Taelanna
02-08-2008, 08:21 AM
Homecoming
The rider reined in at the top of the hill and looked out over the small, secluded valley below; salivating at the prospect of soon pacifying his gnawing gut with food that didn’t have the musty flavor of his now empty saddlebag. Shadows deepened under the trees between him and where he knew the hidden ‘stead to be as the sun dropped behind the striated canyon wall at the back of the valley. As he watched, lights began winking on in the steadily darkening wall and then quickly disappeared. To anyone else it would have seemed like nothing more than the large fireflies occasionally seen in the area, but to this rider, no other sight in this land could have been more welcome to his weary eyes.
Noisily, his gut reminded him it was being neglected. Sighing lightly, he gently shifted his weight, signaling his horse to move forward. Picking his way down the slope of the hill, he took care to not stray from the proscribed path that would mark him as a potential “friendly” to those he knew were already aware of his presence. Small telltales were plain to see in the grass – to any with the eyes and training to see – but would be nothing notable to strangers. Judging from their placement, he figured Davis had laid out the pattern again. First to the right, then to the left, up the hill and down, with no rhyme or reason, yeah this was Davis at his finest. It made for good early warning, but he knew he’d have to razz the boy about it.
Finally, the path gave way to the floor of the valley and he ever so slowly holstered his rifle in the space provided on his saddle, berating himself for almost forgetting that very important step. Deviating from the accepted course of action would give the snipers a soon-to-cease-breathing target. Nearing the treeline he signaled his horse to stop. Keeping his hands in plain sight, but too tired to use the care he normally would, he slid noisily to the ground – cringing at how the sound of boots striking stone echoed in the quiet.
“Alright guys, you’ve put me through the paces and had your fun”, he said wearily as he stepped away from his horse. “You know who I am, so get out here and say hello”.
His words were greeted with…silence. Nothing but evening noises, the leaves shifting in the breeze and a soft snort from his horse could be heard. Despite his fatigue he couldn’t help but grin with satisfied pride. These sentries were well trained and carried out their duty just as they should. Knowing they couldn’t necessarily trust their eyes, they would maintain their positions until he gave the proper signals, regardless of who he appeared to be. If he moved a little wrong or even looked like he was going for a weapon, he’d be dead before another breath. Each step of the security measures they had all agreed on must be followed to the letter and he could expect no exception – nor did he want it. Such was the sad reality; vigilance was your best friend if you expected to live very long in the Province.
No, it just wouldn’t do to get shot by friends he thought wryly - they’d never forgive him or themselves. Raising his arms, so his hands could be clearly seen, he signed one of the coded question phrases “What’s the quickest way to kill a Tech?” He waited for the pre-arranged five heartbeats and then signed the punch line, “Throw a circuit board at him”.
All around him erupted in quiet chuckles and groans at the old, well-worn joke. He was quickly surrounded by those he knew to be friends and could already feel some of the tension of the long trail starting to ease.
**
Riding up to the ‘stead was always a proud moment and this time was no different. The group had searched long and hard for a place to call their home and finally found it here in this valley a few years back. It had been difficult to establish a home here, but everyone worked conscientiously to make it so. The best part of it was if someone didn’t know where to look, it was extremely difficult to find. Strangers had entered their valley a number of times, to be sure, most had left none the wiser about what was here - an unfortunate few remained as fertilizer. The rocky face of the canyon wall appeared to be only that. It took close proximity and an eagle eye to actually see the cave openings that intermittently dotted it at roughly the height of five tall men. Weighted and oiled rough-spun cotton fabric made weatherproof door hangings that blended in well with the natural rock and served to further disguise the openings. They had been very careful to fit into the natural surroundings and keep their footprint on the land as small as possible.
A short walk to the south, screened by a thick grove of scrub, was the entrance to the stable cavern. His mount, sensing his warm stall and a measure of grain, snorted with impatience to be pampered. Sliding from the saddle, the rider threw the reins to Tomas, one of the handlers turned sentry, who had escorted him to the ‘stead. Horses were Tomas’ favorite people and the rider knew his mount would be very well cared for.
Rope ladders with wooden rungs were dropped from above as the rider’s party approached the base of the wall and shadowy figures swarmed down them. In a matter of moments the rider found himself surrounded by a good quarter of the ‘stead’s population. Returning riders were always a joyous occasion and everyone pressed close to welcome him in their own way, laughing happily in their relief that another of their number had returned safely yet again.
**
The rider reined in at the top of the hill and looked out over the small, secluded valley below; salivating at the prospect of soon pacifying his gnawing gut with food that didn’t have the musty flavor of his now empty saddlebag. Shadows deepened under the trees between him and where he knew the hidden ‘stead to be as the sun dropped behind the striated canyon wall at the back of the valley. As he watched, lights began winking on in the steadily darkening wall and then quickly disappeared. To anyone else it would have seemed like nothing more than the large fireflies occasionally seen in the area, but to this rider, no other sight in this land could have been more welcome to his weary eyes.
Noisily, his gut reminded him it was being neglected. Sighing lightly, he gently shifted his weight, signaling his horse to move forward. Picking his way down the slope of the hill, he took care to not stray from the proscribed path that would mark him as a potential “friendly” to those he knew were already aware of his presence. Small telltales were plain to see in the grass – to any with the eyes and training to see – but would be nothing notable to strangers. Judging from their placement, he figured Davis had laid out the pattern again. First to the right, then to the left, up the hill and down, with no rhyme or reason, yeah this was Davis at his finest. It made for good early warning, but he knew he’d have to razz the boy about it.
Finally, the path gave way to the floor of the valley and he ever so slowly holstered his rifle in the space provided on his saddle, berating himself for almost forgetting that very important step. Deviating from the accepted course of action would give the snipers a soon-to-cease-breathing target. Nearing the treeline he signaled his horse to stop. Keeping his hands in plain sight, but too tired to use the care he normally would, he slid noisily to the ground – cringing at how the sound of boots striking stone echoed in the quiet.
“Alright guys, you’ve put me through the paces and had your fun”, he said wearily as he stepped away from his horse. “You know who I am, so get out here and say hello”.
His words were greeted with…silence. Nothing but evening noises, the leaves shifting in the breeze and a soft snort from his horse could be heard. Despite his fatigue he couldn’t help but grin with satisfied pride. These sentries were well trained and carried out their duty just as they should. Knowing they couldn’t necessarily trust their eyes, they would maintain their positions until he gave the proper signals, regardless of who he appeared to be. If he moved a little wrong or even looked like he was going for a weapon, he’d be dead before another breath. Each step of the security measures they had all agreed on must be followed to the letter and he could expect no exception – nor did he want it. Such was the sad reality; vigilance was your best friend if you expected to live very long in the Province.
No, it just wouldn’t do to get shot by friends he thought wryly - they’d never forgive him or themselves. Raising his arms, so his hands could be clearly seen, he signed one of the coded question phrases “What’s the quickest way to kill a Tech?” He waited for the pre-arranged five heartbeats and then signed the punch line, “Throw a circuit board at him”.
All around him erupted in quiet chuckles and groans at the old, well-worn joke. He was quickly surrounded by those he knew to be friends and could already feel some of the tension of the long trail starting to ease.
**
Riding up to the ‘stead was always a proud moment and this time was no different. The group had searched long and hard for a place to call their home and finally found it here in this valley a few years back. It had been difficult to establish a home here, but everyone worked conscientiously to make it so. The best part of it was if someone didn’t know where to look, it was extremely difficult to find. Strangers had entered their valley a number of times, to be sure, most had left none the wiser about what was here - an unfortunate few remained as fertilizer. The rocky face of the canyon wall appeared to be only that. It took close proximity and an eagle eye to actually see the cave openings that intermittently dotted it at roughly the height of five tall men. Weighted and oiled rough-spun cotton fabric made weatherproof door hangings that blended in well with the natural rock and served to further disguise the openings. They had been very careful to fit into the natural surroundings and keep their footprint on the land as small as possible.
A short walk to the south, screened by a thick grove of scrub, was the entrance to the stable cavern. His mount, sensing his warm stall and a measure of grain, snorted with impatience to be pampered. Sliding from the saddle, the rider threw the reins to Tomas, one of the handlers turned sentry, who had escorted him to the ‘stead. Horses were Tomas’ favorite people and the rider knew his mount would be very well cared for.
Rope ladders with wooden rungs were dropped from above as the rider’s party approached the base of the wall and shadowy figures swarmed down them. In a matter of moments the rider found himself surrounded by a good quarter of the ‘stead’s population. Returning riders were always a joyous occasion and everyone pressed close to welcome him in their own way, laughing happily in their relief that another of their number had returned safely yet again.
**