Page 30 of Caveman Alien's Touch

“Yes, Noker is good,” I fire back, forcing myself because having an argument with a half-dactyl isscary. “He honorable! He’s a real warrior! Now he need friend, and I go to him. I have weapon, too!” I show him my little knife, waving it a half-inch from his dactyl mouth.

He lets go of me, eyes widening as his dinosaur skin goes pale from shame that he doesn’t deserve. “Stay here! I shall go!”

“No!” I tell him decisively, distantly aware that I have never had as much power over anyone as I have over poor Brak right now. I could tell him to jump off the Mount, and he would do it. He’s clearly not thinking straight, blinded by his need to protect his wife from the swarm. And confronted with that, he’s an easy target. If we get through this, I’ll have to make it up to him. “You protect Piper! And Alba! And Astrid! Thatyourduty! Youstay!”

I turn my back and continue down the stairs. The Borok men stare and frown at me, and some try to block my way. But only until they see the look in my eyes.

About halfway down I see a Borok man lean precariously out from the rock as he cuts an insect in half with a swing of his sword. They’re a blood-chilling mix of dragonflies and scorpions, with long stingers curving forwards from their lowest point. About the size of golf bags, they’re bigger than they looked from higher up. The transparent wings beat so fast they’re just a blur. The dissonant hum they make is pure torture.

As I descend further, more and more swords are cutting into them, and there’s the occasional tribesman on the ground after he’s been stung. Dead or unconscious, I don’t know. It makes my skin creep.

Still I continue downwards, my knife held ready in a trembling hand. I can’t go much further before it starts to get suicidal — the hum is all around me, and I don’t have a sword.

Finally I spot Noker. He’s slowly climbing the stars, his back to the rock as he slashes his spear through one insect after the next. A couple of dead Borok men are blocking his way, but he has the sense to step on them when he has to. He’s covered in brown and yellow goo from the insects he’s killed, and the stairs below him are filled with their oozing carcasses. The stench is terrible — those things must be filled with all kinds of nasty chemicals. Noker’s head fan is an icy blue, telling me that he’s focusing and perfectly in control.

I have to control myself to not call out his name and distract him. He’s dealing with the insects perfectly well, but he has to concentrate. His spear is like a blur around him as he calmly slashes and stabs and kicks at the attackers. He seems to always stay right above the leading edge of the swarm, so the insects have to attack him from below. He can easily cut them with his spear while keeping them at a safe-ish distance. Only a few of them get through to be dealt with by the Borok men higher up as the spear windmills around him. It does appear as if Noker is the exact right man to have down here.

“I owe Brak an apology,” I mutter to myself as I consider what to do. I don’t want to get in Noker’s way, and I also don’t want to leave him alone here while he risks his life fighting for us all. The next Borok man is five or six steps above him, and clearly not of the same caliber when it comes to fighting these things.

Then he spots me. His eyes widen and he immediately jumps several steps until he’s right below me. “This isn’t safe, Bronwen! Get all the way up!”

“Sorry,” I squeak. “But I must see you all right!”

“Noker is the best warrior in this village right now,” a deep voice says into my ear. “He is about to save us all. Don’t disturb him.”

It’s Brak, his long knife in his hand, stained with yellow insect juice up to his elbow.

“Sorry,” I begin, “I didn’t?—”

Brak’s hand shoots past me as he skewers an insect with his long knife, spraying its goo over us both. “It’ll soon be over. I will help brother Noker, the way I should have from the beginning. But you can stay. It’s safer than trying to climb up. Crouch down and stay close to me.”

It does look like he’s right. The huge insects are bumping up against the heap of their dead compatriots, and more and more of them are choosing to flow to the side instead of going up towards us. The swarm is thinning out, most of it having passed or been killed.

I do as I’m told, watching Noker deal with the swarm. He looks like he’s in the zone, having perfect control of his spear and cutting down the insects before they get within stinging range. The Borok men are fighting well too, bravely clinging to the bare rock and reaching out with their blades to slash at the swarm. But their swords are not made for this kind of battle, where a flying enemy can sting you from four feet away.

Fewer and fewer insects come high enough to attack Noker. The hum fades, and the men higher up start to cheer in victory.

“I think that was all of them,” Brak says and looks up the side of the Mount. “Noker took down more than half by himself.Afterhe had competed in that silly penk game and run around the jungle. We should both take note of that, Bronwen.”

“I already knew Noker unusual,” I assure him. “But notthisunusual. I used hard words at you, Brak. You understand I did not mean. I just had to get Noker. You are a brave fighter.”

He inclines his dactyl head. “Sometimes hard words are needed, Bronwen.”

I gingerly make my way down the slimy steps, covered with the innards and juices of the giant insects. “You won!”

Noker gives me a grin and shifts his spear to his other hand. “I would embrace you, but I’m not clean.”

He’s breathing hard and dripping with stinky insect slime and guts, but I don’t care right now. He’s a total hero.

As I step closer, I see movement from the corner of my eye. Spinning around, I spot one of the giant insects coming out of a hiding place in the rock, its stinger aimed straight at Noker’s back.

Acting on instinct, I step around him and grab the thin stinger halfway up its length the split second before it touches his skin. The insect buzzes wildly, but it’s not strong enough to pull the serrated stinger from my hand. It tries to curl up in the air and bring my hand to where it can get it with its snapping, scissor-like mandibles.

Noker skewers the attacker with one fast thrust with his spear, and it drops down the side of the rock.

“That was close,” he pants, then grabs my hand and examines it. “Did it sting you?”

“I not think so,” I tell him. My palm looks fine, and I never felt a sting. “Only tip is dangerous.”

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