The Shepherd: Before Barsoom

by Rod Hunsicker

One thing in his favor was the declining slope of the path. The boy shifted the large jug to relieve tiring muscles and allow him to study the stones and rubble that littered the trail. If he stumbled and dropped the jar, perhaps breaking it, his live might be at stake. In anycase, his punishment would be severe.

He cursed the day his parents had sold him into bondage to the merchant. He cursed those times he had displayed some talent for arithmetic that they thought might do him well in the service of his new master. A merchant was a fine trade to follow, and his parents whispered of the wealth the boy might have when he had worked his way to freedom. Freedom was a lifetime away as he worked his way down the path with tiny steps. All his life had been a journey of tiny steps.

"Need help," came a soft, masculine voice. The boy had not seen the man, because the large jar was blocking most of his vision; nor had he heard him because he had been paying attention to his own sorrows and not the world about him. Except for the path. His attention had always been on the stony path.

An offer of help was unusual. Why would anyone want to help a slave-boy? Fearing trickery or robbery, the boy tried to pass the jar over to his left arm so he could see the man from his right side. In doing so he nearly dropped the jug.

Strong hands caught it and lifted it easily from the boy's trembling arms. A quick grin and a hoist placed the jar on the shoulder of a man the boy had never seen before. Where it might have been prudent to be fearful, the boy was warmed by the concern of the stranger. His village, like most of the settlements of his people, were isolated by distance from each other. Strangers were accepted reluctantly and with suspicion because they were so rare.

"Thank you," the boy mumbled in a soft voice. "I'm sorry for bothering you, sir."

"No bother," said the man. He smiled warmly at the boy. "You looked like you needed help, and since I am going down to the village too, it seemed a good idea to give you a hand. Don't want you to fall and break your neck."

"Or even worse, break the jar. Then a broken neck would be a mercy," replied the boy quickly. "My master, the merchant Shembul, is very unforgiving."

The man lost his smile to a frown. He was a large man, fitted with a muscular body of hard planes and ropelike cords. His face was pleasant and quick to display emotion. He wore simple traveling gear. Sandals, trousers reaching down to his knees, and a loose sleeveless shirt. His head was circled by a featureless band that offered no hint as to where he belonged. And since headbands were the chief marker by which each person was identified with his home, be it village or clan homestead, this was unusual. A man without a home was very rare.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"I am Guvnen, sir," replied the boy, "a bonded slave of Master Shembul."

"Does your master have so few slaves that he sends one to tote such a large jug of water?" asked the stranger.

"He has a lot of them, sir. I needed to be taught a lesson, he said."

The man studied the boy. His people were short and thin; so was the boy. His face was a round bowl beneath a nearly pointed head. Most of the men of his race were bald above the ears, and the boy, although only in adolescence, was already beginning to display this racial trait. Circling his head just above his ears, his headband was a dull brown-black with few markings. His eyes were nearly black, larger than normal for humankind, with a better advantage toward night vision. There were few modifications away from the human norm, but the one most noticeable beside the pointed head was the six fingers and toes. And all fully functional.

"I'll carry the jug for a while. I need the exercise. And like I said, I'm going to your village anyway," said the man pleasantly.

"Didn't I tell you to bring the jar by yourself? Can't you obey the simplest commands?" screeched the merchant as he waved a thin wand of supple wood at the boy. "You need a more painful punishment, I think."

"Hold on, merchant," said the stranger, lifting his palms in a sign of peace. "I negotiated with this boy to carry the jar. I must serve the Lord for a past sin, and was welcomed by the opportunity to pay a bit of penance by carrying the jar. I will gladly pay you a few pennies for the opportunity." The stranger took out some coins from his money purse and handed them to the merchant. These coins were tested quickly by an expert eye and judged of proper value. Coins were rare in the trade/barter system of economics used by the merchant's people, who were mostly rural in nature, but there were a few coins minted by one of the big cities to the south that were universally valued. To possess such coins was more of a social wealth than an economic one in the small villages so far from the cities.

Shembul was pleased at his new acquisition. More pleased that a wealthy man had come into his village. He brushed the boy away and offered hospitality to the stranger. Among a people living on the edge of the wilderness, hospitality was a common custom and was exercised whether the host was a generous person or not.

The stranger accepted a glass of wine and a bite to eat. This was served by the merchant's daughters in a small dining area. They knelt on a carpeted floor in front of a tiny table of polished wood. As they ate and drank, Shembul examined the stranger, noting his red hair, lack of full baldness, and unusually large body. He decided that the stranger must be from far away. At least his head had a proper point.

When Shembul had introduced himself formally, the stranger was obligated to give the merchant his name. "I am ... Fray," he said, pausing before uttering his name.

Fray was interested in the whereabouts of a friend. This friend was also a wanderer like himself, and might be found in the village, which Shembul named Qintam. The man he sought might have given up his old name, for such was the custom of men who leave for the wilderness to gather wisdom in a religious life. The god of the people was a harsh, law-giving god, who demanded obedience above all. Those who chose to follow the Lord's bidding to the exclusion of all else, often take a new name signifying their new devotional life. Fray described his old friend, having told Shembul that he did not know his friend's new name.

After hearing the description of his friend, Shembul curled his lip in disgust and informed Fray that his friend was more of a ruffian than zealot. He could be found wandering the fields and wilderness and often spent time in the house of Minor the leatherworker. He called himself Zain.

Fray rose from the table and made his excuses to depart. Upon hearing of his friendship with Zain, Shembul was relieved to see him go. The zealot had a poor reputation among the more wealthy residents of Qintam, although the lower classes found him interesting and helpful. However crude the zealot behaved, his knowledge of the Law was exhaustive, and he often aided the poor people in legal disputes. For this reason they loved him and extended hospitality to him beyond the necessity of cultural norms.

Following the directions given to him by the merchant, Fray took a direct path to the humble house of the leatherworker. Along the way he stopped, feeling a sudden rush of panic, and glanced around carefully to discover what had startled him. A man stood to his left, then blinked out when Fray stared at him directly. A shadow passed swiftly along a line of houses until it was gone and with it the feeling of alarm that Fray was diminished but not gone.

That old surrealistic feeling overcame Fray as he stood frozen in the middle of the dusty street. All around him people were going about their daily routines; apparently none of them had sensed the ethereal entity. Fray ran a check on his psychic systems, and finding them fully operational, he floated along dimmer lines of thought toward the center of his psychic awareness. Entering a deep meditative state he tried to locate any subconscious impressions of what he had just barely seen. He tapped his own mind with a telepathic touch causing it to gather lost fragments of memory and perceptions that might otherwise never be brought to life.

"Get out of the way, man," shouted a rough voice. Fray shook his head, startled by the rudeness of the intruder, and snapped out of his internal search before reaching a productive conclusion to his probe.

A large man, who appeared to be some sort of farm laborer, had been directing a wagon down the street until he had been forced to stop because Fray stood in his way. This man lifted a short whip with the intention of striking the stranger, until Fray glared at him with angry eyes.

"Have patience," said Fray, and he stepped aside. It was not his intention to draw negative attention to himself. He was angry that the memory retrieval exercise had been halted, and not at the impolite intrusion of the farmhand. He considered that it would be better to continue his work at a more private moment.

It took a few more minutes to reach the house of the leathermaker. Here he was told that Zain had gone into the wilderness again. A child living on one of the outlying farms had taken ill. The zealot had gone to help her. Fray obtained directions to this farm and quickly left the village.

No, something was out there. Something that existed on a different frequency than the life Fray was familiar with. However, his psychic senses were adjusted to extraordinary frequencies; able to soak in information from normally imperceptible sources. He picked up a trail, a feeling, that linked to a telepathic lure. Fray followed it tentatively, recognizing it as a lure, and sensing the danger that lurked ahead. A mind stared back at him in the darkness. A savage, predatory mind that smiled with shining fangs and red eyes. Fray was startled by this creature's unholy lust to consume his mind; even his very soul. And in that moment of surprise, he was stung by several insects. He slapped them away as he steeled his mind against a sweeping attack by the predator. Nothing came. Nothing more than several stingers deeply injected in his skin.

It was gone. Only an echo in his mind remained. The pain from the stinginess passed quickly as well. Fray loped through the night to reach the farm. He would be delayed by nothing more but once stopped for several minutes to admire a great red planet in the starlit sky. It was a stellar body he had seen before on other worlds. An omen of some kind. As he ran to the farmhouse the red planet remained ahead of him. Almost like a beacon

"Ah, Fra de la Cru, its been a long time." Zain spoke in a language that they both had learned first. And both heard not often enough.

"How are you, Yen Zai ne?" asked Fray. He rarely went by his family name. He preferred the short version of just Fray when he was in the field.

Zain led his friend out of the girl's room to the porch outside the house. He spoke briefly with the family, trying to encourage them, on the way out. When he and Fray were alone he spoke again.

"Tired, my friend. Very tired."

"I read the reports on this world. Simple, lowbrow level of human. Dirt scratching culture. Very primitive," said Fray. "I have spent several days here. I think there is more than that."

"Much more," admitted Zain. "Preliminary reports on these people were correct. Very little spiritual development. Some morality and ethical behavior has been observed. All the result of social pressure. Nothing coming from within. Only love exists here, as it must for men to be human."

"I have felt no presence of the Enemy," said Fray. He spoke of the alien race that was currently waging a subtle war on all humanity. It was this enemy that Fray had been fighting for the past one hundred years. His mission to contact Yen Zai ne on this remote world had promised to be a vacation compared to his battles with the Enemy.

"No, there are none here," said Zain harshly. He looked around cautiously and placed his hand on Fray's shoulder. "But this world is not safe. A predator exists here that feeds on humanity. It feeds on the suffering that accompanies death. Death of its prey excites this creature to an almost sexual frenzy as well as feeds it."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a creature here that is as close to a natural demon as I have ever seen. Most of its existence is a form of life lifted above the elements that compose us. There are a few elements within their bodies that are shared with lifeforms such as we. I believe that they maintain these substances in their body in order to provide a platform of commonness with which they can interact with normal life, especially the life they take pleasure in preying on."

"That is why I barely sensed them. It was difficult to locate them," said Fray.

"You have already sensed them?" asked Zain.

"Yes. Or rather I sensed something. On the way here," admitted Fray.

"Good," said Zain with a smile. "That is why I sent for you. For a man of action you are unusually psi sensitive. As you know I am more of a telekinetic than esper. I need someone like you to learn the particulars of these creatures. Ordinary people cannot sense them. I can barely sense them.

"Of course. We can only sense that which shares a commonality with us. A medium through which we intersect. Patterns that intersect because functions within them are similar. We observe a rock because it is composed of the same elements that compose us. And the rock's existence is defined by the same laws that apply to us."

"Beings that exist through functionary patterns so radically different from our own that they are separated from us by separate realities, are no threat to us," said Fray.

"Exactly. When mankind first came here there was no common ground between the predators and human beings. For a thousand years they were isolated from each other by the gap precipitated by a lack of interaction. Until an accident happened. I'm not sure what caused it, but some predator leaned a little more into our reality and discovered the life that exists here. Perhaps it had been experimenting with some radical application of subatomic theory. I don't know. More likely, some scientist needed to synthesize an element to facilitate the success of an experiment. Once the element (which was probably a common one to us) was created and used by the predators, one thing must have lead to another until they became aware of us and how they might use us."

"Use us?"

"For pleasure. I'm not certain of all the facts. One thing I do know is that they derive pleasure from the death of people. The longer the person suffers the greater the pleasure. Almost sexual, if you ask me," said Zain.

Fray observed the nervous intensity of his friend. Zain and he had served in the War for many years. Hard times had sown a friendship between them that was strong and deep. Zain had been the only man on this planet aware of the predators. What a strain this lonely position must have been on him.

"Have you communicated at all with any of these beasts?" asked Fray

"Only in opposition. They are beasts in their appetites only. They possess a remarkably effective intelligence. I try to oppose them in every way I can. They recognize me as their enemy and have tried to kill me. Without success, obviously," said Zain with a touch of the old dryness Fray remembered in his friend.

"Somehow they have learned to cause disease in people. Like that poor little girl in there. But I have not been idle. I have learned how to press certain points in their existence through telekinetic means that causes them great distress. I think I might have even slain a few of them," said Zain. "They rarely attack me directly anymore.

"I know that you are not a strong telekinetic. But I will teach you these combat techniques. Tomorrow. You look tired, Fray. I know I am. Let's get some sleep," said Zain, putting his arm around Fray's shoulders. "But remember, keep your guard up. At all times. By now they must have identified you as an enemy."

A chill cooled his bones. The Blood Planet was too close. Certainly it represented some sort of forthcoming doom. Fray rested his head against a blanket he was using for a pillow and willed himself asleep. Tomorrow he must be ready. The signs were clear on that.

Fray darted to the farmhouse and joined Zain. The dead child's mother was holding her, howling out her grief. Zain stood rock still. Fray heard a whooshing sound and almost saw something. The world slowed down as Zain turned his head, inch by inch and winked one eye at Fray.

"Open the windows of your mind, esper," demanded Zain. Then, not waiting for Fray to comply with his demand, Zain opened the window himself. He did so with the same rudeness and sudden force that he did most things. Fray was used to working with Zain in tandem against the Enemy so he hardly resisted the intrusion.

They were all about the room. Laughing, hooting joyously as they sucked the spirit out of the girl. They attached themselves to the remnants of her being, licking at wounds they opened with ethereal fangs. Streams of unseen fluid streamed over their gory mouths. Whatever was left of the girl, they were devouring. Eating it as a starving jungle beast gorged itself on a fresh kill.

Fray was horrified, and moved to action. Years of psychic warfare against the Enemy had prepared him for the task of fighting these monsters. And that was what they appeared to be. The difference between himself and the girl was wide. Fray was much more evolved than she was. Yet she was human. A young girl. A child. Fray's humanity raged against her rape and destruction. His physical lip curled and his eyes darkened with fury. Not knowing how to fight these creatures he linked his mind with Zain's instinctively. And then he learned.

Fray had never been a strong telekinetic. Fray's strong suit was his ability to perceive things. Not just telepathically, which was the sharing of ideas and the communication of intentions, but he could also notice things about reality that escaped most men. Zain had pulled Fray into combination with himself, and together they formed the perfect team of esper and telekinetic. Through Fray, Zain could see much more of the demons. And what he could see the powerful telekinetic could strike.

The demons, if they could be called that, were not as strong as the Enemy. They were barely more than wild beasts in comparison, so the work wasn't that difficult. Zain tore through them with pulsating waves of telekinetic force that were directed by Fray's choice of appropriate target.. The monsters turned on them and tried to attack them. The defenses of the two men were strong. Built strong from a hundred or more years of warfare with a foe greater than these creatures as a wolf is to an ant. Soon their wailing was due to their own pain. A sickening odor filled the farmhouse room, as they began to extinguish. And eventually retreat.

Zain laid his hand on the girl's cooling brow. With sight that came from within, he noticed that not all her soul had been consumed. Then it was gone. To a proper place it destined to go.

"Smell that," Zain snarled. "The only evidence that they were here."

"What will you do now?" asked Fray.

"What else. Keep up the fight. Maybe contact the home world for more assistance. Maybe the men in control back home won't want to help a backwash world like this. Maybe the War is more important. I don't know. But I have to try to do something.

"Like you, I'm not sure where the remaining substance of a person disappears to after they physically die. No living being can be sure of that. But, I sure as hell know that its not supposed to be the pleasure of those psychic wolves. Bah, its an insult to wolves to call them that. They are as close to demons as I've ever seen," said Zain.

Zain said a few words over the dead girl. It was odd to see Zain so sadly helpless. Zain had the power to sheer the fabric of the universe, or bend a steel girder in half. He could also heal in some telekinetic manner. He had failed with this girl. For a man of his ability that was an experience he rarely had. Zain finished his prayer, and spoke to her parents briefly. Then he led Fray out of the house to the fields beyond.

"I know you have been sent to check on me. Not just to help me. I just want you to have the story straight when you report back. This predatoriness has to stop. When you get back home convince them to help me. Tell them whatever they want to know, whatever you have to get them to send me help. Tell them that these demons are related to the Enemy. I don't care how you do it, just do it. Get me help!" demanded Zain.

The emotional intensity of the moment was high. Fray had to shut down certain pipelines in his mind to prevent himself from becoming as agitated as Zain. He accomplished this with difficulty.

"Okay, Zain. I'll do what I can. You know that. The War is still at a standstill. Neither side gaining on the other. I don't know if they can spare any resources to help these people at this time. In fact, I was sent to retrieve you. Your strength is needed for the War."

Zain quieted down. Soberly, he placed his hand on Fray's shoulder. Here, at the edge of the cleared farmland, more than a hundred yards from the farmhouse, Zain manipulated his illusion instrumentality to appear in his natural form. His thick black hair, handsome masculine face and tall strong body were evidence that this man was a warrior. The problem was he had found a new war.

"My strength is needed here, Fray. I was sent here ten years ago to monitor a possible problem. Some group of precog specialists decided that something significant was happening on this world. A matter important enough to send me to investigate. My preliminary reports convinced Command that the precogs were probably mistaken. Now they want me back. Isn't that what you're saying?" asked Zain.

"Basically that is true," confirmed Fray. He dropped his illusionary disquise as well. His own red hair was plastered to his forehead from the sweating he had done in their previous fight. The morning breeze swept over him coolly. A distracting, pleasant relief.

"Well, I can't go. Not yet. I came as an investigator. I have become a shepherd. If those demons are wolves, then a shepherd is needed. I will fight as a shepherd fights, for the reasons a shepherd fights. To protect my flock. These people, lowborn humans of a expendable world, are mine now. Do you understand that, my friend."

Fray turned away and looked out of the cultivated field. All the sights and sounds of the farm clustered about him. The smell of animals, plants and of cooking food. He stared at the fields and remembered the times he had spent with his father working on botanical projects to increase the farm yield of agriculturally barren worlds. He could feel the black dirt on his hands. His sweat in those days had not come from fighting, but from hard work. Good work. Fray understood these simple people. They had a long way to go, but they had come a long way as well.

"Yes, Zain, I understand. I'll hang around for a few days and learn what I can. The more I learn the better I can plead your case to Command."

Zain laughed. A bitter laugh, because he was still remorseful due to the child's death. He threw his arm around Fray's shoulders and gave him a hug.

"Thank goodness they sent you," he said. "Thank goodness."

It was there again. The giant red planet. Again there was a chill in his bones. This time it hurt. Fray nearly buckled under the increasing pain. He struggled to control the pain when a window opened in his mind. The demons where present.

There was a difference. They did not wail or screech or snarl at him. They were quiet and satisfied. Too confident. Something was amiss.

Fray's mind twisted. Inside he nearly fell. One of the demons spoke to him.

"Kill the Other."

It took no special wisdom to understand that the Other was Zain. That was implicit in the translation. What startled Fray was that they would consider he would do it.

"Who are you?" asked Fray. He asked in the same untranslatable fashion which relied on basic telepathy or the sharing of information between to otherwise incommunicable minds. Such sharing of information, and the gathering of raw data was one thing Fray did well.

"Kill the Other. This is an important task. Kill the Other or we will kill you," came the reply. It was strong and arrogant. The communication dripped with vicious confidence.

"That is out of the question. Why haven't you spoken to the Other as you speak to me?" Fray asked it though he knew the answer.

"The Other cannot hear us. He is closed. Kill the Other," repeated the demon.

"That I cannot do," replied Fray firmly. almost immediately he was bombarded with a communication of rapid and frightening content. The insect stings. Tiny enemy infiltration. :Millions of submolecular mines waiting to be exploded all over his body. With this information to start with, Fray turned his esper senses upon himself. It was difficult to reach down to a nearly submolecular level. Even with the enhancement of cybercells designed to upgrade his natural psychic abilities, it was a great reach to acquire information that distant. Under the threat of death, Fray extended his reach and confirmed that the demon spoke the truth.

"Now, kill the Other."

There was no reasoning with these creatures. They didn't bother to explain their position or persuade Fray in any rational way. He was simply commanded to commit murder. To kill a friend so they would not kill him. Of course Fray knew that they would probably kill him immediately after Zain was dead. There was no hope for him either way.

He was as good as dead. He was not as good a healer as Zain. Any small healing ability he had would not save him from this type of attack.

Fray shook his head. The creatures understood. On the level of intimate communication that had been established he couldn't fool them. They knew their ploy had failed. All that was left was to kill Fray.

Fray understood why this hadn't worked on Zain. As a powerful telekinetic his orientation was to wield forces that sensed and manipulated effects of physical reality. Zain would have felt the insect attack, and repelled it through mind over matter. Fray was much more vulnerable to his attack. He could barely bend a spoon.

They released the mines. They began to explode in a wavelike effect. His body was literally dissolving beneath his skin. He stumbled toward the campsite that he and Zain were sharing. It was only about fifty yards away, but it might as well have been a mile. Using his mild telekinetic abilities he managed to keep his body moving. There was less pain than disorientation and ensuing paralysis. Even his vision was failing. Only a bright red light opened the path for him. He fell short of the campsite and rolled on his back.

Zain was coming. His blurred face appeared over Fray's clouding eyes. Behind him was the red planet. It was the only light that Fray could see clearly.

"What happened, Fray?" asked Zain. He lifted his friend's head and was stunned to feel a body that was turning to liquid inside.

He would be gone in a few seconds. He used that brief time to project what had happened to his friend. Zain disappeared from his consciousness. But Fray could still see the Red Planet. It was brighter than before. Briefly he hoped the demons wouldn't munch on what might remain of his existence. Call it a soul or whatever, he didn't want them to have it. Then there was a bitter cold, the infinity of space and nothing but blackness.