A/N: Back again. Sorry about the long wait. Reality can be annoyingly persistent.
Inspiration for Stephara comes from the amazing archeological site of Great Zimbawae, especially the large soapstone sculptures of the Bateleur eagle. The story of the eagle eating the serpent comes from the legend about the founding of Tenochtitlan (modern Mexico City) by the Aztecs.
Chapter 18: O'Neill's MilkRun
M3K-946
Harry stepped off the road into the tall grass before Teal'c could argue and started for a shrub near a rocky outcrop about halfway down the hill. He had one hand on his handgun and one ready to conjure a shield if necessary.
The others must have backtracked because Harry heard O'Neill's voice complaining.
"What's Potter think he's doing…? Hasn't he heard the one about the little Earthling who wandered off and was eaten by alien aardvarks or the like?"
"Guess he must of missed that one, Jack," Daniel said dryly.
"Harry Potter thought he saw something moving in the grass, O'Neill," Teal'c informed them.
"So he waltzed off by himself… Very bright. I thought he was supposed to be a genius or something'," the colonel paused. "Oh- wait a minute! Daniel does that all the time. I should have expected it."
"Hey!"
Harry was nearly to the place where he'd seen the flash of blue but there was nothing there. He looked carefully around. Huh… nothing. Then, from behind a small, prickly shrub, a shadow twitched.
"Um… Hello?" he said tentatively. "Will you come out? I can tell you're there."
Slowly, a pair of big brown eyes peeked out between the leaves. They stared at each other for a moment.
"You find anything, Harry?" called Sam.
"Yeah… Just stay there a minute," he told the others. Turning back, Harry edged casually to his left, so that he could see around the bush.
Sitting half under the lower branches was a child, a little girl of about seven years. She had dark, dusky skin, nearly as dark as Teal'c but her long hair was a bright, golden blonde. It was drawn to her left ear and braided into a now straggly plait, tied off with a rather lopsided, blue bow. (Probably the flash he'd seen earlier.)
Her arms were protectively cradling an odd-looking animal. The girl was staring at Harry with open curiosity, although she edged further back under the bush as a precaution.
"Hey there…" Harry said quietly. "You don't have to be afraid."
"Are you a Stranger? My uncle says I'm not to go near strangers…" the girl confined artlessly.
Harry knelt down on one knee so that he was closer to her level. "Well, that's good advice…" he said. "We've never met before so I suppose I qualify. However… if we talk a bit and get to know each other, then we won't be strangers, right?"
She nodded and stopped clutching the floppy-eared animal so hard. It made a whistling chirp as she set it down.
First things first… "What's your name?"
"Genna. What's yours?"
"Mine's Harry. What about your friend here?"
"This is Sala. He's a poofla, of course."
The poofla was about the size of a lamb and was a dark brown in color with a soft, shaggy-looking coat. It looked sort of like a miniature alpaca llama except that it sat down on its hind end like a dog or cat. Its eyes were a deep, chocolate brown. The one eye that Harry could see was surrounded by thick, feathery lashes and the other was covered by a shaggy mass of hair, which fell from its forehead down to its nose. One of the normally floppy ears, perked up as it looked in his direction.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Genna… and Sala too, of course. Does he shake hands when he meets someone new?" He said this because the little monster had put a paw on his boot and was now sniffing at his cargo pants.
Gennna giggled. "No… but sometimes he jumps up on people."
"I can see that," said Harry dryly. The poofla had put both front paws up on his knee by this time and was snuffling at his vest pockets. Harry smiled as he firmly pushed the animal's nose away from the oatmeal and chocolate chip powerbar. "Oh no, my good sir. You can't have that… That's my lunch.
"You're silly."
"Well, I've never met a poofla before… I guess I should have read up on them first."
"Why would anyone need to read about the poofla? Doesn't everyone have them?" asked Genna, puzzled.
"No. I'm afraid not, Genna. So- why're you and Sala out here all by yourselves, hmm?" Harry asked.
"Sala likes to explore. We go everywhere!"
"Everywhere, huh? Don't you ever get lost?"
"Nah- Pooflas know where they're going." She nodded decisively.
Harry struggled to keep a straight face. "Right. What was I thinking?" He was going to ask about the location of her home when a voice shouted from the road.
"Yo, Potter! If you're finished playing with the wildlife, we'd like to find the locals before the sun sets today," O'Neill yelled.
Harry, who still had the poofla half on his lap, looked back at Genna. She was still sitting under the bush and she peered out around it to stare at his team-mates on road.
"He's loud."
"Yeah, he can be…" Harry stood and held out his hand. "Would you permit me to introduce my friends, Genna?"
She hesitated but then allowed him to pull her up. "All right."
"They're all really nice… even the loud, grumpy one, once you get to know him."
Genna didn't look particularly convinced but she chirped at Sala, who followed at their heels as they walked over to the road.
She suddenly reached up and put her hand into Harry's. "Why are they all staring at us, Harry…?" she said in a loud whisper.
Harry squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, that's only because they've never seen a poofla before either."
Genna giggled.
They reached the others and Harry did the introductions. "Everyone, this is Genna and her friend Sala."
"Hi, Genna," said Sam.
O'Neill nodded and Daniel grinned and waved.
"It is an honor to meet you, Genna and Friend Sala, " Teal'c said gravely.
Genna's eyes went huge as she gazed up at the big man. "You're really tall!" she said, as if the man might not have noticed this fact.
"Indeed," he answered.
"Did you have to eat all your green sprouts when you were little?" Genna demanded.
"Every bit, I'm afraid."
"Oh." Genna looked rather disgruntled at this news.
Everyone was fighting smiles by this time, even O'Neill.
The colonel crouched down. "So… Genna. We were looking for any folks who live around here. Could you point us in the right direction?"
She cocked her head but nodded. "Yeah. Stephara is that way," and she pointed to the southeast.
"Is that where you live?" asked Harry.
"Yes."
"Well, could you take us there? We'd love to see it."
A happy smile came over her face. "All right, Harry. Come on." She grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, off the road in the direction she'd pointed. Harry stumbled a bit at first, but caught up with her after a few strides, chuckling at her enthusiasm.
The others snickered and followed more sedately while Sala ran ahead of them all.
Perhaps pooflas did have a good sense of direction… either that or it knew where the food barrel was kept.
After more than a couple of miles with no sign of people, Jack began to wonder if the girl was lost. Genna had led them through the tall grass in a generally southeasterly direction. He was about to complain when they topped another hill and saw a small stone tower to their west. Spread out below them was a large river valley and their obvious destination.
"Thank you, Genna. You're a very good guide," said Potter.
Genna beamed. "Come on then."
The village of Stephara was nestled up against a small, lazy river which wound its way across the valley floor. It was lined with straggly trees and surrounded by a patchwork quilt of farmed fields. Mostly grains and something that looked like beans (sort of). A few fields had large herds of Sala's older cousins pastured there.
The girl led the team on a winding path through the fields, which were dotted with thatched, sod houses and barns. Curious folk, similar in appearance to Genna, eyed them as they passed but no one stopped them. The path eventually rejoined the main road into the village. Just off the road was a large Windmill and a circular stone building that reminded Jack of the threshing barns in rural Minnesota. Very little wood was used in the construction of any of the buildings they passed, mostly sod or stone.
The village proper was surrounded on three sides by a high wall of piled, flat rock and on the other by the river. Decent enough delaying defenses, Jack thought.
The entrance arch through the wall was guarded by two pillars, topped by odd eagle-like birds with long necks and hands instead of feet. Each pillar and bird was carved out of a handsome green stone similar to jade and was close to ten feet high.
The buildings inside the rockwall were mostly made of mortared stones with roofs of thatch or tile. At the center of the village, dominating the paved courtyard was another huge statue of the bird, this one holding a dead snake in its beak and hands. It towered over a series of stone columns, which held up a loosely woven roof obviously meant to shade a large gathering area filled with seats.
A tall, stern-looking older man emerged from a circular stone building followed by a big man who rivaled Teal'c in bulk and a sturdy-looking woman. He politely asked their business there.
Fortunately, the usual first meeting tensions were snuffed almost before they began. Genna, their little guide, barged forward (still dragging Potter around like her own personal pull-toy) and announced that she'd found some new friends.
The man's face softened slightly when he looked at the girl but then he frowned.
"Gennawae. What have your Adda and I told you about traveling beyond the WatchTowers?" he asked sternly.
The kid's happy smile fell away. She bit her lip but dutifully recited," To always stay within sight of the Towers. To make sure I carry my signal mirror and to avoid strangers."
"Correct. Where were you today?"
"North and west of Belph Tower…" Genna said, a bit sullenly. "But Uncle Zim, I had my mirror and Harry's not a stranger. You said they were bad."
"Gennawae-" the man said sternly.
"Uh sir?" Potter, who Genna still had by the hand, stepped forward and interrupted. "Pardon me, but we didn't intend to get Genna into any trouble. I, uh… stumbled across her hiding place so she didn't have much of a chance to avoid us."
"Hmm… And you would be?"
"Oh, My name is Harry Potter and these are my friends…" Potter introduced the rest of the team.
Jack gave the man a nod, which he returned. "I am Zimwae, Bateleur of Stephara. This is Defender Benrat," he gestured toward the big man and then the woman, "And Argo, our FieldMaster..."
Zimwae glanced back at SG1. "Why are you here?"
Daniel stepped forward. "We are peaceful explorers. We travel through the Stargate seeking knowledge and trade."
"Yet you are armed," Zimwae said. "You are warriors…" He eyed Teal'c and Jack shrewdly.
"We'll defend ourselves, yah…" Jack said.
"As you told Genna, Baleteur Zimwae," Potter said smoothly, "Strangers are not always friendly… however one must reach out to know for sure."
Zimwae stared at Potter for a few moments before his eyes dropped to the kid's hand, still holding Genna's. "As you say, young man." He relaxed slightly and nodded to the rest of the team. "We are the Mwene Mutapa. Welcome to Stephara."
Oh boy… that's a mouthful, Jack thought and immediately dubbed them the 'M&M' people in his head.
"It is nearly time for our Mid-day meal… Perhaps our guests would sit with us and we could speak more of sharing knowledge and trade?"
"Sure," Jack said.
"We'd be delighted," smiled Daniel.
Genna bounced happily on her toes and swung Potter's hand.
Which is how they ended up at the best part of these 'Meet and Greet' missions… the Feasting.
Actually... in spite of O'Neill's talk about feasting, it was more of a simple but hardy meal; consisting of breads, cheeses, smoked meats and an unfamiliar fruit similar to grapes. The food was laid out on a low table in the central gathering area under the shade of the awning.
Harry rather enjoyed his first off-world feast. Upon further thought, he decided it was a good thing that it wasn't an elaborate affair with hundreds of people. He probably would have spent the whole time anticipating some horrible interruption. Probably some crazy person in a purple turban yelling about a poofla-eating troll or the like knowing his luck.
The team sat cross-legged around the table with Zimwae, Benrat and Argo. Most of the townspeople had been shooed away, although Harry noticed quite a few watched from a distance.
Genna, who'd been allowed to stay on the condition that she not interrupt, sat with Harry near the far end of the table. (Presumably his job was to keep her occupied while the 'adults' talked.)
Not that he truly minded. Genna spent the meal pointing out all her favorite foods and loading Harry's plate high. (Sort of like Dobby back home) It was fun although he definitely ate too much. She also related how totally unfair it was that Sala was banned from sharing. (For some strange reason, pooflas weren't allowed near the dinner table.) Harry told her not to worry about Sala too much. If pooflas were smart, they probably organized their own feasts while their humans were busy.
Down at the other end of the table Daniel and Zimwae were doing most of the talking with occasional input from the others.
"…The Ruins of which you speak were destroyed by the Serpent generations ago…" Zimwae said.
"The Serpent?" asked Daniel with a long look at Carter and O'Neill.
Zimwae nodded. "A harsh being with glowing eyes. He and his snake guards forced the forefathers to work in the mines until no more ore was found. Then, they left through the Chapa'ai and never returned."
"What happened to your ancestors?" Daniel asked.
"There was very little food near the mine…"
"Yeah, the snakeheads rarely put the slave labor camps near the ShopKo, do they?" said O'Neill.
Zimwae gave him a blank look.
"Jack…" Daniel said, annoyed.
The Bateleur continued. "The forefathers were divided. Some believed that the Serpent would return and punish any who dared to leave the mines. Others decided to take the risk. A man named Mutapa and those who agreed traveled south following the flightpath of a Bateleur eagle, which is a symbol of good luck and freedom. The bird eventually led them to this valley.
The forefathers watched from the hills as the Bateleur dove down and captured a grass-snake. It sat on a rock near the river and devoured the serpent. After such an omen, Mutapa decided that this was the place to stop. We, the Mwene Mutapa (Followers of Mutapa) have lived here ever since," Zimwae concluded.
"And the Ruins?" asked Daniel.
"Very little is known about them," Argo said. "The stories say the structure denied the Serpent entrance to its inner rooms and he had his snake guards burn it to the ground out of spite."
"Denied entrance?" echoed Daniel.
"So… nothing was ever taken from the building before or after?" asked Sam.
"The only piece that survived the burning was a table with a stone top. It's kept in the ziimba." She pointed at the large, circular stone building across from the gathering area.
"Perhaps I could examine it while we're here?" Daniel suggested.
Zimwae exchanged a look with Benrat. "It may be possible," he said.
Benrat spoke for the first time. "Perhaps, the others would like a tour of Stephara, Zimwae?"
"It'd make our day," O'Neill said with almost perfect sincerity.
SGC Briefing Room
George Hammond climbed the spiral stairs from the control room back to the briefing room and his office. The general was silently cursing his aching joints. Getting older was definitely no picnic, he thought. All those things you take for granted when you're younger…
He'd taken the last step and was headed for his office when he noticed a small figure near the viewing window overlooking the Stargate.
It was Dobby, the house-elf.
The small creature had moved one of the briefing chairs over to the window. He was kneeling on the seat with his crossed arms on the sill, watching the inactive gate in the room below. His ears drooped under a ridiculous red cowboy hat and he looked sad and lonely. Clutched in one tiny fist was what looked like a sock, which the elf was absently rubbing with his thumb.
When Potter had first introduced the elf, Hammond had found himself struggling to accept the existence of such a creature. Although he'd eventually had to believe the evidence of his own eyes. It struck him as odd that he and the SGC had taken the existence of aliens, such as the Gou'ald and the Asgard, pretty much in stride but the idea of elves living here on Earth was much harder to swallow. Probably because people expected to find the 'unusual' out there. Home was supposed to be 'safe'. Humans had traveled to the far corners of the Earth and discovered all there was to discover, right? No more surprises… It was all there on National Geographic or PBS.
The general glanced at his watch. He had a good twenty minutes before his scheduled conference call with the Joint Chiefs so he walked over and joined the elf at the window.
He'd made no attempt to conceal his approach but Dobby didn't show any sign that he was aware of him until he spoke. "Does General George sir wants Dobby to leave?" asked the elf in a small voice. His ears seemed to droop even further but he didn't look away from the Stargate.
"Uh- No, Dobby. That's not necessary, unless we have a meeting in here," Hammond said. "What are you doing anyways?"
"I's be waiting sir," the elf said, still watching the gate and rubbing the sock.
"Waiting for what, Dobby?"
"The return of Harry Potter, sir."
"Ah, Dobby… SG1 isn't scheduled to return for another 48 hours. Their first check-in showed no signs of problems. You should probably find something to do to occupy your time while you wait. I'm sure they'll be back before you know it."
The elf's eyes turned to give him a reproachful look before returning to the Stargate.
"Is there a reason you're in the briefing room?" Hammond asked.
"It seems a good place sir." Dobby sighed. "Harry Potter sir makes Dobby promise nots to follow him through the Great Portal unless you or Colonel Nealy gives permissions." The elf gave Hammond a hopeful glance but the general shook his head. "Is hard waiting, sir. What if Harry Potter sir needs our help?"
"It can be hard to wait," the general agreed with perfect understanding. Although the thought of sending the tiny elf to the rescue instead of a contingent of Marines or SFs was rather ludicrous. "Mostly I try not to worry about it unless they ask for help or I know for sure that there is something wrong."
The elf nodded sadly and glanced down at his fist as he tightened his grip on what was definitely a sock.
Hammond pointed at it. "What's this, Dobby?"
The elf's grip loosened and he showed the general what he was holding. It was small, obviously a child's. The color was an emerald green and it had tiny golden balls with wings stitched all over it. "Is present, sir. Harry Potter give. He say Dobby hold onto sock when he's gone. While sock stays warm, Harry Potter sir is alright. Dobby not worry so much."
The elf reached out and lay the sock on Hammond's forearm. It was indeed rather warm, although whether that was because the elf had been holding it so tightly or not was debatable. Still… That was a clever way for Potter to relieve the elf's fears.
The long fingers soon snatched it back and Dobby looked earnestly at the General. "Ifin yous worries about Colonel Nealy and the others sir, I'm sure Harry Potter sir could get you socks for everyone."
Hammond had a sudden image of the entire wall of his office covered in socks from the various SG teams and other personnel under his command and smiled slightly. The smell alone… "That's okay, Dobby. I'll get by without them. You take good care of that one and make sure to inform me if something's wrong, okay?"
"Yes sir!" The elf stood up on the chair and saluted, which knocked off his red cowboy hat to dangle by its string.
The general patted him on the shoulder and walked towards his office, his mind already on the reports and paperwork he needed to finish by the end of the day.
Dobby watched him go before returning his attention to the small, green sock. Stitched across the cuff with tiny, white sparkling threads were words. The elf ran his thumb over them.
Harry Potter, bonded of Dobby the elf
Status: Alive, Traveling
Condition: Healthy, Conscious
Dobby sighed. Waiting was hard.
Outer Fields of Stephara
Benrat and Argo had given SG1 (except for Daniel) the nickel tour. It was mostly a run through of their farm industry; including the giant looms used for processing the poofla wool and ending with the stone threshing barn and windmill. A strong evening breeze had picked up and was lazily spinning the mill's blades.
Argo was telling Carter about the extensive irrigation system and the numerous watertowers dotting the outer fields. Strange, Jack thought. She actually looks interested. Potter was getting his own tour courtesy of Genna's nonstop chatter- everything from what pooflas like to eat to where the best places to hide were. He and Teal'c were mostly nodding in all the right places.
It was early evening and the tour was winding down by the time Daniel and Zimwae rejoined them.
"Yo Daniel! Find anything interesting?" He held up a hand when Daniel looked like he might wax poetic. "I mean interesting to normal people…"
Daniel threw him a dirty look. "Not really, Jack… and how would you know anything about normal people?" he answered. "The table is Ancient in design but there's no clue about what it was used for." He frowned.
"What?" Jack said, sensing there was something else.
"Just… Its condition is amazing, especially considering its age and the fire it survived… The top shows no scorch marks at all. When I asked Zimwae, he just said 'The Blight does not burn'."
"The Blight?"
"Umm… That's what he said. In any case, I don't think we'll be getting much more about the Ruins out of these people. Their records all start after 'the Serpent' left. Harry and I collected some samples for analysis from the Ruins… We'll have to see whether they yield anything later."
"Yeah," Jack said. "Well, we'll round off our time here and head out tomorrow. Doesn't look like these folks have much to trade that the PTB would be interested in…" His voice trailed off as his eyes caught sight of a figure, running hell for leather from one of the outer WatchTowers. A long red scarf flowed behind the man as he ran, catching the eye. "Wonder what that's about?" he said, pointing.
The words had no sooner left his mouth when a mournful, discordant alarm sounded across the fields and everyone turned to look.
Zimwae and Benrat excused themselves and hurried to meet the runner, who stopped and pointed urgently to the west.
"Nothing good, I'd say," Daniel answered.
The village leaders headed back toward the team. Benrat started firing off orders to everyone he met and the fieldworkers dropped their tools and ran for the surrounding barns and houses. More trumpeting alarms were heard and Zimwae looked grim as he came even with them.
"What's up?" Jack asked.
The man's face was a mask. "It needn't concern you, Colonel O'Neill. You and your people need to leave immediately. If you hurry, you can probably make the Chapa'ai."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa… just wait a minute," said Jack in alarm. "What's goin' on? Something's obviously coming… Maybe we can help?"
"I do not have time for a debate. There is too much to do to prepare. The Storm will be upon us within the hour. Stay or depart, the choice is yours. Benrat can direct your people if you choose to stay. If you choose to depart, go swiftly."
"Storm? What Storm?" asked Carter, looking at the clear blue sky that stretched in every direction.
"A FireStorm. I must go." Zimwae hurried toward the village.
The townspeople were pouring out of the stone archway and the surrounding farmhouses. Most were carrying shovels, brooms or rakes. Some of the women had heavy rugs and sacks. Kids had buckets and pails. Others were manhandling equipment out of the barns and sheds.
"Genna," Potter said gently, crouching down with a hand on her shoulder. "Exactly what is a FireStorm?"
"It's a monster fire, Harry," she said, looking rather scared. "They come every few years. Bad ones can destroy everything."
"A wildfire can move at great speed, O'Neill," said Teal'c in warning.
"He's right sir," said Carter. "Prairie fires can be huge and travel faster than a man can run. It's at least ten miles back to the Gate. I'm not sure we could make it and we'd have no protection at all if it caught us out there."
"The Mwene Mutapa look like they've done this before," Potter said, gesturing to the villagers, who were headed for the far edge of the fields with their buckets and shovels.
"Right." Jack gave a decisive nod. "Looks like our best bet is with the people with a plan. Let's go pitch in, kids."
Benrat eyed them closely when Jack offered their services but he didn't argue. "More hands are always welcome," was all he said before putting them all to work. Even Genna, who was sent to help with moving the pooflas herds inside the village walls.
Daniel and Carter went with Argo to help in the bucket brigades. Benrat led Potter, Teal'c and Jack to the western side of the outermost grainfield.
The breeze had begun to pick and with it came the faint odor of smoke.
In the growing twilight, a long band of red light began to show against the western horizon. It clashed obscenely with the pinks and purples of the sky. The band was moving towards them and spreading its glow as it went. A growing sense of urgency came with the sight.
The far side of the grainfield was marked by several furrows of turned earth, giving it about five feet of protection.
"That will probably not be enough, Benrat," Teal'c said, staring out at the approaching red band.
"Yes, I know. It has also been extremely dry this season," Benrat said soberly. "We will have to set counter-fires and then hope for the best. You are familiar with combating fire?"
"Not on this scale," Teal'c admitted. "However, my home planet of Chulak is very dry. It was often necessary to protect our homes."
"Are all your companions as experienced?" Benrat asked, looking at Potter and then Jack.
The kid shook his head.
Jack shrugged. "Well, I've put out a few grease fires in my time, but that just involved putting a lid over it." Benrat and Teal'c looked blank. Jack rolled his eyes. "That would be a no."
Benrat dismissed them and explained to Teal'c how and where they would begin the back-burns.
The villagers split up into teams of eight. One man would use a ladle to dribble a line of oil where they wanted the counter-fire to start and another would light it with a firebrand. The other six, armed with everything from rakes to shovels to brooms to wet rugs, would stamp out the inner edge until the fire burned in the desired direction. Once the fire was moving outward, the team leapfrogged down the line to start another section.
Jack and Teal'c were handed shovels and Potter got a rake. They joined a team of five villagers, most whose names Jack never did catch, except for Wenar. He was the guy carrying their firebrand, a long metal rod with one end twisted into spiral to hold the tinder. It kept going out as the tinder burned up and Wenar had to run over to relight it. Jack quickly became very popular when he fished out his lighter and used it to restart the reluctant brand. He finally just gave the lighter to Wenar and went back to beating on the fire-edge.
It was exhausting, back-breaking work and Jack quickly decided he'd definitely made a wise choice as a kid to forego being a firefighter.
The smell of smoke from their own fires was nearly over powering as the wind blew it back into their faces, making everyone cough. Potter had rigged up some sort of scarf over his nose and mouth, which looked like a good idea. The others followed suit, until they started looking like a bunch of soot-blackened, frontier bandits from an old Western.
Gradually, the dull red glow was brightening and widening as it drew closer. The whole scene was becoming further animated by sight and sound. The burning grass crackled and snapped and the wind swept the FireStorm onward while inhibiting their own smaller fires from advancing very much. A low roaring noise could be heard… still faint but unmistakably ominous.
Small animals were fleeing the monster, running past the humans as if they weren't even there. Even a small herd of deer-like critters, cut around the fire-line and headed for the river.
The ever-lengthening bow of blackened ground caused by the counter-fires was gradually curving back to encircle the fields and village. The back burning teams were moving continuously away from each other to the north and south.
To the west, a wall of flames, 20-30 feet high in some areas, moved steadily onwards. It lit and heated the atmosphere until evening turned to daylight. Dark clouds of crimson smoke curled aloft till they nearly obscured the sky, while rushing, crashing sounds were becoming almost deafening.
The small counter fires, which were still only about 30 yards across at their widest point, crept slowly out to meet the giant.
The collision of the two made a noise like shotgun fire. Flames shot high in the air scattering red sparks before sputtering and gradually dying back in the center. A small cheer went up from the villagers as the immense wall of flame broke apart. It stalled for a few minutes and then began move to the south and north, skirting along the edge of the backfire line.
Now, two immense waves of fire burned on either side of the Mwene Mutapa village, still moving east.
North of Stephara
Daniel tried to remember the last time he'd been so tired.
Well, maybe after the Atanik armband incident… Or being captured by Chaka… or the whole De-Ascended business… Anyways, he was exhausted.
He and Sam had gone with Argo to help her organize the bucket brigades for the Stepharan pumps.(Not that she needed much help.)
The heavy, wooden pumps were maneuvered into position along the inside of the backburn and used to spray down the edge of the fields in the hope that if the fire jumped across it wouldn't catch. The bucket lines formed up to the nearest Watertower with several teenagers to run the empty buckets back to the tower.
The pumps were fascinating to his archeologist side. Simple but effective, Sam told him. They were approximately six foot tall and consisted of two bottom chambers, which both connected to a higher central chamber and then to a pipe, which ran from the middle chamber up to the top. Each section was sealed shut by a leather flap topped by a stone weight, preventing backflow. On either side of the pipe were long wooden plungers, connected together near the top of the device by two-man, see-saw handles. The see-saw arrangement meant that while one plunger drew back, sucking water into its compartment, the second was forcing the water up into the middle chamber. The next downward plunge on the other side forced even more water into the center, leaving the water nowhere to go but up the pipe.
A nozzle at the top sprayed the water out almost eight yards. Sam was impressed and said that was farther than a modern fire-extinguisher.
The whole pump sat in a large tank, which was where the bucket brigade came in. The pump's biggest problem was mobility. Once the tank was full, the weight made moving one prohibitive, at least until the pump emptied the tank again.
It took about five minutes to pump out the tank once Argo decided to move on to the next section. After a few sections, the two 'pumphandlers' would trade off with a couple of people from the bucket brigade so that there was always a fresh set of hands manning the pumps.
Daniel and Sam spent most of their time helping on the bucketline but finally got to take a turn at the pump handles themselves.
They were slowly working their way north when disaster struck. The momentary victory cheer as the FireStorm wall broke against the western backburn had to be cut short. A strong gust of wind caused the northern wall of flame to surge nearly 100 yards, quickly outdistancing the water crews and leaving only a small ten foot area of backburned grass in between the conflagration and a field on the north side of Stephara.
Within seconds the fire had jumped the barrier. The dry grain went up like the fresh tinder it was.
The counterfire teams ran as quickly as they could to set a new line in front of the windmill and the granary buildings. Argo sent half of the bucket brigade to help.
The line of pumps had to be rotated north to face the new threat. The one on the end closest to the fire didn't have to be moved but it soon ran out of water. The pumphandlers had to desert it and it was lost entirely when the fire jumped unexpectedly. The other five pumps were spread out to cover as much ground as possible. A group of village women arrived with several baskets of eggs. Argo ordered them to add the egg whites to the pump water tanks. The egg and water mixture seemed to work fairly well as a suppressant. The fire sizzled and smoked horribly when it hit the soaked grain. Unfortunately they only had a limited supply of eggs and they quickly ran out.
They'd been fighting this fire for nearly four hours now. Daniel's arms were beginning to feel like rubber when two villagers offered to take over the pumping job. He examined his hands and thought his blisters might have blisters by now. Daniel glanced at Sam. Her hair appeared more gray than blonde and she looked as tired as he felt.
Out in the grainfield, the flames had grown into another wall. This one almost twenty feet high. The roar grew even louder until Daniel could barely make out what Sam was yelling from only a few feet away.
"D-niel! L—k!" She pointed towards the village.
He suddenly realized that even if they stopped the fire here; their firelines had left the flames only one way to go. It was trapped between them and the river and heading straight for Stephara.
South of Stephara
Harry stepped back from the fireline for a small breather. He propped the handle of his rake against his shoulder, wincing a bit as he flexed his sore and blistered hands.
After a swift look around, Harry dispelled the modified Bubblehead Charm covering his mouth and nose and pulled down the scarf he'd had over it. The water from his canteen wasn't cold by any means but it sure tasted good.
O'Neill paused and then dropped back next to him. He jabbed his shovel in the ground and gestured for Harry's canteen, which he handed over, grateful that he'd put a Never-Ending Wellspring on it.
After taking a long swallow and handing it back, the colonel gazed out on the FireStorm. It was now working its way around the southern side of the fields but the counterfires seemed to be keeping it at bay.
"These people hold one hell of a wiener roast," he drawled. "Too bad I forgot to bring some…"
Harry cocked his head. "Yeah, too bad. Shame to let such a good fire go to waste."
"Exactly." O'Neill grinned at him. "How're you holding up kid?" he asked.
"Fine. Nothing a nice, hot shower wouldn't fix. You?"
"Well, I'll be feeing this tomorrow in places I'd rather not think about and I sure wouldn't turn down a hot meal to go with that shower…" the colonel said. "So… Gate travel living up to your expectations so far?"
Harry looked out at the fire they'd been fighting for hours and then back at O'Neill. "Well, I must admit I wasn't expecting such a…" He paused.
"Trial by Fire?" O'Neill suggested drolly.
Harry winced. "That's horrible."
"But accurate."
"Well, yes."
They grabbed their tools and started back for the fireline.
"So… this is what you call a MilkRun?" Harry asked.
O'Neill considered for a bit. "Well, there's no evil aliens trying to shoot us… we haven't been caught and tortured yet… and so far there's no plot to enslave the Earth or blow it up… so yes. This is a MilkRun."
"Right." Harry could see his point. "Maybe you should just call them all FirewhiskeyRuns so nobody gets confused."
"No fun in that. What's Firewhiskey?"
"Something from Britain that'll set your socks on fire if you're not careful. It seemed strangely appropriate," Harry said as they reach Benrat and the line.
They were interrupted by a shout.
"Benrat! Have you seen Gennawae?" It was Zimwae, looking rather worse for wear.
Benrat turned. "No, I have not Zimwae… not since before the FireStorm parted. I sent her to help with the poofla herds. She should be in the village."
"She's not. I cannot find her anywhere. Her Adda said she was looking for Sala earlier but I can't find him either." Zimwae spotted Harry and O'Neill. "What about you, Harry Potter… Gennawae was with you during the tour… Did she say anything to you? I have looked in all her usual places and found nothing." He looked hopefully at Harry.
Harry thought about all the spots Genna had shown (dragged) him that afternoon, including… his gaze went to the south and the FireStorm.
Bloody Hell!
He tossed his rake at O'Neill and took off running toward the end of the fireline.
"What the- Potter!" the colonel sputtered as he juggled the rake and shovel. "Potter, get back here!"
With a muttered curse, O'Neill threw the implements at Benrat and went after him.