I felt my face flush. “I will not let this happen!”
A knowing, almost kind expression came across her face. “Poor Sire. I can see now that you had nothing to do with it. This, at least, brings me peace of a sort.”
“No! This cannot be! I will not let –”
She held up a hand. “You know your own mother’s document, do you not?”
I was still frantic. “Yes! But –”
“There is nothing you can do, sire.”
She stepped forward and suddenly enfolded me in her arms. I felt like a blubbering kit, and was crying against her bosom, just as I had so many times after my sister had teased me, or some other childish fate had befallen me.
“Do you know,” she soothed, “that in a way I came to see you as my own son? The mind doctors would say that you were a substitute for my own loss, and I was one for you.”
“I will not allow this to happen!”
She pushed me gently away, and I saw that the fire in her eyes had been completely replaced by a soft look.
“I did love you as my own. I always will, Sebastian.”
I pushed myself completely away. “I will speak to Xarr!”
I stormed out of there, pushing the guards roughly out of the way at the entrance.
I caught General Xarr as he was preparing to leave. He was mounted on his horse, in full armor, surrounded by the small band of soldiers who would accompany him as he sought to rally what troops stood between us and the advancing Frane army. It was a grim task, and he looked grim.
The secret gates from our cavern entrance had been deactivated, letting in a wash of sunlight that was doubly dazzling because it had been so long since I’d seen the sun. The far horizon was layered in mist and dust, and the plains and rolling hills below, patched here and there with the green of vegetation, looked a world away, we were so high.
“What is it, Sire?” he nearly snapped at me when I stood in front of his mount, resplendent in deep red armor itself. As if to mirror its rider’s sentiments, it snorted at me.
I glared at him, and his own ire diminished. He dismounted, and drew me aside, out of the sunlight and into a small feline-made tunnel.
His one good eye stared at me balefully. “I have much to do.”
“Yes, you do. You can begin by pardoning Rella.”
He drew himself up. “Those execution orders were drawn up by Jift. And, yes, I signed them, just as you’ve no doubt heard by now.”
“Do you really believe her guilty?” My voice was shrill, and the old general suddenly gripped me by my arm, tightly, and drew me deeper into the passageway.
“With all respect, sire, shut your mouth!” he whispered fiercely.
“Wha –”
His grip tightened, and he drew his face closer. The scar which ran from his right eye to his chin looked like a dry riverbed seen from a great height.
“You march in here, in front of my men – in front of your men – wailing like a suckling kitten! What’s wrong with you! This will be all over the camp before nightfall! If you want them to respect you, you have to act like a man!”
“But Rella – they’re going to execute her!”
His grip became tighter yet, and suddenly I lowered my voice and tried to bring myself under control.
Xarr let go of my arm, and his voice grew less harsh. “I know what she means to you. I should have counseled you, but there was no time. For this I apologize. For what it’s worth, I thought highly of her, myself. But this must be done.”
“Why?” My voice rose again in anguish.
His own voice rose: “Because she is guilty! Because she did the things she is accused of! Because of her, Frane knows you are here! Jift had incontrovertible evidence! She is a spy!”
“But –”
“Because of your F’rar friend, our position here was given away almost as soon as we arrived.” Again he took my arm, and shook me. There was controlled rage on his face. “Because of that woman, every man, woman and child we managed to get here will probably die in a matter of weeks – because of her, you will die, and along with you, the hopes of this planet!”
I was silent, trying to bring my sobs under control.
Xarr turned away from me, and began to walk out of the tunnel, leaving me there.
“I’m sorry, Sire, but the power the constitution gives me in times of war insists that I do this thing. No matter what your own personal feelings are, or mine.” He walked back out into daylight, which fell on him like a spotlight. “The F’rar spy Rella must die in the morning.”
Eleven
I spent a bad night. The hoot birds that inhabited some of the caves of the area of Olympus Mons saw fit to visit, and their mocking cries kept me awake even in the fitful intervals when I might have slept. I did catch one brief moment of slumber, and was immediately assaulted by a terrible dream: Xarr and myself on trial before Frane, who stood before us in blood red robes, holding her fisted paws high and cackling like a specter. Her eyes were lit with flame, and as she pronounced our death sentences we burst into fire. I could feel the heat of fire consume me as I woke with a start. My face was damp with sweat.
This was soon mingled with tears.
No rising of the sun awoke me; it was rather a guard who whispered solemnly into my room, “Sire, it is time.”
I dressed, and arranged myself as if in a dream. I was met by Thomas outside my door, who looked solemn, and we were joined by the other council members, save Jift, whose role was a special one this day, as we made our way to an assembly room which had been cleared of chairs and converted into a hall of military justice for this day. There were no other witnesses, and Jift’s voice echoed in the room as he pronounced sentence. Rella looked at me once as she came in, and then looked at nothing at all, staring over our heads.
“Do you wish to say anything before execution of sentence?” Jift asked. I could not abide the snarl in his tone, and was repulsed by the way he seemed to be relishing this moment.
“Only that I am innocent, and go to my death with love for the Second Republic of Mars, and Sebastian, my King, in my heart.”
My chest swelled, and I almost stepped forward, but Thomas put a firm hand on my shoulder.
“It is out of your hands,” he whispered.
If she had looked at me I would have ignored Thomas’ words, but she did not, and without another word or gesture she walked to the gallows and mounted the steps. I felt my gut clench. The executioner quickly cinched the rope around her neck, and she refused the hood. She stood facing us, and then the executioner stepped quickly back and pulled the lever on the mechanism, dropping the floor beneath her.
As she fell, before I closed my eyes, she looked at me and smiled–
“No!” I shouted, unable to help myself.
I turned and ran from that place, as fast as I could.
“Sire!” Thomas called, but I pushed my way past him and bolted from the chamber. No one followed. Already I felt the clutch of the thin air in my chest, and began to fight for breath, but the image of Rella dropping to her death, the gasping sound she made as the rope went taut, played through my mind like an endless loop and I could not stop running. Even when my lungs heaved for breath I drove myself on. I was blind with pain and horror. I ran, and ran . . .
Finally, my lungs could stand no more, and I fell to the ground and lay gasping. I listened for sounds behind me but there were none. I had no idea where I was, and was half blind, all thought only on regaining my breath.
Finally, my lungs were sated and I lay breathing shallowly, thinking only of those horrible images –
I heard the faint slap and gurgle of running water nearby.
I sat up, still taking little gasps.
I looked around, and my eyes widened in wonder. I had run all the way to the cavern with the bones of the Old One by the running stream. As I looked at the skeleton it seemed to stare at me in mock accusation.
“Followww...”
My head jerked up, look
ing at the dark opening in the top of the cave wall.
Something flickered and moved there, then dissipated, a shadow.
“Hello?” I called tentatively, as I slowly stood.
The opening was empty and silent.
I stared at it for a long moment, then sat and removed my boots, carrying them with me as I once again crossed the chill waters of the creek.
On the other side I put my boots back on, staring at the silent pile of bones.
Without hesitation, I rose and walked to the cave wall, putting a boot toe into the first artificial rung.
I climbed, noting that the rungs were almost too far apart to accommodate a feline.
As I climbed, I kept an eye on the dark opening above me, which remained empty and silent.
I hesitated at the last rung, looking down and back over the water to the opening out of the cavern.
No one appeared to talk me out of my folly. There was silence behind and before me.
I hauled myself up from the last rung into the dark opening.
I lay there, breathing quietly, listening and looking into the gloom in front of me.
There was nothing.
No form flickered and shone before me, no sound echoed in the deep dark recesses. There were no shadows.
I stood, and began to walk.
After a few yards the tunnel turned to the right, cutting off the light of the cavern behind me. It then split and then forked again. I stood at the second fork, hesitating, but then I saw ahead to the left a faint illumination, rising, I discovered, from the walls of the cave. As my eyes became used to the gloom I saw that there were crude pictures on the walls which glimmered faintly, of birds and something that looked like the sun with circles around it. Attached to each circle was a ball.
There were, I now saw, hundreds of these drawings – things that looked like boats and others that looked like strange airships. I stopped to study one huge pictograph which stretched from floor to ceiling. It was once again of something I assumed was the sun with circles around it and balls which must be planets. Between the third and fourth of these planets was suspended a sleek airship.
I thought of what Newton had told me about travel into space . . .
There came a very faint sound in front of me.
I stood still for long minutes, waiting to hear it again, but was surrounded once more only by silence.
I proceeded, following the line of pictographs – buildings, mountains, strange machines and strange figures that looked like neither felines nor Old Ones. They were slender but small, with large heads, and their paws and feet were also too large. They walked on two legs but were strangely bent. Their eyes were too large for their faces. Some were whiskerless, others sported whiskers.
Then the pictures abruptly changed. All scenes of the sun, of mountains and desert dunes and aboveground, disappeared, replaced by renderings of caves and caverns and tunnels. There was another huge pictograph of what might be Olympus Mons itself, with literally hundreds of tunnels running through it from top to bottom, and even beneath. I wondered how accurate it was as some sort of map.
I was so entranced by this continuing line of odd figures that I did not see the end of my current passageway approaching, and bumped into a turn in the wall. The pictographs ended there.
I walked a short tunnel to another turn and then light began to glow in front of me.
I heard a rustling sound ahead, and hurried on.
I was blinded by light, and stood stock still at the opening to another massive cavern.
When my eyes adjusted to the return of illumination, I gasped.
“I don’t believe it,” I whispered to myself in awe.
Below me, on a cavern floor vaster than anything I had seen within Olympus Mons, was a sea of bright machines unlike any I had ever seen. There were so many, of so many different shapes – boxes of all sizes, and tubes and oblongs and two giant orbs with rows of windows and a silver rectangle a half block long and hundreds of others – that I could not comprehend what I was seeing. My mind was overwhelmed.
Forgetting the pain of the recent execution of Rella, I was overcome by wonder, and turned to retrace my steps, determined that I must find my way back and tell Thomas and the others what I had found.
But something was in my way, slightly smaller than myself, and I got a glimpse of huge eyes and felt hot sour breath on me before a long thin arm with a massive paw rose and came down, and I saw instant blackness.
Twelve
I awoke with a headache, and in darkness. I could hear someone rustling close-by, and again felt that wash of hot, sour breath move across my face.
In the dimness, I saw two saucer-shaped eyes regarding me. They blinked, a very slow process, and then there was a sound, like a brushing, hoarse whisper.
“Foood?”
I shook my head no, and the sour breath and massive eyes retreated a foot. I tried to sit up, and groaned.
On the back of my head was a lump the width of three fingers.
Again the figure asked: “Fooood?”
“No!” I shouted, and was surprised to hear my voice give a clanging echo. I lowered my tone. “No, I don’t want any food, you fool.”
“Foood?” the figure asked again.
My eyes had adjusted to the dimness now, and I saw that we were encased in a metal ball, perhaps one of the structures I had seen on the floor of the cavern.
“Why is it so dark in here?” I asked testily, and my companion gave a little hiss and stepped farther back away from me.
“Niiiiight,” he said.
“Oh.” I looked up and saw a dark row of windows which encircled the ball.
“Foood?” he asked again, which provoked me to anger.
“I told you –”
“Have fooood?”
My anger drained. I suddenly realized that he had been asking me if I had any food – not if I wanted any.
“No, I don’t have any food.” Again I tried to sit up, pushing myself back against the curve of the structure. My head did not hurt quite so much, and I rested the un-bumped side against the metal behind me.
“Why are you hungry?” I asked. “How do you normally eat?”
“Fishhh,” he responded immediately. “But no catch, today.” He pointed to me, and rasped out something like a laugh. “Catch youuuuu instead.”
For a moment a chill went through me, as those giant eyes once again blinked slowly.
“Surely you don’t mean to eat me,” I said, giving a short laugh.
Again the eyes blinked, which seemed to take an eternity.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
He pointed up – and again I saw how large his paws were in proportion to his body. “Topper.”
“Are you a Baldie?” I asked, abruptly realizing that I might be dealing with an offshoot of that crazy clan.
He hissed, jumping back, his mouth going impossibly wide. His eyes flashed amber in the dimness. I saw claws that must have been two inches in length emerge from his thin, long fingers.
He continued to hiss, looking from left to right.
“Hate Baldies,” he spat.
“All right, then, you’re not a Baldie. What are you, then?”
“Downer,” he said, his hiss petering out into what sounded like pride.
“Is that a clan?” I asked. I had never once heard the word.
“Not a clan – we!” He stood and pounded on his thin chest.
“Where do you live?” I asked.
He spread his arms out – and I suddenly realized that I may have discovered an entirely new clan, if not race of felines, that had never been seen before, who lived in the bowels of Mount Olympus.
Newton would be more than proud of me.
I banged on the side of the curving metal behind me and said, “And did you build this?”
He shook his head.
“Then who did – the Old Ones?”
Again, the long, slow blink.
Realizing he m
ay not have understood the term, I said, “Did the bigger ones make all these machines – the tall ones who used to live here long ago?”
He began to blink again.
“Don’t you know anything?” I shouted in exasperation, standing up to face him.
The eyes widened in alarm, and the huge paw was raised again, and again I saw blackness.
When I awoke this time the row of windows had flooded the metal orb with strange shimmering blue tinted light. I was alone. I saw that my enclosure was outfitted with internal instruments which centered on a round panel. There were three seats clustered around it, facing the panel. I climbed into the center seat and tried pushing various buttons and pulling various levers, but nothing happened.
I climbed down, and investigated the rest of my prison, which was about fifteen feet across. The level floor had been built about one third of the way up the sphere.
There was a puffing sound behind me, and my strange companion entered through a doorway which quickly irised closed behind him. I had not seen this entrance.
He held something long and wriggling up triumphantly and grinned, showing a row of startlingly sharp teeth.
“Fishhhhh!”
For a moment I had the horrid thought that he was going to bite into the still living creature, but instead he grasped it in both hands by the tail and quickly brought its head down on the floor. The fish went limp. He laid it out gently on the floor and seemed to pray over it for a moment, then produced a long rod from his tunic and drew it over the dead creature from end to end.
In a moment the fish began to take on the odor of...cooked fish!
“How did you do that?” I asked.
He ignored me, looked at the wand and then put it back into his tunic.
“Eeeeat!” he said, moving his large paw over the feast.
He dug his fingers into the steaming flesh of the creature, which was white and flaky.
In a moment my hunger overcame me, and I was squatting beside him, scooping pawsful of the feast into my mouth.
In between mouthfuls I said, “They’ll be coming for me, you know.”
He ignored me, continuing to eat with a slurping sound I found immediately distasteful.
Sebastian of Mars Page 6
