Scout's Law by Henry Vogel

Author:Henry Vogel [Vogel, Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rampant Loon Media, LLC
Published: 2016-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

David

With no place to hide and no energy to run, I did the only thing possible. I drew my sword, offered up a prayer for a miracle, and waited for the trogs to round the bend in the path.

Seconds later, four trogs walked into sight. Talking among themselves, they walked several feet before noticing me blocking their way. The four carried spears instead of the expected blaster rifles. Was this an answer to my prayer or had Thor made a point of examining all of the blaster rifles when he returned to base. Had he discovered just how filthy the guns were? Either way, the trogs regarded me quizzically for several long seconds before their leader handed his spear to one of the others. Holding his hands up to show he was unarmed, the trog took a couple of careful steps my way.

I readied my sword, which made the unarmed trog raise his hands higher and wave them back and forth in the human sign of negation. I relaxed my stance and lowered my sword, relieved the trog hadn’t seen my arm shaking slightly from the exertion. A strange buzzing assailed my ears, no doubt further proof of my exhaustion.

The trog pointed at me with his left hand and then pointed to his right hand. Finally, he made a fist with his right hand and hit himself on the chest. He did this another time before turning a questioning look my way.

What the hell was this trog trying to say? My exhaustion fogged brain couldn’t figure it out. I shook my head and shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The trog muttered something in his own language. I imagine it was along the lines of, “Why is this human so stupid?” Then he went through the entire pantomime a second time. When he hit himself on the chest, though, he added a theatrical head roll and his tongue lolled from his mouth.

As tired as I was, even I could figure out the trog was playing dead. With that minor realization, I caught onto another part of it. Careful not to appear threatening, I reversed my hold on my sword, ran it between my left arm and my body, and copied the tongue lolling.

The trog nodded and took a step my way. I jumped back and raised my sword again. “Whoa there! I didn’t say you could just walk up and kill me.”

The trog shook his head, gave me a dark look, and returned to his squad. Once again armed, he and his patrol readied their spears.

Damn my exhaustion! I’d obviously missed any chance to get out of this without fighting—that meant I’d probably missed any chance of getting out of this alive.

“He’s asking if you’re the Hand of Death.”

The voice, young and feminine, came from above me. As one, the trogs and I looked up. Fifty feet over us floated the Wind Dancer’s pinnace. Captain Cochran’s daughter Jade stared down at us from the railing. How in God’s name

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