by Guy Antibes
“What happened?” Fadden asked.
Pol shook his head and raised his hand from his seated position. “Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need,” Paki said.
Pol nodded, closing his eyes as he struggled to bring new knowledge into his mind. “The aliens died of a disease borne by a batch of humans imported from the south. A few survivors managed to put one of their kind into the chamber in hopes that the alien might survive to re-populate Phairoon.”
Pol put his head back to the chamber wall as he tried to put more of the jumbled information into a pattern. “The one I fought with was named Demeron, not Demron. I named my horse after him.”
Pol shook his head. “They came from a different world and used their magic to activate that disk as a portal. It originally came from their home world. The portal was where they entered Phairoon, but it wasn’t originally in this cave. They brought the metal that they used from their original world before it was shattered by some calamity I can’t quite understand. The portal finally stopped working, but the aliens had already used its power to bring remnants of their race and their servants.”
“Does the portal still work?” Fadden asked.
“No. I said it stopped working, and they could no longer use it to access their world. I don’t know how long they lived on Phairoon, but it was long enough to move that,” Pol pointed behind him at the disk, “from the outside and build this cave to protect their legacy.”
“Some legacy,” Shira said. She sat down further towards the entrance.
Pol said, “They thought they had come to heaven when they tasted their first human.”
“What about the Shinkyans?” Shira asked.
“Pets, domesticated to be their slaves. They originally used the inherited trait of males dying young to keep the Shinkyans in line on their own world. I think they brought Shinkyan horses with them, too.”
“But we can bear half-Shinkyan, half-human offspring,” Shira said. And that was a nugget. Shira had never intended to tell him, Pol thought. He kept quiet as he realized that Shinkyans had put themselves above humans, since they didn’t originate on Phairoon. The others didn’t notice, but with the insight he had just been given, fighting for his very life, more of the Shinkyan pattern fell into place.
“And I am half-alien, half-human,” Pol said. “The only reason I could fight the alien intelligence was because I am the product of a secret breeding program that died out with my parents. My mother told me that Cissert sought her out because she was the other half of that program. The only reason I’m alive is because Cissert convinced my mother their coupling was for the good of all mankind. How wrong he was.”
“Is that it?” Paki said.
“No, not at all, but my mind is filled with fragments left over from my fight with what was left of Demeron.” Pol looked back at the disk. “In the farming pictures, I thought they gave some horses the ability to think.” Pol shrugged. He couldn’t comprehend how anyone could do that. “Shinkyan horses can think today, so a fragment of information confirms that. I’ve told the rest of you about how they shortened the lifespan of men who could wield a high level of magic. They continued to do that when they coupled with humans. They must not have eaten them all.”
Mora stood at the doorway. “Our father was right.”
Pol rose to his feet. “They did imbed a faulty trait into male bodies. They thought it just killed them, but I think that trait gave us an enhanced ability to tweak our surroundings. The aliens weren’t here for very long, maybe a few hundred years.”
So the Demrons brought magic to Phairoon?” Fadden said.
“I don’t think so,” Pol said. “There are too many magicians in too many places.”
“So where is the treasure?” Paki said. Pol wondered if his friend really understood the tragic nature of his story.
“That’s it. Unless you can find a way to pry those metal pictures from the walls, this cave has no more utility,” Pol shook his head, disappointed yet amazed by the depravity of the aliens. They reminded him of the hard hearts of Namion and Val. Pol refused to succumb to that way of thinking. Humans could do noble things. He had seen men dedicated to principles higher than themselves at Deftnis. Even the Tesnan monks had a code that was superior to the aliens. The aliens possessed a higher level of technology, but not an admirable civilization.
He felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks. Pol wanted to hold Shira, but she had curled into a ball, weeping on her own, beneath one of the railings. His feelings for her hadn’t changed, but today’s revelations might have permanently destroyed their relationship.
Shira would have to deal with him on two cultural fronts. Humans were basically talking animals from the Shinkyan point of view. Pol was rather certain of that. The other element was the fact that Pol was also descended from the Shinkyan’s masters. Where did he fit into Shira’s point of view? Pol didn’t know.
“I’m ready to go,” Pol said.
“No, you’re not.” Wissem shoved Mora to the side. He was dressed in the armor of a Demron Defender. He looked shaken and wild-eyed rather than the rational priest that was perpetually amused. “This is all heresy,” he said.
~~~
Chapter Thirty-Four
~
“It’s the truth. Even the metal in this chamber is the same as what surrounds the Sleeping God,” Pol said.
“What were you just saying?” Wissem looked at the drawings and shook his head in disbelief. His breath came in ragged gasps. “Those drawings,” he pointed to the previous room, “are false.”
Pol shook his head. “No. You are the fake, as is every priest in your fake religion. The aliens came to Phairoon escaping something. They brought this metal with them. When they arrived here, they found that they had a passion for human flesh, and why not? Humans were animals to them.”
Pol looked at Shira, who flinched at his words.
“We don’t eat humans,” she said in a low voice.
Pol didn’t know, and the intelligence that he had fought didn’t reveal much about the Shinkyans.
“What are you going to do? Are you going to attack us?” Pol said.
Wissem looked at Pol with bloodshot eyes. “You are a heretic.”
“Just like the treasure hunters you slaughtered. Were their horses heretics?” Fadden said.
“They were stepping on hallowed ground.”
Pol snorted. “The Terilanders’ ground, not yours, and if you noticed, the aliens are anything but divine.” He put his hand in his pocket and grabbed a cluster of metal shards. He thought, ‘no quarter’.
Wissem drew his sword and was the first with a metal shard in his heart. Pol mowed the Goons down in the chamber, a splinter at a time. There were ten men, and ten died.
Pol stood amidst the dead bodies and carefully examined the cannibal pictures and couldn’t see the Shinkyan ‘pets’ eating human flesh, although it was clear they prepared their masters’ food.
He helped Paki drag the bodies out. Fortunately, the Goons hadn’t killed Kell or Loa but had tied them up.
Pol tried to help Shira to her feet, but she refused his offer, so Fadden helped her out of the chamber. Pol walked back to the pedestal, leaning on the vile thing, and wept. He didn’t want the alien knowledge embedded unwillingly in his brain. He hadn’t wanted his father to die or his mother or King Colvin. Life was unfair, but at that particular moment, the look in Shira’s eye was the worst.
He tried the amulet again, to see if he could return his memories, but nothing worked.
When he finally gained control, Pol kicked at the railing with all the force he could muster, angry at what fate had given him. A five-foot long solid rod of the alien metal broke free. He took it in his hand and walked out of the chamber.
Yanking the amulet off of his neck, breaking the chain, he closed the door to the cave. The rock slid back to cover up the entrance.
He looked at his friends, unable to utter a single word and used magic
to cast his amulet far, far away. That thing would never be used to open the alien’s cave.
“Bury all the bodies except for Wissem,” Pol said. He struggled with the rock cover, but encased the pedestal. They all finished their work at the cave by spreading the dirt around to the level that they found it. Pol and Fadden worked on the ground to cover their tracks.
They each took a few horses and led them down to the trail, and then stopped at one of the treasure hunter massacres.
Pol didn’t say another word, but began to drag the bodies for burial. He wanted to bury the horses, but they didn’t have the time, and Pol, quite frankly, didn’t have the energy.
“We will tie Wissem’s body between two trees. That should be message enough for the Goons,” Pol finally said.
Fadden came over to Pol and took him aside. “Are you all right?”
Pol shook his head. “I absorbed too much information from the alien. I’ll never shake the taint.” He looked over at Shira, who declined to participate. “I’m afraid I lost too much in that chamber.”
Fadden nodded. “Or gained too much. Time heals, and all that.”
Pol gave Fadden half of a smile. “Let’s hope.”
They buried the treasure hunters, and at the next camp Pol noticed that Shira had come out of her funk enough to help. She certainly had avoided him on the trail.
They had to avoid another patrol, but eventually made it to Mora’s house.
Pol took up his place next to the fire and fell asleep, but his dreams were filled with alien words, alien thoughts, and images he’d prefer not to see again. He woke up early the next morning and sat on the porch, watching the dawn.
Mora came out with blankets for each of them and snuggled up to her brother.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what? I’m the one to be sorry. I’m not our father. We learned nasty things about our ancestors that I’d rather not know.” Pol pulled the blanket more tightly around him.
“Well, I’m glad. Now I can live my life without worrying about my past.”
Pol hadn’t really thought about her life that way. “You can come with us. I have friends in high places in the Empire.” He refrained from telling her that Queen Isa had promised him a dukedom.
Mora shook her head. “I have a boyfriend in Sakima. I’ve put him off for some time, but now I don’t have to.” She gave Pol a genuine smile that turned sad. She put out her hand and touched his hair. “I’m afraid your special person has suffered a shock.”
“I know.”
“Have your feelings changed?”
“No,” Pol said, and they really hadn’t. Shinkyans always looked down on Imperial citizens. Now Pol knew why. It actually explained why the Shinkyans had never joined the Empire or had entered into any other alliance. “I’m sorry for my behavior once we left the cave.”
She took off her amulet. “I won’t be wanting this,” she said. “You shouldn’t have thrown yours away, but I understand why you did. You didn’t want to have anything to do with your ancestors.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Think of this as your father’s, not an alien’s. He is gone to both of us, but I have a few actual memories of him and stories about him growing up with my mother and stepfather. You don’t.”
Pol felt he couldn’t reject her offer and appreciated her sacrifice. “Thank you. I’ve got to become human again, and that will take awhile, I’m afraid. I know what I don’t want to become, and I nearly crossed the line yesterday.”
Mora gave him a little laugh. “You were farther from crossing your line than you think, brother.” She put her arm, still covered with the blanket around him. “You would make our father proud. You were a prince—”
“How did you know that?”
She smiled. “Women like to talk. Shira told me. She loves you, or did. I think she still does, actually. I think the experience shocked her more than it did you.”
The words comforted Pol more than he could express.
“I’m going to give you the address of a man I know in Yastan, the Imperial capital of Baccusol. His name is Ranno Wissingbel. Please write to me at his address and let me know how you are doing. How can I keep in touch with you?
“Mora Torin. Just address it to Sakima, Teriland. I know about everybody in the town. They’ll get the letter to me.”
“You took our father’s name.”
“I did once my step-father died, and my mother agreed.” She smiled and looked out at the deep blue sky of dawn. “I’m glad you came. As I said, my life lays unfettered in front of me,” she said. “It wouldn’t be otherwise.”
Pol took her other hand in his. “Have a wonderful life, sister.” He kissed her hand, wishing his life’s problems could be solved as easily as hers. But Pol felt she deserved it more than he did.
He looked back to see Shira watching them from parted curtains in the window. He wished he didn’t see such pain as she quickly shut them.
~
Pol, back in his Nater Grainell disguise, rode past the Goons that now guarded the pass. He wondered how the soldiers had fared, but he didn’t see any bodies at the side of the road, so he hoped most had made it through the midnight conflict.
The ride back to Fassin took them a day longer than traveling in the other direction. Pol didn’t want to return through the city, but they needed to buy supplies and packhorses for their journey to Ducharl. Pol’s anger built as they rode.. They stayed at the same inn as before. Pol walked outside and stared at the cathedral spire.
He clutched Mora’s amulet and knew what he had to do. He walked back inside and rummaged through his saddlebags and pulled out a few items that would serve him well for the next hour or so.
Pol told Fadden that he would be back. Shira hadn’t expressed any interest to accompany him, although they were on casual speaking terms once more. The experience in the alien chamber had shattered their relationship, and it hadn’t recovered, but it appeared that at least she could look at him without revulsion.
He purposefully walked towards the cathedral and tweaked invisibility. Donning his orange robe, he joined a short line of priests and walked up the stairs to the railing around the sleeping chamber.
He appeared at the top. “Excuse me,” Pol said, freezing the priest at the top and slipping around him to descend to the platform holding the Sleeping God. Pol looked at the writing on the chamber, surprised that he could now read the script. Most of the labels bore technical terms that Pol didn’t know, but they were labels and nothing else, directing the capsule attendants how to keep the chamber operational. He wondered if the Shinkyans had been given the task, but deserted the capsule when the last of their masters died.
Pol slid around to the front and put the appropriate side of the amulet in the indentation and pressed with his palm. A button lit up, so Pol pressed it. He scampered up the stairs and turned invisible while he leaned over the railing to see what would happen. Pol heard strange sounds, and even a clank or two, before the lid lifted.
A hiss of air clouded up the glass, but Pol could clearly see a full-length door open. The alien lay in state. The skin began to sink, but not before Pol noticed that Demron wasn’t a man, but a pregnant woman!
He couldn’t help but smile as he climbed down the outside of the stairs, now crowded with priests seeing the miracle of the awakening of their god. They’d be bitterly disappointed when they found out that their male-centric religion worshipped a dead mother-to-never-be.
He tossed off the orange robe and walked into the square.
Pol turned invisible just below Demron’s statue. He disguised himself, taking on the form of his alien persona. He looked up and realized that his version was better than the statue. Pol jammed the conical hat on his head and climbed up on a little ledge around the large bronze figure.
He appeared and raised his arms.
“I am Demron, come from heaven. I am displeased.”
He repeated the words four or five
times until the market grew quiet watching the vision and straining to hear the god’s words.
“The Sleeping God was my pregnant wife. She was to provide you with the dawn of a new age, but the heretical priests of Demron failed to keep her in state. Her body lies in my cathedral, but she is dead, as is my issue. It is time for you to punish the priests for their evil works. The relics are all false. The books they write are fabrications. The Defenders only defend power and greed and have long ago turned away from the true worship they profess. Look to your King for guidance, for you’ll not find it in that cathedral.” Pol pointed his finger at the edifice and repeated his message before he tweaked invisibility.
He slipped past the crowds, and as their anger built, they began to rush their former place of worship. Pol snatched the conical hat from his head and became Nater once more. He staggered as the pain took hold of him, but the drain he expected never occurred.
The walk back to the inn was one of relief. He could sense a tinge of revenge in his acts, but he spoke the truth on that platform. He realized that the consciousness that he fought with in the chamber was the baby’s father in truth and that the message and pictures in the cave was meant for his child.
They left the next day. Shira surprised Pol by riding to his side once they crossed the bridge and took the road to Duchary.
“Why did you do it?” she said.
“Do what?”
She poked him with his riding crop. “Opened the Sleeping God’s capsule.”
“I did a favor for a recent enemy of mine,” Pol said and left it at that.
“We need to talk,” she said.
‘Indeed we do, Shinkyan,” Pol said. He endured an even harder poke.
~~~
Duchary
Chapter Thirty-Five
~
The road to Duchary was paved, but it was five feet above a vast swamp. The days were starting to heat up as spring began to ripen into summer.
