“Majesty Tragacanth, we beseech you today, in the midst of this noble and much-needed protection of our great forest, to grant protected religious status to a small grove deeper in the woods which serves as the central shrine of our faith.”
“I bid you welcome, noble monks. By what name does your faith call itself?”
“We are known as the Sect of H’esh’tuk, Your Regal Majesty.” Aspet consulted privately with the RPC director, Dolmax, as the Corps tracked all manner of organized groups throughout the kingdom.
“They are registered as a religious order, Your Majesty. Their spiritual leader resides in a small church in Dockside, Goblinopolis and is known as The Exalted One. His race is unknown; we have no record of any similar creatures anywhere on N’plork.”
“Interesting. He presents no threat, though?”
“We have had him and his sect under routine surveillance for a number of years and they have never taken any actions that would be contrary to their stated purpose. They are rated as a level two threat solely due to his indeterminate origin.”
Aspet nodded. He returned to the dwarves. “I am minded to consider your proposal, but I will need a little more information regarding the shrine and the grove in which it is located.”
“It is not far along the path behind your dais, Your Majesty. We invite you to come and see it for yourself.”
The king looked around and shrugged. “Who wants to take a little walk with me?” he asked, and stepped down off the dais. Soon a bureaucrat and media parade had formed: the dwarves and Aspet surrounded by a cloud of RPC, followed by dignitaries and press in no particular order. They walked perhaps two hundred and fifty meters into the deep forest along a path that seemed to be made of living roots and plants that formed a springy but easily navigable walkway. The path led to a clearing, in the center of which was built a small bulb-shaped shrine that came to a point far above them. It did not appear to be crafted by dwarven hands, nor goblin, but rather by enormous roots from the giant purple skytoucher trees that surrounded the small meadow. They swirled in from all sides and spiraled up until they met in a vertical braid that was a lofty as any of the trees themselves.
The effect was that of a tree-root vortex that swirled away into near-infinity. It was spectacular to behold. “Did you somehow train these tree roots to form this beautiful structure?” Aspet asked the dwarves. “Not as such,” answered the spokesperson, “Rather, we asked the forest spirit to sanctify this spot, and it responded in this manner.”
“Why this spot, precisely?”
“It was here that our spiritual leader, H’esh’tuk the Exalted One, first materialized on this plane, Your Majesty.”
Aspet glanced meaningfully at Dolmax, who was writing in a notepad. “Materialized, you say? From where?”
“No disrespect intended, Your Majesty, but that is a question much better answered by the Exalted One himself. He has asked me to extend his open invitation to meet with you at your convenience to discuss himself and the Sect.”
“I will most certainly take that under consideration and, if our schedules permit, take him up on this offer at some point in the near future. Please convey my gratitude for his most gracious invitation.”
“Your Majesty’s reputation for courtesy and wisdom seems most well-founded,” replied the dwarf, “I will relay your message, of course.”
Aspet shook the monk’s hand and turned to look at the shrine once more. He walked around to the far side, admiring the way the roots came together seamlessly, when he turned to say something to Dolmax. He suddenly shimmered and vanished with a confused look on his face. Dolmax threw himself onto the spot where Aspet had been standing as though trying to cover him but there was nothing to cover. The king of Tragacanth was utterly gone.
Chapter the Fifth
in which Tol and his party discover Hellehoell and a less-than-cordial welcome
At first Tol was not very impressed with the supposed artificial structures in the crevasse. There were a few pillars and some low stonework walls, yes. Nicely done, yes. Worth all this hoo-hah? Not even close. If the titans really wanted this place, Tol’s vote was to give it to them, lock, stock, and barrel. Then they rounded a narrow corner.
There before them was a huge arch, at least twice as tall as the titan. It was framed with intricately carved and polished stone that shone with a mirror finish. There was a gate and portcullis blocking the way, but Tartag walked over to one side and pulled a hidden lever none of the rest of them could have reached without a ladder, much less spotted, whereupon the beautifully carved gates swung open and the portcullis raised effortlessly. Tartag stood in the center of the arch, looking in at the darkness. He turned and addressed them.“Gentles all, welcome to Hellehoell: my ancestral homeland.”
They entered and found themselves on polished marble floors. From a rack near the door Tartag removed a long pole with a torch on the end and set it aflame; as they passed each wall sconce he lit the torch inside. Every torch he added showed more and more of the utterly magnificent interior. After a while it became apparent that they were in a complete underground city, and not a small one. Massive support pillars had been left in the native rock every ten meters or so, with the distant ceiling arched between them.
“This is a magnificent city, Tartag,” Tol said after a while, “You must be very proud of your ancestors for creating such a marvel.”
“Actually, this is probably just one of the outlying communities. If the legends our people tell of Hellehoell are accurate, there are nine cities in total, in a wheel formation with the largest at the center. It took several thousand workers over a centum to carve it all out. ‘Hellehoell’ translates to Goblish roughly as ‘the world beneath the rock.’ Eventually the plan was that all titans on N’plork who wished could live here.”
“That plan was cut short by whatever closed off the entrance, eh?”
“Apparently. The records from that time are confusing and contradictory.They speak of a great enemy who tore off the mountain top and poured it into the Valley of Welcome—Daludobris—which was formerly located on the west side of the complex, supposedly so that invaders who attacked at dawn could not use the rising sun to hide themselves. I’ve searched that area and while I did find evidence of a massive slide that filled in a ravine, I can’t conclusively prove that ravine was Daludobris.”
“Thank you for that information, Tartag,” said Episk, “The RSCA will be glad to assist in excavating Daludobris once it has been positively located.”
“I will pass that kind offer along to the Council of Elders who will be deciding policy for Hellehoell once it is reestablished,” Tartag answered cautiously. Tol noted the subtle shift in his rhetoric.
They wandered down countless avenues, boulevards, and narrower streets, marveling at the wonderful architecture and expert stonework. Tartag was spiraling them in toward the center of the complex, because that was where Titans historically built their mausoleums, to make it easier for all residents to honor their ancestors. While Tartag did the navigating from the mental map he’d made of what little was known of the complex layout, Tol was viewing the city from a cop’s perspective. He looked down blind alleys, along rows of closely-packed townhomes with connecting balconies, and at isolated mercantile shops on broad avenues with dense residential areas close by and realized that either titans were impeccably honest or they had a substantial crime rate in this city. It was almost designed with larceny in mind: and don’t get him started on all the classic ambush points.
As if on cue a titan voice suddenly rang out: “Stay where you are. Put your hands in the air and keep them there. You are trespassing in the suspended law city of Hellehoell and are under order of confinement.”
Tol looked around and saw bows drawn all around them on rooftops and in windows: a dozen or more. He wished he’d brought along that amulet of proof against missiles that Oloi had given him as a token of friendship, but no such luck. Wait... no such luck...
They had
asked Tartag to step forward and explain, giving Tol the chance to whisper into his pocket without attracting too much attention. “Eyejay, are you powered up? This is a bit of an emergency. Can you scan the area around us for other infrared signatures? There are only four in our immediate party.”
There was no response at first, then through bone induction he heard, “I count fifteen other forms, all titans, in a semicircle ranging from eight point four to thirteen point six meters in your forward direction. And I told you not to call me ‘Eyejay.’”
“I have to call you something shorter than ‘PDWA/AI Model 36.’”
“I am, as you might put it, speechless that you actually remember my full designation. Knighthood seems to have changed you for the better, Tol-u-ol. If you must shorten that, how about PeeDee?”
“Great. Petey it is. Next question, Petey: how many of these could I reasonably expect to take out with my disruptor before one of them got me?”
“Ordinarily that would depend on the availability of cover, your personal agility and marksmanship, and the titans’ unknown archery skills, but in this case the point is already conceded, as your disruptor battery is only at three percent of total charge.”
“Smek me! I thought I charged it up on the carriage.”
“You did plug it in on the carriage, but that receptacle was shorted to the carriage frame and inoperable.”
“Why didn’t you alert me? Wait, I know: I didn’t ask, right?”
“Correct. I have been in hibernation mode for almost three months. Did you wish to activate me fully?
” “Yes. I am going to need your help in the near future, I expect.”
“It is good to see that some things are resistant to change. All functions online.”
They were disarmed and the goblins marched to a holding cell a block further on. Tartag was allowed to remain free, but closely watched. In the cell, the other goblins were outraged.
“Under what authority do they purpose to incarcerate officials of His Majesty’s government? A Knight of the Crimson? Unheard of and unacceptable. We must get free from here and report this immediately,” said Koxo.
“I must concur,” agreed Episk, “This is unprecedented and a criminal act.”
“Hang on to your monogramed handkerchiefs, gentlegoblins. While this city is technically underneath lands owned by the King of Tragacanth, the precise provenance of Hellehoell is debateable. If this city existed prior to the establishment of the lands under which it rests as part of the Kingdom of Tragacanth, they may have some claim to Sovereignty, at least until His Majesty makes a formal Proclamation of Annexation, which they can then either ratify or deny. If they deny it, His Majesty may or may not decide to force his claim militarily.”
“I’m impressed, Sir Tol-u-ol,” said Koxo, “You have a broad knowledge of not only police matters, but law and statecraft, as well.”
“I’m a...quick learner, Mr. Nilred.”
No one but Tol could hear Petey laughing maniacally.
Tartag came to visit them often. He had been allowed to explore the entire complex, with a guide, and was quite energized about it. He could picture this as the center of all titan civilization, as it must have been millennia ago before the catastrophe. Tol thought this was a grand idea, as well.
The other goblins were still indignant about their captivity. They wanted to break out, or at least file some sort of formal complaint. Tol reminded them that their mission was a diplomatic one.
“I’m not here for diplomacy; I’m here to secure this area for the RSCA,” said Episk somewhat belligerently.
“I agree. I’m here to assess the structural integrity of this area, which is difficult to do from a cell. We need to find some way out of here.”
“All right, gentlegoblins, allow me to rephrase. I’m the leader of this expedition because I am a career edict enforcement officer with thousands of hours of urban combat experience. I’m also brother to the King of Tragacanth, which means any offensive actions taken against me by the titans will be considered an attack on the Royal Family; the response to those tends to be swift and overwhelming. Just cool your heels; we’ll be released once the titans are certain that our intentions are peaceful and not contrary to the best interests of the titan community. Remember, this little troop is probably all that’s left of a once huge population. They’ve held on to their legacy through famine and sickness and who knows what else just so that one day titan society can once again be whole. I applaud their tenacity and I don’t blame them for treating cautiously with us.”
With that he wandered off into the darkness at the rear of the cell. Petey had told him that the chamber they were in penetrated fairly far, and he wanted to see what was back there. After a few minutes of exploration he came to a heavy wooden door framed by a splendid arch. He expected it to be locked; it wasn’t. He swung the big portal open on hinges that protested their long years of non- use and stepped cautiously inside.
There were rows of niches in both walls, stretching back into the distant gloom. He had found the elusive mausoleum! Examining one of the niches closely, he determined that it did indeed host remains. They had located the evidence they needed to pursue Tartag’s claim.
Tol returned to the others and made his announcement. “So, we can settle down and relax. Sooner or later they’ll release us and we can carry the news back to surface. It won’t make Belbomit very happy, but I’m sure we can work something out.”
Just then a figure shimmered into existence again, but this time it was not Plåk. It made no social overtures whatever.
“Tol: your brother has disappeared.”
“Well met, Oloi! What do mean, ‘disappeared’?”
“I mean he was visiting a dwarven shrine in the center of the Kopyrewt Forest when, in the presence of dozens of witnesses, he suddenly vanished. I’ve checked all the magical and quantum pathways and he has not traveled any of them. This is a wholly new dimensional transport mechanism. In other words, I can’t track him.”
“What measures are being taken?”
“The RPC are ripping the place apart, or trying to. Every time they damage anything it heals itself almost instantly. Ballop’ril is on his way there. I’m heading back now and I think you should come with me.”
Tol stood in thought for a moment. On the one hand, he owed something to these people as the leader of the party. On the other, his brother and Liege-lord was in need of him. There really wasn’t much option.
“Is there any way you can transport my companions to the entrance of the tunnel?”
“How about if I just create a distraction that will draw the titans away and let them make a run for it?”
“That works for me. You gobs in?”
“I’m not certain how well I can run,” said Koxo, “But I’ll give a shot.”
“If we are injured in any way, I will hold you personally responsible,” said Episk.
“Yeah, you do that,” Tol replied, rolling his eyes. “Okay, Oloi, let it rip!”
After a few seconds there was a bright light accompanied by a rumbling noise and crashing sound somewhere in the opposite direction of the entrance. The alarmed titan guards all ran to investigate. Oloi opened the lock and the two other gobs ran for all they were worth toward the surface.
“Do you think they’ll make it out?” Oloi asked.
“They’ll be all right,” replied Tol,“They both can use the exercise, anyway. I am a little worried about Tartag, though. If the other titans think he was somehow involved in this, he might get a lot of grief.”
“Tartag is much more important and powerful than these isolated titans know. He is the last surviving member of his race: the Storm Titans.”
“Storm Titans? I thought those were just mythical figures invented to make little gobs behave: ‘if you don’t eat all of your globeroot soup the storm titans will get you.’ That sort of thing.”
“No, they’re quite real. Or at least they were a millennium past. When the titans disper
sed they of all the kin groups fared the most poorly; Tartag is the sole remaining member.”
“What makes a storm titan different from a regular titan?” asked Tol, scratching his chin.
“In appearance, nothing; although they tend to be a bit taller. Contrary to certain folk beliefs that they have no arcane abilities, Titans are in fact creatures of elemental magic, meaning they are able to employ magic naturally, without any study. Each kin group specializes in a different form. The storm titans actually absorb energy from atmospheric disturbances and store it within themselves. When necessary they can channel that energy into feats of almost unbelievable strength and endurance. Since titans respect strength above all other attributes, storm titans were always elected as the leaders of Hellehoell. They are luckier than they can imagine to have one available for the reunification. We must go now.”
Tol walked over and re-locked the cell door. “That might confuse them a little and buy the gobs some more time. All right, let’s blast.”
Chapter the Sixth
in which an assassination is narrowly averted
Boogla sat at her desk in the Royal Palace poring over the details of the recently-signed trade agreement with Solemadrina. Every outgoing shipment had been thoroughly inspected before being allowed to depart, as a result of the hanky-panky she had uncovered. Only one ship had failed inspection; it was being held in port in Cladimil until the disposition of its cargo could be decided. Some of it was proscribed military technology, including upgrades and accessories for secret devices and systems, which implied that they already possessed the base units and wanted to increase their utility.
She wondered how long this technology leakage had been going on. She decided to draw up a proposal for increasing the security of programs that produced intellectual property not intended for foreign use. She took a new sheaf of paper from a drawer just as an RPC guard came in.
Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 Page 5
