The Hand of Grethia: A Space Opera

by Guy Antibes

  “And what is the position of Mulloy, your king in all of this?” said Obsomil with a voice tinged with wariness.

  “Officially or unofficially?” Furtive glances were exchanged by those of Actobal.

  “Mulloy doesn’t wish to join an alliance that will upset the balance of power. He is much too timid and would seek to suppress the new material. That is the reason for our subterfuge and your presence.” The general said. “The future of Actobal should not be decided by Mulloy, alone.”

  It wasn’t hard to realize that the meeting was centered on revolution. They wanted new leadership, theirs, in order to become rich with the discovery of sulfur deposits.

  “What is the situation as it stands now? How widespread is your position among the nobility? Is there general discontent? Will the people endorse your ability to make decisions for all Actobal? We can be of assistance, but we’d rather work towards long term stability, so let’s discuss the details,” Obsomil stated.

  At that the group began to discuss the current state of the city. The candles began to flicker drowning in their own hot wax as the Actobal conspirators droned on and on. The talk did mention the events of the previous morning, when a mysterious magical flying machine burst out of Fosdick’s temple. The priest put the event down as mass hysteria. The common people were capable of anything. Jan noticed the perspiration on the forehead of the priest as he lied to them. He claimed that a big bird that had flown in one of the windows and out the front doors.

  Jan and Obsomil learned quite a bit by asking key questions clarifying statements of the conspirators. Towards the end of the session, the beginnings of a new day lit up the drawn curtains. The talk subsided and Tomson, the general, asked the questions Jan and Obsomil had dreaded. “What are your plans to assist us? How many men and materials can you provide us?”

  Obsomil glanced at Jan. “We will return to Murgrontia with samples of the yellow material and return with four divisions of Murgrontian men-at-arms. As you know, our archers are the best in the world.”

  “Next to Diltrantian archers, it is told.” interjected Tomson. “But better than any here. What about the swords?”

  “Swords? They are included with the men-at-arms. Half of the division will be swords.” Obsomil did not quite understand. He was quick to see they were losing control of the conversation.

  “No! Swords! We want Alchantian swords. You have not mentioned them.” Tomson challenged.

  “Of course, we can provide weapons and men from Alchant, too.” Obsomil said, his temper rising. Obsomil looked frantically at Jan for help but could see the younger man had no inspiration.”

  “Who are you?” said Fosdick, the priest. “You should know all about the promise of supplying us with poisoned swords. They are the key to this alliance and will be used to quickly dispose of King Mulloy’s supporters. Yet you do not know this? This is preposterous. Name our man in Port Alchant and I will believe you.”

  Jan looked about the room. The windows were barred. There were at least three between him and the entrance and the king and he had no weapons other than knives and Jan’s blaster. The conspirators’ sword hands had slipped to the hilts of their weapons. Tense silence hung, palpable, building up in intensity in the enclosed space.

  A sword slid from Tomson’s scabbard. Jan reached in his robe and pulled out his blaster and sprayed it in the enclosed space. He barely missed Obsomil. Jan looked at his blaster, shocked to see it set at maximum. He had thought to stun the three men, but killed them instead.

  “As much as I hate rash action, other than my own of course, you acquitted yourself well, Jan. We were dog meat, just then. Now we have to get out of here and return to the inn as soon as possible to retrieve our weapons. Then we will have to see what we can do to come up with a plan. Pulling out your weapon was fortunate. A battle of steel would have only brought on the guards.” Obsomil observed. Jan didn’t care about the guards, he had just killed three men in cold blood. He just stood in shock until Obsomil tugged at his sleeve. “We have to leave.”

  The two frantically began to pull at the bookcases to find the exit from the room. They left powerful men of Actobal sitting in chairs arranged as if they were sleeping from a long night’s discussion. Their descent down the stairway was uneventful and smells from the kitchen guided the men through a few branches in the passages. When they walked out the door, Jan asked for and got a couple of breakfast rolls and casually tossed one to Obsomil, thanking the cooks.

  Once through the kitchen and out into the back courtyard, the guard challenged them. Obsomil yawned and bit into his roll, mentioning that it was a very long night, and then guard let them out without trouble.

  Obsomil threw the roll down and stalked towards the square. Jan put a hand on his arm, “Let’s go to the king now. We can’t wait for later. Who knows what will happen when the bodies are discovered.”

  Obsomil mused a moment and looked hard at Jan. “Excellent advice, court advisor,” he said. “We go to Mulloy. We tell him the truth and we will let him deal with his newly discovered enemies.” The two reversed direction and started up towards the palace.

  The palace was only a short walk from Lord Defting’s house. The two approached the entrance of the palace and made ready to enter. The guards, however, would not let them in the gate. Discretion was necessary at this point.

  “My good men,” Jan said to the guard. “We have the contracts for the King to sign.”

  The guards remained stolid in their efforts to bar the men. “At least, let us go to his chamberlain, so that we can leave your city to prepare the goods your ruler has requested. You face the wrath of the King!” Jan demanded indignantly.

  At this, the guards led the two men into a courtyard and through a side entrance to a simply decorated receiving room. The guard spoke a few words to a woman at a desk who critically surveyed the two men and wrote a few scribbles on a ledger.

  She spoke, “Please sit gentle sirs, I will establish an audience for Lord Defting, our chamberlain. He isn’t expected to start his day for some hours yet.”

  Obsomil realizing how high up the treachery existed protested. “We really need to see the King. It is of the utmost of importance!”

  “But that is impossible,” said the startled woman. “The king only sees high ranking nobles. Merchants are rarely permitted an audience with the King directly, and then only after an interview by the Lord Chamberlain.”

  “Who do I see to gain immediate audience if I am a noble?” Obsomil demanded.

  “In that case you may go directly to court and wait to be recognized. Have you proof? You will need it to gain admittance,” the woman gave them a doubtful look. “Mind you, if you are an impostor you’ll be spending the rest of this day and night at the King’s expense in accommodations you will not enjoy.”

  “Show me the way!” Obsomil commanded.

  The three crossed the courtyard and entered through a large pair of ornately carved wooden doors. There was an antechamber, then a large alcove prior to the court itself. The woman introduced them to a guard stationed to announce the newcomers. Obsomil put his hand into his waistband and pulled out the signet ring of Diltrant. He glanced at Jan and whispered, “Time to come out of hiding, lad.” To the guard in a supremely confident voice, he said, “Present me, Guard. I am King Obsomil of Diltrant!” he showed the signet ring to the guard and threw off the cloak to reveal the rich Murgrontian clothing he had worn at their all-night meeting.

  Jan could hear the comments in court. A king! Not often did a king from a legitimate kingdom arrive at Actobal, and unannounced. He could see the comments written on the shocked faces. The antechamber buzzed with astonishment, the doors to the court were thrown open as the announcement was repeated. King Mulloy stood up on his throne as Obsomil walked up the hall to the throne.

  “Mulloy, for what I have to discuss, my companion and I must talk to you privately. It is of vital importance to the continuance of your reign,” said Obsomil.

&nbs
p; “If you are indeed Obsomil. You meet his description and certainly act like he must. General protocol requires letters of correspondence and an arranged visit. What proof do you have of your identity? Why, you were not even announced through my gates!” Mulloy nervously countered. As he spoke he became more agitated after the initial shock of the announcement left. Jan had expected more of a king, but this man seemed to be built of weaker material that Obsomil.

  “I am on a personal mission, Mulloy, and I have to counsel with you in private. The matter is of vital importance to us both.” Obsomil said, handing him his signet ring.

  “Fetch the latest official communication from Diltrant,” Mulloy said to a courtier. After a few minutes, the courtier put a letter into the king’s hands. It only took a quick comparison of the ring and the seal to convince Mulloy. The King of Actobal rose from his throne with a perplexed look and beckoned Obsomil and Jan to follow him.

  “For your ears only,” King Obsomil said quietly.

  Mulloy nodded and only the three went through a side door Mulloy had opened by a palace guard. Along an ornately paneled gallery out of a pale wood, the King led the two travelers through a guarded door. The three stepped through to an atrium. Plants were in profuse array. An artificial rock arrangement rose from a still pool. Along one wall musical instruments of various varieties were arrayed. A large bookcase and an arrangement of chairs were on the opposite side.

  “Can anyone hear us in this room?” asked the King of Diltrant.

  “I built this retreat for myself and my music. No one can hear in this chamber. I have no desire to have others hear me play,” Mulloy smiled, his expression told Jan that the king was a little defensive about his musical hobby. “I can turn on this fountain; its sounds are soothing to me when I need to relax. It also masks some speech if we talk in low tones and I am wrong about no one being able to listen.”

  Mulloy went to the wall and turned a valve. Water began to cascade from a height along some rocks making smaller waterfalls and fell into the pool. “There are two courses of stone lining the walls, double panes of windows above and the vents are protected and baffled for sound. They are inspected weekly by my palace guard.” said Mulloy proudly.

  “Wise, King Mulloy. Let me be brief and frank. My friend and I are the two who flew out of the temple two days ago. I imagine you heard reports of the confusion and the aftermath of our departure.” Mulloy’s mouth dropped open. “The Grethians guard the secret of our forefathers’ advancements. One of those secrets is an instant transportation system,” Obsomil said.

  King Mulloy looked puzzled. “I don’t know what such a thing might be. I heard about the strange craft. The priests said it was the embodiment of evil being exorcised from the temple or perhaps just a large bird that had been trapped in the temple dome. Personally, I didn’t know what to believe. I interviewed a few of my courtiers and they said it looked like a flying cart.” Looking at Obsomil waved his hand, “Proceed.”

  “The transfer system enables people and things to be sent from one place to another. Portals are the endpoints where the transfers begin and end,” Jan said.

  “Oh, like the post except through the air.” said Mulloy, catching on.

  “That’s correct as far as I can tell. There is a portal in Diltrant. We transported from my hunting lodge and ended up in the middle of your Grethian temple. We left town to return to Diltrant, however there was not enough motive power in the machine to take us all of the way back to my kingdom, so we had to return in secret.” Obsomil filled the King in on the rest of the story.

  Obsomil began to plead a new case. “Mulloy, the measures to be taken are severe. First, you need to name a Lord Chamberlain that you absolutely trust. Second, you need to take over the Grethian Priesthood and third, we must join forces and neutralize the Alchantian/Murgrontian alliance. We are linked to each other via the portal in your temple. We can eradicate this menace. What do you think?”

  Mulloy was dumbfounded. “I hesitate to destroy the Actobal neutrality that has been cultivated for over 500 years. My alliance with Diltrant would be the first such union my people have had to make. However, that is far more palatable than personally succumbing to a revolt. I’m not prepared to treat with Diltrant today, but I will consider it. I am not the quick decision maker that you are. We can agree on an alliance later, but I want my kingdom intact.”

  Obsomil smiled. “King Mulloy, let us strike hands and seal the alliance. I will lead and you will follow me until the situation has stabilized. I only request that you follow my instructions as long as they align with your own interests. You do not owe me allegiance. If events transpire that a new order is born and a mutually advantageous alliance made amidst the ashes of Alchant and Murgrontia, your kingdom remains in your total control. But I foresee the possibilities of the unification of all the people of our world. A Grethian world, yes, not one dominated by the priests, but by the technology of our forefathers, available for the benefit up of all our people.”

  “I did know about the yellow powder. I must be honest with you, but all I know about it is that it will burn. Smelly stuff, though, so it isn’t suited for heating up a dwelling or cooking food.” Mulloy furrowed his brow and waved away the imaginary smell of what obviously was sulfur. “Is it true that it runs your ships?”

  Obsomil looked Mulloy closely in the eyes and said, “I can honestly say that it does not. I speak the truth.” Obsomil put out his hand. Mulloy struck it sharply with the open palm of his own.

  Mulloy looked at Jan. “Do you agree with your king?”

  “Where I come from, the yellow powder is called sulfur, your majesty.” Jan added, smiling. “I can assure you that it is not the material that Diltrant uses to power their ships. I am familiar with what that is, as well.” King Obsomil gave Jan a black look that Jan returned with a bit of confidence. “You forget. I am a highly educated man, my king.” Jan said to Obsomil. “I know what you use and I could duplicate your engines, likely with many improvements.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 13

  Blue light bathed the room furnished with stark furniture. The chairs were sturdy, uncomfortable, but incredibly ancient. Ichar’s tightly coiled intensity contrasted with Lord Wilton’s carefree, somewhat cynical demeanor. Wilton’s prematurely gray hair along with a long, acne-scarred face lent him an air of dissipation. Wilton’s motions were long and languid as he moved from the window to sit in a proffered chair.

  “These ancient chairs of yours must keep your councils short,” Wilton said.

  Ichar continued his gaze, ignoring the impudent comment, “By now, we have control of Actobal by using our little puppet nobles. When our two messengers return to me tomorrow, we will prepare the final plans to take over the plain kingdoms. Once Actobal has fallen, the other plains cities will follow meekly along. The joining of Port Alchant, Murgrontia and the plains into a unified land will control the two greatest Grethian artifact halls. As for Diltrant, Obsomil’s brother will soon be ready to sign a treaty that will give us another artifact hall. Your men stationed in the Dungan Forest will help us again when the time comes. They performed admirably when we invaded our former monastery. It is such a pity the Diltrantians never did seize possession of the portal room.” Ichar chuckled along with Wilton. He hated dealing with the Murgrontian leader, but he would soon have access to a hall that had always been denied to the Alchantian priesthood .

  “Yes, Ichar.” said Wilton. “However, the Diltrantians didn’t take long to seal up their kingdom. Your priest, Pola, was lucky to get out with the Hand and his life intact. If it wasn’t for those transportation relics of yours, your people couldn’t have even made it out of the lodge. You would be in the same fix old King Obsomil is in… or was in. He must to be dead by now.”

  “Don’t remind me!” Ichar said. “Those Diltrantians, and especially Obsomil and his henchmen were the only real threat we have to unite the world under our domination. Even without their king, they are still dangerous unti
l Habamil eradicates all of his brother’s supporters.” Ichar made an ugly face to show his distaste.

  “Obsomil would have been the one other who could hold the various lands together. I only hope that he suffered while he died. I wish I could have watched. I can only hope my archers missed him and that out-worlder with him in the hall. Dying from starvation is a much more appropriate death than by the quick-acting poison that tipped the arrows,” Wilton said. Ichar had always thought the man’s smile was distastefully insincere.

  “In any event when my armies take control of Diltrant, we will return with the Hand and retrieve their bodies.” Ichar turned their talk to ways of developing the yellow powder into something that they could use to dominate the seas, should their efforts fail with Habamil.

  ~

  Jan and King Obsomil stood by the deserted farmyard conferring with a high-ranking Actobal officer. The officer departed on a horse, leaving them alone. They carried two large bags into the stable.

  The air within the building began to energize. The potential increased, and then the dust in the stable fled into the air with a silent whoosh. The two figures were joined by a third and a fourth. Ichar and another priest looked at the hooded men and then at the two large bags. “You must be Ichar,” the figure ventured. “I am Tomson and this is my aide.” The two sacks carry the bodies of your two envoys. King Mulloy found out about the conspiracy in some unforeseen way. My lord Defting and Fosdik are no longer counted among the living. I fled when I could, bringing the bodies of your agents to prove my identity. The situation at Actobal is precarious. Mulloy is disturbed—his thinking erratic. Once he uncovered our activities, he put the city into a frenzy. We had to flee, but I think if we attack soon, we can take the city. I can go to Port Alchant with you and we can discuss the invasion plans, including the poisoned swords.”