Dragons of Eden (eBook)

Part Two:
Drummer

He returned slowly from dreams of music. The ground was quivering as he slept, repeated vibrations like the deepest of drums. The rock ledge shook like the stage when the bassist began his subaudible intro, blasted into the crowd to slowly drive them into a frenzy. He felt it in his heels, his spine, his belly long before his ears registered the noise. Dreaming, he saw two bass players, feet gripping the stage, black guitars dueling across a world. They stood on platforms like misty gods, cords slamming through the rock, vibrating as they passed him by, the helpless audience. It was a challenge, a response, a subaudible conversation.

He awoke disoriented and found himself lying on the slopes of the volcano. Drummer kept his body still and opened his eyes slowly.

They had feasted on crab the night before, and the taste was everything Badger had promised. The short man had joked and told stories until Drummer’s sides hurt from laughing, while Ris stretched back by the fire, silent but smiling.

Now the fire had burned low. Thick grey mist was rolling off the sea, obscuring the cliffs, the distant water. The tops of trees showed through it like the ghosts of giants. The mountain rose behind him.

Ris sat hunched, sharpening something against a stone. Drummer sat slowly, not wishing to startle her. She ignored his presence.

“Good. You’re awake,” said a gruff voice behind him.

Drummer turned, heart racing. Badger stood there, wreathed in mist. Drummer had not heard him approach.

“Get up. Lots to do.”

The three traced their steps back to their last stand against the crabs. Something had changed during the night, Drummer realized. There was no joking. No wasted motion. There was precious little talk. His back and legs felt like a solid mass of knots, and he limped after the seemingly tireless scouts.

The giant carcass had been picked clean. No meat remained, just a sour sea smell and a mass of clawed armor. Ris began systematically breaking the tip off every spike on the carapace until she held a rattling bag of viciously sharp points. Badger carefully dissected free the two largest claws, a pair of serrated, symmetrical appendages half the length of Drummer’s arm. He tucked both into his pack. He pulled out rope and water bottles to make room, handing both to Drummer without a word. Drummer’s pack had disappeared in the chase and he felt no desire to go back and search. His companions worked without speaking. It seemed a habitual silence, rather than a stealthy one. They seemed preoccupied by their own thoughts and had no need for words.

Drummer was preoccupied himself. He had stepped up, maybe for the first time ever. He had made the choice to run, to be bait. He had put himself in danger to protect Rowan, someone he hardly knew. Was this a good thing? Was this him? Would his old self have been proud or just derided him for doing something so stupid?

Without visible communication the two scouts finished working at the same moment.

“Up?” asked Badger.

“Down,” said Ris.

“What’s going on?” asked Drummer. “Aren’t we going back to the lander?”

“We are not,” said Badger, “though you’re welcome to try on your own. That party you threw was a fun diversion, but we have work to do. There are some things we need to explore, to see if they’re a threat. You can come if you keep your eyes open and don’t talk much.”

They started down the bluff, the way the crab had chased him. Drummer shuffled slowly down the tree trunk, wondering how he had climbed so fast the day before. Death is a good motivator, he decided. Ris disappeared into the fog ahead. Drummer moved to follow, but Badger stopped him with his hand.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, laddie,” he said quietly, “No point becoming someone’s dinner.”

Drummer stared around apprehensively. The mist rolled over them. Badger leaned on his staff, eyes hooded. Silence stretched on.

“Do you…” asked Drummer, “do you think people can change?”

Badger glanced at him, one eye gleaming under his hood. “Change who they are? No,” the older man said flatly. “But you can change what you choose.”

“What do you mean?”

Badger looked around the grey-misted world and sniffed. “Well, I’m basically an evil gluttonous bastard with a fine talent for mayhem. And Ris? She’s a killer, start to finish. Between us we’ve got more blood on our hands than some governments. But right now she’s choosing to kill crabs, not people, and I’m choosing to help you and the other colonists. Tomorrow we might make a different choice.”

Drummer stared at the short man in trepidation. He shifted his weight, considering another run.

“That violence? That history? It’s who I am. I can’t change that. Can’t pretend it didn’t happen. But I can choose how to use the evil things I’ve learned to make life better for those around me. Can you personally change?” Badger shrugged. “I don’t care who you used to be. It doesn’t matter. You chose to put your life on the line for a wounded friend yesterday, and that does mean something. Keep on like you’ve started, and maybe I’ll start to like you.”

Drummer relaxed, letting out a breath.

“Or maybe I’m just keeping you around for bait.”

Drummer’s smile froze.

“Ris—what ho?” said Badger without turning.

The archer’s lean figure emerged silently from the sea fog. She held an arrow nocked, ready to draw. “Clear,” she responded.

“Down we go,” said Badger cheerfully.

They stood on the edge of the trench Drummer had found the day before. In the mist it looked like a cliff edge. Far away he could hear the sea. Nearby he could hear nothing.

“There it is again,” said Badger. Ris nodded.

“There is what?” asked Drummer, looking around.

“Sulfur. Use your nose.”

Drummer sniffed. He smelled the sea, the dead crabs, his own sweat. No sulfur.

Ris took the rope back and tied it around a rock. She slung her bow over her back and disappeared down the edge of the trench, hands on the rope, feet walking her down the cliff. In seconds she was gone.

“Your turn.” Badger nudged him from behind. Drummer gulped.

He made it to the bottom, arms shaking, his hands burning from the rough fibers. His knees were weak. There was a soft thump and Badger appeared behind him. Ris stood in eerie silhouette, a dark form against the darkness.

They began walking down the trench toward the mountain. After a while Drummer realized they were on a smooth incline, moving downhill. A silent time later there was a slight movement of air and the mist began to thin. As the fog cleared, Drummer looked around and gasped.

The trench had become a canyon. It was wide enough to comfortably hold the lander, but easily three times the depth he had seen on the beach. The walls were mathematically straight, with just a curve at the base where they met the flat floor. He pressed a hand against the nearest wall. The surface was smooth, polished. He saw lines in the wall, as if layers of rock had been sliced through without respect to their underlying texture. He sniffed. Now there was a clear scent of sulfur. The channel rose smoothly toward the fog-shrouded sea. Ahead it disappeared down into the mountain.

“Just like the others,” stated Ris.

“Aye,” sighed Badger.

“Is this natural?” asked Drummer.

The scouts were silent.

“Did the sea do this?”

“Look down, lad. No sand. Water’s never been here.”

“Is it a lava flow?”

“Uphill?”

“What about… I don’t know, wind? Earthquakes?”

Badger was shaking his head. “There’s five of these things. Each looks like it was laid out with a ruler. Each one disappears into the mountain. Follow them far enough and it starts to get hot. Go much further and you’ll burn your lungs out on the fumes. Something made these. Question is why.”

“But what made them? What could do this? Where’s the rubble? You can’t just dig something like this and not leave a pile someplace.”

“True.”

Drummer stared around, baffled, then blinked. “I’ve seen these before.”

Ris looked startled.

“You what?” asked Badger.

“Not before, before. Our first week here I saw these. We were up the mountain south of camp, looking for that first probe. We looked back and I saw five lines stretching from the volcano toward the sea.” He paused, then added meekly, “they looked like a music score.”

Badger and Ris locked eyes. Some subtle communication was happening that Drummer couldn’t follow. They both grimaced and looked away.

Ris made a string of sounds...