  It was almost as if my body moved faster than my accelerated brain could follow. If the dynamics of this are difficult to comprehend, do not trouble yourself with them. It took me some time to be able to describe to physicality of what happened to me, even in this limited manner. In effect, even though the wolves and things around me seemed to continue moving at a fraction of their normal rate and I had up until this time been only able to move marginally faster, I suddenly was able to move much faster.

  In this instance my body moved at a rate I surmised must have been significantly greater even than I moved normally and more so relative to the motion in my surroundings. This indeed turned out to be the case, with one unfortunate side effect. My brain failed to keep up with my motion, and before I knew it I saw myself hurtling towards a tree in a blur.

  Only luck kept me from injuriously smashing myself on that tree, and as I tried to stop I was forced to catch myself with my hands. So fast was I moving yet that when I impacted, the force stung my hands and I was only partially able to break my impact. While I managed to keep my head from striking the tree with any f
orce, I paid for that by nearly having the wind knocked from me and did grunt from the sudden stop.

  As I turned I noted with satisfaction that the leaping wolf was still in mid-air. The other wolf, the one I had struck in the jaw first was mid-stride and running towards me, giving chase, apparently nonplussed by my speed. Still, at my current location as long as the passage of time remained slowed, I had several seconds before it would reach me.

  I watched what unfolded before me, becoming slightly detached from the situation, although things around me remained moving slowly. From my peripheral vision I saw another arrow emerge from behind a tree. I still had no clear view of the origin point for the arrows, but this one was clearly on an intersecting path with the running wolf.

  With as much apparent time as I was given to witness the inevitable collision between wolf and arrow, and the resultant wounding of the animal that would take place, I almost forgot that the animal was in the process of attempting to kill me. I almost pitied the poor beast its fate. Then, without warning I snapped out of my altered time rate and everything sped up with a rush.

  The running wolf took another stride before the large arrow struck its side, knocking it over, where it kicked and lay still. The leaping wolf landed, somewhat taken aback at having its target suddenly dart out of range, but oriented itself and quickly continued running in my direction. No other arrows were forthcoming, then I realized that I did not have time ponder my surroundings any longer.

  Stepping to meet the wolf, I swung my clubs, the first one striking the top of it’s head. In the split second the second club swept across and down towards the other side of the wolf’s face, it yelped in protest at the initial injury. I misjudged the animal’s velocity and instead of a head shot, the second club struck behind its shoulder.

  Fortunately for me, this one had had enough, and regaining its balance as it turned clumsily aside apparently dazed somewhat, it ran off into the woods. Regardless of whether they had just been trying to kill me, I went to see to the other wolves. I am not one to let animals suffer, and it was not without a twinge of regret that I used my somewhat primitive tools to dispatch one of the two wolves that had not yet succumbed to its wounds.

  Only when I had finished that did I look up and see my benefactor standing quietly, but with an arrow still knocked in his large bow, a trifle over ten paces away. He had a puzzled look on his face, but one that must have been mirrored in mine at the sight of him.

  As for my confusion, it came mainly from the fact that standing before me was a caveman. Well, in most respects a caveman. He stood perhaps halfway between five and six feet, but was stocky and well-muscled. I noted with slight surprise that although he looked mildly bowlegged, he stood with a very upright posture and totally without the caveman slouch one sees in the museums, or at least was common to see as close to the turn of the century as I had been at the time.

  He was slightly more hairy than the average man, but I must admit not outrageously so. The main difference in his facial features were that his nose was quite large and his chin somewhat receding. Covering the upper part of his body, and legs to mid-thigh was a sleeveless tunic of sorts, fashioned from cured animal hide and yet well crafted. Several leather pouches hung from his waist along with a stone knife bound to a bone handle.

  As I stepped forward in curiosity he spoke, “You look like a flat-face but you move fast like a snow leopard.” I must have continued staring blankly for several seconds more, because when I did not answer, the figure before me frowned and spoke again. “Ungh, look flat face. Move like cat. Like better me rock-brain talk?”

  At this point I at least managed utter “Thank you for saving me, and no, you don’t need to talk like a rock-brain. I’ve just never seen one of your kind alive…” when the smooth swiftness with which he drew back the arrow to his cheek, pointing the tip towards me as he did so, caught me off guard. Even as I realized what I had said, his voice became low and menacing “What do you mean, never seen one of my kind alive?”

  Thinking quickly, I attempted to extricate myself from this worsening predicament. I decided not to offer too much information immediately at the risk of sounding unbelievable, merely saying, “I only meant that none of your people live nearby where I come from.” I dropped my bone clubs from my hands and held my empty palms up, hoping he would correctly interpret my peaceful gesture.

  He lowered the arrow, but shook his head as he did so. “You are lucky I find you amusing flat-face. My brother probably would have killed you already, or let the wolves do it. I am cursed with a nature protective of weaker things, and that is why you yet live.”

  I began to offer more in the way of explanation and in an attempt to placate my large rescuer. Even before I had uttered three words he yawned in a very human gesture and chided me, “Shhh, why is it that every flat-face I meet must chatter like an old woman at a butchering party? We can talk later, after you help me find my wayward thalach.”

  With that, he placed his knocked arrow back in its quiver and slung the bow over his shoulder before retrieving his other arrows. Pulling them carefully from the wolves, he examined the shafts carefully. Two were apparently in useable condition, while the other had cracked slightly, and was discarded. With no further communication, the strangely well-spoken caveman turned and began walking at an angle towards the opposite side of the road.

  Not relishing another encounter with wolves, I followed, thankfully noticing the first hint of pre-dawn light in the sky. As an afterthought I darted back and retrieved my bone clubs. I do not know what real utility they might prove, but they made me feel more secure. I actually chuckled when I considered which one of the two of us looked more like a primitive in my current state, me tromping naked and unkempt through the woods with bone clubs over my shoulders or, the relatively well dressed figure sporting a bow and arrows.

  We walked thus until it was quite fully daylight, the caveman paying me no further attention as he tracked his “thalach.” Changing course several times we eventually came to a large clearing with a stream running through it. How far we had come from the road I was not certain, nor was I in any way assured of my ability to find my way back in any case. Any thought of regaining the road vanished, temporarily at least, when I stepped alongside the caveman as he halted at the edge of the forest and followed his gaze with mine.

  Across the stream, standing near the far edge of the clearing were several of the largest deer I had ever seen. I say deer, because that is the animal they most resembled. They were however bigger than any elk, and the antlers on two of them were of a width that would have put a moose in its prime to shame. I may be guessing when I say that larger rack spread ten feet from tip to tip, but I do not think I was far from the actual measurement.

  The idea that these animals were domesticated had not dawned on me, and even after the caveman halted, motioned me to him and whispered “thalach,” while pointing towards the animals I still did not grasp the concept fully. What he did next however brought me to that awareness. He checked the wind, as a hunter would, but then looked to me and said “Wait here until I signal you. They will not recognize your smell, and you also carry some of the death scent. I will move until they can recognize me. When they become reassured you will join us.”

  Carefully moving around the edge of the clearing, he eventually positioned himself directly upwind of the creatures. Once in place he waited, I can only assume for the thalach to detect and recognize his scent. While he waited, I looked around a bit.

  With daylight was fully upon us, I saw that the forest was more diverse than I had previously thought. Predominately needle leafed trees, there were a fair number of deciduous varieties as well, most of them still barren from the winter. A noticeable number however, were either budding or blooming already, lending a colorful contrast to the otherwise green woodland.

  The thought struck me that either the city I had been in had been artificially warmer than the sur
rounding area, a concept quite beyond my capacity to explain, or I was some great distance from there again. But I did not think long on which it might be, as I was soon distracted by other events.

  I saw no other large animals at this point, but birds of many varieties flitted about, chirping and squawking depending on their type. Watching one of the larger specimens as it flew across the clearing towards a tall, barren snag of a tree I spied a large airship gliding smoothly through the air at some height and distance.

  It must have been flying with the wind for it sported several billowing sails from masts forward of the propeller supports. These masts and indeed the sails were a feature that had been missing from the first airship I had encountered, and I wondered if they were a deployable feature, used when advantageous. Differing from sea bound ships, the masts from which the sails hung rose from the deck in pairs, and slanted at somewhat greater than ninety degrees from each other. In effect the sails spread out from either side of the ship, providing a great deal of sheeting to the wind.

  I watched it briefly, examining its curves and lines and comparing them in my head with the one I had seen prior. It was far enough that I could not discern any of the crew, and while similar to the ship on which I had ridden, it was clearly painted in a much more ostentatious manner.

  Bright colors abounded, and no thought had seemingly been given to the clash between them. The hull was primarily green of a light shade, but interspersed in blotches were patches of both red and blue. Even its sails were colored in a similar pattern, although in somewhat more muted tones than the rest of the ship.

  Interestingly I saw that several smaller vehicles, flyers of some type, flew in formation above the airship. Although at my distance, I could make out little detail, I could see that they were of a sleeker design than the larger vessel, and had neither masts nor sails. I surmised that they must be entirely driven by propeller, and designed for speed. Even the netted balloons above them were tapered at the ends adding somewhat to their limited streamlining.

  Despite the novelty of what I was seeing, I would at this point have turned my gaze from the distant airborne vehicles due to my more pressing local concerns. I still stood quite naked with the exception of the two bone clubs slung over my shoulders, and I awaited some signal from my Neanderthal like companion that it was safe to approach him and his animals. However, just as I started to look downward, a flash of light caught my attention.

  It was the first of a set of explosions forward of the large airship. The origin of the explosive effects was not obvious, but as they reminded me of nothing so much as the flack bursts I had seen over the battlefield in France, I surmised that they were ground based. In that assessment I proved to be incorrect, but for a brief instant I merely watched intently as secondary, larger and brighter explosions consumed the smoke puffs still hanging in the air from the initial bursts, much like fireworks in a festival display, but with more sinister effect.

  As the large airship proved too cumbersome for its crew to maneuver in avoidance of the expanding fireballs, it sailed into the first of them with deleterious results. A portion of the hull and several sections of sail caught fire. Not only that, but the flames streaked upwards towards the lifting balloons, after having ignited the support lines as well.

  It was then that I noticed the smaller fliers break formation and rise in pairs toward what I could only assume was the threat, although I still did not see it. Though I had myself ridden on one of the airships, the prospect of aerial combat between these graceful, balloon-suspended ships had not occurred to me. In my limited conscious experience with aerial war, I remember that balloons and dirigibles had quite quickly been relegated to limited scouting usage as they proved vulnerable targets for fixed wing aircraft.

  Even assuming that no faster, more maneuverable aircraft existed in this world, I had trouble envisioning any kind of protracted use in combat of the type of airship I had seen, especially with their inherent vulnerabilities. Nevertheless, the tableaux as it played out in the sky above proved counter to my intuition. Only after the small fliers had climbed for almost a minute was I able to finally make out the other sky vessel.

  Perhaps I had been overly distracted by the garish paint scheme of the now damaged airship, but in any case the attacking vessel was of a much different type. Clearly painted in such a way as to make detection more difficult, the aggressor’s coloration was a mottled camouflage of subdued grays and faded blues. It was also larger than the other vessels and much streamlining was sacrificed in order to eliminate easily visible lines or even symmetrical curves. In shape, it was roughly cylindrical, as Earth zeppelins, but the ends were not tapered to any great extent.

  The other significant difference in between this airship and the more familiarly patterned ones was that no external buoyancy devices existed. It moved so slowly and was of a size that I had no doubt that a large portion of its interior space was taken up with tanks or bladders of whatever lifting agent was being used by these vessels. Perhaps this then was a more advanced development designed to abrogate the frailty of the external balloons.

  Whatever internal engineering the camouflaged vessel possessed would remain a mystery for now, so I watched as the battle unfolded. Some of you may be want to chastise me for not focusing more on the human tragedy of the situation. Quite possibly men, or other intelligent being were dying or would do so soon, should the fight continue.

  In my defense I can only say that I have never been one for wailing and gnashing of teeth. Quite simply, I divide events into two categories; things I can change, and those I am powerless to influence. I waste as little time as possible worrying over things I cannot control. Granted, there are times when I have found myself either more or less influential than I suspected, but usually I am accurate in my assessment.

  In this situation things were clearly outside of my sphere of influence, so I relegated myself to a dispassionate study of the scene before me. As the smaller fliers rose to engage the attacking vessel, small flashes of light emanated from their noses. These flashes were followed shortly by narrowly spaced impacts on the surface of their target. Other than faint puffs of smoke at the impact points, at this range I could see no obvious damage occurring.

  Obviously outclassed, the fliers continued their assault bravely. I noticed they were attempting to position themselves above the other ship, which would among other things give their apparently vulnerable support balloons some protection. Of the six small craft, two of them fell from the sky, one plummeting rapidly as one or more of its support balloons burst dramatically in a ball of fire, the other falling more gracefully as its support was merely punctured, but failed to explode.

  Accelerating as it fell, I noticed a single canopy of fabric open nearby and continue falling more slowly and in a seemingly guided fashion. I allowed myself a brief sense of relief as I assumed what I saw was an escape device used by the pilot of the damaged flier. The other four fliers continued attacking the larger ship, to little effect.

  The colorful target of this attack was not idle during this encounter. Although it had sustained some damage, its crew were apparently at work controlling the damage to the best of their ability, for instead of flames on its deck and support lines, smoke drifted. In an apparent duplication of the strategy of the smaller fliers, this ship was also attempting to rise above the attacking airship, dropping ballast as it did so.

  Despite its size, the larger vessel actually managed to rise faster than the smaller escorts. In short order all of the lighter than air craft were climbing. So rapid was their ascent that in the time that it took me to look across the clearing to check on the progress of the Neanderthal in his approach towards the deer, it became difficult to make out any details other than the outlines of the two larger ships. Any evidence of combat or even the presence of the smaller fliers was obscured by distance.

  Of the pilot gliding down by parachute, there was also no sign. I saw no reason w
hy he should not have made it down safely, so assumed as much. Fleetingly, I considered attempting to track him down, but realized that I was the stranger here, and were it not for a cave man as my guide, would probably be in more need of succor than he. The odds against finding someone who had landed in an unknown location at some distance, with me on foot, would be high in any event, so I dismissed the thought.

  A low whistle brought my attention back to my current situation and location. I looked with surprise across the clearing where several of the huge deer stood facing the approaching cave man. With a human enough figure near the deer for scale, their size seemed even more impressive. I had been fairly close in my initial estimation of their girth, but if anything had been slightly on the conservative side.

  Seeing the animals milling around him, even nuzzling at his clothing, reminded me of horses at feeding time. Indeed I saw the Neanderthal’s hand several times reach into one of the pouches at his waist and hold out some small morsel which the animals readily accepted. I do not think I would have been surprised should he have vaulted onto a one of the beasts and ridden bareback to my location.

  While he did not do so, I must say that the thought of riding one of the thalach lodged itself at the back of my consciousness. At a much later date I was able, out of necessity, to ride one of the animals myself. While my brief feat proved only a marginal success, it did serve to astonish the large clan of whom the one now placating the beasts was a member.

  After a minute or so of feeding and stroking the animals, the Neanderthal looked towards me and waved. It was such a familiar gesture I could only assume the meaning was as it would have been for any other modern person. I returned the gesture and started cautiously forward.

  Not wanting to give the beasts more reason to be apprehensive at the approach of a stranger, I dropped my bone clubs. The grassy ground of the clearing was still dew covered, and moving again after standing still made me realize that I was a bit chilled. A sudden breeze, colder than the standing air had been at the edge of the clearing, made me shiver.

  I hoped that sometime soon, I would be able to acquire some sort of clothing, and resolved to ask the Neanderthal when I reached him. As it turned out, I did not have to. When I came within several yards, he motioned for me to stop and I did so. He rummaged briefly in what looked to be effectively a saddle bag slung on the haunch of one of the thalach.

  Looking more closely at the animals as he did so, I noticed that several, but not all, of them wore at least harnesses of some type. Among the harnessed ones, two sported the haunch bags, and one of the others even dragged a travois behind it. These beasts were clearly more than a domesticated food source, and I wondered if the Neanderthals of this world had advanced in other ways as well. If my limited dialogue with, and the technology exhibited by, the only example of the species I had met thus far was any indication, I surmised that it was indeed the case, nor was I disappointed.

  He pulled out a small wrapped bundle of something and approached me. First holding out a somewhat greasy scrap of fur lined hide he pantomimed a rubbing motion over his body as he spoke softly, “Rub this over your skin, it will make you more familiar to them.” After I had done so, he handed me the remainder of the bundle, which proved to be a leather tunic of the same pattern as the one he wore, although slightly worse for wear. A set of pants and a pair of leather foot wraps fell to the ground as I shook the upper garment carefully to unravel it in preparation for putting it on.

  As the last garment I had worn was the scratchy and ill insulated burlap while jailed, the softness and warmth of the cured leather felt positively luxurious. The pants were loose, but had several ingeniously positioned thongs with which I was, with some effort, able to use to snug then at least at my waist. I smiled my thanks as I secured the foot wraps to my feet in the best approximation I could manage of the way the Neanderthal wore his.

  My total unfamiliarity with the clothing must have been obvious by my lack of coordination, as my efforts elicited a deep yet unmistakable chuckle from the cave man. “You dress like a young one! Are you one of those flat-faces who needs servants to feed and bathe them as well?” For some reason his statement struck me as highly absurd, and I burst out in laughter.

  I managed to look around as if in surprise. Feeling quite jocular I replied, holding out a stray strap from my tunic, “Oh my, have you seen my manservant?” Apparently, he understood the humor, for he chucked me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me over and giving me first hand an example of his raw strength. Although my arm stung from the blow, I felt he had only used a fraction of the muscle power available to him, nor was I mistaken.

  Rubbing my shoulder, I became more serious. “Thank you for the clothing, the styles are merely unfamiliar to me.” He nodded, and I decided to change topics. While I felt no ill intent from him at being called flat-face, I had no desire to address this Neanderthal as ‘Cave-dweller,” or some other such appellation based on his appearance. “My name is John and you are welcome to call me that. How do you prefer I address you?”

  His voice was deep and rumbled awkwardly over my name a few times as he matched the sound in his head with the one he spoke, “Jun, Jaaahn, Joean. You have a strange name, even for a flat-face.” I repeated it for him, more slowly, “John.” This time he nodded as if he understood, “Jahn,” he said with confidence, although the o was then and has been ever since, more of an a. You may call me “Frthrem.”

  In a repetition of his working through my name, I fear I fared no better than he, in the end settling for Threm, although I knew it wasn’t quite right. Just as we had finished our little exchange I heard in the distance, although quite distinctly, a man’s scream. Also obvious, as much as I knew it was a man screaming, I knew that it was filled with pure terror.

  I looked to Threm, concerned. “We must help him.” Threm shook his head which surprised me as he had readily helped me. “We are too far away, and it will be over before we reach him.” I tried further, “But…” However, Threm cut me off, “That is not the scream of a man being attacked by wolves as you were, you must truly be a stranger here not to recognize that. It would not be wise to go there, and I have just recovered my thalach.” Without hesitation I turned and began running in the direction of the scream. Looking once back over my shoulder I yelled “Wise or not, I must try.”

  As the shout seemed to come from the general direction of the downed pilot, I assumed it was he, and he was now clearly in grave danger. Being weaponless, I hoped Threm would follow with his bow, but was determined in any case to do what I could to help the unknown man.

  Chapter Eight