D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

I also had to hope I wouldn’t trip and crash while running down the rocky, vine-covered slope. The Jakills had grown up in this jungle. They knew it and moved through the uneven terrain as easily as if they were running across artificial turf. They were nearly silent, too. The only sound I heard was my own clumsy crashing and bashing along. Nobody slowed down to help me this time. They had to get down the slope and head off the Flighters before they reached the mountain cave. I’m guessing the ledge we were on was about a half mile up the side of that mountain. When we started after them, the Flighters were only a few hundred yards from the mouth of the cave leading to where the tribunal met. If there was any hope of catching them, we’d have to be fast, and hope the Flighters were slow.

The ground leveled out. I hadn’t fallen, yet. The Jakills had gotten pretty far ahead of me, but the jungle was thinning, so I could see them. Or most of them. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, so I ran straight ahead. I would have kept going if I hadn’t been suddenly grabbed by some strong hands and pulled down into the shadows of a leafy bush.

It was the blond guy, again. He looked at me and gave me a silent “shhhh” sign. It’s not easy to catch your breath silently, but I tried. Glancing around I saw the Jakills stretched out around me, all looking ahead. All hiding. All alert.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and nearly jumped out of my skin. Spinning, I saw that Siry had slid in next to me. Man, he was quiet.

“They’re just ahead of us,” he whispered. “Who are they?” I whispered back. “Stay here and watch,” he ordered. “What are you going to do?”

Siry gave me a cocky smile and said, “My father thought we were a bunch of misfit kids. Maybe he was right. But never, ever cross us.”

“Siry, what are you going to do?” I asked again.

He motioned for the others. The entire line of Jakills, I’m guessing there were around fifteen, crept slowly forward, crouched low, moving silently. I stayed behind them. I was only there as an observer. The line moved forward, creeping through the brush. Nobody said a word. I had the feeling they had done this kind of thing before. We’d been moving for about a minute when I saw something ahead of us. Everyone noticed at the same time and stopped.

We had caught up with the Flighters. I saw movement ahead and to the right. They were traveling in the same direction we were, about thirty yards ahead. They had no idea we were behind them. Now that I was closer, I could make out some details of these mysterious “Flighters.” I didn’t know what I expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t this.

They were mostly men, though I think I saw a few women. They didn’t seem like trained guerrillas or anything. Just the opposite. They looked like ordinary people. The only thing that stood out about them was their clothes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they looked as if they wore clothes that came from Second Earth. There was a mix of pants and shirts and jackets of all sorts. The clothes looked old, too, like really old. I saw patches and tears and raggy pants. Some had two different kinds of shoes. I saw one guy with a sneaker on one foot and a boot on the other. Some wore hats that looked as if they’d been run through a blender. That’s how mashed up they were.

These people were dirty, too. There was a lot of shaggy hair and dark stains. Their skin seemed gray, which was strange considering they lived in a tropical paradise. They definitely didn’t come across as a dangerous band of commandos. They looked more like a bunch of raggy homeless people lost in the jungle.

Siry lifted his hand. The Jakills stopped. He made a circular motion and the entire line of Jakills moved to the left. I moved behind them. It looked like Siry wanted them to circle around in front of the Flighters. After moving to our left for several yards, we broke into the clearing. We were back in the village of Rayne. To our right was the mountain that held the cave leading to the tribunal. Villagers were running away from the cave, headed toward the burning huts. It wasn’t full-on panic, but there were a lot of people running to see what was happening. They didn’t know they were running past a bunch of Flighters who were hidden in the jungle, quietly waiting. It finally made sense how we were able to catch up with the Flighters. They were waiting until everyone left to investigate the fire. When the area cleared, they’d make their move on the tribunal.

The Jakills were in the perfect position to cut them off.

Siry silently motioned for his band to quickly move toward the cave. They ran from hut to hut, moving against the stream of people leaving the mountain, trying to stay hidden from the Flighters. They finally grouped together behind a hut on the far side of the sandy road from the jungle. I knew that somewhere behind that thick curtain of jungle, the Flighters waited. Not far from us was the cave into the mountain, and the tribunal.

Siry motioned for everyone to wait. More people left the cave, running for the fire. The siren continued to wail. Eventually the area cleared. Everyone was gone. The cave lay open. The Jakills pulled out their short weapons. I could feel the tension. Not fear, tension. They were ready to fight.

I saw a head peer out of the dense jungle across the way. Then another, and another. The Flighters were making their move. Like ghosts appearing out of the ether, they crept from the foliage. It was a strange-looking bunch. There didn’t seem to be any leader. They randomly drifted out of the thicket and crept toward the cave. I counted ten. Ten Flighters. Fifteen Jakills. I was glad to be with the Jakills.

Siry gave me a cocky smile and said, “Watch.”

He lifted his weapon and charged for the Flighters. The rest of the Jakills were right behind him. They ran as a group, headed for the invaders. They didn’t scream or let out a war whoop. They wanted every second of surprise they could squeeze out. To be honest, they didn’t look much more organized or trained than the Flighters, but I couldn’t criticize. Their tactics had worked perfectly. They recognized that the fire was a decoy, they spotted the second group of Flighters, they tracked them silently, they outmaneuvered them, and their counterattack was a complete surprise. Everything they did was perfect. Except for one thing.

They didn’t know how to fight.

One of the gray-looking Flighters spotted the oncoming Jakills. The surprise was over. Siry screamed out a chilling war cry. “Yahhhhh!” The other Jakills followed with their own screams. If the Flighters were surprised, they didn’t show it. They didn’t panic. They didn’t show any emotion. They quickly and efficiently formed a group and prepared for the fight. They didn’t have any weapons. As it turned out, they didn’t need them.

Unlike the Jakills, the Flighters knew how to fight.

The Jakills descended on them, wildly swinging their short clubs as if trying to scare them into scattering. They didn’t scatter. The Flighters took them on. When a Jakill would swing his weapon, a Flighter would block it, or duck to make him miss, then knock the Jakill into next week. They ripped the wooden weapons from the young defenders and clubbed them mercilessly. There was no contest. I didn’t expect that. Siry and the Jakills had been so confident, I hadn’t thought the raggy band of Flighters stood a chance.

Reality was, the Jakills didn’t stand a chance.

I stood near the hut where we had been hiding to watch the carnage. Even though the Jakills were taking a beating, I hoped that their presence alone would be enough to scare off the Flighters and send them back to wherever it was they came from. It didn’t. The Flighters stayed to fight. The Jakills were getting hammered. But they didn’t give up. I’ll say that much for them. They had guts. They kept screaming and flailing, but they got spanked. Siry took the worst beating. He spun like an out-of-control top, swinging his short clubs, trying to get: a piece of a Flighter. What he got instead was a lot of air, followed by a shot in the head. At first the Flighters backed toward the jungle, but after handling the Jakills so easily, they grew bold and continued toward the mountain cave.