Tyree

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The Planet Neural

 

Tyree*, Chief of the Hill People, stood quietly on a jutting overhang, surveying the surrounding hills and plains that he called his bloodline protectorate and home. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and the sandstone colored rock of the surrounding caves and outcroppings showed the shadows of dusk, casting dark phantasms that were forbidding and cold. To his left, on a five foot high platform constructed of bundled wood, laid his wife; her hands were crossed over her chest in the death sleep. In his right hand, the chief held a wrapped reed torch sparking with the fire element.

 

A presence joined him on the ledge, the footfalls soft against the sand and rock. Tyree spoke to his second in command without turning. “The Villagers are responsible for this.”

 

Jiornoth said nothing. Like Tyree, he had blond hair and was muscular. Both wore the common home spun breeches and vest of the tribes, the light color of the material enabling them to blend into the surrounding brush and sandstone.

 

“…Nona was many things. A talented healer. My bond wife. Bold. Her tongue cutting. Her lust for power could never be quenched. She approached a Villager patrol, attempted to bargain with power lust clouding her eyes and judgment.”

 

Tyree’s lieutenant still said nothing.

 

“…yet Nona did not deserve to die as she did. Violated. Her life taken by the boom sticks.”

 

Now, Jiornoth spoke. “What will you do Tyree?"

 

“We wait through the moon cycle. Then, we move towards the Village with our best hunters and scouts and female healers. We will use the weapons our fathers taught us – the bow, knives, rock slings. Any patrols, any scouts we come across we engage and leave for dead at pre-dawn. Then we withdraw. That will do for now.”

 

“I will ready our men.”

 

“What of Lester and her people?”

 

“They continue to move North, through the forests and woods; there are rumors from our scouts that she and her brood have taken shelter with the Anipha* herders.”

 

Tyree nodded. “They will be safe there, for the time being.”

 

Jiornoth tightened his grip on his spear and cocked his head to one side. “You believe her?”

 

“I believe her words only to a point, though her dislike of the Outworld Sage Devils is obvious.”

 

“…we cannot guarantee that the other Hill tribes will leave Lester and her Out Worlders alone my Chief.”

 

“This is not our concern. The Villagers and their fire sticks are our concern. Lester and her people will keep to be dealt with later.”

 

Tyree half turned to eye his second. “What of the….foreign structure?” The cancer that had invaded the Great Point Lookout still irked him.

 

“The scouting parties report that no one – not even Lester – has returned. Nor have the Sage Devils. A Villager patrol will occasionally pass through the area. Our men have yet to engage them; they respect your wishes and do not attack. Some of the forward patrols are frightened by the lights and the voice that speaks among the coldness of the inside surfaces.”

 

Tyree touched the torch to the dried sticks and branches under the death box, watching as the funeral pyre ignited and began to engulf Nona’s body. Acidic berry juices had been added to the body to feed the flames.

 

“This flame image will reach through the darkness to the Village. They will know we are coming. And we will exact blood Jiornoth.”

 

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*Tyree appears courtesy of the Original Series episode “A Private Little War” (copyright CBS pictures). I don’t own the character, I just play in his universe.

*Anipha - sheep-like animal native to the planet