Across a Sea of Stars

by Michael E. Gonzales

  His host laughed then turned and shouted down the passageway, "Eae, e kay ele koma e bee ber!"

  At that, Cris heard more people coming. He reached into his satchel and gripped the pistol.

  Three more of the small red-headed, big-eyed people entered the room, one an obvious female. Very attractive with those big eyes, though hers were more almond shaped. Her figure was remarkable, which caused Cris to stare. His host noticed and slapped his shoulder. "Nano zer edeco mal."

  The other thing they had in common was their ragged attire. They all appeared to be paupers, and, like the first of these people he'd meet, thin and drawn. Only the woman and his host, the older man, looked as if they were getting adequate nourishment.

  All four now sat at the table and looked at him in silence. Cris, at last, took a deep breath, let it out slowly and said, "Hi—my name is Cris." He figured he'd keep his conversation simple in hopes of being understood. He repeated his name and pointed to himself.

  "Oh kuee ele di es si?" The female spoke, her face betraying her lack of understanding.

  "Ella di es si kuee e ulm, Cris." One of the other males responded.

  "Eae os eum—tollus!" Cris's host said.

  "Ahh ess," said the other male who then stood. He clasped his hands together and touched his chin, and then looking at Cris, said, "Es tufo Maoos Suyas," then he pointed to himself as Cris had done and repeated "Maoos Suyas."

  The other male stood, made the same gesture, and said, "Es tufo Lav Reder."

  The female stood next clasped her hands, touched her chin and said, "Es tufo Belle Fill Ha Fazen Deir."

  Lastly came their host, who slowly stood, made a fist with one hand and touched his chin and said, looking down his nose, "Lekuee parma mim—Gabel Os Grizelhos." Then, he sat.

  Silence returned to the table, all continued to stare at him. Cris shot Gabel Os Grizelhos a questioning glance.

  The older man pointed at Cris with all his fingers and said, "Seeu tornos."

  Cris figured out that he was expected to reintroduce himself as the others had done. In standing, he ran his head into the ceiling. There was an attempt by all present to suppress laughter, however the female, Belle Fill Ha Fazen Deir, giggled aloud. Someone at the table said "Tollus." This caused the older man to respond aloud with, "Nano zer edeco mal nad mim had mesla." Everyone fell silent.

  Cris, hunched down, clasped his hands together, touched his chin, and said, "I'm Captain Cris Salazar, United States Air Force." Then, he sat.

  Everyone looked confused. Belle Fill Ha Fazen Deir looked about and asked, "Oh Kuee ackonteque co, Cris?"

  A loud discussion then erupted. Cris knew he had confused everyone with too much information.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He threw up his hands and shouted. All stopped and looked at him as if he were about to attack them. "Look," Cris said calmly, "here's how we're going to handle this." He then indicated the first guy on his left. "I'm going to call you Mouse. Get it? Mouse."

  "Mouse?"

  "Yeah, you got it." The next fellow stood, seemingly excited to receive his new name. "You, I'll call Lava. Okay, hot stuff?"

  "Lava—Eue goesta qua!" He smiled broadly and sat back down.

  "And the little lady, your name shall be Bell—it’s close, anyway."

  A slight smile came to her face, and her eyes narrowed. Then she nodded, just a little.

  "And you, old timer—I'm naming you Gabby. Not that you're much of a talker."

  The man closed his right eye and looked hard at Cris. "Gabby?" he asked.

  "Yup―Gabby. Are you cool with that?"

  He opened both eyes and said, "Em voke de—Cris?"

  "Yes—I am Cris."

  "Ahh ess," said Bell, "agroara ele estav nouemanta, Cris!" Then everyone began to laugh.

  Cris cracked a grin and faked a chuckle.

  Before the laughter could die down, Gabby knocked his cup against the table and in a louder voice exclaimed, "Oh Kuee esteems ah var kom isoa ele!"

  Silence again took a seat at the table for several minutes. Then, Bell spoke again, "Lov-ao par a varo Thaumatergon."

  "Ah Thaumatergon?" Gabby asked.

  "Sem, Kuee em maes?"

  Bell launched into a long diatribe, and all sat still and listened intently. Occasionally, he heard his name mentioned. They were, he felt sure, discussing his future.

  After almost twenty minutes, they all stopped talking. Then, one at a time, starting with Mouse, they each said "Kon." Then each speaker folded his or her arms. Once Gabby's arms were folded, they all again looked at Cris.

  Cris looked from face to face. "What?"

  Gabby looked at Bell. "Agor?"

  Bell responded, "Sim, agor."

  They all rose, and Bell walked over to Cris, extended her hand and said, "Vemde."

  "Again with the vemde." He took her hand and they all left the room and returned to the main gallery. They walked to the wall farthest from the hole where he entered to an elevated section of the floor about three meters in diameter. Atop was a circle of stones and inside were the remains of burnt wood. It was some sort of fireplace. Just above it, a metal cone, like an inverted funnel, some three meters in diameter, hung from the ceiling. This must have been the chimney. Cris wondered how they camouflaged the smoke.

  As they approached the fireplace, Gabby indicated they were to all stand in a semicircle around it. Then they all knelt. All but Bell, who went over to a set of shelves against the wall, picked up an elaborate silver box from which she removed two jars, and returned to the fireplace. From the jars, she poured two spots of thick liquid among the ashes, each about five centimeters wide. One of the liquids was a very dark brown, the other silver, like mercury. The two spots of liquid were about eight centimeters apart.

  Bell then removed a burnt twig from the ashes. She broke the twig in half, then she dipped one twig into the brown liquid, the other into the silver. She dragged them out, creating a trail of liquids with each twig and mixed them at a point between the two puddles. Then she stood quickly and rushed back to the others, where she also knelt.

  The spot where the two liquids were mixed began to glow, then to spark. Flames erupted, and the two separated liquids were instantly drawn into the fire and, as they met, the flames flared up into a huge geyser whose top filled the chimney, overflowing the metal cone. The flames rushed in all directions across the roof of the chamber.

  Cris was more than a little alarmed at what he saw, and crouched lower to the floor. He noticed that there did not seem to be any heat associated with these flames.

  Just as quickly as the flames erupted, they drew back, all the way down to the ashes where a white ball shimmered like a diamond. A moment passed, and the ball exploded into a blinding, white light. The burst of light came with a great whoosh. Cris covered his eyes. Before he brought his arm down a deep voice boomed through the gallery, "Wo konvoc akow min—ea pour is so?"

  When he brought his arm down, Cris was stunned. Standing where the ball of light had been was a tall man, over one point eight meters, dressed in robes and shawls. His head was covered with a hood so that all Cris could make out was the large, white beard that protruded from within. About his thin waist were various colored strings of beads, shells, and bones. Over his shoulder, he carried a leather satchel and a leather bladder, no doubt containing water. He carried in his left hand a brief case, leather with brass fittings. Except for this last interesting addition, this fellow looked for all the world like a wizard from a made-for-TV movie.

  "Ahhh ess," Bell said, lowering her head, "mew Thaumatergon, tamus eum visita Kuee non fale kom oh pova." Then, she pointed at Cris.

  The bearded man slowly turned to look down at Cris. He had a long face and a nose to go with it: under that nose, a mustache so long its ends got lost in his beard. His mouth was lost in the hair of his face. His dark eyes were sunken and topped with frightfully bushy white eyebrows. The man looked angry.

  He reached up and pulled his hood down, revealing lo
ng hair the same white color as the rest of that which enclosed his head.

  The man stepped down slowly, crouched, and walked toward Cris, who got to his feet. The wizard stopped close to him and examined his uniform.

  "You are an American, I see," he said, with a slight English accent.

  Cris was taken aback a moment. "Ah, yeah—I mean, yes, sir, I'm a—"

  "A captain in the American Air Force, I can read your uniform quite well Captain Salazar."

  "My friends call me Cris."

  "Am I your friend, Captain?"

  "I sure hope so. I'd hate to be enemies with a man that can appear out of nowhere."

  "Don't be overly impressed with my little pyrotechnics; the Parenmer have come to expect if of me."

  "Who?"

  "The Parenmer, these people who have saved your life."

  "Saved my—"

  "Oh, yes. That machine you encountered in our skies this morning was piloted by Philho Du Caval Mal, or son of Caval Du Mal, who is lord of this realm. The son was also known as Ela Qum Mato Ranzer—He Who Kills Hope.

  "The father is aware of your encounter. He has your vessel in his fortress right now. He mourns his son's death, and has a bounty on your head.

  "To ease his pain, he will round up several people from across his realm and have them killed publicly in a great ceremonial execution."

  "You're kidding."

  "I wish I were."

  Cris looked over his shoulder at Mouse, Lava, Bell, and Gabby, and then looked back at the wizard. "Then, I'll turn myself in. I won't have these people, or any people, die in my place."

  "You are as I foretold—a man of honor—and of courage."

  "Just who are you, Mr. Wizard?"

  "Wizard? Ha! I've not heard that word in—well, a very long time. I am known here as the Thaumatergon."

  "Just what does that mean?"

  "Wizard. First things first—we must overcome this language barrier."

  "You're going to teach me to speak like these guys? How long are you expecting me to live underground anyway?"

  "Not long at all. We need a chair. Here, sit, please."

  The wizard laid his brief case on a nearby countertop and removed from it a small blue stone, showing it to Cris.

  "What's this?" Cris asked. "Hypnosis?"

  "Not quite. I want you to close your eyes and clear your mind." Cris felt the wizard press the stone to his forehead. "I say, Cris, when is your birthday?"

  "My what?" As the words cleared his lips, a searing pain shot through his head. He jerked his head back, away from the rock, but the damage was done. His ears were ringing, and his head hurt terribly.

  Cris placed his head between his knees, then rose up, pressing his thumbs to his temples. "Damn man, what the hell was that?"

  "I am frightfully sorry. Here, drink this." He held out his leather bladder, the stopper removed.

  "I don't know, I trusted you with the rock and you almost killed me."

  "Trust me yet again, son."

  Cris took a sip. It tasted like some sweet berry juice. It refreshed his thirst, so he swallowed a good mouthful. As the cool refreshing drink flowed down his throat, all his pains just faded away—perhaps for the first time in his life he was fully conscious and totally without pain.

  "Wow," was all he could say.

  "Better?"

  "Yes—just what is that stuff?

  "It is—what I want it to be." He shot Cris a smile. "By the way, you speak an excellent Parenmerian."

  "I what?"

  The wizard gave a glance over his shoulders at the little people. A glance that told them they could now speak.

  "Cris, Cris, Cris!" Behind him, he heard the happy cries of three of the four Parenmerians in the room. He turned to face them.

  "We are so happy, happy, happy to be able to speak to you now!" Lava said. "You, you have freed us from Ela Qum Mato Ranzer!"

  "Indeed, it is very happy that we are!" said Mouse, who was hopping up and down. "We are happy!"

  Bell smiled up at Cris and said, "Yes, Cris, we may all have hope now, hope. So, we all welcome you, we all, and I am so pleased to know your konhecimoh."

  "My what?" Cris looked at the wizard.

  "Not all words translate," said the wizard, "she meant she is pleased to make your acquaintance. You'll learn to work around this little hiccup."

  Cris turned to Gabby, who hadn't yet spoken, and smiled at him.

  "Gabby will not speak first, Cris," Bell said. "As an elder, you show respect by addressing him first."

  "Okay, well, thanks. Gabby, thank you sincerely."

  "You're welcome Am-ear-in-can."

  Cris looked again at the wizard. "He is trying to say American."

  "Yes," Gabby went on, "You have killed the evil one, killed Ela Qum Mato Ranzer. Hope returns to the people!"

  Cris just looked slack-jawed at the three of them. Then, he turned to the wizard and asked, “The way he talks, you’d think I was their savior.”

  Replying in English, the wizard said, “Yes, Cris, that is exactly what they think. Your coming was foretold in prophecy.”

  “Prophecy…who told them that?”

  “Why―I did, of course.”

  “Why would you do that? And why pick me?”

  “Fate has selected you, not I.”

  “Holy shit!” Cris shouted. “You can’t expect me to―”

  “Keep your voice down, Cris. They will overhear you.” Cris stood motionless a moment, trying to digest it all. Then, in a much more subdued voice, he asked the wizard, "So, I'm speaking their language and don't even know it."

  "That's correct. You'll find that almost every language you encounter here, you'll be able to speak and understand."

  "How is that possible?"

  The old man smiled and stroked his beard. "Magic, son. Magic. Now, let me ask you a question, and think on your response. Now that you're here—knowing what you now know—what do you want?"

  "That's easy, two things. First, I don't want any innocents to die because of my accident. Second, I want to get home."

  "I do not think you fully appreciate the scope and depth of your first desire. You are in a realm controlled by a vicious dictator. He rules his people with a mailed fist. Their lives are of no more consequence to him than that of a roach to those on your world. His subjects slave for him, living in poverty and all but starving, while he lives a debauched life of excess and comfort. Only those in his immediate service are adequately housed, clothed, and fed.

  "Among the Parenmer, they protect their elders and their women, allowing them more food than the others. The elders preserve their history and lore, which Caval Du Mal has forbidden to be recorded, and they ensure their women are healthy in order to produce healthy offspring.

  "Caval Du Mal is powerful and possesses a vast army of slaves. You cannot petition him for leniency, he knows not the meaning of the word, nor the definition of compassion or kindness. Where his heart once resided, there is naught but a dark cavity. His blood now runs black, and his mind is cast in perpetual shadow.”

  The old man continued in English. "These simple, peaceful people might celebrate the evil one's death now, but they know that retribution is at hand. Do not speak to them of it."

  Cris stood there for a second, looking deep into the eyes of the wizard. "Okay, this Caval is either a very bad man, or you want me to believe he is in order to—I don't know—gain my assistance to fulfill your prophecy or something.”

  The old wizard's eyes narrowed. "Come with me." He took Cris by the arm and led him back to the fireplace. "Stand close by me." At their feet, fire sprang up. Cris was again moved to flight by the sight of the fire, but the old man grasped his arm and held him close.

  Again, Cris noted the complete lack of heat. In a second, they were encompassed in the flames; the light grew so bright Cris could no longer see the chamber. When the conflagration died, the two were standing outside, near a house with a smoking chimney.

 
"Follow me, Captain Salazar," the cloaked and hooded figure sternly said, and then, with surprising agility and speed, he strode toward the edge of town where the silver ship had fallen. Cris had to trot to keep up with the older man. They sprinted down a narrow alley, but at its end, near the corner of a dwelling, the old man stopped and turned on Cris. He asked, "You, of course, remember the Parenmerian who saved your life, the man you called, Come with me?"

  "Come with me?"

  "Vemde."

  "Yeah, so?"

  The wizard took a step backward into the street, and without taking his eyes off Cris, gestured to his right.

  Cris hesitantly stepped around the corner. He quickly wished he had not. In the street at his feet ran a river of blood, its source was the eviscerated entrails of a man. Just beyond lay the hollow shell that was his torso, and upon a wooden shaft stuck into the ground was Vemde's head, his eyes gouged out, his tongue split in half.

  Cris stood motionless, numb, his breath stopped, perhaps even his heart.

  The wizard's firm, low voice was in Cris's ear now. "Captain, I do not want you to believe Caval Du Mal is a bad man—Caval Du Mal wants you to believe it."

  "He did this?"

  "His henchmen did, at his order."

  Cris glanced down at the remains of the little fellow who, rather than reveal Cris's location, died a horrible death. Cris did not know the man he called Vemde, but he now felt he owed him a debt, as he owed Danny Rastemberger.

  "What was his name—his real name?"

  "Paia Nove."

  "Alright, you made your point. I believe you."

  "I told you Cris, Caval Du Mal will round up several people from across his realm and have them killed. Your new friends, the Parenmerians, will not say it to you, but they fear your staying among them. Caval Du Mal's hammer will fall hardest here, particularly if you're found here. Cris, if you fear for the lives of these people, you'll flee from this place as quickly as you can."

  "Where do I go?"

  "To the great city of Emer Alda."

  "Okay—why?"