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A.R.Yngve

DARC AGES Book Two
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Eye-Leg --first encounter

Chapter 13


It was yet another morning of farewells.

The flight across the Atlantic would cost the Sunray every last drop of fuel. Dohan had removed all unnecessary internal furnishing to ease the craft's weight -- seats, ornaments, body armor, weaponry, casings, and fire extinguishers. His father would never forgive him this act of vandalism. Chief Claw and his tribe cheered as they took over the discarded weapons and gadgets, which would come to good use.

Darc had gathered and stored samples of Virus A and B for later studies, plus some of his new vaccine. All that remained before their departure, was a surprise offer from the Leper chief -- Claw's last great test of Darc's commitment.



"Take one of us with you," Claw asked, or rather commanded.

Darc looked at the grotesque face of the Leper leader -- as ugly as ever, despite his clean, brightly colored robes and shining new armor pads. However, there was a softness to Claw's hardy features that had not been there before.

Standing safely apart from his guests, Claw continued: "You must! If you could cure just one of us completely, and show her to the healthy city-dwellers like one of them -- then we would all have won a great victory. You understand the reason of it, Darc. The way to our redemption begins with one person, but the first one is the most difficult, no?"

Darc nodded slowly, and said cautiously: "If I say yes -- then it must be a Leper who can be made absolutely resistant to Virus A. And even then, I can't swear she will be completely cured of Virus B. Who shall it be?"

He half expected the Leper chief to suggest himself -- Claw's healthy eye revealed how much he wanted it. But the chief shrugged, as though he had read Darc's mind.

Somberly, Claw replied: "Not I. But someone who may not survive without you." He waved forward two cloaked Leper women, who were supporting a third figure on their shoulders. The third one's cloak was thicker and longer than normal, covering up all ends completely. Darc, Shara, and Dohan stared at the slumped mystery with puzzlement and just a little fear. This was a tribe member who apparently had been hidden away until now. Claw gestured at the figure with his claw-like left hand. "This is Eye-Leg," he explained. "Show them."

The two women rolled up the four sleeves of Eye-Leg's clothing and exposed her limbs to the sun. The figure bearing that name winced in the light, and made little gagging-clicking sounds with her tongue. Darc suppressed an instinctive convulsion of his stomach -- Shara gasped and covered her face. Dohan mumbled a prayer, "crossed" himself with the eye-mouth-heart-sign and averted his eyes.

Eye-Leg's head and throat -- complete with mouth and tongue -- grew separated from her shoulders. The girl's close-shaven head hung upside-down, attached firmly to the joint of her right hip. Her right leg dangled like some perverse, atrophied trunk from between her shoulders. Dohan looked again. It got worse. He saw that also her left leg and right arm grew in switched places, rendering them both useless. Tears welled up in his eyes -- from disgust, pity, and anger. How could the gods and goddesses allow this cruelty to happen to a child?

At the point where the base of Eye-Leg's "neck" -- or, what should have been her right leg -- met her collarbones, one could see two brownish, quivering holes. They opened periodically, as little flaps of sore skin -- hardened tissue? -- twitched. Darc realized what those openings were: her gullet and her windpipe, respectively.

"How... how does she breathe?" he whispered.

Claw saw rather than heard the question -- for like all Lepers, he was skilled at tracing minute facial and body movements.

"She was born late. We had to cut up her mother's womb to get her out. Everyone thought Eye-Leg was stillborn. But then she started to breathe through that hole you see. And we fed her milk and soup through the other opening. Her head is mute, and she has lost all her teeth, because the mouth neither breathes nor eats. But, the true tragedy, her mind --"

They watched her silently for what seemed hours. Eye-Leg looked up at them with flickering, frightened eyes -- bulging, with pink whites, and shot through with vessels. Her head seemed swollen with blood pressure, and thick veins stood out from around the Leper tattoo on her forehead. And despite all this, the spark of awareness and intelligence in those childlike eyes was obvious -- and infinitely sad. Claw added, like a judge meting out a gruesome sentence: "She's almost fourteen. You see, Darc? You see why it has to be her?"

Claw's stern gaze could not hide how tense he was. Darc had wanted to bring along Four-Leg instead, but this girl needed help much more. He gestured his approval, looking away from the others -- watching across the plateau, at the distant horizon. When he spoke he felt strange, possessed by something greater than himself. Dohan would have called it fate.

"We bring her along. And I swear this: You will see Eye-Leg again, all limbs in their right place, alive and well. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life making it happen."

Dohan moved behind Darc and whispered: "This is too much even for you, Darc. I am not that dumb -- she is beyond all help! For the sake of the Goddess and your honor, choose someone else!"

"Shut up," Darc snapped.

Claw had been planning this for days, and went on to silence any possible objections. He told them, that Eye-Leg had never suffered any of the lumps or skin deformities which were now connected to Virus A; she was immune to it. Also, her physical stamina was remarkable: Eye-Leg had never been seriously ill and might survive extensive surgery. She had been cleaned and her clothes sanitized, and was ready to leave at short notice. The two Leper women told Shara how to feed the girl; on her own, Eye-Leg would risk choking on food slipping into her lungs. Darc made a mental attempt to guess what Eye-Leg's insides looked like -- to no avail. For this task he needed expert help... or a miracle.



After a few additional preparations, the four travelers could board the Sunray. When Darc and Shara first tried to carry Eye-Leg into the aircraft, the girl became terrified and fought to come loose. She kicked and scratched her helpers feebly, a most unnerving experience for them -- being kicked with a misplaced hand and scratched with a foot that was in the arm's rightful place. Only when Claw had calmed and soothed her for several minutes, Eye-Leg seemed to accept her fate. But she wept, making more gagging-clicking noises.

"Can you understand her?" Darc called at the Lepers.

"Some," Claw called back. "But we do not know how much she can understand."

They moved Eye-Leg up into the vessel's rear cabin, and Dohan started up its two powerful jet turbines.

Claw kept shouting instructions, even as the craft's rear port swung shut: "Be kind to her! Always explain to her what is happening! She likes when you talk to her, even if she might not understand the words!"

"We promise!" Shara shouted.

The metal door closed, and the frightened Eye-Leg was helped into a seat, where she was put into a lying position and secured with seatbelts. They decided upon a sideways position for her, so that her head would lie free from the g-forces of the accelerating craft. As the Sunray soared in a cloud of dust, Eye-Leg shook and writhed in her seat, making one last escape attempt. Shara talked soothing words to Eye-Leg, and held her tense hand -- that is to say, the hand that was fitted to its correct joint. And finally, when Eye-Leg could see that they were already high up among the clouds, she settled down into a stiff posture. Dohan pulled the lever that activated the autopilot, and turned in his seat to face the others -- carefully avoiding the gaze of Eye-Leg's horrified gray eyes.

"Could everyone aboard please pay heed?" he said aloud, and paused. "Thank you. I have calculated the fuel expenses for a flight with three passengers. But I cannot account for any unexpected additions due to bad weather, turbulent air... or extra passengers. To put it simply: We might not make it all the way across."

Darc interrupted: "Does the Sunray have wheels to land on?"

The young pilot frowned, scratching his short red beard.

"We have six small wheels, on the pontoons on which the engines rest, so you can roll the plane across the ground. Why?"

Darc straightened his back, and put forth his idea: "In my time, an aircraft could land while flying forward... sort of glide down, and land on extended wheels. Could you try such a landing, instead of using up fuel on a slow, vertical landing?"

Dohan thought it over.

"Air gliding," he said slowly. "No, that's for fools and acrobats. I tried it once when I was young. Very dangerous. One false move, or a sudden wind, and..." He let his right hand make a dive into his left palm. "Besides that, you need large wings for gliding on the wind. The Sunray is made for short, fast flights -- our wings are too small by far." Darc sank back into his seat. His friend's sudden cowardice disappointed him. Then Dohan brightened up a little, and said: "It just struck me -- there is an emergency parachute -- you know of what I talk? It is meant for emergency landings without fuel. Very simple -- I just pull this lever, and the chute unfolds from above our heads. Then the whole craft sinks down on the air, and if the tanks are emptied... then we could make a rough touchdown without going up in flames. But the problem is that we might land in the sea, far from land. The Sunray will sink like a stone."

"The chute," Darc probed. "What shape is it?"

"I cannot recall the precise shape... a rectangular chunk of silk, shaped to form dozens of hollow tubes --"

"Dohan! Have you ever heard of parachute gliding?"

The pilot rubbed his temples, and explained with some irritation: "Well, yes, but -- a single man's weight is not at stake here. Once the craft's engines are shut down, it goes as reckless as a kite. And chute gliding is outlawed in our cities, anyway. It happened in ancient times, that glide-flyers ended up outside the city walls..."

Dohan lapsed into reciting the sort of crash-landing stories which flying men are so fascinated in telling each other... and Darc realized that Dohan could be stunningly boring at times. It was going to be one long flight. Shara patted Eye-Leg's hand, looking pityingly at her curious face.

"Chutes, wheels, rudders... it makes no sense to either of us, huh? Don't worry. If we fall into the ocean, I'll grab something for us to float on. Okay?"

The withered, misplaced leg on the girl's shoulders made a little twitch -- a nod? Shara shuddered, and almost burst into tears. This unfortunate Leper had lived through a misery far worse than her own -- and without promising or wishing it, Shara now felt responsible for Eye-Leg. Yet, the sight of her appearance was almost too much to bear. Shara recalled Up-Mouth -- the man who had killed himself at the hint of having done wrong. How much greater, then, was not Eye-Leg's will to live against all odds? She was more than a freak.

"Do you want to hear a song, Eye-Leg? A song my parents taught me when I was a child. It always made me feel better."

Shara began to sing softly, a slow soothing church hymn in a forgotten language called Latin -- the meaning of which had been lost even to her own parents. She stayed with Eye-Leg and sang, until the Leper girl was finally lulled to sleep. Shara took her hand in hers, and kissed it.