“Alexander Ashton!” I heard from my right. I turned and saw Bentar Hissendar rushing toward me. I recognized his crest, a sun held by a hand, before I recognized his face. It seemed as though it had been an eternity since I had seen him. “Alexander Ashton.”
I grasped the Amatharian knight by the hand, and then clasped him in a great hug. “Bentar Hissendar,” I said. “It has been forever.”
“Indeed it has been a long time for me too,” he replied. “I saw you at Tular Maximinos’s ceremony, but didn’t have time to speak to you. You reported him well.”
“What brings you here?” I asked.
He laughed. “That is the kind of question that only you would ask. I am here to visit the Temple and see the monuments.”
“Oh,”
“We must be going,” said one of the templars.
“The High Templar is waiting,” said the other.
“He can wait!” I said, with far more vehemence than I meant. All four of the Amatharians seemed taken aback.
“I was coming to see you soon,” said Bentar Hissendar after a moment.
“Oh?”
“My uncle is planning an expedition to the chamber you and Norar Remontar found beneath the Mountains of the Orlons, and I am to command it. I could certainly use the expertise of one who has been there before, and since Norar Remontar is otherwise occupied, I thought that perhaps you would be interested in going along.”
“I would be happy to,” I said, thinking of the excitement of once again setting off on adventure. “I will begin getting ready.”
“There is no rush,” replied the smiling Amatharian. “We will not be leaving until after the wedding.”
“Wedding?” I wondered.
“Your wedding.”
“I wasn’t even aware that arrangements had begun in earnest,” I said looking at Vena Remontar.
“I know that you are not one for details,” she said, touching my cheek with the back of her hand, “so I have made the arrangements.”
“I will contact you,” promised Bentar Hissendar. “Farewell kinsman.”
He hurried off toward some distant building, and we continued on our way to the Temple. Our two escorts didn’t look particularly pleased with me, but I didn’t care. I knew that I had friends here in Amathar, and didn’t really care what the relatively cloistered group thought of me. We walked up the great flight of stairs in the front of the Temple and entered the great hall within. Continuing on, we were led further and further into the great structure. At last we were led into a large room where Oldon Domintus awaited.
“I am here,” I said.
“I once promised you that after you had answered our questions,” he said, “we would answer yours.”
“I remember.”
“Most of the answers you seek are here,” he handed me a book. I looked at the title. It was, written in Amatharian, “Word of Amath.”
“Thank you,” I said. I realized that I hadn’t seen this book in any of the many bookshelves I had scanned through, though I knew that every Amatharian carried a copy on his person. It seemed strange, but then many of the Amatharians’ ways were simply different.
“But there is more,” he said. “There is something more for you in there.”
He indicated a door behind him.
“Vena Remontar and I will wait here till you have finished.”
I walked to the door and pushed it aside, expecting some trap or terrible monster beyond, but there was neither. The door led to a small chamber, with a single chair and a single table. The table was actually more akin to a display case with a glass top. The chair had been arranged at the table/display as if to use it as a desk. I sat down in the chair and looked down through the glass top at the case’s contents. Inside the glass case were three single page documents on ancient parchment. They were obviously old, faded, wrinkled, and yellowed, but still legible. One sheet was written in German. I had seen enough of it in the service to recognize it immediately, even if the grammar and some of the vocabulary weren’t identical to English. The second sheet was written in one of the romance languages. I would guess that it was Latin, as it obviously wasn’t French or Spanish. It could have been Romanian. The third was in English. Even though I could truly only read one, I was pretty sure that this was the same document written in three different languages. It was a letter. This was the text. Dear fellow man of Earth,
If you have made it to the point of being presented with this letter, then you have been accepted by the people, and I congratulate you. My name is _________. I am a math teacher from Los Angeles, California, Earth. How I arrived here I do not know, but I believe that I am not the only one to make the journey. I believe that others have come before me, and if you are reading this, then you have come after. When I left my home planet it was a cold winter night in December 1939. I have never wanted to return. Though I had my career, I had nothing else there. I had no family and few friends. Here I have found everything that I have ever wanted. These people are my people. You know what a beautiful world this is. You know how wonderful these people are. You know the follies of our old world. Do not let those follies flourish here. Protect this world. Guide these people. Be my legacy. Be good and honorable.
“A math teacher,” I mused. “A math... Amath... Amath.”
I stood up, pushed in the chair, and exited the small room, sliding the door shut behind me. Vena Remontar and Oldon Domintus were waiting. I gathered from their body language that had expected me to be much longer. They both looked expectantly at me, waiting for me to say something, but I was still thinking. At last, the High Templar spoke.
“What are you?” he asked.
“I am the legacy of Amath.”
Chapter Thirty Five: Destiny
That was a while ago, probably two months, if you believe in such things. Quite a bit has happened since. I still don’t know what it means to be the “Legacy of Amath”, but if there is a single Amatharian who is not aware that this is what I am, I would be greatly surprised. Oldon Domintus announced my new title, and by the time I reached my own home, there were several dozen letters wishing me well. So far the only duty that this new station seems to entail is the reading of The Word of Amath, which I have enjoyed. I suspect though that at a later time, this title is going to cost me. Just after the great revelation, if that is what you call it, of my status in the Temple of Amath, Vena Remontar and I were married. The Amatharian wedding ceremony is quite dissimilar to the one which I had seen just prior to my leaving the earth. I am not all that familiar with ceremonies around the world, so perhaps it would be unfair to say that it was unearthly. It was less like a wedding than a parade. The couple starts out together at the home of the young woman’s parents, and walk to their new home. Along the way, friends and well-wishers fall into line and hence the parade effect. I must say, that by the time we reached my new apartment, where Vena Remontar had agreed that we would live, we had a mighty throng of family, friends, and well-wishers following along.
The act of entering our new home was the ceremonial conclusion of the wedding, though we were obliged to send numerous written declarations of our new marital status to our parents, our family elders, the Overlord of the Clan, and the Temple of Amath. It wasn’t just because of who were either. Everyone has to do it. But as we walked into our new home together, and I looked into the bright eyes of my new wife, I felt a joy that I had never known before. I was now a part of a family.
“Vena,” I said.
“Alexander?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”
“Why?”
“It seems so strange to say a single name. It seems so intimate, almost taboo.”
“It is intimate. And so are we.”
I pulled her close to me and touched her face, marveling at the difference between the deep blue of her skin and my own kind of dusky, pinkish, peachy, well, I don’t know what. You know. It’s the color of those flesh-colored bandages. Anyway, it reminded me th
at I was the alien. I felt so at home in Amathar, that I had grown used to seeing so many handsome dark blue faces, that I almost surprised myself when I looked in the mirror each morning.
Vena and I settled right in, and it took very little on my part to get used to living in the same home as this marvelous creature. She no doubt had much more of an adjustment to make. It was the best time that I have ever had.
As promised, Bentar Hissendar found us and asked both Vena and me to accompany him on his expedition to the mountains of the Orlons. He had been given command of Sun Battle Cruiser 49, and with all the resources it commanded, as well as the two cruisers which were already at the mountains, it was a small effort to take charge of the ancient underground city and flush out the Kartags and other nasties that had made a home there. I had forgotten how unnerved I had been when Norar Remontar, Malagor, and I had traversed the subterranean passages so long ago, but there is a big difference between feeling your way along a dark passage by yourself, and invading an underground cavern with an entire army and thousands of artificial spot lights.
Of course, establishing the underground Orlon city as a protected base was the easy, and the less interesting part. What Bentar Hissendar was really after was the Chamber of the Elder Gods, that room which had been a holdover from the time that Ecos had been constructed by whatever strange beings had undertaken that enormous task. There was some difficulty in locating the correct passage, but at last the room with the mysterious elevator (or I should say rooms, since it was learned that the elevator opened onto nine different locations) was found, and a team of Amatharian scientists set to work to examine every artifact. It was hoped that each article would reveal all of its secrets over time, with a great deal of study. This was to be a long term project.
Vena took charge of a company of warriors and busied herself flushing out every last unsavory creature that was to be found. There were literally thousands of Kartags in the lower passages, as well as a few Pell, and hundreds of disgusting predatory and scavenging animals. Once that was done, all of the exits were sealed to prevent re-infestation.
I on the other hand wanted to play the scholar for once in my life and investigate the secrets of Ecos’s creators. I was put in charge of a piece of equipment for study. None of the Amatharians could make any sense of what it was, but I knew immediately. It was some sort of transmitter. I didn’t know where it transmitted, or to whom, but the controls seemed so intuitive that I marveled that these learned scientists failed to understand it. Of course it was something that they could never have appreciated. No Amatharians would ever have thought of sending his voice to someone a great distance away. The thought was distasteful. Amatharians always dealt face to face or through the written word. I wrote out an extensive report of the device, but none of those who read it was particularly impressed with either my writing skill or the subject.
I decided that I could make use of the mechanism on my own. I took out my journal and rewrote it in English to be transmitted by the new discovery. This was really an exercise for me because I am sure that it will never reach anyone who could read it, and if it does, there is no one who would really care what had happened to me. Everyone who cares about me is here in this strange world. But I’m going to send my story on its way to who knows where anyway. Just a few more sentences, and I will press the transmit button.
I don’t know what lies ahead. There is so much of Ecos to explore. I think of all the places that I never went while living on Earth, and then I remember that here in my new world, there is three billion times as much to explore. It boggles the mind. Whatever I choose to do, or wherever I choose to go, I now have somewhere to return. I have my beautiful wife. I have my many friends. I have my duties, my clan, and my city. I am an Amatharian now. That is all I really need. Now, or ever.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wesley Allison lives in Henderson, Nevada with his wife Victoria, daughter Rebecca, and his son John. He has taught English and History at B. Mahlon Brown Junior High School for fifteen years. Princess of Amathar is his first novel.
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