The Secret of the Golden Gods Omnibus Edition

by Pedro Urvi

  “I don’t have any more grain, I’ve got nothing left,” he was saying, not even daring to look at the Enforcer of the Gods.

  The Eye remained impassive, ignoring the farmer prostrate at his feet.

  “I assure you, I’m not hiding anything,” said Colem pleadingly.

  Those swine always took away what little grain and food the families had saved in order to survive. The peasants begged tearfully and tried to hide all the cereal they could, but they were ruthlessly tortured until they ended up confessing. Kyra had witnessed impotently how some brave individuals gave their lives to save their families, refusing to reveal where they had hidden what little remained from the harvest. The Eyes-of-the-Gods tortured the poor wretches to death. Their cries of pain and terror were widespread all across the region.

  Damned heartless serfs of soulless Gods!

  Kyra tried to calm the fury within her, a rage she knew well and which cost her a great effort to control. She was well aware that no good would come of it. She would gladly tear out the Eye’s heart, but she thought about her mother and brother, about how much they would suffer if they took her too… She bowed her head and sighed with deep sorrow. They at least were still alive, she told herself. Other families had already perished in the harsh winter or at the hands of the Eyes-of-the-Gods.

  “No, please, we need the milk, we have nothing else. We’ll die of starvation,” Colem was saying desperately.

  One of the Executors hit him in the ribs, and the poor man doubled up in pain. Volte tried to help his father, but was immediately subdued amid terrible blows.

  Kyra took a step forward with the axe in her hand, and her rage was on the verge of exploding like an erupting volcano.

  “Stay still!” came the order, in a gentle but forceful tone.

  Kyra turned and saw Solma, hoe in one hand and a bunch of weeds from the garden in the other.

  “They’re taking everything, they’ll starve them.”

  “There’s nothing we can do for them.”

  “I’d gut him!”

  “Kyra! Shut up! If they hear you they’ll take you away like they did your father, and we’d never see you again.”

  “If I could kill just one of them, just one of those Enforcers, at least I’d have the satisfaction of having avenged him.”

  “Oh yes? And what good would come of that? There are Eyes-of-the-Gods, escorted by Executors, controlling the six counties. He’d soon be replaced by another from the Eternal City. And what do you think the punishment would be? They’d not only kill you and all your family, but all the families of the county would pay too. The Gods don’t tolerate the slightest indiscipline. If any one hand rises against one of their Enforcers, our blood will bathe the earth, the blood of all the families. That’s the Law of the Gods.”

  “Even so, we ought to confront them, show them we’re not afraid of them.”

  “Who’s going to confront them, my child? There are barely any men left in the fields. Most of them have been sent to the quarries or the mines to get granite and the minerals they need for the building of their Eternal City. There are only elders and children left who can’t even wield a weapon. Who’s going to confront them? Us? The women?”

  “I’m prepared to!”

  “You’re young, and your head is filled with dangerous ideals, just like your father.”

  Kyra sighed. She knew her mother was right, but her soul cried out at the injustices inflicted upon them.

  “Tell me, Mother, what do you see?” she asked Solma, and showed her the Ring on her left hand.

  “The Golden Ring… the one we all wear,” she replied, as though she feared what would come next.

  “That’s it. A Ring they enslave us with, one they’ve used to subject our people for more than a thousand years. But it’s more than that, because the mark of the Ox it has engraved on it doesn’t only mean I’m a slave, but that I’m a farmer slave and that I can’t be anything else. I’m forced to work the fields for them, and that’s all I can do until the day I die.”

  Solma looked at her own Ring, where the engraved Ox shone in the sun.

  “And what will happen the day this farmer slave can’t pay the taxes the Gods demand?” she said, looking at the Eye-of-the-God, while acid rage rose to her mouth.

  “Kyra…”

  “Tell me, Mother, what do they do with those who aren’t productive any longer?”

  Solma shook her head, her eyes sunk deep in a well of sorrow.

  “They’ll kill me, they’ll kill us, with no mercy. Don’t you see, Mother? We’re doomed, and we always will be.”

  “Kyra, it’s not the time for this discussion. Proxy Ambuk is watching us.”

  “Let him watch, he won’t intervene, he won’t help a poor peasant family, not in front of the Enforcers.”

  “The Proxy represents the Regent’s law among the Senoca.”

  “Sure, as if we didn’t know that he’s just a puppet who serves them. They’re all the same, corrupt Proxies serving a Regent who’s a puppet of the Golden himself. They starve the people with taxes and it doesn’t mean anything to them, they live like kings in luxurious houses and palaces, all at our expense.”

  “Kyra, please…”

  “We’re nothing more than slaves, doomed to work and suffer a life of poverty until death. There’s no hope.”

  “But we’re alive, our family’s still alive, and that’s what matters in the end. The family must survive, above all else. Take care of your family and stay alive, no matter how difficult the situation is, no matter how much hardship we have to bear, because that’s the only way to survive.”

  “Survive to suffer a life like this…” Kyra shook her head.

  “Don’t talk like that, we’re alive. You, Ikai, me. We love each other and we have each other. Think about that. Hold on to that.”

  Kyra gave a long sigh…

  “Will our fate change some day, Mother?”

  “I keep that hope in my heart. And if not now, then some other time, but come it will. That’s why we have to take care of each other and survive, the family above all, Kyra. We must stay together, stay strong and survive.”

  “All right, Mother,” Kyra said, bowing her head in resignation.

  The Eye-of-the-God turned and looked in their direction. The sun shone on the polished metallic surface of his sinister helmet.

  “On your knees, he’s looking at us,” Solma said. There was fear in her voice as she knelt down hurriedly.

  “Come on, Kyra, on your knees,” she urged.

  Kyra remained standing.

  “I’m not afraid of him, he’s nothing more than a vile servant of heartless Gods.”

  “On your knees, I tell you, now!” Solma tugged hard at her daughter’s tunic.

  Kyra took a final glance at the Eye-of-the-God and obeyed her mother, although she would have liked to defy that creature. For one moment she wished he would approach them, but when she saw the Executors that impulse of senseless rebellion vanished. She knelt down slowly and kept her head bowed, in spite of the rage that was making her foam at the mouth.

  She remained kneeling, looking at the ground. Her fists clenched, impotent.

  “They’re leaving,” Solma said with a deep sigh.

  Kyra looked at her mother and stood up.

  “I’m sorry, Mother, I truly am,” she said. Her heart ached for the anxiety she had caused Solma. “It’s just too much for me. I can’t control myself, when I see… when I think…”

  “I know, my child, and I respect you for it. But you must control that temper of yours…”

  Suddenly the ground began to tremble. A buzzing sounded in the distance, like a furious swarm of bees. Something unusual was happening. The tremor became stronger, and Kyra saw the crows flying away. She followed them with her gaze and saw that other birds too were leaving.

  “Mother!”

  The two women looked around in fear, trying to find out what was happening. A strong gust of wind hit them,
>
  “Is it a tornado?”

  Solma looked up at the sky, but it was clear.

  “It’s not a tornado,” she said, pointing at the sky.

  “An earthquake, then?” Kyra said, trying to keep her balance in the midst of tremors which were growing more intense.

  The buzz grew louder until it was deafening. Kyra covered her ears with both hands; the sound was unbearable.

  And then they saw it.

  In front of them.

  An enormous translucent wave more than sixty feet tall, wide enough to fill the entire horizon, was coming towards them, like the leading edge of a huge tsunami. But it was not water that formed the giant wave: it was energy.

  “It’s a Summoning!” cried Solma.

  “Mother!”

  Mother and daughter hugged each other. There was nowhere to hide. The giant wave was advancing towards them, sweeping everything in its wake, like thousands of transparent horses at full gallop.

  “It’s the Gods! It’s a Summoning!” cried Solma, with the gale lashing her hair. Kyra, clinging tightly to her mother, could barely hear her in the midst of the deafening buzzing.

  The giant wave which was sweeping the entire Senoca lands fell upon them. Kyra watched it in all its power and magnificence, rearing enormous before her eyes, a single instant before it reached her.

  “Damned Gods!” she cried defiantly.

  And the great wave of energy struck them.

  Kyra was thrown backwards, hit the ground several paces away and lay there on the bare earth. She began to tremble uncontrollably, as if she had been submerged in a glacial river on a winter morning. She felt a freezing pain in her entire body.

  “Mother!” she cried and reached out with her left hand to where Solma was convulsing on the ground three paces from her.

  “Mother! Are you all right?!

  Solma turned her head and looked at her. Her eyes opened wide. In them was a look of visceral fear.

  This scared Kyra. What could have terrified her mother so much?

  “The… Ring…” muttered Solma, trying to point with a trembling hand.

  Kyra looked down at her Ring.

  It was shining with an evil golden gleam.

  And then she knew.

  She had been Selected.

  Unable to stop trembling, she covered her Ring with her right hand, trying to overcome the tremors.

  Why me? Damn it, why me? she kept thinking, unable to make sense of the fact that she had been selected by the Gods. Those who are summoned are seldom seen again, she thought, feeling more and more worried. I could escape, but they’d send the Enforcers and the Hunters after me… but I can’t let them take me, at least not without trying to escape.

  A shadow fell over her.

  “What you’re thinking of trying won’t help you,” she heard a shrieking, metallic voice say. It hurt her ears.

  Kyra turned her head towards the shadow and saw him.

  The Eye-of-the-God.

  He carried a disc in the palm of his hand. It gave out a golden gleam, like the one from her own Ring.

  “What do you want?” Kyra said. There were cramps of fear in her stomach.

  “Take your eyes off me and show the respect you owe me, slave,” shrieked the Enforcer of the Gods.

  Three Executors surrounded her. Their huge shadows fell over her.

  She looked away, then glanced back out of the corner of her eye.

  “Let me be,” she said, unable to restrain herself.

  The helmet of the Eye emitted a metallic sound, and the two halves of the diamond opened sideways, revealing what gave the sinister Enforcer his name: the Eye of the God.

  An enormous golden iris appeared on the front of the helmet, made up of thousands of speckles surrounding a sky-blue pupil on an eternal black background. Around the great Eye she noticed thousands of tiny scattered ochre dots. It was said that whoever looked upon it never doubted they were under the scrutiny of the Gods themselves. That eye made Kyra feel uncontrollable revulsion and terror.

  The Eye lit up. Issuing from it, a beam of white light swept over her twice from top to toe before it went out again.

  Kyra clenched her teeth and fists hard. What was this nightmarish being doing to her?

  The helmet emitted the metallic sound again, and both triangular halves closed, hiding the great Eye.

  “She has been Selected. Take her away,” he ordered the Executors.

  “No, leave her! You can’t take her away! She hasn’t done anything!” Solma cried desperately from the ground.

  “How dare you interfere with the will of the Gods! Make the slave shut up!”

  Two of the Executors turned. They hit Solma brutally until she lost consciousness.

  “Nooooo! Beasts!” Kyra got to her feet. She was beside herself, her body still trembling but possessed by rage. She reached for the dagger at her belt and tried to stab the Eye-of-the-Gods in the neck.

  An iron hand closed on her arm. Kyra turned her head and saw the helmet of an Executor. The opening between the two sections of the helmet lit up, and Kyra saw red, bloodshot eyes.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” said a voice so deep it seemed to be coming from an underground cavern.

  Kyra shook off the intimidation and tried to free her arm. A second Executor hit her with his spear in the stomach, leaving her breathless. Kyra bent over as they disarmed her. She was left slumped on her knees.

  She looked at her mother, who was lying unconscious and injured. Rage and frustration burned inside her.

  “It’s time for you to fulfill your destiny,” said the Eye-of-the-Gods, and placed the disc on her forehead.

  Night bore her away.

  3

  “No! No! No!” Ikai cried, shaking his head violently, then he woke up.

  He opened his eyes in bewilderment, perspiration on his brow and his hair soaking wet. He stared at the rustic mud wall, trying to clear his mind. He did not know where he was or what had happened, but he felt as though a giant hand were squeezing his chest. Could he be waking from a nightmare? Or was he still deep in one? He tried to raise himself in the cot, and a terrible pain seared the whole of his side as far as his chest. He gave a howl while his mind tried to bear the suffering. He lay back on the rough canvas, he hurt so much he could hardly think.

  “Stay still, don’t move,” a familiar voice said.

  “What happened?” Ikai asked, dazed, looking for the origin of the voice.

  “Don’t move, or the stitches will burst and the wounds will open. They’re not scarred over yet.”

  Ikai managed to locate the man who had spoken from the entrance of the hut. He recognized Master Hunter Sejof.

  “Where are we, Master?”

  “Easy, boy, you’re badly wounded.”

  Ikai looked down at the bandages which covered his chest almost entirely. They were greenish and smelt awful. He had to turn his head, feeling sick.

  “We’re in Fisma; it was the nearest village with a trustworthy healer. You were losing blood, and we had to bring you here urgently. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d make it. I’ve seen many wounds but what this bear did to you… you don’t survive something like that…”

  “How long?”

  “You’ve been here midway between life and death for four weeks.”

  “That long?”

  “You can thank the Moon god that you survived.”

  An old woman wearing a plain grey woolen tunic came into the hut, carrying a clay bowl.

  “This is Isam, the healer. She’s saved you. Don’t ask me how, because I really can’t understand it. You ought to be dead…”

  The woman’s face was full of wrinkles. From among them there appeared a mischievous smile.

  “The boy deserves the credit. I’ve only taken care of the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected, but if he’s survived it’s because of his own spirit. There’s a lot of strength inside him.”

  “Oh, you’ve done something more tha
n that…” Sejof said, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile.

  The old woman came close to Ikai and offered him the bowl.

  “Finish it all. It tastes horrible, I admit, but it’ll help your body get back some vitality.”

  “Thanks…” Ikai said, looking into the old woman’s eyes, where he found the light of wisdom which years and a life of study bring. He swallowed with difficulty, for his throat was as parched as a desert. He gagged at the taste, but drank it to the bitter end.

  “I’ve done all I could,” the healer said, turning to Sejof. “You know your coin is always welcome in this house, and the protection of the powerful Hunters is a blessing for this poor old woman,” she finished with another smile.

  “Your services are always excellent, my old friend, but this time I must say you’ve outdone yourself,” Sejof replied with a wink.

  The healer took the bowl and put her hand on Ikai’s forehead. Then she opened his left eye and examined it carefully.

  “You’ve got no fever left now, the infection has gone. The poultices have done their work. You’re not to take the bandages off for one week, do you understand me, young Hunter?”

  “But they smell rotten…”

  “And they’ll smell even worse, but they avoid infection and help the flesh form a scar.”

  Ikai nodded.

  “I won’t touch them.”

  “Good. And now, if the great Hunters will excuse me, I have more sick people to attend to.” The old woman went to a shelf of elm-wood and picked up a pottery container, covered with linen and tied with strips of leather. Ikai wondered what was in it. Then he saw the other jars and the human skull on the shelf and thought he would rather not know.

  “Th… thank you,” he said, and bowed.

  The healer turned. “Remember me, young Hunter, remember Isam the healer.”

  “I’ll remember you, Isam the healer.”

  The old woman nodded at him, and left the hut.

  “She’s odd, a bit eccentric, but the best healer I know. Not even the best surgeons and apothecaries of the great city with all their medicines and knowledge taken from the Enforcers of the Gods are as good when it comes to healing serious wounds.”

  “I remember now… the beast…”