The first truck comes around the bend, leading a slow moving convoy in the classic khaki green of the U.S. Army. Standing alone by the roadside, the old farmer waves, looking for all the world like the innoculous farmer.
The lead vehicle pulls to one side and stops, allowing the long line of vehicles behind to continue on. A uniformed officer, with a pistol on his hip, debarks from the passenger side.
Jewell studies the officer, interested. She is uncertain what exactly the various pins and patches on his uniform indicate, but she is positive he must be of at least moderately higher rank. She notes he moves with the assurance of one who is armed, but she is not familiar with the manner of the hostered weapon at his side. Viconia's admonition takes on new significance. Without knowing with _what_ the humans may strike them she cannot risk inciting them to do so.
The convoy continues to trundle past, curious soldiers watching as they go by. Jewell observes that they are all men, most middle-aged. Very few younger men as she might expect from such a force. All are alert, and the Gemicon realizes how nervous they must be. Whatever the great metal monsters are, these folk have never seen the like and are completely unprepared to face them.
To reassure the woman at her side, Jewell thinks, // In the event of trouble I would only act to protect our elderly friend. //
~Understood. We may be use to strange events; they, apparently, are not.~
It is then that Jewell realizes that the hearing of her human shape would be insufficient to hear the exchange between the two men. // Don't be startled. I am changing my form, // she thinks to warn Viconia.
The surface drow barely nods in acknowledgement.
In less time than it took to form that thought, the human shape is replaced by that of a fox-like brown animal with extremely large ears. Jewell allows herself a few moments for her senses to realign, keeping her now light-sensitive eyes closed until they can adjust. She remains conscious of Viconia's reliance on her sight. The larger ears of her new form, however, are better suited to hear the conversation below.
Viconia's hand gently moves across the Gemicon's new body, softly gathering some assessment of its size and form.
In the meantime, the nervous "Major" and their friend the farmer talk, as truck after truck continues to roll by. While the officer's concern is to gather information from the farmer, what comes back in return is almost horrifying.
The metallic monster is a "war machine" from another world, "Mars". Several have been dropped near the major cities of the country; one was destroyed before it was set up, and a second by a group of "bombers" diving directly into it. The rest, however, are now rampaging outward, apparently going after the major population centers. It is not just this country which is affected, either; the entire world has, quite suddenly, found itself at war against this assailant.
An idea drifts mentally from the concerned dark elf. ~Perhaps... we need to try to help, somehow.~
Jewell, fighting back unbidden images of thousands of innocents dying in terror and agonly, nods her vulpine head slowly.
// I don't know what we might be able to do against such a powerful foe, // she thinks grimly, // But somehow we can help. We have weapons that these... invaders might not be prepared for, is that not right? //
// I think so//, the dark elf's mental voice comes back, slightly amused. //They have all this "science" and "technology", but it appears neither of them know of magic. And, while my magic seems to have problems with their technology, the reverse probably holds true... and a sword still cuts.//
Glancing down at the farmer, Jewell grows concerned. // What of him? // she wonders. She studies his movements, but has difficulty seeing him in her current form. // Seeing us has already frightened him. What will he think of this attack on his homeworld? //
//Scared as hell, and I can not say I blame him.//
Jewell considers how she would feel. Her species, a peaceful and benign race, normally lives in seclusion, leaving the sheltered valley on a remote island only in times of great need. The thought of soulless, unstoppable machines of murder invading her quiet home is unbearable. A grimacing snarl crosses her muzzle.
// Where do we begin? //
//We pick a spot. This "Chicago", perhaps.//
The conversation concluded, the officer gets back into his odd vehicle. A moment later, engines start up again, as the convoy of troops begins moving.
As for the old man, he wanders a short ways from the road, then sits down, absorbing the information from the National Guardsman as she begins shaking.
//Poor creature,// Jewell thinks inwardly, her sympathy rising. Changing form again to a human woman, she joins the old farmer.
"Are you going to be okay? What did they tell you?" she asks gently.
The old farmer, suddenly looking every bit of his age, looks Jewell in the eyes, his own too sad to even manage tears.
"It's... a planetary invasion. From Mars. Those... war machines, they called them. They've landed all over the world. All the major cities are destroyed. Tens of millions dead...."
Jewell feels the blood leave her face, and she sinks to her knees. //So many... //
The drow, still in her hiding spot, allows her jaw to drop. //Such enormous number...//, she thinks, as she tries to get a mental handle on it.
//I can't even imagine... oh Silverhide!//
//Viconia, how can we... what...// Her thoughts fail her as the Gemicon fights a rising terror. Privately, she trembles //Not even a Shriker is so bloodthirsty...//
The surface drow takes a moment to get a grip on her rising emotions, centuries of training corralling the surge and chanelling it, allowing herself to think clearly. ~~I'm... not sure. But we will find a way. Obviously, we can not allow this to stand. War is one thing. This... is mass slaughter.~~
Unspoken, and undesired by the older woman, memories have risen of her own activities when she lived underground. Memories she is not proud of.
Shaking herself a bit, Jewell reaches out for the old farmer, taking his hand. There is nothing she can say. His world has truely been changed forever, and in the most horrible of ways.
Wordlessly, the old man takes Jewell's hand, gripping it with surprisingly strength. In his eyes, it is clear that he is still trying to get his mind around this catastrophe which has befallen his world. In an instant, he has to not only grasp the fall of Man from his place as the sole life form in the Universe, but the very notion of warfare on a scale unimaginable just a day before.
The wail which escapes him is subdued, almost quiet, like an air raid siren that isn't quite working right. He begins to gently rock back and forth.
The sound is almost too much for Jewell to bear. //Viconia! We need to find some shelter for him and do something about this horrible invasion! These people have no power-- but we might... I mean, we can do something!//
In her own world, a Gemicon is a creature of amazing wonder. Away from the gentle gaze of their godly patriarch, however, the magical equines are reduced, though no less full of miracles. Jewell pulls the frightened man to her in a motherly embrace, echoing his rocking motion, and begins to sing. The music soothes, quieting the mind, urging a dreamless sleep. Warmth flows from her touch, enhancing the effect.
On earth, they might call it angelic.
The surface drow's head tilts slightly as she seemingly "surveys" the scene, carefully listening to the music of the Gemicon, the slowly fading wail of the human, the gentle mental noises as one comforts the other into a peaceful sleep.
For Viconia herself, this is a bad situation quickly developing into a nightmare. For all the front she puts on, her blindness nags at her every waking moment, haunting what dreams she allows herself. Now, to find herself facing a planetary invasion by machines she had never dreamed of even in her nightmares....
The ebony skinned surface drow allows herself a moment to envy the farmer.
Then, the emotion is gone, carefully filed away into a mental box, to be dealt with another time. She rises from where she sits, moving to join the two with all the seeming physicality of a shadow in the moonlight.
"Let us move back a little into the terrain, away from their roads". Viconia's voice gently melds into the music of the Gemicon, managing to communicate without disrupting the mood. "Then I can arrange something... secure. Although you may not like the accommodations."
Jewell nods. Rising slowly, she lifts the sleeping man in her arms as if he were a child.
"Whatever will see him safe," she says firmly. "Don't worry for me."
In another time and place, the dark elf would make a comment which would qualify as a bad pun. Something on the order of "strong as a horse", or something similar, in an attempt to create a little humor in a dark situation.
In this time and place, though, Viconia is seeing through the eyes of that very person. Much of what might come across as odd, seem through those orbs as being normal. Thus, she does not give it a second thought.
Instead, she moves further away from the road, pausing when necessary for the Gemicon and her patient to catch up. Two such stops brings her to a hill.
The chanting of the ebony skinned woman is short, repeated numerous times. Each time, a bit more of the hillside is excavated, until there is a fairly deep cave. One with a very narrow entryway.
~I think this will suffice; protected from the elements, and readily defendable.~ Viconia tries not to consider that the Gemicon is probably claustrophobic.
Jewell studies the opening. The magic had been impressive: apparently Viconia's powers still flowed freely, while the young Gemicon was starting to feel a wilting inside. She nods in agreement. "It looks just fine."
The sounds of the spell at work have finally gotten the attention of the old farmer. He doesn't actually say anything; he merely stares at a scene which probably has never been seen on THIS planet before.
The Gemicon carries the farmer into the cavern, finding a good place to put him down. "Don't be afraid," she reminds him gently. "You will be safe here. We want to help against those monsters, but we need more information." She glances at Viconia for affirmation.
The female dark elf nods in definite agreement. "We need time to gather information. Going into battle blind..." Viconia pauses for a moment, realizing just what she is saying, on several levels, before continuing, not quite as strongly as before, "...is a battle half lost."
"Now, you two, move inside. I have some spellwork to do, and it's best done near the entrance, where I can catch some sunlight."
Jewell tends to the stricken farmer. She is not well versed on battle strategy or planning, but feels Viconia is an excellent authority.
"Call, if you need me."
The dark elf nods, as she turns toward the cave entrance. Her pace quickly slows, as she passes out of the area which is covered by the Gemicon's vision.
The use of magic to gather information on a foe is something the retired Matron Mother could do in her sleep, particularly against an opponent which appears to have no magical defenses. The knowledge of the spells, however, is counterbalanced by two factors. First, the high technology of the Martians tends to play havoc with her magic when it works too close. The second, that she must modify many of her spells to provide information in non-visual ways.
It takes her much of the day, and a few tricks which would have caused her ancient instructors in the School of Magic to either verbally slice into her for taking risks, or admire the cleverness of the trick, or both. Or, more likely, steal the idea. Finally, though, information is flowing in, which her mind automatically sorts, categorizes, and analyses.
One part of her, though, turns to a growing concern, one which the surface drow knows she can not keep putting off indefinitely. For what, even by her own standards, seems like an eternity, she has walked the path of Order, giving little concern to Good and Evil, but merely ensuring that there were Rules, and that they were enforced equitably on all parties. The events in the Land of Dragons, though, and her continued contact with the Gemicon, are now forcing her to give thought to that path.
To the possibility that, perhaps, long ago, she had made a mistake in choosing her route.
***
Jewell watches Viconia slowly but gracefully return to the cave entrance, moving out of sight. She continues to do her best at making the stricken farmer more comfortable, but as Viconia is troubled by misgivings, the Gemicon is similarily lost in thought.
She is worried about the strange world they have come to, and its peoples. She has only met one man, and seen few others, but her very nature causes her to almost feel the life-force of countless more. Infinitely more people who at the moment are terrified by an unknown invader. People already feeling the anguish of loss from death incredibly sudden.
The Gemicon considers her training. Like all her race, she feels the cosmic connection to the father of their race, and through that connection the possibilities of the Spiritual Energy. In situations typical of her home lands, the power she holds is awe-inspiring and would give any foe pause for thought when facing her or any of her kind. Yet here, in a world where the Father's touch is so faint, where the enemy seems to have no magic and no flesh form, she is at a loss. She observes the farmer's despair and feels it seeping into her own heart.
A sudden shake of her head, almost automatic, snaps her back. // No. Even if you cannot affect the foe yourself, you are not useless. You can give aid and comfort to those who can do something. Viconia. You know full well the powers possible of the Drow. Help her, and perhapse we might turn the tide. //
The farmer has long ago drifted off to an uneasy sleep when the dark elf finally rises from her place, silently padding back to the cave.
Almost absent mindedly, she embraces the Gemicon, her mind trying to digest the enormous amount of strange information, much of it imcomprehensible.
Finally, she speaks. "I think we're going to need some help in making sense of what I've gathered. Any ideas?"
"You need to speak with more of the natives?" Jewell muses, making sure she understands Viconia's need. "With all that's happened, that isn't going to be easy. Maybe we can figure out some way to approach one of those military men?"
Viconia shakes her head. "Not a warrior. We need an artisan; someone knowledgeable in how things are put together. I'm old, and I'm knowledgeable about many things, but this is something I never had either a need or an interest in learning."
"Someone who can understand how these are put together, can tell us where the weak points are."
Jewell is thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose they don't have Gnomes here..." She sighs.
"Probably not." The drow's facial expressions suggest a very mixed emotional response... partially unhappiness, and partially great relief.
"I could try to fly to the nearest town as a bird, see if anyone there looks like a tinker or tinsmith-- is that who you would want?"
"That would be good. Someone who works with mechanical things would be ideal, although a tinsmith or blacksmith would probably do in a pinch."
A little nervously, the female dark elf moves back into the cave a short distance, then settles in, looking surprisingly comfortable.
Jewell watches her vanish into the shadows, then turns in the direction she believed the city to be in.
"Bird," she reminds herself.
Within moments, a small but brightly plumed avian with brightly intelligent eyes wings its way toward the nearest hub of civilization. Orienting on the smooth, black road where the military procession had been seen, Jewell notices the caravan has not yet been exhausted.
//They have a big army!// she notes, zipping ahead of the slow-moving vehicles.
The flight takes most of an hour. As the city looms near, it is apparent that the strange monsters have wreaked true havoc on the buildings and people within. Smoke still twists into the sky, and structures larger than Jewell has ever seen bend in tortured angles against one another. Stumbling about in the ruins the city denizens wander in obvious shock.
//Finding a tinker is not going to be easy// the gemicon tells herself as she finds a secluded place to land and once more take human shape. Picking her way into an open area, she studies the straggling people for a likely one to approach.
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