The two women just stare at each other; their proud warrior upbringing was not going to let them grieve for one of their fallen on the battleground, a time for mournful fare-wells would come later, now was the task of getting home in one piece. The echoes of gunfire would have carried to the amphibian’s line and that would bring half of the Militia out. 
    Slowly a subdued Owain turned to face Cass and Rowe; he was looking at them when something caught his eye just to the left of where they stood. In that fraction of time it takes to blink he could see it was an amphibian creeping close. In that slight moment it took to raise his rifle he shouted. “Down!”
   With out question the two warrior women hit the ground. One shot was sufficient to take out the creature as Cass and Rowe were quickly on their feet and moving fast towards Owain.
   “Move it Moongazer!” Cass bellowed over the energy whistling in the air.
   As they came close Owain turned and began to run as cracks of intense energy bolts hissed uncomfortably passed them. Thankfully these amphibians Militia did not have the accuracy of their now dead sniper.
   Cass stopped uneasy on a patch of marsh that sucked at her boots, turning on her heels and sweeping from left to right she returned rapid-fire, her R.F.2 kicking powerfully into her shoulder. Rowe-y-Bar halted, whirled, and opened up, the two mud splatter warriors quickly taking three more of the amphibian’s lives, their throaty cries of death echoed over the blasts. Cass tried to move but her feet were stuck as though in quicksand, then the marsh erupted. A big webbed hand sized her ankle, powerful head and shoulders rose, a glint of a wicked blade trust deep, then ripped into Hanrue`s upper thigh, she cried out.  Owain let loose a rapid-fire burst pumping the amphibian full of vicious shells as it sunk back into the marsh without trace.     
   There was a lull in the fighting from both sides as Cass pulled the knife out with a soft moan of pain and throw it aside. She whipped her helmeted head round, her slim camouflaged face fierce; blue eyes bright with rage. “Go Rowe-y-Bar,” she urged her to leave in the knowledge that her wound was too severe to continue. “Go!  I`ll hold `em for as long as I can!” she staggered the pain unbearable from the gaping flesh.
   Owain stormed back next to Rowe, she pulled at his arm; anger and frustration tore at the young man as he adamantly pulled his arm out of Rowe’s grip his expression was one who would not leave. They had lost one of their group he didn’t want to lose another.
   “Damn it Rowe! Get the hell out of here!” Cass yelled in fury. Their eyes locked the outcome inferable; they share a farewell a select few could ever share on a battlefield.   
   Owain stepped forward; “I’m not going.” He spat defiantly; they had lost Vasrac he wasn’t going to leave Cass to die alone in this mud pit of nowhere.
   “Too hell you are!” Rowe-y-Bar barked, almost draggling Owain as he glared at her with the questionable declaration of Cass Hanrue`s apparent decision of self-sacrifice. He knew he had no alternative with the powerful Surbato warrior pulling him with ease of a rag-doll as several more bolts flashed by.
   A series of lighting blasts ripped close by Cass as she returned fire, an amphibian Militia tried to charge at her head on only to be wiped out in a hail of angry shells. Two bursts of energy exploded close passed her head, the third though ripped through her body armour and shoulder. She cursed in pain; yet defiantly refused to go down, instead let her rage speak from the barrel of her rifle as spent shell flew wildly into the air. So violence was her return of fire it seemed that Cass would be the only one left standing, until it happen the empty clicks of no ammunition. Without hesitation Cass tore out the empty magazine and snatched one from her belt, it was about to be snapped home when she was hit in the chest, once, twice, the third time was death as she struck the mud.

CRYDAW   Call of the Blue Stone   Page 39

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We fight today, so we can live tomorrow… I will not be shackled. Nor shall I be oppressed… Freedom is a right… I will not yield to the sword of tyranny.  

CRYDAW Call of the Blue Stone.

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   Once again the helmeted head hurry passed the gap of the parapet. The silence was sliced open by the hissing kick of the sniper’s rifle, Vasrac moved every nerve and muscle of his body ready for this moment as he swung around with the speed that was almost totally unreal his finger pressing hard on the hair-trigger of his R.F.2 rifle. The thunder of fire ripped through the mangle of roots behind Owain Moongazer sending splinters of wood dancing into the cold air. It was all too no avail, for the first time in Vasrac Lutron`s hunting life he unwisely chose the wrong side, the amphibian sniper blasted a hole right through his helmet.
   Before the life of Vasrac Lutron finally extinguished, Cass and Rowe-y-Bar rifles open up. Rowe following Cass`s lead with an intentness that tore the sniper’s hiding place to smithereens. Cass Hanrue was the one who finely took the life of a virulent sniper.
   With all thoughts of the sniper gone Owain dragged himself to his feet and stumble as he tried to move, his body limp and numb from the stillness it had endured. His heart beat with the rhythmic thump of a startle piston. The more he moved, the more the stinging sensation of blood rusting through his veins put his body slowly back to full function as what seemed to be a complete round of eternity. Moongazer clawed and scramble his way to Vasrac`s dead body trying to take in what just actually happened.
   Vasrac Lutron the hunter, the Prowler, a legend amongst warriors, a man now shrouded in mystery and legend where countless stories would be told on cold nights in the dugouts of Mire. A man suddenly gone for ever, but a cunning warrior that would never be forgotten.
   He lay back down in the mud both hands grip tightly on his rifle. One single shot had shattered his head and the mud was a sodden sticky muss of blood. Owain stood there, his body numb, his mind blank, with a vacant stare on his camouflaged face.
   Slowly, curiously Cass and Rowe rounded the end of the fallen trunk. The amphibian was propped sideward’s against a mangle of roots; from the chest up it was just a bloody pulp almost unrecognizable. The amphibian had taken numerous hits in the shoulders and to the head, death unquestionable quick, a fitting epithet.
   With a spiritless and an almost unemotional expression Cass turned to Rowe-y-Bar. “Vasrac is dead,” she spoke softly as a cold breeze licking at her sweaty face.
   The silence drew out for a while longer as Rowe turned to her friend with the same unemotional expression. “I know.”
 

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    Slowly as a carnivorous mammal stalking it’s pray, Cass began to turn her head towards the right a moment that seem to take forever. As the distortions hasten from the corners of her eyes, they began to clear as she started to study the whole area. Cass focused her clear blue eyes on the innocuous pile of roots surmounted by shrapnel torn trunk nothing stirred. Everything seemed to be perfectly right, that spot was the only hiding place available to the sniper, he must have settled there after they had move in otherwise they all would be dead by now.
   At that moment, a minute blur of movement fixed her eyes into a killer stare. It was so evanesced that many a specialist would have miss it, but it riveted Cass to attention. The stare stayed, not a blink, a movement, the realization of what she had just seen kept her motionless. Protruding from the tangle of roots was the tip of an amphibian’s rifle; the barrel was screened well amongst that mass. It had been wrapped with bark and smeared with mud to break the stark outline and this technique would prevent reflection of light off metal, nevertheless the deadly square mouth of the muzzle was uncovered.
   Slowly the minutes ticked by, Cass watched the tip of the barrel, but it did not move again. This situation she and the others found themselves in was going to be difficult, this sniper was patience and processed the stillness to go with it.
    Unbearable minutes crept by without any break in the heavy air of tension. Vasrac like the others, Rowe and Owain dared not to move. His rifle was in the firing position and he was aiming the muzzle towards his own line. Through the raised sight he pinpointed the position of that shot the amphibian had taken.
   He stared through the sight willing Grey to try the dummy `droid again. “Come on try Toby again,” Vasrac was almost muttering to himself. He witness the sniper take out the `droid with it’s first shot so he thought he had a good idea where it was; behind Moongazer, which side he was unsure of. Lutron knew that if the amphibian fell for the maintenance `droid again he would have the time to turn and fire. Which side of Owain he would decide when he pulled the trigger and he was banking on Cass or Rowe had pinned him by now. Vasrac did not like the idea of turning and firing wildly, but their options were running out, and this sniper was not going anywhere.

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CHAPTER THREE

   Under the helmet the wide turquoise eyes were fixed into an unbelievable stare, so violence was the hissing discharge of the amphibian’s rifle, so close, so intense that Owain’s eardrums rang a peal of realization bells for a few seconds afterwards. The stinging memory of the shot would instinctively make you shake your head, but such a movement for Moongazer would surely be his last.
   The four Prowlers imitated the stillness of the morning. The amphibian sniper was somewhere within eight meters of where Moongazer lay. Vasrac cursed deep within, he was a hunter with a hunters eye the coincidence of the ground he had chosen could not be put down to chance he and the amphibian were of the same blood methodically; hunters’ blood. They had selected the ideal position for their task to deliver death to any unexpected victim.
   Only seconds had passed, still Owain froze, not moving since the sniper’s weapon had fired. The adrenaline surged through his veins and his heart beat with a vehemence of a madden drummer in his ears. Beads of sweat roll from under his helmet into his eyes, but he dare not blink. Fear had taken over from the initial shock of the shot and fear was going to keep him still no matter what. The amphibian was to the right, slightly higher up the slope. The sniper rifle could take away any part of Owain’s right side from his head to his shoulder.    
   To his left Cass Hanrue trained her eyes around without moving her head, and in the circumference of her vision saw a fallen tree trunk close to where Owain was hidden. Cass did not move for another full half of a minute, watching for any movement in the corner of her eye. Nothing moved, and the silence became so oppressive it was as though time itself now ceased to exist.

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   Lieutenant Grey looked up at the sky then checked the instrument on this wrist. “Colonel it’s almost time.” he stepped forward between the two men.
   “Okay Grey, go get him.” Torren replied as he pointed with his chin to the darkened corner of the trench.
   “Him?” Joel asked clearly puzzled.
   The Colonel placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder coaxing him to turn to the corner of the trench. “I’m sorry General,” he smiled the first of the day. “I forgot to introduce to you our target for today.” he pointed a finger into the direction Grey.
   “General Thawbran meet Toby.” Grey expressed with a sweeping wave of his hand as a figure started to rise with a low droning from the shaded corner. The Lieutenant chuckled as he reached out for one of the arms that hung lifelessly down and lifted it to wave at the perplexed General.
   It was a manikin, yet from the shadows of the corner the features were realistic, the helmeted head, the face, the body armour. The model ended abruptly at the waist and below it was three internal thrusters propelling it into the air. Surprised the General could then see it was a converted maintenance `droid.
   “What’re you going to do with that?” Thawbran addressed the question to the Colonel, but Grey replied with a nod of encouragement from Torren.
    Grey pulled from his utility belt a small hand-held computer; he pressed the screen on it and handed it to the General. Joel quickly studied it and could see at once that it was a tactical floor-plan of the United Planets trenches. Two red spots of  light close to each other flashed in the same section of the trench, at these places the parapet were once low and the maintenance `droids had now raised this part with stone blocks. The United Planets military were; well some would say contemptuous of the amphibian Militia’s ability to fight. Until that is, four personnel were killed at these two spots, that’s when the parapet subsequently, and cautiously was raised and also it was about the same time the amphibians had gained a revengeful respect.
   The two flashing lights represented a distance of forty paces, and Vasrac Lutron realised that this skilful amphibian sniper had achieved such easy kills by waiting for an unexpecting victim to walk down the trench. It would get a glimpse of a helmeted head in the first gap, and would be aiming into the second with a wedded finger pulling on the trigger of its powerful rifle as the unfortunate victim passed it. Grey was explaining this to Joel as he pointed to the positions with his gloved finger, the General listen intently; realising at this was the point where Markus had met his end.        
   “Lutron wants us to draw the amphibian’s fire. The position he has chosen for himself and his team has the sniper in a line of fire from one or maybe two of them.”
   “It’s a bit hit-an-miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” Joel mused.
    Torren cut in. “These amphibian Militia are good, and that sniper is the best I ever seen.” It hurt him to concede what was true as he paused, then continued optimistically. “We believe that it has made a mistake though. It has found a good spot and is sticking too it…. This maybe it’s undoing.”
   The General looked at Torren convinced in the skill of the Prowlers. “Vasrac Lutron must know what he is doing…. I’ll be damned, he wouldn’t be out there otherwise.”
   The young office Grey picked up a waveperiscope then guided the maintenance `droid long side Torren and Joel. He turned it to face the two men who were waiting with anticipation. Then lifting a metal flap in the front of the `droid and then pushed in a tiny program disc for the task it was about to perform. To many individuals it may only be a machine designed for maintenance, yet like all `droids it was fully programmed for self-preservation the disc would override that command.
   The `droid seemed to pause, then suddenly began to move as it processed the information from the disc. The machine hovered half a meter higher than any of the natural personnel to compensate for the raised parapet, his shoulders rolled realistically as if he was hurrying along the trench he hovered tantalising passed the first gap.
   The tension of the moment ceased as a vicious harsh hissing crack of a high-velocity rifle echoed. The `droid whipped sharply the metal head kicked all too real as the maintenance `droid scented droplets of splintered metal and sparking internal modules flying as it dropped out of sight and hit the plastic coated boards with sickening realism, half of it metal face gone, and what remained sparked pitifully.
   “Damn!” Torren cursed bitterly as the waveperiscope focused with disbelieving evidence on the slope. “Damn his wart riddled hide!”
   “Torren what’s wrong?” Joel shouted over the Colonel’s anger.
   “Blast that amphibian!”  
   “Colonel?”
   Torren lowered the waveperiscope, the impression of hopeless written all over his face. “General…. He’s behind them. He’s among the trees, almost sitting on top of them.” He bitterly threw the periscope to the ground “They’ve picked the same stand.”
   Joel looked at the sparking `droid on the muddy floor boards and realised with cold bitter irony the predicament the Prowlers were now in.

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   The darkness slowly gave way, taking with it the heavy black rain clouds that rolled unwillingly by leaving a tantalising glimpse of the sky. As the sky lightened to an ash grey, three figures in the trench stood close, one confidently peering into the lens of an waveperiscope, the observer was allowed to keep well down below the stone-blocked parapet. General Joel Thawbran lifted the waveperiscope he was holding and swung it in the same direction as Colonel Torren Yen who began to sweep back and forth across the slope the waveperiscope automatically adjusting with every move.
   “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” General Thawbran inquired.
   Torren kept the waveperiscope against his eyes concentrating on viewing the slope. “Lutron`s group are up there on the slope,” he finally answered.
   Joel turned to the Colonel concerned about the distance. “The slope, that’s quite away.”
   “Yes, that’s why the group went out early last night.” Torren said with total faith in the man and his companions hiding out there in the jaws of the enemy.
   The General looked back through the waveperiscope. “Do you know where on the slope?” he asked as he turned the periscope toward the hill.
   “Of course General. Vasrac Lutron is a prudent warrior; he only agreed to help us with this sniper if all plans of his operations were kept to one person, myself. I had no option but to go long with him.” Torren lowered the waveperiscope and passed it to Lieutenant Grey a lean, long-jawed officer with gaunt cheeks. “To be honest Joel I do anything to get rid of that damn sniper,” his eyes narrowed with diastase for the creature out there.
   The General lowered the periscope and turned to the Colonel understanding his situation. “Am I permitted to know where they are now?”
   “Now they’re in position, yes.” Torren answered quietly with the natural reaction of not wanting anyone to overhear. “They’re to the left of the slope, amongst the remains of the trees.” 
   Joel raised the periscope again and focused on the stumpy trees, the waveperiscope was not powerful enough to pick out any minute details, he only wished he possessed a pair of wavebinoculars. The General knew however, even with such power lenses he would not be able to pick them out. Vasrac Lutron and his group were too good for that.
   “What’s the plan?” Joel spoke with a cutting edge in his voice, almost as cutting as the breeze that licked at his boots as he lowered the periscope.
   “When you came in yesterday, Vasrac had observed that the amphibian was shooting low on the south slope of the hill. He and his group worked out the angles of the last two shots the creature had made and they have got him pinned to within ten meters.”
   “What if he decides to change position?” Joel asked, knowing you could not depend on a sniper staying put not one as good as this anyway.
    “Lutron believes he will not leave the south slope, his stand is good there, even if the sun should come out he still can shoot from the shade.”
   Joel nodded at Vasrac Lutron`s logic. “Yes,” he mused, considering the position. “But he’s had two kills in such a short time; he may seek the safety of his own lines.”
   Torren`s eyes narrowed as he answered. “No General. The Militia lines are too far back, he knows we’re unable to track him and he more than cocky enough to want a shorter range. He’s shooting from close in; he’s got a good stand there, probably changing his position daily. But he likes coming in close.” He paused, then in low tense tones added. “Thrill of the kill and all that….”
   Torren Yen’s faces darken, in spite of his toughness and sometimes-irritable manner; the Colonel cared deeply about his command. The fact that he was faced with a really aggressive sniper, an expert, who could neatly burn a hole between the eyes at a hundred and seventy meters in murky light.
   The sky began to lighten; a few more holes in the grey cloud cover began to appear here and there and bands of watery sun fell and search the slope like the lights from a huge lumbering space destroyer.

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    Only seventy paces beyond the burnout transported when it started to rain again. Vasrac felt the piercing stab of dismay in his chest. He had hoped for once the rain would hold off, at least until they were on their way home. With the rain, the mist that was good cover for them would slowly melt away. Nevertheless, undeterred and in a single silence file they kept on after the patrol, which began to move faster with a confidence in their stride as they neared their own lines.
   Cass Hanrue who was second in the line tapped Lutron on the back and gave the signal to halt. They all stopped, crouching; he turned with his full attention on her.
   “Vasrac, we’ve come too far now, let’s leave it.” Cass Hanrue`s voice was anxious, “We’re out for the sniper, and this trail has taken us away from our directive.”
   “I know Cass, but there is something going on here and it’s got something to do with the sniper. I can feel it,” he swept the scene with narrowed lids as the rain patted on his camouflaged face he felt suspicious that tonight outing felt different.
   “I’ve a gut feeling, and I don’t like it.” Cass growled as her wide eyes fixed into a no nonsense stare on her group member.
   “Ah, you and your perceivable mind’s eye,” Vasrac lips broke into a reassuring half grin. “We’ll go on little further, if it comes to nothing we’ll call it a night.”
   The look of vexation in Cass`s eyes burned deep into Vasrac Lutron. “We’re out for the sniper Vasrac…. Nothing else.”
   “Okay, Cass Hanrue you win.” Lutron had come to respect her senses, her perception proving right so many times in the past. He was a man with proper deference to know when it was time to quit a situation.
   Ninety meters below the crest, Vasrac indicated that they should leave the detail then they began working their way towards the slope. With the rain the mist had thinned to nothing, they trod more carefully as they worked their way sideways around the slope. Groping their way painstaking through a path that here and there sprouted small square and pyramid stones sparsely covered with stringy bog moss giving the whole scene a haunting chill about it these Vasrac realised were ancient places of the dead, maybe graves of the chiefs of the early amphibian tribes. He didn’t contemplate it for long, he was no archaeologist; he was out here to put another amphibian in his grave.
   Vasrac, Cass, Owain and Rowe-y-Bar stepped carefully around each head stone, not only to avoid a possible ambush, but as warriors of spiritual culture they showed reverence for those who now rested here. The rain had now stopped as they reached and recognised the stand Vasrac and Cass had picked out though wavebinoculars the previous day. The spot was heavily wooded with the grotesque midget spider-like trees. There was no need for words; they already planed what they were going to do when they reached this patch. Vasrac moved forward, Cass and Rowe moved side-wards, Cass to the left, Rowe-y-Bar to the right, Owain stayed where he was.
   The stumpy, gangly rooted trees made perfect camouflage with the main roots sticking out of the marsh giving the impression of the trees trying to pull themselves free from the ground, it was almost like these plants were trying to escape the conflict.
   Crawling among the tangle of roots, the group carefully selected this side of the slope because it would be in the deepest shadow from Mire’s weak sun should the cloud cover clear through out the day. Wriggling on their belles until they were half covered by the tangle, but with enough head and shoulder room to sweep a full ninety degrees, Simultaneity they checked their weapons paying careful attention to the pinpoint rear sight that rose noiselessly from the top of the R.F.2 with a press of a button. When all checks were done, Vasrac, Cass and Rowe took this opportunity to rest.
   The three forward of Owain had developed the adroitness of instant sleep; it was an ability Moongazer could not yet master. The little time he been with the group he appeared to have settle in well it was as though he had spent months instead of days with them. Many who served alongside him in the trenches thought he was an opportunist, what they could not see was that he possessed a talent for many aspects of military life. To be out here in the marsh with Vasrac Lutron, Cass Hanrue and Rowe-y-Bar seemed to be the most natural thing at this particular moment in his life; and for reasons he could not explain he like it.
   His wide pale turquoise eyes tried to seek out his companions, all too no avail, in the dark he could just make out the trees and their roots nearly all shatter from endless energy bombardment in the early part of the occupation. He hoped that his concealment was as good as theirs. Time passed and he cleared his mind of all thoughts, he lowered his head carefully against the cold metal butt of his rifle as he tried to rest, all-round was quiet, just a faint icy wind heralding the dawn kissed his cheek.
 

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   No words were spoken as they settled next to Owain, his eyes shone suddenly with new light. Like all new members of a group he wanted to impress, the thought of locating something before them gratified him. He raised a gloved finger and pointed to the right of them. They listen, the silence was oppressive, no sound came from the dismal miserable surrounding, and the dank night smells of peat and reeds oppressed the group. Minutes passed, as they remained silence and listen, in that time a haunting mist slowly rolled over the marsh giving it a grey spooky shroud.
   Vasrac kept blinking, unconsciously trying to see through the sullenest of the night, his eyes gradually began to grow accustomed to the gloomy mist all around so that he could just make out the grotesque-looking twisted trunks and roots of fallen stumpy trees. Eventually Lutron turned to Owain and raised a questionable eyebrow; then somewhere near by something moved, and then there were the unmistakable throaty calls of an amphibian in the darkness the group froze instantly.
   “Torg sig gar!”
  What resemble audible sounds roughly croak a reply. All four Prowlers slightly raised their rifles, forefingers hooking over the triggers, thumbs near safely-catches. 
   “Sig gar! Ahcar lo kar.”
   Close to one side, Vasrac sensed rather than seen in the gloom of the mist, a heavily laden figure slowly passing. Cass swung her rifle over Lutron`s shoulder to follow the bipedal creature, her thumb touching the safety-catch ready to flick it. The amphibian appeared to cursed as it trudge heavily on its large wedded feet, its obvious stoop was not down to the container strapped to its back, it was its natural stance as its long arms dangle limply at its sides. The green and yellow striped warty skin glistened like the bulbous orange eyes atop its almost flat head. The creature’s only garments were a black vest and shorts, to the right leg was strapped an over size pistol.
   “Cor,cor!” the other throated an order and they moved on back towards their own line.
   Lutron checked and could see that they were making their way towards the crest of the hill. It was obvious by their attitude that they were not a scouting party or even more deadlier, the sniper. Vasrac surmised that they must be some sort of supply detail taken a wrong turn in the dark, with their clumsiness they could follow them totality unnoticed.
   Good fortune may have come the group’s way on this damp night. These blundering amphibians would hide any tracks the four would make if they were unlucky tonight, when day broke their tracks would be hidden from the keen eye of the sniper and the sniper may have prior notice of the details approach. Vasrac realised that this fumbling two-some had made the spoor they been following earlier, by their argumentative behaviour they must have taken a wrong turn in the dark. With all their noisy gossiping, Lutron decided to follow, hoping on the sniper expecting this detail, it would be a calculated risk, a risk he was prepared to take.

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   Vasrac stopped for what only seemed like a moment, when one of the group came close alongside. She was about the same height and attire as him, young and slim and gave the impression of battle vigilant. Her milk-skin was hidden under thick camouflage paint that very same paint could not dull the clear blue eyes that shone and danced from side to side surveying the ancient land, there was no fear in her eyes only alertness.
   “I don’t like it Cass,” Vasrac whispered. His deep tones touch her ears with quietness as not to break the tension the night suddenly had thrown at them.
   Intuition pulled at the young woman’s senses. “There something going on here, I can sense it Vasrac.” Cass Hanrue breathed an almost silence reply as the two warriors dropped slowly to one knee amongst a clump of thick bladed grass.
   Rowe-y-Bar, crouching, moved in by them. Dropping onto one knee with her back to them she announced. “Vasrac, Moongazer has heard something over there,” she pointed behind them slightly to the right with the barrel of her R.F.2 rifle. Lutron gave her a fleeting glance before looking into the direction she had pointed.
   Out of the group Rowe-y-Bar was the tallest at two meters. Her oval black face and large distinctive grey-blue eyes and small nose sat over thick lips that parted to reveal a perfect row of showily white teeth. All of this radiated a beauty under the striped camouflage paint. It is said, those who choose to fight a Surbato, have chosen death.
    Vasrac acknowledge with a nod and indicated with a slight wave of his gloved hand to join Owain Moongazer who was only a few meters away. In unison they move with the crouching quietness of a feline stalking its pray. Their particular stealth was not an art that could be taught; it just came naturally in accordance with one’s birth, each was derived from a native culture from which natural disposition had been the hunter. Like Rowe-y-Bar, Vasrac Lutron and Cass Hanrue were from very similar backgrounds; the elite warrior meant very thing to their culture.
   At twenty, Owain Moongazer had experience action for three of those years. He possessed a talent for combat, a talent his three companions had inherited, and if there was anyone person ever to exploit it you could count on Vasrac Lutron. It was he who could sense something about this young man the first time they had met, an entity not clearly defined.
   Owain stooped low on one knee betwixt a mass of thickets, there was no movement, and it was as though he had naturally become part of the wilderness. The eyes were a pale turquoise, set wide; there was a clear gaze of vigour a man who had lived on a planet uncluttered by crowed cities of over indulgence of technology, a civilisation of long distant horizons. Wide-open lids dare not overlap the iris; the effect was hypnotic, as the pupils seemed to sparkle like some distance star. Vasrac only seen such a gaze a few times in his thirty years of existence, and the directness of the sincerity appeared to bore deep into one’s soul.
   The first impact of those eyes divulged to Vasrac that here was a young man admitted to a life of bearing arms for the power of good. Lutron`s complex spontaneous instinct was veracious, it appeared that he could predict a true and cunning warrior. He recognised that it was Owain’s destiny and he had never been wrong in his judgements. 

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   This was the second time the spoor had begun hot and true only to fade without trace. The stillness of the marshland was so primeval that the tread of a booted foot was a starling disturbance. To the ears of Vasrac Lutron it at least appeared that way, even though he moved along the trail with the practice and caution of a man who had venture out in this unfriendly area before. He was black, of medium height, his camouflage face taut with concentration under his snug fitting battle helmet. His mode was not unlike that of the United Planets troops deployed on Mire. The sturdy black elasticised electro-bodysuit that hugged the wearer like a second skin from the neck to the incorporated boots. Then there were the selective lightweight body armour, chest, arms, and legs. A utility belt supported a short dagger and several ammunition clips.
   There was no perturbation in his wide brown eyes that scanned the reeds that fringed the trail. Though not tall, he was of good build and the arms that the elasticised suit clung to were thick with muscle. In his gloved hands he held with readiness the short rapid-fire R.F.2 rifle, this weapon was favoured for its short range spraying; and it also had the balance and actuary for long range shots. Unlike the regular energy weapons issue by the United Planets marines the R.F.2 fired high velocity splinter shells. A truly awesome weapon favoured by Prowler groups for its ability not to leave a tracer trail.
   From the last two shots that the amphibian sniper made Vasrac and his group had worked out the angle and had pinpointed him within ten meters. He calculated from the lost of his own group member and that of Markus Blackplane that the amphibian had not changed his position. He was favouring the south slope; Lutron logged the fact that it was in the shadows all day, even if the planets feeble sun came out it was still shaded, and that part of the slop still had a knot of trees. Yet, the last two trails lead them to nothing, why?

CRYDAW   Call of the Blue Stone   Page 30

All Material is Registered with The Writers Guild of America, west, Inc.
All material is owned by the Author and can not be used, or copied without permission.

   “I’m sorry to hear about Markus, General. I was told what happen.”
   Joel sipped at his drink; he had been a warrior too long and seen too many friends die to let it haunt him. But then the shadows darkened about his eyes, for long seconds the General appeared to reflect on years that he and Markus Blackplane had fought along side each other in this war with no end in sight.
   “That damn sniper.” Torren Yen was handed a large drink by one of the officers, he acknowledge him with a nod. “Ever since we moved in,” he shook his head hopelessly. “If only you would’ve warned me General that you were coming into the line this evening.” He took a sip from the beaker, the spirit warmed the back of his mouth, he swallowed, and a warm glow grasped his throat and the bottom of his stomach. “It’s the same amphibian of course. In all my years as a marine, I’ve never seen anything like it,” he shook his head. “Yet the last day or two it’s been quiet. Markus is the only casualty we’ve had for a while.”
   A flush of anger darkened Joel’s face. “Can’t you do anything about him?” the harshness in his voice drew the attention of all those in the dugout. “Damn it Torren! You’ve handle the problem of snipers before.”
   “Yes I have General,” the Colonel returned swiftly irritated by Joel’s words. “You know the difficulties. They produce a secretion over their skin that stops our tracking systems picking them up.” He took another sip at his drink and swallowed hard, then added. “Oh, I’ve dealt with snipers before. But not like this one!” Torren pause thinking over the situation then went on hopefully, “I’ve got Prowlers out very night, and they’re good. They’ve taken out a few Bacterrom Militia, but that sniper always there, waiting.”
   Joel suddenly notice the change on Torren`s face, the pressure of this sniper constantly stalking his troops was slowly telling on him. 
   Joel came over and put an understanding hand on Torren`s shoulder.  “Prowlers!” he said trying to lighten the atmosphere in the all too quiet dugout. “There’s not many of them around,” he smiled. “What group?”
   Torren Yen knocked back the rest of his drink. A cunning smile broke the stony appearance, which appeared to ease him. “Lutron.”
   “Vasrac Lutron?” Joel expressed approvingly. “How did you mange that?”
   “I heard that Colonel Creed at the 2nd Battalion had them, so I had a few words with him. Our situation, it seems, he was acquainted with. After a few deals he agreed to send them over to us.” Torren motioned to one of his men to refill his beaker, he then continued. “They came in less than a week ago…. I gave them a free hand, Creed told me they like to work that way. They’re mysterious as they’re cunning.”
   “I’d like to meet this group,” Joel spoke eagerly.
   “Yes of course General, when they return,” the young officer returned with Torren`s drink he acknowledge him with a half smile. “I’ve seen to it that I’m there when they leave and also on their return,” he sipped the drink. “You’ve just miss them General, they like to go out as soon as it gets dark.”
   “Well, here’s to Vasrac Lutron and success,” Thawbran replied eagerly downing a mouth full of spirit.  
   Torren turned and looked squarely at the Thawbran. “Well General, you haven’t said why you came in tonight unannounced.” He coyly asked, the spirit making him feel a bit more at ease, the stints on top with that sniper always there waiting made everyone tense.
   The General grinned; his way of dropping in without prior notice always came with an unreasoning response. “Ah yes, in my field bag over there,” he pointed with his chin to the chair where the bag hung. “Release orders for a marine in your command, a young man by the name of Owain Moongazer.”                     
   “Owain?” the Colonel questioned through furrowed brows.
   “You know him then?” the General queried.
   “Know him, he’s one of Lutron`s group.” The reply was matter-of-fact as the Colonel took another sip of his drink.
   “That can’t be,” Joel disputed. “According to Base Command he is presently under your command in the 7th Battalion, not in any Prowler group.”
   “That’s true,” Torren admitted. “For the last two day’s though, Owain Moongazer has been with Lutron. You see when Vasrac first came in I think he underestimated the lethal accuracy of this sniper.” He cursed inside knowing how good this amphibian was, if a specialist like Lutron could get caught out. “Their first night here they were studying the ground when one of his group was taken out almost the very same way as your Captain Blackplane. Lutron is not a man who gives up easily. Nevertheless, his group was down by one and he likes to work in a group of four.”
   “Owain Moongazer,” the General intervened, in someway not surprised at the young man’s abilities. “But how?”
   “Don’t ask me General.” Torren replied shaking his head, bemused by it himself.
   “For no apparent reason his young man came forward and volunteered to join Lutron`s group. To my amazement, Vasrac looked him up and down and just said yeah, he’ll do.”

CRYDAW   Call of the Blue Stone   Page 29

All Material is Registered with The Writers Guild of America, west, Inc.
All material is owned by the Author and can not be used, or copied without permission.

   Another day almost over, with another about to begin as the Colonel commanding the 7th Battalion stepped weary through the metal entrance frame as the door hissed sharply shut behind him. He straightened, propped his weapon in a rack next to the row of rifles on the wall by the door and removed his gloves. The mess-room had been a Militia’s dugout four days ago before the 7th move in. Fifty meters below ground level, it wasn’t impregnable, just a lot safer than up top. The floor was of heavy plastic coated metal boarding and even the walls were panelled against the damp and cold, all work carried out by maintenance `droids not long after the United Planets troops took it over. A large round heating unit that obtained its power from a generator beside it stood against the far wall it kept the dugout warm and dry.
   Gathered about sat the off-duty officers their shinning faces full with hero-worship as they listened to the legendary General on chairs that showed very sign that they had seen better days, most were ripped or welded together with sections of ships that had come to an unfortunate end. However, the Colonel had eyes only for the sturdy figure of the General seated on a large looted easy chair, undoubtedly the most comfortable and also the closest to the heating unit.
   The Colonel removed his helmet and put it on a nearby table as he hurried across the dugout towards the smiling General.
   The Colonel smiled, “General my apologises.” The Colonel shrugged, hating it when Joel Thawbran would turn up like this without warning. “I was on my rounds,” he sighed with a headache from trudging around trench after trench in the rain. “It’s seems to take longer very time.”
   Joel smiled and rose heavily from the chair to shake his hand. “You haven’t got to apologise, I wouldn’t expect any other of you Torren. Your men informed me of your whereabouts and they made me feel very welcome, look,” he pointed to the green bottles on a small metal table. “We’ve kept a little of the United Planets fineness for you, come on you look like you need it.”
   For a man in his late forties Torren Yen looked a lot younger; the years had been good to him. The almost line free oval face creased a little as the Colonel glanced quickly about the dugout and frowned knowingly as he saw their glowing cheeks and sparking eyes of some of his younger officers. He must warn them of their foolishness of trying to drink level with the General, he himself had learn that lesson the hard way in the days before the Royalist Empire when life seemed to be a lot easier back then. Joel Thawbran was as steady as a rock of course, and those blue eyes were like sharpen daggers under the grey-laced brows. But the Colonel knew this old war-chariot too well and guessed that he had a full half of United Planets fineness spirit, and that there was something about his attitude that was troubling him. Then Torren realised what it was.

CRYDAW   Call of the Blue Stone   Page 28

All Material is Registered with The Writers Guild of America, west, Inc.
All material is owned by the Author and can not be used, or copied without permission.

Footsteps sounded from around the corner. Silas became even more still than he’d been before. His breathing made no sound and his limbs were poised for movement. He hoped the footsteps indicated that the job was almost over. He was tired and hungry and extremely annoyed at Mr. Smith for giving him faulty information.
The sound of footsteps grew louder, and the man who was walking began to whistle cheerily. Silas, hidden in the shadows, waited patiently until the man walked passed the alleyway where he was crouched. He caught a glimpse of a rather short, stocky man, suit coat flung casually over his shoulder, expensive watch gleaming in the lamplight. This was him, indeed.
Silas rose from his crouch and began walking behind the man, matching his footsteps to his so as to mask the sound. His boots were, of course, almost completely silent anyway, but there was no point in taking chances. The streets he and the man walked through were deserted, it being very late at night – late enough to be considered very early in the morning. They walked down one street and then another. The man never looked back and kept up his merry whistle and his brisk stride. After about ten minutes, the man walked up to a fancy skyscraper, obviously housing luxury apartments, and began to push the buttons on the coded lock to the front door.
Silas stood now to his side, about twenty steps away. He was hidden in the shadows once more. Everything was in readiness. He put the small tube he was holding in his hand to his lips and blew.
The man stood stock still for a moment, and then crumpled to the ground. Silas was already at the end of the street.

I love WordPress.com.  I think it offers a superior product for free blogging software with a professional, clean look and limitless customization.  Now I have another reason to love WordPress, SocialVibe.

Social Vibe is an online tool  WordPress has added support for that pairs up charitable causes with advertisers to raise funds for the cause.  If you click on the SocialVibe widget on the right hand column on my blog and watch a short ( a minute or so) video from my sponsor, they’ll donate a small amount to my chosen cause.

While I would generally like to avoid having advertising on my page, I’m glad to make the exception here.  While I work on getting myself into a position where I can help causes I believe in more directly, I’d like to do what I can, and this is certainly a great way to do it.

I’ve chosen Direct Relief International as my cause to support.  It’s an excellent, well-established organization that provides medical supplies and care both in the U.S. and abroad to those affected by poverty and natural disasters.  100% of donations to DRI go to programs, as an endowment left to the organization allows it to cover all of its administrative and fundraising costs.

PowerBar will serve as my sponsor.  Their video series discusses energy food options for endurance sports and how to best utilize them.  It could be fairly useful for the increasing number of people I see taking up marathon running, and educational if nothing else.

I thoroughly appreciate all of you who read this blog and thank you in advance for your contributions.

Note: I’m having some problems with PowerBar’s video blocking the rating system which translates into donations.  I will work on fixing this problem and in the meantime will use the “truth” campaign as my sponsor.  The dangers of smoking are serious, and while many of my friends and family are smokers or former smokers and might not like this, the possible results are too dire to forget.

Do you love Twitter, facebook, blogging and drinking wine? California’s Sonoma Valley is looking for someone that does. Murphy-Goode Winery’s has created a “Really Goode Job” after they ‘got to thinking about the new age of communications and figured it was a pretty good thing.’ They have started a search for someone social media savvy and wine crazy to join them for six months to report on the lifestyle of Sonoma County Wine Country and blog about what they learn. This dream job will lavish the employee with wine, food, poker games, free accommodation and social media fame, and will pay $10,000 U.S. per month for six months plus travel expenses.

What is the job description exactly?
Taken from the Murphy-Goode website:

Here’s what you’ll be doing:

• Exploring the vineyards of Murphy-Goode and surrounding areas and discovering what the Sonoma County Wine Country has to offer, from well-known destinations to off-the-beaten-path spots.
• Tasting hundreds of wines and meeting the locals in our tasting room.
• Increasing your wine wisdom: while studying isn’t required, our winemaking and vineyard experts will take the time to show you how it’s all done.
•Working with our winemaker, David Ready, Jr., to create a new wine commemorating your job with us.
• Filing reports on your experiences, via weekly blogs, photo diaries, Twitter, Facebook, video updates and ongoing media interviews.

But it is not all fun and games. Don’t forget to protect the vines.

• Tracking the local owl and raptor populations: There are hundreds of raptors patrolling the vineyards, keeping the grapes safe from harmful pests. Monitoring owl and hawk populations — particularly those that inhabit the new series of nesting boxes — is helpful to our sustainable farming practices.

So, if you’re over 21, legal to work in the U.S., love web 2.0, wine and want to spend six months in a quirky winery blogging and playing poker this job is for you.

I tell you this, it is very very difficult to concentrate on work when you are all set for a vacation. All you can think of is The Vacation. Everything else in life sort of blurs into the background becoming miniscule and insignificant .  How am I going to spend the next 8 hours stuck in this office?? My guess is, day dreaming.

Before I go I have two things to say. All you blogspot walas, you are responsible for my not coming over, reading and commenting on your blogs. I blame my absence on your blog wholly and solely on you! Lately I have been  finding it difficult to indulge in any blogging activity from home. Time has been a constraint as has been the temperamental laptop and the absentee house help. So all the blogging business has been happening from office. IT at work has blocked blogspot and not wordpress. Don’t ask me why. I find it hard to explain practically all the decisions they take, even the “rational” ones. That basically leaves me with the desire to read what you all have been writing and no means to get to your blogs. And it’s not for the lack of trying. I live on the eternal hope that they will one fine day wake up and realise blocking blogspot is a bad idea and un-block it. So far each time I hit on a blogspot blog all I get is ‘The administrator has blocked this site‘ written in bold red. But I promise you this, my blogging buddies, when I return I will read all that I have missed. It’s long due so I’m sure I will have a lot of catching up to do.

Sometime earlier on this blog I had mentioned that my mom has a blog of her own. I remember Manpreet asking me for the blog address. At that time mom wasn’t too sure if she wanted to go public with it. Unlike this blog where I write all gibberish and little sense, her blog is dedicated to spirituality. No, not spirituality in the sense of saffron robed gurus offering you bhashans on what you should be doing with your life to elevate yourself to higher levels. But more in terms of easy to follow tips based on eternal spiritual laws that make your life better. I look at it more as a blog that captures all that she  has learnt and experienced in her life, some of it is  spiritual in nature while the rest simply makes suggestions for good living. I would have loved to do a proper post introducing ma, not  the blog but my mom as I know her and then in a subsequent post  introduced her blog , but for now, I will very simply state that her blog exists, and will leave it up to you to read and discover her through her blog. You can find a bit of history about her and the  blog here and her latest post can be found here.  If you do feel inclined to stop by and read, tell us or rather her what you thought of  her thoughts, experiences and writing. I am sure she will love it.

Africa is a Country makes it onto the list at number 89. We love praise.

Read the full list here

HT: Rustum.

It’s the most important decision you make as a blogger. It should be the first decision you make. If you look at any popular blog site you know which slice of the audience pie they are after, which theme their blog posts revolve around. Over at the Otherworld Diner they deliver their goal as bloggers on page one:

Our staff is a collection of paranormal romance authors with one thing in common (besides a love for pie) — we dish up our paranormal with a sprinkle, a splash, or a heaping helpin’ of humor and wit. Come in and have a seat. The coffee’s hot and the blue plate special is out of this world!

The Otherworld Diner

A recent theme on pie was an excellent example of blogging around a theme. Each contributer posted their own take on the subject of pie and some aspect of writing:

What if the hero is a shape shifter? What if he shape shifts into a black bird? What if the story takes place in the Middle Ages? What if your heroine is a baker? What if she bakes him in a pie? Dang it, she cooked the hero. Not good. OK, so the birds are supposed to survive the “baking” process but the hero will still not be a happy camper when he breaks free of that crust. Moral of this story . . . be careful who you bake in a pie, you could end up eating love of your life. *G*

View Original Article

Same theme different take:

View Original Article

Not all blogging themes need to be as out of this world as Otherworld. 

Elle Amery does a once a week theme: Elle Amery: Elle Amery’s Grammar Tip of the Week She tells her readers: “As both a writer and an editor, I can tell you that it’s much easier to edit and revise someone else’s work than to write perfect prose.“

Or if you’re interested in writing a fiction blog, check out Alice Gray’s  samples of her lovely erotic writing: Aliceblackandwhite  Alice’s passion for the sensual is clear in every detail of her site.

The theme you choose will be as unique to you and your genre as your favorite kind of pie. You should be passionate about the theme you choose. I’m passionate about immersive fiction and I don’t think anyone reading my blog will miss that fact.

So now you have the Flock browser we talked about last week. Pick a theme, plan your article, click the little blue quill pen in the browser toolbar and start writing your first post.

You configure the editor with your blog settings under the tools menu. You can either save the draft, or hit the publish button and your new article will post.

All the quotes and sources I included in today’s post were made using Flock’s one-click “blog this” feature. No geek skills required. More on quoting and linking(as essential to blogging as veins to a circulatory system) next week.