The Secret of the Golden Gods Omnibus Edition

by Pedro Urvi

  “Preparations are going as foreseen. We’ll rise up very soon and what we so much wish for will come true.”

  Albana gave a roguish smile. “It had better, or else I’ll start the subversion myself,”

  “Trust me,” said Ilia.

  “I do.”

  And in fact she did. There was nobody she trusted more in that Boundary. This race was wild and primitive, far more so than the Senoca, and treachery was common. She had already witnessed it first-hand. When she had crossed the barrier of the Gods and reached the tribe she had been welcomed first with friendly greetings, then with knives and arrows. She should have foreseen it: what could anyone expect of savages with their faces painted black, dressed in loincloths and moccasins? She almost did not survive to tell the story, and she still had a scar on her back from a treacherous knife as a reminder.

  Thanks be to the heavens, Ilia had appeared at the last minute to prevent more bloodshed. She was the daughter of the Chief of the tribe and was considered a princess. She took her in and welcomed her. Ilia, who had a quick mind and an observant nature, listened to everything Albana explained to her: why she was there, her mission, the Gods, the other Boundaries, and how to gain freedom. To Albana’s surprise, since she had not expected much from those tree-dwellers of the endless forests, half-naked savages, Ilia believed her. Not only that, she put her in touch with the subversive elements who had been at work for some time, although in a disorganized and chaotic way.

  “Come on, we have to go down. The Shaman and his guards will be checking the houses soon.”

  Albana put her head out of the window. “He’s on his way already, the swine.”

  They left the hut, and she avoided looking down. It was something she never did, since they were in an elevated village built amid gigantic trees, thousands of years old and more than a hundred and twenty feet tall.

  She followed Ilia and her brother Pilap. They were walking at ease along the platforms and swaying catwalks amid formidable branches and lianas, as if living in the top of a tree at an appalling height above the ground were the most natural thing in the world. Albana, on the other hand, had to struggle with the vertigo the height gave her. She had it under control now, but every once in a while she still felt it and it was a deeply horrible feeling.

  The other dwellers were coming out of the huts among the giant branches. They were green-skinned men and women, the men with shaven heads, the women wearing simple strips of leather over their private parts. They walked on those unsteady surfaces which swayed above the void, immune to the height and able to move almost as skillfully as primates. They were loaded with their working tools as they made their way down: axes and hatchets to fell trees in the case of the men, baskets for the gathering of fruits, berries and edible roots in the case of the women. Every morning the whistle sounded and the whole tribe had to leave the village in the trees and descend to work in the woods. That was the law of the Gods.

  Albana looked to her right and saw two young men on a wooden platform. They seemed to be arguing about something, but she could not hear what it was. She had the feeling that the conversation would soon escalate and go from words to shouts, then to something more. She was not wrong. One of the youngsters was yelling at the other, who gave him a violent shove. The victim took two steps back, steadied himself and pulled out a knife without a second thought. The other did the same. They stared at each other with hatred in their eyes, flexed their knees and started circling around each other, looking for the chance to be the first to strike.

  “Ilia, you’d better impose some order here. Two of the young men are about to cut each other open,” Albana said, not without a trace of admiration. She liked this race. True, they were savages, but their blood was hot and they never backed down, not before anybody, not before anything. And that was something she respected.

  Ilia stopped and turned to see what was going on. “I’m coming,” she said.

  The two young men exchanged several strokes and cuts, and without Ilia’s intervention things would have ended badly. Yes, I like these green savages, I must admit they have guts and they don’t let anybody take advantage of them.

  They went on, with Albana hurrying. She had to go down with them because the village was subject to search, and if she were found out she would be in serious trouble. Ilia handed her a colossal liana.

  Pilap laughed. “Come on, sluggard.”

  Albana poked her tongue at him and began to descend. Pilap went in front of her, smiling, with his cousin Lial following him. She always enjoyed descending from that unthinkable height. It was exhilarating.

  Pilap went down at dizzying speed. Albana could not follow for fear of losing her grip and ending up flattened on the ground. She envied those people’s skill. Even using her Power she could not compete with them in their habitat. But gradually, over time, imitating her hosts and practicing a lot, she had managed to develop a couple of new skills which were sure to come in handy in the future. One of the most interesting mysteries of the Power was that it allowed new abilities to be created through experiment and practice. This was like honey for Albana, something delightful. There was nothing she liked better than developing a new skill through the use of her Power. The Golden barely went in for experiments; they were content to use the more efficient and powerful skills developed by their Erudites. All for fear of growing old and dying prematurely. But she was a hybrid with power, and as a human the power had no side-effect on her: it did not make her age. And so she experimented with it as often as she could. Unfortunately developing a new skill was a difficult, demanding business. But the reward and the feeling of triumph when she managed it were unequaled. She had taught Ikai and Kyra how to experiment, and she hoped they would do it as often as they could.

  Lost in her own thoughts, she stepped on another young man’s foot by mistake as she reached the ground. Without a word, and before she could even begin to apologize, the man turned and pushed her with all his might. Albana took advantage of the shove to somersault and land back on her feet as if nothing had happened. She looked at the young man defiantly. He and his friend pulled out knives at once.

  “You’re not exactly friendly, are you?”

  “Are you laughing at us?”

  Albana thought of replying sarcastically, but she knew that if she did so she would have to kill those two men. It was early in the day and these two, savages though they were, were too young to die like that.

  “I’d only laugh at the Shaman,” she said, and took out her two black daggers.

  The reply disconcerted the young men. Nobody confronted the Shamans. That meant going against the law of the Gods, and it carried the death penalty.

  Pilap stepped in between and gestured towards Albana, knife in hand. “She’s with me.”

  The two youngsters lowered their gaze. “If she’s with the Chief’s son, she’s with us,” they said, and left with heads bowed.

  “It wasn’t necessary, Pilap.”

  “I know. It was just in case.”

  Albana winked at him fondly and sheathed her daggers.

  “Besides, I want to go on competing with you. I know you’ll never beat me at climbing down the liana,” he added with a laugh.

  Ilia’s younger brother was seventeen springs old, strong and athletic. But most of all he had a good heart, something Albana had noticed at once. It was an uncommon quality in a place where brute force and savagery reigned over goodness. Ilia, two years older, also had a good heart, but in her what stood out most was her intelligence.

  “Every day I get closer, ugly,” Albana said. “The moment your attention slips, I’ll overtake you.”

  He flexed his strong, nimble arms. “That won’t happen, whitey,”

  “Don’t brag so much,” Lial said, and pushed him.

  Pilap grinned. “If you weren’t my father’s brother’s daughter, you’d see.”

  “Oh yeah, look how I’m shaking.” She aimed a kick at him.

  Lial was quite the to
mboy, both in looks and in behavior. A year older than Pilap, she was always with him, daring him at every step. And on some occasions she even beat him. They competed over everything, from who could climb the highest and fastest to who could fight better with knife and axe. But most of all, which of them had the best aim with the bow. Their camaraderie was unshakable, and they had adopted Albana as one of the family, which was something she was deeply grateful for.

  Albana looked up at the lush landscape around her. She was awed afresh. Before her rose the tallest and most massive trees a human being could ever imagine. There were thousands of them, spreading to make a forest of incredible beauty. All that Boundary was an unfathomable forest, something which had utterly surprised and amazed her. The Gods had decided to exploit the resources of the endless forest where the People of the Trees lived. The landscape was overwhelming; each tree was of unbelievable size. The base of the trunk alone was bigger than a house, and in many cases they were over a hundred and eighty feet tall.

  The first time she saw them those green and brown giants impressed her so much that she was left speechless, unable to react. From what she had learnt about them they were thousands of years old, and the green-skinned People worshipped them.

  She put her hand to her eyes and looked up towards the crowns of the trees. There, more than a hundred and twenty feet up, were the villages. These were built around the massive trunks, using the huge branches for support, joined together by catwalks of wood and rope. Most of the tops she could see were inhabited, so that a multitude of bridges, platforms and lianas joined the trees to each other. The huts, built on the branches and platforms, housed the families.

  She sighed. She had been living among them for a long time, and though she was used to it all by now, she was still fascinated. Living in villages built in those majestic trees seemed quite fabulous to her, as well as a tremendous achievement on the part of its inhabitants. That entire world had an awesome beauty. The green which reigned everywhere was dreamlike, the air cool and filled with jungle fragrances which enchanted the senses.

  From high in the trees came the men and women to produce for the Gods. In that area there were three villages, and hundreds of people were willing to serve the Golden. According to what Albana had seen, the socio-economic organization and structure of that Boundary was very like that of the Senoca. The territory was divided into six counties, with the capital in the center. Enforcers, Proxies and the Guard operated in the same way as in her old Boundary. There were hundreds of villages in each County, the only difference being that these were all high above the ground. The difference was in the hierarchy within the villages themselves. In each there was a Chief and a Shaman. The Chiefs were the ancient leaders and the Shamans, the religious guides, had gained power with the aid of the Proxies. That way they can control this whole savage people better. The Chiefs don’t have power any more, and the Shamans make sure they rule the villages. And they have them subjugated on a basis of blood and terror. But all that’s going to change.

  “Form into groups!” came the order from a Guard. Behind him a Proxy waited, together with another dozen Guards. To Albana it was shocking to see green-skinned Guards wearing armor, as opposed to their working brothers who went half-naked. The men separated into two large groups, the women into three. She followed Ilia and joined the third group.

  The Guard pointed to the east. “Men, group one! Tree-felling!”

  There was a rumble of complaints, which grew stronger.

  “Tree-felling! The Gods command it!” shouted the Proxy.

  For the People of the Trees, cutting the forest to collect timber or to clear space for crops was sacrilege. The greatest of sacrileges. Killing the forest meant killing the soul of the people. This was something which the Chiefs rejected, but which the Shamans now defended. The order to fell trees went against everything they held to be true. For them the forest was sacred and had to be protected at all costs.

  “Sacrilege!” one of the men in the first group suddenly called out.

  “Who said that?” the Proxy asked.

  “I did,” said a young man. He was not more than twenty years old, strong and determined. He took a step toward the Proxy. “It means killing our soul.”

  The protests grew among the other men, and the Guards tensed. The Proxy was about to speak when the village Shaman appeared, followed by three guards.

  “I’ll take care of this.” he said.

  He stepped forward, and Albana had a sudden feeling of something ominous. The Shaman wore a long robe, entirely covered in gigantic many-colored feathers. On his head he wore a mask with a huge beak which hid his face. Every time she saw him she felt the desire to tear the mask off, along with his head. But there was no way she could do anything of the sort. Everything had already been set in motion, so that one false move meant their plans would fail.

  “The Gods order us to gather the fruits of the forest to feed them and allow them to build their great eternal city,” the Shaman said.

  “What Gods, what eternal city?” the young man countered.

  “The Golden Gods whom we serve, and who must be obeyed at all times. Their wishes are law for our People.”

  “All I see is green-skinned men, Shamans and Proxies, who order us to destroy our sacred home. All I see is sacrilege. Father Forest will punish us for turning against him.”

  “Father Forest is a false god. The true Gods are golden as the sun and his immense power. You have seen their servants…”

  “Yes, those monsters with helmets on their heads, more Monsters than men.”

  The Shaman waved his arms, shaking the feathers of his ceremonial attire. “As long as we follow the law of the Gods, they will allow us to live in peace and grow as a people. But if we refuse their demands, they will descend upon us and destroy us. No one will survive. No one,”

  “Listen to your Shaman,” the Proxy said. “He respects the law of the Gods,”

  “The Shaman doesn’t serve his people, he’s betrayed us.”

  Ilia, who was beside Albana, could not hold back an anguished cry.

  The Shaman went up to the young man until his mask was in front of his face, but the young man did not flinch and kept his chin high.

  “The Shaman is the law in the village,” the Shaman said. With his left hand he threw some silver dust into the air. The young man’s gaze turned aside to follow the dust, and with a swift movement of his right hand the Shaman cut his throat with his ceremonial knife.

  “Nobody may defy my authority and live. I serve the Gods, I am their voice.”

  The body of the young man collapsed on to the ground. Several men took a step toward the Shaman, who turned and threw some red substance at them. On contact with their skin the poison penetrated their bodies, and the men never got as far as laying a hand on him. They fell to the ground, writhing in pain. The Guard surrounded the Shaman to protect him. The other men protested, but dared not do anything.

  Albana was about to step forward, but Ilia grabbed her wrist.

  “No,” she whispered. “Stay where you are. There’s too much at stake.”

  “He’s holding your father in prison and he’s a savage murderer,” Albana muttered in her ear. “We’ve got to kill him.”

  “Yes, and that’s exactly why we can’t take the risk now. He’ll get what he deserves. I’ll give it to him myself, for what he’s done to my father, for what he’s doing to our people. But we can’t do it now. We have to follow the plan.”

  Albana bit her lip and made an enormous effort to hold back the rage she was feeling.

  “All right. But tell me when and I’ll gut him.”

  Ilia nodded and let go of her wrist. The protests died away. All of them knew the punishment for standing up against the Gods’ wishes: their throats would be cut.

  “First group of men, get ready for felling!” came the order again.

  Reluctantly, a few at a time, they set off.

  “Second group of men, to the hunt!”


  After that came the women’s orders. The first group was to gather fruit, berries, roots and tubers, anything in the forest that might be edible. The second was to go to the great river to fish and to trap small animals: mainly hares and squirrels. Squirrels were a delicacy for those people, something Albana did not understand. And the third group was to till the fields ready for sowing. It all broke their hearts because they were killing the forest to produce crops. Everybody producing for the Gods. Produce or die. The invariable maxim whatever the Boundary, no matter how different their people may be. But that’s already changed for the Senoca, and with a bit of luck it’ll change for the People of the Tress too. I’ll make sure it changes, as sure as my name’s Albana.

  Chapter 8

  Seated on her horse, Kyra gazed from the south at the distant city. Unlike the one within the Senoca Boundary this capital was not rectangular with four high stone walls and stone buildings inside. It was circular, with a low wall around it. Most of the buildings within it were really conical tents, very similar to those of the tribes, although much bigger. Toward the northeast of the city more robust buildings could be seen, with the Regent’s great palace to the north. The nobles and the rich merchants and their palaces. That’s still the same. The giant monolith of the Gods, too, was the same. The artifact rose impressively toward the sky in front of the Regent’s palace.

  “So similar and so different.”

  Swift Deer came up beside her. “The city?”

  “Yes, though the basic design is the same.”

  Lone Wolf urged his horse forward until he stood on her left.

  “Enemies.”

  Kyra and Swift Deer followed his pointing hand. The gates of the city had opened and a long line of mounted soldiers were streaming out.