Free IronStar by Grant Hallman

a
little more vocabulary, I want to know how he does that. Meanwhile, stay with
the tour!

 
    The sun sank slowly lower in the
sky behind them, and the sky itself became increasingly overcast, a thin, high
veil of cloud spreading eastward. After four hours of increasingly weary
trudging during which Akaray became more and more subdued, they came upon the
town of Malame’thsha. What had been the town of Malame’thsha. It took
Kirrah several moments to realize that she was in fact coming upon a town: no
building stood higher than low stone foundations; blackened, charred pieces of
wood and ashes and bits of debris were scattered everywhere. It had obviously
rained since the burning, no trace of smoke lingered in the still evening air.
But the sickly-sour smell of decay did linger. Clenching her teeth against
bile, Kirrah knelt beside one of the bodies (so many to choose from),
gently turned it over… him, turned him over, there was a beard above the
massive wound that had opened the man’s throat from ear to opposite shoulder.
And another, an older woman, a short, thin arrow penetrating her upper chest,
back to front. And another, and another… clearly this town had been attacked,
its occupants indiscriminately and brutally killed. Not yesterday, nor as long
as a week ago; Kirrah estimated perhaps three days. The attack seemed to have
been carried out with near-total surprise. The closest thing to a weapon she
saw among the corpses was a half-meter blunt-ended blade on a two-meter wood
handle, more like an agricultural instrument than a killing tool. And they
did this on my planet , Kirrah thought angrily… ( where did that come from? )

 
    A larger building in the center of
the village looked to have been the final, futile refuge of the desperate
defenders. Kirrah counted fifteen bodies outside its charred foundation, clustered
around what had been the door, all adult; armed with staves, stones, a heavy
cooking utensil, a kitchen knife… all laced with short, slender arrows, or laid
open by those enormous slashes. With a shock, Kirrah imagined one of the arrows
placed across Akaray’s leg wound - a perfect match.
    Please no more bodies , someone
thought; floating bodies, bloating bodies, surely I’ve had my quota of
bodies… She counted twenty-six more inside the foundation’s perimeter,
burned beyond hope of determining even gender, half of them as small as Akaray,
some smaller.

 
    Akaray, where was Akaray …
there, in the jumbled center of that ruin across the… what had been the road.
He stood, stock-still, tears streaming down his face, a singed garment hanging
forlornly from one hand, a small black-stained bag in the other. Gods, it hurt
just to look at his small frame and imagine what he must be bearing. Not
fair, not fair at all. Slowly, deliberately, he knelt in the ashes. His
arms extended out from his sides, palms upwards. A low moan escaped his lips, no,
not a moan, the first note of a haunting chant:
    “Ayyyy… yyya… luuuuaaaa… tha!” his
light, clear soprano voice sang. His small hands began to swing slowly upward.
    “Ayyyy… yyyah… luuuuaaaa… Maaa…
lafoth… shuah” The small hairs were rising on Kirrah’s arms and nape, as she
recognized his father’s name in the eerie, powerful song pouring from this
child into the gray, desolate evening. Angela would know …would have known…
exactly what to do now . She ached to comfort him with a hug, to wipe his
tears, anything. But it would be wrong, she sensed, to intervene in what was
clearly his intention.
    “Ayyyy… yyya… luuuuaaaa…
Meeeh…schahhh naaa… shuah.” Somehow Kirrah knew she had just heard his mother’s
name. (Enough! I will break if I hear any more grief! Look at his arms,
they’re raising as he sings, they’re only halfway up…)
    “Ayyyy… yahhh… luuaaaahhh… Muuu…
taaaa…   raeee… shuah” …was that his
brother’s name? …his arms were nearly vertical now…
    “Ayyyy… yyya…