Where Weavers Daire

Chapter Seven

Welcome to Stuk's Hollow

Melinda locked her fishbowl and sat her suit against the statue's base. "Not bad. You looked quite alive," she said and tightened the pistol belt around her long johns.

Spence circled the base once more and stopped in front of it. "No marker or plaque." He placed a hand on the nearest stone. "No black arts residue, they actually built you by hand, didn't they?" The remaining outstretched arm pointed east towards the horizon. "So, pointing where? Go back from whence you came? Or go and flourish in the wasteland?"

"Clarence Stuk." Melinda stretched. "On the centennial of the Stuk Empire birth. He commissioned them to be markers to establish his kingdom. They also protected those in need. Judging from the damage you did to it, it's been spooled down for years. What?"

"How'd you know that?" Spence said.

"When you're six anything taller than you makes an impression." Melinda pulled off her shoulder torches and tossed him one. "Getting hungry."

Spence pointed to the mountain range to the west that looked impassable. "We need to call your brother, but I don't see any transmission towers. Are you picking up any signals?"

"Not at present, but, the escape pod may be able to boost my signal. Short range scans are coming back." The mask paused. "Inconclusive."

"Inconclusive as in nothing or inconclusive as in blocking you?" Melinda said.

"Unknown," the mask said.

"That's the Stormer Mountain Range and Goslin Grace Spaceport is on the other side." Melinda opened her waist bag. "The spotters should've sent out a Rescue Team by now."

"No one's that quick," Spence said.

"Some lord's kid gets caught on this side of the range after dark, yes, they're that quick," she snickered. "Twelve hours out here is a lifetime."

And why are you so eager to leave? Spence thought and nodded to the escape pod. "Let's see what we can see."

The escape pod's impact ditch wasn't that deep. The pod's chrome body tilted upwards, metal feet extended to balance itself properly on the uneven terrain. Except for some minor scoring on the nose, it reminded him of the day he bought it.

"Give me a damage report," Spence said.

"Primary communication stack needs repairs. Seals on the primary casing are damaged. Possible internal damage. Repair toolkit is in the rear cargo compartment," the mask said.

Spence tilted the torch down and crested the lip of an incline. "Any more light and we're going to be walking targets."

"Left pocket," the mask instructed.

Spence patted down the cloak, carefully stuck his hand inside the folds and pulled out a pair of goggles. The glass lenses were big but judging from the amount of inlaid wiring around the frames and the weight of the lenses, someone had gone to the trouble to cram a great deal of surveillance gear into something so simple.

He found the 'on' switch on body of the left lens and pulled them on. Several warm up screens flew by until a slightly pixelated view of the landscape faded into existence. "Outline me in green. I need enhanced night vision." A wireframe outline appeared around his fingers.

He wiped the grit away. A Historical Marker appeared and welcomed him to Stuk Hollow's second tourist spot: The Heiden Ravine. A seven-hundred-foot drop of stalactites, stone walls eroded to perfection by a long dried up river and lovely sandy bottom. For rock climbers, tourists and doting grandparents alike it garnered its five stars rating by being the only place still on the Hollow worth seeing.