Waking Olympus (The Singers of the Dark Book 1)

by Peter Yard

  Much later, his eyes tired from reading by candlelight, he got up to move around. His mind was saturated with things stranger than any fiction. It threatened to flood and reset his skeptical sense so that he would start believing in everything from fairies to the man in the moon.

  Maria was still in the Library collecting some of her personal things to take home with her.

  “Maria, I've been reading quite a bit but there is something I still don’t understand. I mean, I should understand it because it is part of our history not belonging to the Ancients. Why did the Cities fall?”

  Maria put her bag down on her desk, still clinging to the cloth strap, she leaned to one side against the desk. Thinking, her right hand massaging the cloth strap like prayer beads.

  “Although there are few records of the Great Battle, there are records in later years that talk about the problems that arose. It is hard for us to understand, I have tried and I think I have an inkling. You know that the Ancients used a technology called neural links that allowed them to transfer information directly into their minds? They constantly exchanged information. Soon they came to believe not that, ‘knowledge is power,’ but that, ‘information is money’. Being permanently linked they no longer knew how to ponder their inner selves or the outer world, even the old Global Civilization before them had not fallen into that trap. As individuals and as a society they lost their way. Even as they came to know what the problem was, they had embraced the notion that ‘information is money’ and that therefore anyone who chose to disconnect, even briefly, from the net was a freeloader. A burden on society. I gather that it was also considered painful, unbearable to disconnect. After the Great Battle, the network was shattered, electromagnetic pulse events had disabled almost all of the neural links. They were all disconnected, they had all become the pariahs they loathed. Worse they did not know how to live this new restricted life. They had only been focused on the link, an internal dialogue that had nothing to do with introspection or self-understanding, and so had no capacity for fully appreciating the world they lived in. When the links failed, they were alone, they succumbed to a depression that was as much psychological as it was sociological. They never recovered; the dysfunctional way of life was passed on to their children who in time started to outgrow it but whose knowledge of the technology that maintained that way of life was diminished. When Bethor assailed the Cities they collapsed like a rotten piece of wood. Not everyone was like that however, enough always had different priorities and adaptability; so some met or communicated and seeing the dire situation decided on founding the Center and Tanten. They had lost family, spouses and friends in the Battle, either in space or in vaporized cities, then they lost more by choosing a different path. It was a time of relentless tragedy, sadness, and loss.”

  She looked down, as if absorbing strength from the ghosts buried in the earth. She paused, took a breath, then looked up at him again.

  “The legacy of those times haunts us still. You can find it in the legends of the Plains and the casual attitudes here in Tanten. There is a sense of loss, as if we are clinging still to something long gone. Perhaps it is time to let go. You are the harbinger of such a change, a herald, if you like, of a new age. Many won't like that.”

  "That won't stop me. If things don't change I fear that all of civilization may fall. You seem different. Have all these books changed you?"

  "Obviously, but also I am a stranger to Tanten. My parents were killed in a raid by Lindin forces. I survived and finally found a home here. I always loved books, so this is my heaven." She smiled like an angel in complete peace.

  She nodded and picked up her bag.

  "Maria, before you go, I would like to see the field notes of Helen Amaris."

  Dawn, a faint blue light in the east. The cold seeping over from the black desert beneath the stars. A few beacon lights always burned at the top of the Mouth of the Snake, as the gates of Castle were called, but they shed no light on the company immediately below and outside the gate. He was ready to go, he had all of his gear, but he was not ready to leave the Library, maybe he would never be ready to leave it; it was amazing, his body felt as if he had consumed some powerful stimulant just from reading, he was so excited. He had just scratched the surface. None of the information was as stunning as that little blue box but all of it was new and revealing about their world and history. Yet there were so many major blank spots. He felt like a young student just entering college at the Center, brash and confident, and then discovering in that first week how little he really knew.

  He was sitting on his horse surrounded by the shadows of several dozen or more Traders. The sound of horses breathing and huffing, a hoof on cobble stones now and then, echoing, the riders silent. Just vague shadows; the smell of horses, leather, and a complex elusive mix of scents that simply said, ‘travel companions’. He fought a temptation to yawn, inevitably losing.

  Although he had not seen everyone, he was told the numbers would be between 40 and 50. No more could be spared before the riders from the other towns came in. This was a small advanced force whose central attribute was the speed of its response. A very early response to a problem may not need very much force, timing can often be crucial. This was their role, to render aid before events required that those greater forces would be needed. They were, apparently, fully armed, that meant more armor than he was used to seeing on Traders, but not as much as the Castle Guards who seemed to prefer impressive but heavy looking gear. He was starting to see more than outlines now; gray phantoms. They looked tough but he couldn’t say why he thought that. He prayed to whatever deity there was that he would not be expected to lead these men in any capacity, they’d know in an instant he had no idea about tactics or fighting. He was a Reformed Pantheist, no personal god, but he prayed to the Universe anyway. Well, you never know, they would need all the help they could get.

  He looked up into the fading night sky. The Raymond Tans clearly visible, if you knew what to look for, about thirty degrees away from the zenith, it defined the latitude of the observer. “Why can’t you help us you indifferent bastard?”

  “Making demands of the sky? I don’t think that will work.” A familiar voice.

  She was on foot and standing next to his horse. He hadn’t heard her approach. “No. Just frustrated that a starship is just hanging in the sky up there and we can’t contact it. Or get it to help.”

  “Are you coming with us?” He said incredulously.

  “My place is with my friends, fighting, not stuck in a chair being useless.”

  “I know why I am going, because the Queen will feel much better if one of us is there. But you are the Head Councillor.”

  “Which doesn’t mean much in these circumstances. The Stronghold lords have been informed and are gathering their forces. Defenses are being made secure. Plans are being drawn. I am not a general. That has been assigned to Master Levin.”

  They left from the southern gate. The same way he had entered. By the time the sun rose they were proceeding into the desert, marking off the time until the turn to the west.

  Mikel came up along Tei. “What is the plan?”

  “We will proceed to the Eastern Caravanserai; if all is well there we will try to pick up any who have rendezvoused, waiting for us and proceed to Sanfran. Scouts will go ahead of course. We won't use the commonly known trails.”

  The word was passed along. Then there were sounds of hoofs, leather stretching, metal jingling; pale shapes in the predawn moving. Time to move out.

  The Caravanserai was intact. They had posted lookouts after the messenger had arrived two days ago but so far there was no enemy activity. But there were increasing numbers of independent Traders coming in and pledging loyalty to Tanten and Tei’s leadership. He wondered how they knew. They picked up another 30 or so fighters, not as hardened as the troop that had left Tanten originally but certainly tough enough.

  The road west to Sanfran was far too risky. Scouts had determined an alternative r
oute. It was old and rarely used. It had gone through what had once been several small towns now indistinguishable from the small natural hillocks of brown grass. Sometime past the halfway point they stopped in a small depression among the hills and posted lookouts.

  Mikel walked among the knee length brown grass to stretch his legs, sounds of insects and the sight of flying moths preceded him. It was the middle of the afternoon and a hot dry breeze was blowing from the desert to the east. Adele followed him. She was a Captain, whatever that meant here, and was a no-nonsense military professional, taller than Mikel, green eyes with distinctive short red hair poking out of the edges of her hat.

  He bought a hat in Tanten and had started wearing it this trip, it no longer felt odd, and in this sun he was glad. His brown skin wouldn't protect him.

  “It is starting to get really hot now, Adele.”

  “Yes, we are out of a mild Spring and starting to get into a very early oppressive Summer. This will make Tanten even harder to attack. Hopefully.”

  A glint in the dirt caught his eye. He bent down and picked up a piece of metal about the size of his thumb. Brushing the dirt off he saw that it looked unblemished, almost new. There was some faint writing on it, illegible. It was tough but the twisted, jagged edges suggested enormous forces had once hammered the area where they stood.

  “What is this place?” Mikel asked.

  “We don’t know exactly. Stories say it was once a fort with great weapons. Destroyed a long time before the fall of the cities.”

  This jagged piece of metal must be the first tangible relic of the Great Battle he had seen. No longer mythic but real, a real tragedy with real victims entombed under the ground he walked on. He couldn’t just drop it; he unslung his pack and carefully placed it inside almost reverently.

  After another day they were in sight of Sanfran. Mikel, Tei, Adele, and a few others stood on top of a hill overlooking the plain stretching west to Sanfran. The sun was setting and producing a strange illusion. Out of the deepening shadows on the plain a grid started to appear. He had no idea what it was but it didn’t look natural.

  “What is it?” He asked.

  Adele answered. “The bones of the dead city still break the surface now and then. This land is haunted.”

  It was Rijart who noticed it first.

  “Tei. Look there!” He pointed while Tei looked along his arm, pointing at some place midway between their position and Sanfran.

  Mikel saw it. Some banners blowing in the breeze, barely visible in the afternoon sun. Fortunately, Sanfran was not quite in the direction of the setting sun.

  “We might be visible, get down,” said Adele.

  “Right. I noticed they have a dozen large tents and numerous smaller ones, they must have many hundreds of troops.” Tei whispered. Mikel thought it odd that she should instinctively whisper but he had found on his journey, and perhaps he had always known that people, including himself, are rarely rational.

  He put his shoulder pack on the ground and pulled out his telescope and focused it on the enemy camp.

  “Tei. You won't believe this but most of that camp is empty. It’s a decoy.” He passed over the telescope to her and gave her the ten second introduction to it.

  “Yes, just turn that part to focus. It contains several lenses that magnify distant objects. It is called a telescope.”

  “Ah, so this is a telescope. I’ve read about them but never seen one. And — you made this?” She looked at him and smiled. Then back to the eyepiece.

  “You’re right. I estimate they have maybe, fifty, yes, less than a hundred soldiers, and they are all faced away from us. A bluff maybe while they wait for reinforcements. There's a fair bit of open ground, we couldn't just sneak up on them. We would suffer heavy casualties."

  “If we could organize with Sanfran we could encourage them to resist and …” a plan started forming in his mind, “ … and we could plan a combined assault.” Did he say that?

  Tei looked at him and smiled. “Not just a pretty face. We have to send someone — disguised as a merchant, along the south road, a bit far but much safer.”

  “I should go. The Queen will listen to me. Anyway, I almost feel like a merchant after Lindin.” He said.

  Tei narrowed her eyes. “Yes, that would work. Just don’t sleep with her, you are mine and don’t forget it. And don’t get yourself killed.”

  Tei left in a hurry to arrange some disguises.

  Adele laughed. “She’s not usually so possessive. Just behave yourself.”

  The path south was haphazard and confusing, the clothes unfamiliar, he felt very self-conscious. He had reached the designated landmark, a small hillock with a rock protruding, only to find that the rock was the remains of some ancient building. With a sigh of regret he ignored the ruins, turned his horse and proceeded west behind a series of small mounds that were at most three meters high. Everywhere he went he was surrounded by mysteries, with clues so strong that he could almost hear voices singing to him, sirens telling him to leave what he was doing, pick this up, or that, look at it and learn something no one else knew. Many people he knew didn't see the world this way, they thought the world was normal, unsurprising, but that was an illusion. The truth was: everything is a mystery and nothing is certain, human beings can't handle that so they invent complacency to deal with it. For the moment, he must adopt that complacency, the lie, he could not be distracted; for now the hills were just dirt and old buildings.

  They had hoped the hills would hide him from the enemy for most of the way, by now he was probably too far away for them to see him properly even if they were looking.

  After several hours he came to a dirt track, the southern road from Sanfran. He looked about. This was the road to Pareth, an ally of Lindin, or fellow Bethor puppet state if you preferred. If they were sending forces then they would likely use this road. He couldn’t see anything, and there didn’t seem to be any real cover northwards so he turned the horse towards Sanfran and prayed. He had never believed in Zeus, even before he found out the truth, but he did subscribe fairly loosely to the One, a pantheistic vision of the universe fairly common on Lind. He still couldn't muster up enough faith to start praying. That might change if he looked behind and saw a Pareth armed patrol after him.

  As he approached the southern side of the city he noticed that it had more of the appearance of a true wall. Apparently, at some time the southern side had slabs of masonry moved together to make an impenetrable jumble that was yet still a rough wall about four meters high. The road forked to the left and right, west and east, there was no entrance this side. He decided to try the west, as far from the eyes of the Bethorese as he could get. After a few minutes the road turned along the shore of the lake towards a ramp into the city, that looked promising. He looked up and saw inquisitive eyes with crossbows at the windowless openings of the buildings overhead.

  “Where are the boats?” He said to himself. A huge lake like an inland sea, the other shore was not even visible. There must be plenty of fish and opportunity for trade. Then he remembered the treeless Plains. How could they build boats. But in the mural in Sanfran, the image of the Cities of the Plains, there were many trees. He also remembered the wooden structures of Tanten, and the Librarian talking about where Tanten sourced its timber and papyrus. Tanten could supply fairly large amounts of timber he had been told but it wouldn’t be via the desert, enough for a small fleet of fishing boats, or warships. In time they could even recreate the forests in the plain. With timber Sanfran would dominate the Lake and therefore all access between Lind and the Traders. As partners the three could be the first world empire of Neti. Mikel was sure Queen Elena had thought of this before she had even met Mikel. Like a great game of chess, but one where each move required a payment in blood.

  Mikel had a sudden memory of the jailer, the blood spraying into his eyes, the hate and rage he had felt, payback for the torture, but now there was simple compassion in the wrong place at the wrong time. He hadn
’t been able to get rid of the image or memory. It chilled him. This was the price of rage, it chose its targets randomly, not always justly. Rage wasn't a tool you could bend, instead it would bend and deform you. He understood now. He started to understand Liz Markham more, he also understood that she chose the wrong path.

  It took a little while to see the Queen. At first no one believed him. But one of the guards came up, a smile on his face. He looked familiar.

  “Aha, Wizard. How is your writing going?” It was the man who had taken his notebook before he was introduced to Queen Elena. His name was Rolf, a big man with a big smile, or a scary grimace. Although he was well liked, Mikel had seen both sides, maybe just two of many sides. It was true of everyone in this war.

  Now that he was identified all he had to do was talk to the Queen. But that was not going to be as easy as last time. He waited in his plain quarters, not the sumptuous ones he was in last time, this time more suited to a monk. Eventually, an emissary from the Queen came. He strode into the room right up to where Mikel was standing with scant regard or care for Mikel’s personal space. He was a big man, two meters, black beard, heavy but muscular, his physique partially hidden by the fine clothes he wore. Black and white, with a matching velvet hat. Rich, narcissistic, overbearing, uncaring. The impression was not flattering, it was very intimidating.

  “I am Darin Oesis, I represent the Queen,” he said.

  “Greetings. I need to talk to the Queen urgently. It is about the safety of Sanfran.”

  “No doubt.” He said. He acted distracted, which was bizarre since there was nothing else here to be distracted by.

  “The Queen is very busy. What do you have to offer?”

  “I will only talk to her personally.”

  "She is very busy. I can present your case to Her. This is normal procedure." Which it was not.