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A.R.Yngve

DARC AGES Book Three
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Chapter 33


When Fogo erupted, most of the population of the Kap Verita Islands fled south during the night and following day.

Hundreds of northern islanders attempted to cross the sea to safer ground; several boats perished in the ongoing storms. And the volcano persisted in its fury, spewing ash and fire throughout the second night. A thin film of gray dust covered everything; the ground, the plants, the people. The otherwise so fresh, salty air grew thick with the stench of sulfur. Yet, the population counted itself lucky; most of the ash-falls blew eastward, sparing them from disaster. Mechao's household returned to his mansion, coughing, grimy, and red-eyed.



As a red-tinted dawn came, Shara discovered that Eye-Leg had fallen seriously ill. She called for Darc and Mechao. A quick examination confirmed Shara's worries: Eye-Leg had developed an allergic reaction, unfamiliar as she was with volcanic air pollution. She coughed and snored, and with each cough she winced and moaned -- the laser-welded scar tissue between her neck and body was not perfectly healed yet, even though the straps on her head had been removed. Her wrists, face and neck were partly covered with bandage-plasters, soaked with potions that made the scars grow away.

"Please make her calm down, while I find the right remedy," Mechao asked Shara.

The witchdoctor rummaged in his bag, where he kept a portable cabinet of homemade medicines. Shara suppressed a horrible thought, that Eye-Leg might cough so hard her head fell off. As gently as she could, she tried to calm and soothe the girl. At last, Mechao produced a pump spray-flask.

"Open your mouth, girl... this won't hurt a bit."

He sprayed the liquid into the girl's mouth, and she drew for breath -- but the coughing stopped, and she could breathe freely again. Shara relaxed somewhat, and stroked the tattoo on Eye-Leg's forehead.

The girl smiled faintly.

"She's in a fever," Shara gasped. "She's getting worse again. Why?"
"I-I don't know," Mechao stuttered. "It could be anything..."

Darc caught hold of Shara, and encouraged her: "Don't lose faith now. He has worked long and hard to save her. If we just --"

A woman came running into the room.

"Ships in the sky! The outposts have sighted ships in the sky! Coming from the north, sweeping around the islands!"

Dohan came in almost immediately after the messenger; he had already been informed, and was putting on his chest armor as he came up to Darc. Immediately, the young warrior started barking orders.

"Hide the women and children! Mechao, where are those new guardian beasts? Every one who's got shields and rifles -- come with me!"

Darc took a shield and rifle from the wall, where a row of weapons hung waiting. Dohan, now wearing a helmet and chest armor, put a gloved hand in his way.

"Stay behind, Darc. You're much too important to go into battle."

"I'll just send one last message on the radio, then I'll join you. Mechao – the greenhouse! Come quickly!"

Steadying himself on a walking stick, Mechao joined Darc through the passing crowds of frightened people. Hundreds upon hundreds of villagers flocked up the pathways and stairs along the mountainside, into the refuge of the rock mansion. But there was still not room for all. Thousands scurried into crevices and camouflaged caves, huddling there in anticipation of the coming attack.

Nearly three hundred women and men joined Dohan and armed themselves with new shields, rifles, spears, crossbows, and machetes. Their new commander was acting on ingrained instincts, forgetting all civility. He shouted and ordered, quenching all hesitation and indecision among his inexperienced fighters with a steely resolve. First when Dohan had led them down toward the shore, he began to notice familiar faces in the mass of volunteers. He spotted Lucijja and Faluti, hard-faced and determined. He saw Meijji's sister Alchaia, glancing at him from behind her polished shield. An army dominated by women. And... Meijji, hiding far off in the crowd.

"Meijji!" he shouted. "Come over here!"

Up close, he lowered his voice and said to her: "What are you doing here? Get back into the mansion, and help your parents! You're not a trained soldier like me!"

She was about to reply -- when a noise from the sky drowned all voices, even the distant rumble of the smoking volcano. They all looked to the clouded sky. From the northwest, the sky was suddenly scattered with formations of gnat-sized shapes -- an armada of jet aircraft, thousands of meters above the islands, approaching fast. There were many prayers being said among the islanders just then.



In Mechao's rock laboratory, the old witchdoctor and his two eldest sons hastily loaded dozens of small bamboo cages onto carts and wagons. In the cages, little creatures fluttered and hissed in protest against the brutal move. Darc heard and glimpsed the cages being wheeled outside -- not knowing what they were, and in no position to bother about it. He hurried across to the soundstage at the opposite end of the catacombs, and started up the radio transmitter. Perhaps it was too late already -- this early in the morning, his broadcast might pass unheard. He switched on the clunky microphone piece that hung from the ceiling, and started his address.

"This is the voice of Darc," he said. "This is the Voice of Liberty.

"Can you hear the thunder outside? It is a flying army approaching my position. An army composed of the enemies of liberty. They wish to silence me, before I can bring you the message that will liberate the world. At last I can tell you: We have now found the secret of the Plague. There is a cure! With this cure, any Leper can be treated and live, without being harmful to others. Thanks to this cure, Lepers will be able to give birth to healthy, normal children. The cities can be opened to the world again..."

As he spoke with increasing urgency, Darc was attacked by a nagging, persistent thought: What is Shara doing? Where is our... daughter?