Chapter 18 – The City Of Babel
Solice is at the door with a spear and shield in hand. Looking a bit haggard but also eager, the light of battle illuminating her eyes. “The pit gates have been opened! Dangerous beasts roam the village. Tarith sent me requesting that you remain here for your own safety. We shall handle things.”
“Forget it,” Sarah declares. “I don’t know what’s going on but if we are in danger then it is our business.”
“And Whisper’s out there. I’m not waiting here,” I add. Knowing him if there was any fighting he was already in the thick of it.
Sarah nods. “We aren’t going to hide here. Just give me a sword and I’ll make them sorry for ruining my night.”
AMEN. I silently add. Solice looks us over and then to the widow where the sounds of clashing weapons can be heard over the wailing. I can tell she wants to get out there fast.
“Fine. Your fate shall be of your own making.” With that she turns, sprinting out of the room. Sarah wastes no time, quickly joining her. Giving the bed a mournful look I follow.
Bursting out of the inn we enter a sea of chaos amid a rain of fire. There streets are illuminated by tall umbrella-like trees that had been closed earlier in the day. Now branches extend outward on all sides with small nodules on each limb glowing red like a steady fireman’s siren. They emit the same wailing we had heard in my room. It makes the scene before me surreal.
Kiraten are banding together in small groups of three or four, driving back all manner of creatures, everything from velociraptors to fifteen foot tall giants wielding clubs. They jab at the rampaging creatures with spears and swords while protectively holding large shields out with sigils of repulsion in the center. Many of the sigils are already dimming.
Even as I watch more Kiraten rush forward, grabbing fresh shields and weapons from a cart carried by a melgui driven by a young child of no more than ten. The most disturbing thing is the faces of the Kiraten as they reinforce each small cluster of warriors. They aen’t scared or worried. They show no signs of apprehension as they join the fray. The only thing I can see is absolute bloodlust. They are enjoying this.
Rushing to the cart with Sarah by my side we quickly select swords and shields. I had forgotten my hivetung sword upstairs in the confusion. The sword I grab has a long, curved blade like a scimitar and is the color of blue fire with fiercely glowing sigils running from the tip to the hilt. Experimentally I swing the blade, marveling at its lightness and the way it cuts the air itself. I choose a small shield the size of a manhole cover with a single sigil of repulsion glowing brightly in the center and I sling it on my free arm.
Sarah picks the same type of shield I had, being the only ones left, and grabs a sword similar in shape to the ones we use in our Kendo class. A straight, double edged blade, it is a bright gold and it too has sigils along its center. She looks like a warrior princess turned goddess. Solice is already gone, having joined one of the smaller groups. Glancing around I see Solice just as her spear tip sinks into the knee of one of the lumbering giants. I have no clue what the sigil on her weapon does but it flares powerfully, visible even through the creatures flesh like an x-ray. The penetrated limb simply explodes at the point of impact, showering the area in blood and bits of red gore. Howling, the creature tumbles down and the Kiraten quickly swarm over it like army ants, stabbing as they go.
“Let’s find Whisper!” I yell over the cacophony of noise all around us. Sarah simply nods, rushing down the street as I hurry just behind her.
We don’t have far to go. Turning around the inn we see a large, white shape tearing into a midsize nightmare. Bathed in the red light it is hard to make out any details but I see at least a dozen slimy, gray tentacles whipping about, surrounding some type of circular bony shell. While the creature looks terrifying it’s no match for Whisper who had already torn off several limbs which continue to thrash on the ground, leaking black ooze from the stumps. Running to help I see Whisper leap high into the air, landing directly on top of the shell and pinning the creature flat. With a triumphant roar Whisper’s head dives down into the shell. A loud crack echoes over the unending wailing of the trees. A moment later a death shudder trembles through the creature’s remaining limbs before going limp. Raising his head out of the creature’s center Whisper looks at us as we draw near, the fur around his mouth black like ink.
“Shifter, what a glorious battle!” Whisper says, giving us his warrior’s grin.
“Whisper, what the hell is going on?” I say, panting slightly.
“I don’t know. I was eating some rather delicious meat when I heard the disturbance. Beasts were running in all directions and shortly after the Kiraten took up arms,” Whisper says.
“Where did they all come from?” Sarah asks but doesn’t get the reply, for at that moment the chaos finds us. Around the corner we had come from a group of Kiraten are being heavily attacked by four of the tall, humanoid creatures I saw earlier. Swinging large clubs the giants push back the Kiraten as the sigils on their shields steadily grow weaker at each successive blow.
“For clan shifter!” Whisper bellows, sprinting in the Kiraten’s direction. With a muttered curse Sarah and I follow.
The tall creatures are ugly by any definition of the word. Their skin is a deep, sickly yellow with coarse patches of black hair growing in random spots. With heads like large, deformed potatoes they have huge, off-center eyes and squashed noses that remind me of a Picasso painting. Any artfulness is off put by their wide mouths filled with shark-like teeth. Their arms nearly reach the ground and are heavily muscled with biceps as big as my shield. In comparison they have rather short, stout legs similar in size to the trunks of red wood trees. Armed with plain clubs the size of a man, they have dirty loin cloths covering their privates and move with a shuffling gate, using their free hand to aid each step.
Whisper gets there as one of the three remaining Kiraten’s shields goes out and the giant’s club lands on his head, squishing his entire body like a particularly juicy bug being stepped on. He’s killed instantly, parts of his body sticking to the club as it is lifted off.
Leaping at the nearest giant Whisper is knocked aside as another giant steps forward, swinging his club with an audible whack into Whisper’s flank. My heart skips a beat at the blow as Whisper crashes into the side of the nearest building. With insane reflexes Whisper is back on all fours in an instant, his white fur shimmering in the red light. Giving a low growl Whisper bounds forward again, this time dodging the blow and driving the giant down, scoring its chest with his claws. They must have some tough hides for Whisper’s blow doesn’t shred the giant apart but does leave long, deep rivulets of red running down from its chest. The Yet another giant swings its club and Whisper leaps off, circling the three remaining giants.
Arriving at the Kiraten’s side I am about to ask what the plan is when Sarah darts forward. If my heart skipped a beat at the blow Whisper had taken it stops all together at Sarah’s rash action. Before I know what I am doing I am at her side, rushing forward at a giant whose waist is taller than I am. The act takes the giant by surprise and before it can smash us Sarah swings her sword at its ankles in a golden arc. I expect the blade to get lodged in that thick mass of bone and for her to be knocked flat but that’s not what happens. Instead the sigils flare to life along the sword’s blade and the entire foot is severed as clean as a surgeon cut. A howl of pain and a torrent of blood gushes forth from the missing foot. Swaying the giant just manages to stay upright by planting both its hand firmly on the ground. That is until I severe it at the wrist. As I strike the sigils flash to life along my own blade and the hand twitches, lifeless on the ground followed by the giant a moment later. The fallen giant barely has time to scream before a Kiraten plunges a spear into its head. A shudder ripples across its skull and like a balloon with too much air it explodes in shower of sticky red bits, s
oaking me. Distracted at my showering of brain and bone I fail to notice a second giant stepping forward, its club swinging at me. I turn, raising my shield just in time as the club lands.
When I was five one my mother’s ‘boyfriends’ once in a stoned fit of rage tossed me down a flight of stairs. The giant’s blow is much worse. For a second I am certain that my sigil has failed and I am experiencing the last brief moment of my life before I spend the rest of my existence resembling a freshly squeezed can of Spam. Yet, even as I am hammered down to my knees, a flash of light blooms before me and the giant takes a step back, his blow repulsed by my sigil. With a furious roar Whisper, heedless of any danger to himself, rushed=s forward and with a resonating snap, removes the giant’s head in one powerful bite. Standing protectively over me Whisper glares at the last giant, spitting out the offending head. I half expect the creature to attack Sarah or the remaining Kiraten now attempting to surround it. But it does something far, far worse.
Dropping its club I see fat tears leaking from its oddly placed eyes. “I want home,” the creature says in a surprisingly soft, trembling voice. We all freeze, shocked at the revelation. All except the Kiraten. With practiced ease they hack down the giant. At one point it screams for its mother before being forever silenced. Before I can question what the hell is going on the Kiraten are off, presumably looking for more fights, leaving us alone.
“What the hell was that?” Sarah says, her voice weak.
“Some type of trick?” Whisper says, looking doubtfully at the dead giants. “Remember the helper crabs?”
“It was no trick, rat,” a voice says from the darkness. A moment later my shadow appears next to the fallen giants. Giving us a wicked grin he crosses his arms over his dark silhouette. My shadow looks far too pleased with himself.
“What did you do?” I ask, getting to my feet, not entirely sure I want to know.
“While you were making kissy faces with the woman, I went out exploring. These Kiraten are much more enjoyable than I had originally thought,” my shadow says, floating forward and picking at the Kiraten that was obliterated by the club.
“Kissy faces?” Whisper says, turning to me with an incredibly wide ferret grin on his face.
I feel myself flush red and I think Sarah does also but it could have been the red lights. “Yeah, well umm…” I say lamely.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say thinking back to the bed. It might really have mattered though if this happened two hours later. “What did you do, shadow?”
“Well, after freaking out a few punk kids and creatively playing with a few animals, I found this most delightful entertainment area. The Kiraten like blood sports it appears. They pit beast and these big guys against each other to the death,” my shadow says, gesturing to the dead giants.
“You mean like dog fights?” Sarah says, looking outraged.
“A bit, except the winner doesn’t eat the loser in those,” my shadow says, giving a very, very evil grin. “Still, it was very one sided. So I figured I even the odds by letting them out. I was disappointed by a few of these creatures. Most of the big guys simply cried for their mommies, running off into the night. Wimps.” I look back down to the dead giants, seeing everything in a new light. I feel utterly disgusted with myself. Sarah too looks like she wants to spit.
“Caged creatures, forced to fight to the death for entertainment,” Whisper says, shaking his large white head. “There is no honor in this.”
“Oh look, here come the Smurfs again,” my shadow says. Turning toward the inn I see two figures approaching.
“Shadow can you…” I begin.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” my shadow says, blending perfectly into the surrounding darkness. As he does so the wailing abruptly ceases and the red light from the trees turns a soft purple. I guess it’s over.
“These bastards have a lot to answer for,” Sarah growls just as fiercely as Whisper could have, staring at the figures coming closer.
“Yes, they do, but we are guests here and we need them to get home. Let’s stay calm and see what they have to say,” I say.
“I shall for you, Shifter,” Whisper says. “I find that I like these Kiraten less with each passing day. They are more like Solarkar than they admit.”
“Fine,” Sarah says with a sad sigh, looking at the dead giant who had called out for his mother.
Directing my attention back to the figures I see that it’s Tarith and Solice. Both look battle worn but that is the only thing they have in common. Tarith is solemn and walks as if he is carrying a heavy burden. Solice on the other hand, is elated. Her blue skin is flushed with excitement and her hair is a wild tangle that perfectly reflects the events of tonight. Each hold sheathed spears and shields with faintly glowing sigils on them.
Reaching us, Tarith gives a deep bow while Solice simply nods curtly. “Thank you for your assistance tonight. Many lives have been spared by your actions. I deeply regret the need to involve yourself in our private affairs,” Tarith says, bowing again.
“Tarith, you concern yourself too much with this affair,” Solice says dismissively. “They fought well and enjoyed the slaughter like we all did.”
“We didn’t enjoy it,” Sarah says harshly. “You imprison these beings to fight to the death for your entertainment? Where I come from I lock up people for a long time for doing such things.”
Solice gives us a contemptuous sneer. “Do not judge our ways, spawn of Palentor. The chosen of Valerdon may do with others as we see fit. It surprises me not that your weak kind is unable to appreciate the glory of battle.”
“The giants spoke,” I say, glaring at Tarith. “They wanted to go home.”
“They do that often,” Solice says in contempt. “It takes a lot of work to get them to fight in the pits. They are more apt to cry than to give a good fight.”
Sarah’s face is definitely red now and she is about to explode when Tarith speaks. “You are right, of course. Many of my kind hold those who are not Kiraten in low or no regard.” He gives Solice a sad look. “I and those who think like me, are a small minority. Please, let the matter rest. No good will come of arguing for the rights of others this night.”
Solice gives Tarith a sneer, “Perhaps you are a weakly creation of Palentor as well, Tarith.”
Tarith doesn’t explode in anger or give any sign he had heard her at all. One moment he is just standing there solemn, the next he delivers a viscous back-hand strike to Solice that sends her sprawling. “You will not address me as such, Solice of house Thanous. Now go, I wish not to see you the remainder of this night.”
Getting to her feet Solice spits blue blood on the ground, giving Tarith a look that could ignite wood. He just stands there, revealing nothing. Finally, with a tight bow, Solice turns and leaves but is unable to resist a parting remark. “I will go. There is still hunting left to do tonight.” With that she does a fast walk out of sight.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“She and others will ride melgui this night hunting down all those that fled rather than fight. Either they will be killed or brought back into the pits.”
“That’s monterous!” Sarah exclaims and Whisper gives a low growl.
“Yes, it is,” Tarith says. “There is nothing we can do. Please, go back to your rooms. We will depart early tomorrow.” He heads back toward then inn and then pauses, adding, “Extremely early tomorrow so that those who went out hunting this night will have a very unpleasant day.” Small victories I suppose.
“Let’s go get some sleep. I don’t want to be here any longer,” I say, tossing my sword and shield to the ground in disgust. Sarah does the same and with Whisper at our side we make our way back. I have to wonder what other surprises we would find on our way to Babel.
Not many actually. We travel long and hard over the next stretch of our journey. Tarith had said we would stop at no other villages and he was true to his w
ord. Days stretch into weeks until the city of Babel comes into sight. I expect a larger version of the village we had stayed in but that is far from the truth. If the village was a marvel this is a divine creation. We stand on a high precipice, having just traversed a mountain road and below us the land stretches out endlessly. Dominating everything is the city of Babel like a massive gold coin in a forest of green. The city nearly reaches the horizon itself and I can’t even guess at its size. Even from this great distance tall buildings can be seen with progressively smaller ones near the outer edge. Directly in the center, reaching into the clouds above and disappearing into the sky, is a tower of the deepest black imaginable. The contrast is startling.
“It’s beautiful,” Sarah says, joining me at my cliff-side view.
“That is Babel,” Tarith says atop his melgui who flutters its feathers at being so close to Whisper. “We shall reach it before dusk if we make haste.” Turning Tarith continues down the sloping road and with a final glance at Babel, we follow.
It takes the rest of the day to reach the city gates. From afar I didn’t appreciate the sheer scale of the city or the wall surrounding it. Now, standing before a set massive golden doors with intricate carvings on it, I crane my neck up to look at the top, many times taller than Whisper. I feel like a dwarf in a city of giants.
“Open the gates!” Tarith bellows from the lead position. “I am Tarith of house Thanous and we have urgent business with the Primehouses!”
A dim figure far above us gives an echoing reply. “We recognize you, Tarith of house Thanous. You are free to enter.” With a loud crack a sliver of light forms in the middle of the large doors, gradually expanding as the way opens. Sarah lets out a low whistle as we get a good look inside the city. The words golden city jump to mind, for the streets are literally paved with gold. Beautifully grown buildings line either side of the golden roads while Kiraten wander up and down both ends of the street. Some ride melgui while others ride creatures that I can’t even begin to identify. I feel like anything could happen here. Perhaps around the next corner a group of half dinosaur children will be playing jacks.
Our group does a slow march through the crowded city, giving me plenty of sightseeing time. The road is completely straight, going to an indistinct point in the distance like spokes on the wheel with tall buildings on both sides. In the center, looming over everything, is that dark shaft I saw from the cliff, even more imposing now. Many Kiraten stop what they are doing to watch us pass, gawking at us atop Whisper. I feel distinctly awkward. I am further dismayed when Tarith says we will be staying the night at yet another inn and finishing our journey tomorrow. Riders will be sent ahead requesting an audience with the Primehouses early the next day. We are given food and soft beds along with the promise of an early day tomorrow. Exhausted and anxious to get home, I fall fast asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow.
Way too early the next morning, we are off with Tarith to meet with the Primehouses. The rest of our group is allowed leave to see their families or attend private matters. I don’t mind. The arrogance of the Kiraten was getting on my nerves. The only one I actually like is Tarith.
Traffic is light this morning as a cool mist gently covers the city. We make good time, and by noon we are before another set of massive doors with an even taller wall than the outer one. I don’t know why, but it feels threatening. Perhaps it’s the armed guards walking high above us or that spiraling black tower stretching out of sight in the center of the city. This wall isn’t gold like the other but rather an ornate silver that conjures images of forbidden magic laying just beyond. Tall statues of various figures line the wall edge facing us. Each one is alien, yet oddly familiar like a person you meet in a dream. Before I can comment on them a voice booms from atop the wall.
“State your business!”
Tarith cups his hands to his mouth, craning his head up at the shouting figure. “I am Tarith of house Thanous. I have requested an audience with the Primehouses.”
A pause and I see several more figures gather together. A minute later the voice says, “Remain where you are.” With a loud groan of protest the doors open inward with slow steady precision. Any magnificence I feel this time at what lays beyond the doors is quickly forgotten at the sight of at least two dozen armed men waiting for us. Tensing below me, I hear Whisper let out a soft growl.
“Easy, Whisper,” I say.
“They better not try anything,” he says, too low for Tarith to hear.
“They won’t,” Sarah assures him from behind me. I hope she is right.
“A precautionary measure only,” Tarith says, looking serene.
One hell of a precaution. All the guards have thick gray armor on with large, brightly glowing sigils on their limbs and chest. They are all armed with long spears that have sigils on the blades with even more spiraling down the shafts. They look like ancient warriors from some fantasy book.
Striding forward the lead figure gives Tarith a short, insolent bow. He’s tall. The tallest of the Kiraten I have seen thus far. He could easily have played basketball with his long, agile frame. He’s dressed in armor that is black as night with overlapping, card-size scales that give him the look of wearing a dragon skin. The armor covers his entire body except for his head, and each scale has a small sigil of repulsion on it. It’s the same type of armor Solarkar had worn. Unlike the others in the company he has no spear but rather at his waist is a transparent red sword. It glistens and pulses of its own accord like a flame condensed into a finite shape.
Tarith dismounts his melgui gracefully and gives a long, deep bow to the man. Following his lead Sarah and I get off Whisper’s back with far less grace, giving the man a brief bow. Turning to regard us I get a good look at the Kiraten. Besides being tall he is handsome, like a male model with a finely chiseled chin and almost feminine cheek bones. I would say he’s flawless except for the large, thin scar running from his hairline down to his chin. Like all the Kiraten he has my green, slit pupil eyes, that signature green hair and light blue skin. He doesn’t acknowledge us but instead turns back to Tarith.
“These are the off-worlders you told us about, Tarith of house Thanous?” The man asks, his voice surprisingly gentle like a soft rain.
“Yes, Belguse of Primehouse Shujun,” Tarith says, bowing very low once more. Straightening, he gestures to me, “This is Jerry of house Price and his companions Whisper of house Price and Sarah of house Clifford.”
He finally gives us his full attention. Belguse does a careful inspection of Whisper, the most obvious threat then to Sarah where he seems able to appraise her just by studying her posture and then to me. We lock gazes and I see him frown as if I had done something rude to him in front of everybody. With a shake of his head he dismisses us like we are below his attention, addressing Tarith once more.
“The Pirmehouses need some time before we are ready to receive the off-worlders. Tarith, take them to the library. Be sure to school them on how to address their superiors. I find their insolent stares annoying.” Turning his back to us, Belguse of Primehouse Shujun barks a series of quick orders to his men before striding off. Many leave off on various tasks as the doors shut behind us while others stand at the ready, spears planted in the ground.
I consider myself to be calmer than either Whisper or Sarah but even I feel irritated by his attitude. Tarith notices our anger for he has a firm grip on Sarah’s arm. Her face is a rather impressive shade of red like she’sready to explode at any second. I see her struggling to take deep, calming breathes. Tarith’s other arm is on Whispers bristling fur.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” Sarah demands once Belguse is out of earshot.
“A dead man,” Whisper offers, glaring at his back. “The pup needs a lesson in manners.”
“Please friends, remain calm,” Tarith says urgently. “Those of the Primehouses are known to be the most favored of all Valerd
on’s creations. All other life is inferior to them. It is their right and due that all show them the upmost respect.”
It’s like ancient scripture justifying why one group of people is superior to all others. It smacks of royal arrogance and I nearly consider letting Whisper having him. Whisper is getting ready to spring, his warrior pride has been too offended. I am sure he doesn’t want to harm him but rather teach him a lesson like he would to any of the Bartendor clan who would disrespect us so. I doubt the Kiraten would see it as such. Rushing forward I reach high, grabbing his ear and pulling his head down to my level.
“Whisper, its ok. I know he’s a bastard but just a little while longer then we go home. Please don’t do anything,” I say urgently. I can feel Whisper trembling with fury.
“If I see him outside his stronghold away from his guards I shall teach him manners like the undisciplined whelp he is,” Whisper says. He never takes his eyes off Belguse as he disappears into the distance.
“For a change I agree with the rat,” my shadow says, startling both us. Nervously I look around. Glancing down I see him. He is acting like an actual shadow except for his mocking grin. My shadow has arms on hips and holds a confident pose which is anything but what I am feeling at this moment.
“Don’t do anything,” I warn quietly, making sure Tarith is out of earshot. Fortunately, he is still calming Sarah down. “Just a little longer and we can all go home. It’s not worth the trouble.”
“I will for you, Shifter,” Whisper says, relaxing. My shadow only shakes his head in disgust which looks odd since I do no such thing.
“Jerry of house Price,” Tarith calls out. “I shall take you to the library while we wait for our audience. Much there will be of great interest to you.” Whisper and I start toward him when he stops us with a raised hand. “Great warrior Whisper of house Price, the library is not built to accommodate one of your size. I will have a servant here gather you some refreshments while we wait for our audience.”
After a brief conversation with a guard Whisper is off to have a snack worthy of an entire company of guards while Sarah and I are appropriately dumbfounded by the library. I’m familiar with libraries, having spent most of my free time there when not in school or at the asylum. I’m used to seeing row upon row of knowledge perfectly preserved for future generations. Even so what I see in the Kiraten library puts everything else to shame. It isn’t the amount. Any library back home could easily beat it. No, it’s the age. Once we enter the building the feeling of ancient exploration instantly fills me. Manuscripts many thousands of years old line beautifully designed shelves which pale next to the books themselves. Any modern human book would be brittle like a dried leaf after so long. Not so with the Kiraten. Grabbing the nearest volume, I thumb through pages that are as subtle as silk yet tougher then the most durable plastics. Even the handwritten words did not fade with time.
“How old is this?” I ask feeling that this simple book is more wondrous and precious than anything I’ve seen of the Kiraten thus far.
“That is an account of the events on Fomoria over two thousand years ago,” a voice says directly behind me. Giving a startled yelp, I turn along with Sarah who is more bemused by my reaction of the books than the books themselves. A hunched, elderly Kiraten is there dressed in a fine brown robe, with Tarith a few steps behind him. He is the first elder I’ve seen among the Kiraten. The sight actually pleases me a great deal. I was beginning to think that, along with shifting and bioengineer creatures of unequal skill, the Kiraten don’t age as well. Unlike the youthful Kiraten I’ve seen, this man has a long, green beard and completely bald head which reminds me of moss hanging from an ancient tree. Walking with a limp, a large portion of his weight rests on an ornate cane that, from indents along its surface, also serves as an educational tool of the direct variety. Although he is old, his green slit pupil eyes shine with life. This is the type of man who lived his fullest right up to the end.
“I see we have finally found something that moves you, Jerry of house Price,” Tarith says. There is no mocking tone in his voice, but rather a deep respect. “Knowledge is a most worthy conquest. A fact that many of my kind lack the desire for.”
“Yes, indeed,” the old Kiraten says. “I and a few of my brothers in learning have dedicated our entire lives to the cause. We have preserved and updated all the knowledge you see before you.”
“If this is so valuable why are there no guards?” Sarah asks, then adds, “Umm, who are you?”
The old Kiraten chuckles. “I and my brothers here are known as the Grandfathers. We are the care-takers of knowledge among my people. It is considered a low art so there is no need for guards. I am Grandfather Udin of Primehouse Vanquise.” I stiffen at the name and I see Sarah too straighten up, a wary look in her blue eyes. Grandfather Udin doesn’t look surprised at our reaction. If anything he looks rather understanding.
“I know the name is familiar to you. I was informed yesterday about your arrival and have taken it upon myself to meet with you before your council with the Primehouses. Before you inquire I will tell you. Yes, I know the name of Solarkar, to my Primehouse’s very great shame. Such potential twisted by his own ambition. Not an uncommon failing among my people but never since the fall has it been so disastrous. Come, do not let the failings of a misguided youth ruin our meeting. I am grateful for all you have done and will gladly answer any questions you may have.”
I make a conscious effort to relax. This man is not Solarkar. I should know better than anyone that the faults of one’s family don’t reflect the nature of everyone else. My mother was a junkie who treated me like garbage. My uncle was her dealer and perhaps even her pimp on occasion. And my father… well best not to think about that until I get home.
Giving Udin a bow I say, “We are not our family, Grandfather Udin of Primehouse Vangquise. I’m sorry for my reaction. It just caught me off guard.”
“Me too,” Sarah says, also giving a bow like we had seen others do. “That bastard Solarkar has done so much wrong in my world that I overreacted.”
“Apologies are not required, Sarah of house Clifford,” Udin says, showing he already knew our names. “Come, let us walk and discuss many things before your council.” We are given the ultimate tour as Udin slowly walks in front of us, telling us much. I think the name given to him of Grandfather is well deserved and not from age, but rather from wisdom.
“I was informed that you are from Fomoria creations of Palentor,” Udin says as we ascend a flight of stairs to an upper level in a large open space. It gives us a great view of the library from up high.
“So we are told,” Sarah says doubtfully. I am too distracted by all the books to respond. I wonder if they would give me a library card.
“Before the fall, my kind did terrible things to your people. It has always been a source of shame for those learned in such things.”
“Such as?” Sarah says.
“What’s this fall you keep referring too?” I ask suddenly. Udin sighs. “You must understand, many of my people see all others as inferior.”
“Yeah, we got a good dose of that on the way here,” Sarah says bitterly. “What’s that got to do with our world?”
“In ancient times all Kiraten could shift. It was the greatest ability Valerdon gave us. Convinced of our own superiority to all others we spread out across all five worlds. My people saw this as our right of conquest. A divine edict if you will.” Udin stops before a mural, so intent am I on the books that I don’t notice what is before us until Sarah elbows me in the ribs. It’s incredible piece of artwork, nearly a story tall depicting the five worlds in great detail. On the top is an earth-like sphere with blue oceans and green land masses. It accurately shows the continents along with major civilizations at the time, including the Roman Empire. Below the mural is a word in an elegant flowing script Fomoria. Without a doubt that is Earth. Even more telling
are the four other world maps below it. Each separate yet connected by five pillars, one on each corner and one in the center.
Just beneath Fomoria is the world of Sheol. In stark contrast to Fomoria, Sheol is barren. Vast deserts stretch from one end of the world to the other with a few sporadic ruins depicted here and there. Dominating the map is a black ocean with a swirling vortex in the center like a unending hurricane. I am familiar with bits of that world, being the closest to my world. The black sands are there, along with the home world of Brick’s kind.
Next is Elysium, Whisper’s world. Sprawling jungles rule most of the land with a few pictures of purple crystals standing out like brilliant gemstones. Separating the land masses are deep, rich blue oceans that look untainted by all. It’s beautiful. Like an Earth untouched by man, wild yet harmonious.
Below Elysium is Pandedonium. An apt name for it has the most chaotic landscape imaginable. Tall mountains next to deep valleys that, even in the mural, seem to go right to the center of the planet itself. What appear to be several suspended islands are depicted in great detail, as if the laws of nature are void in that place. Inverted yellow waterfalls that boggle my mind show water flowing up to the sky, pooling there before falling back down in other locations. Green seas separate the continents with paintings of large serpents shown within. Yet all this pales next to a single red pool in the center of one of the landmasses. Written words in a language I don’t understand surround the pool over and over again. Danger doesn’t even describe what I feel upon seeing that. Of all the worlds, that one single red pool feels the most ominous of all.
Finally, in the most detail is Inti, expanding from the blue desert to the Dragon’s graveyard and far beyond. I now see that our entire journey for these past months stretches nearly the length of the United States. Yet there is much more to explore. On the map I see cities that chill me to the bone. Camelot, Atlantis, and Avalon are there along with many more I don’t recognize but from her expression Sarah does.
“I see you recognize many names in our world of Inti,” Udin says correctly reading our shocked looks. “That is not surprising. Before the fall, my people used our natural shifiting talent to aid us in spreading to many worlds, becoming recognized as heroes and even gods. It made us very arrogant.”
“What happened?” Sarah says, still staring at the famous city names on the Inti world map.
“The Five happened,” Udin says. “For my people’s acts of cruelty and domination of other life, a vote was made. Valerdon and Shalarom voted to allow my people to continue spreading out however we chose. The first and only known time the two were in agreement. The other three voted against the Kiraten and the fall began. Great destruction followed and the Kiraten were obliterated from all worlds except Inti. Many, fearing the wroth of the Five, shifted entire cities to Inti and were spared. In the end only five houses survived intact, one for each of the Five. They became the five Primehouses. All the other houses future descendants lost the ability to shift. Only the Primehouses were left untouched. Never again shall the Kiraten conquer other worlds and retrain the right to shift if they desire. Such is our legacy.”
“So all our tales of heroes and fabled cities are true then?” Sarah says, shaking her head in amazement.
“Exaggerated I’m sure, but true to a degree,” Udin confirms. “My people did many atrocities as well. Slavery and Genocide can all be traced back in our histories, to the actions of a few Kiraten who wanted to play god.” He gives us a shameful look as if the deeds of long ago still haunt him.
“You didn’t do those things, Udin,” I say. “We’re just amazed by all this. Most of the cities here are legends to us. Seeing them here as common dots on a map is overwhelming.”
“No kidding,” Sarah says, still looking at the maps.
“Is this why you and many other worlds speak English?” I ask.
“Yes, it was the common language for my people and we spread it to your world and the five others as well.” Udin says.
I am about to ask if the Kiraten ever had children with other races when a loud, rude cough from behind me nearly sends me tumbling over Sarah. It is Belguse. He has the look of a royal asked to clean up after a horse, which I am guessing sums up his feelings toward us.
“The five Primehouses will see you now,” Belguse says with the perfected air of royal snobbishness. Turning his back to us he starts off at a quick walk and Tarith makes frantic gestures for us to follow. I briefly consider doing a really slow walk just to piss Belguse off but it isn’t worth the trouble. Just a little longer and we will be home.
Going down long hallways with hundreds of statues and portraits lining the wall, it’s hard not to fall behind. Many depict Kiraten fighting great battles with everything from dinosaurs to dragons. Others are more unpleasant. One shows a gloriously clad Kiraten standing above a group of nearly naked, groveling humans. From Belguse’s attitude, not much has changed.
Minutes later we enter a great chamber and I am once again dumbfounded. I’m beginning to worry that I might never stop feeling like a country boy in this world. A grand ceiling several stories high loops around in a great circle with hundreds upon hundreds of chairs, all looking down at us like spectators at an arena. The place is packed. I instantly feel nervous as what seems like thousands of eyes track my every movement. Besides the audience chambers above, there are five chairs directly in front of us. I think of them as chairs but thrones would be more accurate. Each one is a master work of art and distinctly unique from the others. Some have curved tops with actual leaves growing from them, while others have a more sinister look, with bones and skulls decorating the crests. Upon each throne sits a Kiraten. Two are women and three are men. Each one is richly dressed with the utmost finery imaginable. All have that distinctive blue skin and wavy green hair.
“Follow my lead,” Tarith whispers. “Whatever you do, offer no offense and bow often.”
“At least my back will be stretched out by the time we get home,” Sarah says quietly.
Belguse steps forward, bowing deeply for the first time I’ve seen to the five figures above. “I, Belguse of Primehouse Shujun, your most trusted servant have brought the off-worlders before you. I have also brought Tarith of house Thanous, as well. He has traveled long with the off-worlders and has become familiar with their ways.”
“Come forth, Tarith of house Thanous, and be recognized,” the central kingly figure says. Handsome, he proudly wears many scars on his face like badges of honor. It gives him a rugged, manly air despite being short for a Kiraten. He has a hard, lean body that, if his face is any indication has seen many fights in his time. The word tough doesn’t do him justice. Garbed in a full body gray robe, that ripples, the Kiraten reminds me of some ancient monk whose finger could be considered a deadly weapon. Thousands of linked sigils are woven into the fabric, giving him the look of some deity as they shine brightly. He has no sword or shield, instead at his side is a fighting staff. It too has sigils of light all over it.
On either side of him is a female Kiraten, dressed as richly as any queen, with jewels in their hair and war paint on their faces. The contrast was startling. Were they to be praised for their beauty and elegance or saluted for their bravery and courage? Perhaps both. On the far ends are two more Kiraten men, dressed just as richly as the center figure but with less finery and more weaponry. They wear purple silken cloaks over full body armor just like Solarkar had, with hundreds of brightly glowing sigils on each individual scale. Shimmering swords covered in sigils lay rather casually across their laps, like dear pets.
Stepping forward Tarith bows low and following just behind him Sarah and I do the same. “Oh great speakers for the Primehouses, I your humble servant Tarith of house Thanous, have come before you on an errand of the utmost importance.”
“We have received your report,” the right-most woman says. She is well muscled like Solice with the look
of a professional fighter. Like the central figure she has scars on the visible portions of her skin, making no attempt to hide them, including her lean, almost gaunt face. Her garments are a perfect blend of elegance and armor. She wears a blood red skirt to her knees that looks as soft as a warm breeze yet sturdy as plate mail. Beneath the skirt are matching red leggings so perfectly blended to her skin it is indistinguishable besides the contrast to her blue skin. She has on a top that appears to be some kind of reptile skin, with black hexagonal sections each twice the size of a quarter, linked flawlessly together. The mail shirt ends at the elbows, forming a large V below her neck. She would have looked stunning if it weren’t for the blue face paint from her left temple to her right chin. The paint is too thin to be anything other than the blue blood of the Kiraten. I see no weapons on her, but she does wear thick matching red fingerless gloves that look rather worn from use. Everything has glowing sigils on it, from her skirt to her gloves. I see the sigils for repulsion on her armor, but her gloves have several I’ve only seen on weapons before.
“Off-worlders, I am Yawrith of Primehouse Ageroth. I welcome you to Babel. It is rare for folk from Fomoria to visit here. Tell me, how did you arrive here in Inti? Tarith’s reports were evasive on the subject.”
Shit. I rack my brain, trying to think of some type of evasion but none come to mind. A quick look at Sarah and she gives me a quick shrug. No choice left then, I suppose.
“I thank you, Yawrith of Primehouse Ageroth, for your warm welcome,” I say, bowing deeply. “I intentionally left out how I got here from Tarith of house Thanous, not for reasons of deception only of precaution,” I say diplomatically.
“I see now the time has come to tell all,” I continue. “Until recently I had the ability to shift myself.” A loud mummer rocks the crowd above and the speakers below. Even Tarith gasps. All five Primehouse speakers lean forward rather intently.
“How is such a thing possible?” The central figure says, fixating on me like a cat on a mouse.
“I’m not certain myself, umm…” I trail off, not sure how to address him.
“I am Liral of Primehouse Amun. To my left is Ewith of Primehouse Olympus and you just met Yawrith of Primehouse Ageroth. On the far left is Xarvin of Primehouse Shujun and on the far right is Gardith of Primehouse Vanguise.” I make a quick mental note of each name, hoping I don’t screw them up too badly.
“Now, answer the question,” Ewith says rather impatiently. She has on a full body suit much like Sarah and I do except hers is a brilliant purple, showing every curve of her very feminine body in great detail. Unlike Yawrith she is incredibly attractive, with no scars disfiguring her in the slightest and she has a very luscious build that would make any woman jealous. She doesn’t use blood for face paint but has yellow markings around her eyes, curling down to her lips. She, like all the others, is covered in sigils along with two long daggers strapped to her thighs.
“I suspect my father was a Kiraten,” I say. I don’t have to add from the Primehouses, that was already self-evident. Again a ripple goes through the gathered audience until Xarvin stands up, clanging his sword and shield together.
“Silence!” Xarvin bellows into the audience and then turns his well-lined face to me. Eldest of the five, he has the look of a combat veteran of a thousand battles. “You say you can no longer shift, Jerry of house Price? Why is that?”
“Yes,” I say. “In rescuing Sarah of house Clifford from Solarkar, I was deceived and I believe what you call a Razoha got inside me. Otherwise I would already be home by now.”
“You must have been troublesome for Solarkar to use such a creature against you,” Gardith of Primehouse Vanguise said, a rather fierce grin on his youthful face. “You have my thanks for that. Solarkar of no Primehouse killed many of my kin in his rise to power. I shall gladly skewer him myself when the time comes.”
“Do not get ahead of yourself, Gardith,” Liral says. “This boy mere existence is blasphemy. We Kiraten are forbidden to interbreed with the lesser races. Our recent history is a reminder of that is.”
I stiffen. I don’t like where this is going. “True, but forget not the law of the Five after the fall prevent any action being taken against this boy,” Yawrith says.
“Unless the Five themselves judge,” Liral counters.
“Why should we take such actions against the boy?” Gardith says, giving me a grateful smile. “He has fought against the traitor Solarkar and from all reports we now have a rough location of his whereabouts and actions.”
“Solarkar’s actions in another world does not concern us,” Xarvin says dismissively. “He is beyond the blue sands and reaching him will be perilous. Let him rot trying to carve himself a makeshift kingdom of lesser creatures.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” Sarah says to me in a whisper.
“Yeah, I think they are trying to decide what to do with me. I think some ancient laws are protecting us.” I say.
“You are right,” Tarith adds in our hushed conversation. “It was wise of you not to mention your origins before now. Some of my people would have killed you on the road for merely existing.”
“They could try,” Sarah says hotly though still quietly. An abrupt turn in the conversation of the Primehouses draws my attention back.
“His offspring could potentially shift across the worlds. Perhaps it would be better to geld him,” Liral says. I feel myself blanch.
“No. The law of the Five makes clear any action against those of other worlds must be decided by their own governing laws or by judgment of the Five,” Yawrith says.
“Fine,” Liral says with a defeated sigh. “The boy’s sire then. He would be Kiraten and subject to our laws. The punishment for breeding with another race is death. We must, at the very least, kill his sire so shameful events will not repeat endlessly. There must not be another Shame of Valerdon.”
Shame of Valerdon… that’s what that girl from my dreams was called. What is her connection to all of this? Suddenly the doors burst open behind us, interrupting both the conversation and my private musing. A platoon of guards approach, all with fierce glowing spear tips of purest white crystal. They wear black, full body armor and look like a type of erect beetle. They kneel just behind us, bowing low to the floor. The speakers of the Primehouses glare angrily at them for the interruption.
“Forgive us speakers, but we have urgent business,” the lead guard says through some filter by his mouth, still kneeling.
“You had best for interrupting us,” Liral says, the threat clear in his voice.
If the man realizes the danger he gives no sign. Getting to his feet he anxiously scans the room as if expecting assassins to leap out at any moment. “The Farwatchers have detected signs of corruption in this very chamber. It is a power unlike any other they felt since the last great war.”
Shocked, the speakers drop their look of annoyance, changing to one that could be best described as fear. “The power of Shalarom, here in this chamber?” Ewith says, drawing her knives.
“That’s impossible. The way has been sealed for more than one hundred years,” Xarvin says. “Is it the girl again?”
“No, Xarvin of Primehouse Shujun, this power if far beyond the Shame of Valerdon’s ability.” The guard says as they continue to scan the room.
What are they looking for? The white glare from their spear tips is painful beyond just the brilliant light they cast, as if is burning me. Suddenly I remember where I saw this light and these weapons before. From my dream! They were torturing the girl and looking for some corruption when I showed up with my… Oh my god!
“Look!” Xarvin says, trembling and pointing an unsteady hand at me, the brave fearless warrior now gone. “The boy has no shadow!” It is true of course.
“It can’t be!” Liral says, going pale. “The abomination is supposed to be dead!” He turns an accusing glance to Yawrith. “You assur
ed us he was dead!”
Yawrith, if anything, looks more shocked than all the others. “He is dead.” She says it with a hint of uncertainty.
“Obviously not, Yawrith of Primehouse Ageroth!” Liral screams, shaking the room itself with his fury. “His spawn is standing before us!”
“Perhaps he sired the boy before his death,” Yawrith says weakly, looking like she might vomit at any moment.
What the hell is going on? Turning, I see Tarith staring at me with horror in his eyes like I had just transformed into a rampaging dragon. Next I meet Sarah’s eyes, who looks just as bewildered as I.
The only one who isn’t paralyzed is Belguse, who has the light of battle in his eyes. “Seize the boy!” He commands in his most powerful tone. “Find and take his shadow!”
“Take me?” Says an all too familiar mocking tone from the far wall. “You’re funny, blue man. Thinking that you could do anything to me.” A moment later my shadow, high up on the ceiling, drifts down before everyone becoming an utterly dark silhouette leaning causally against the wall as if a room of hostile Kiraten are no more threatening that a group of angry kittens.
“Seize it!” Belguse yells and the men with the spears of light immediately obey. Images of my shadow cringing like a vampire before a cross fill my head as the spears are lowered, thrusting directly at my shadow. The light from the crystal tips flashes brightly as they near him. He only laughs as his darkness stretches out, smothering each spear tip as if they were weak candles in a strong breeze. A moment later they are all extinguished. Well not completely extinguished, but corrupted and turned a deep, sickly black with cracks crisscrossing the formerly brilliant crystals. If I had thought Kiraten fearful before now they show outright terror. Screams and shrill cries to Valerdon erupt on all sides as weapons are drawn. Over everything, echoing deep in all our minds is the ceaseless laughter of my shadow.
The men with the defiled crystal spears throw them to the ground as if fearing the corruption would spread to their limbs. Several draw short swords covered in sigils and charge my shadow. Could he be harmed by such weapons? I didn’t find out. Before they could slash at his dark silhouette my shadow grows incredibly large. Larger and more terrible than I’ve ever seen. It’s as if he had become a dark reflection of a demonic dragon. The men falter. My shadow doesn’t leave them time to decide what to do. Falling upon them, the men are smothered completely by a half formed bubble of darkness. More shouting from all directions but it does no good as the frantic struggling beneath the semi-sphere of darkness slows and stops altogether. The Kiraten are already dead.
No longer thrilled by the prospect of battle Belguse, spared from my shadow’s initial assault, turns toward me, his rational mind gone. He is now completely in the grip of fear. “If I kill you it will be gone too,” Belguse says, drawing his sword. Ignoring all else he leaps at me with animal fright, trying to skewer me like a roasted pig. He might have succeeded if not for Sarah. Having been completely ignored she is able to side kick Belguse as he leaps. The sigils on his armor flare, knocking Sarah aside but also sending Belguse enough off balance to miss me and land next to my shadow.
Collapsing from the blow, Belguse is on all fours as he slowly looks up at my shadow who has reformed into his standard dark silhouette looming over him. A tremble shakes his body and a small trail of clear snot leaks freely from both nostrils as he stares into the abyss, and with a smile, it looks him straight in the face. Belguse screams as my shadow covers him, the sigils on his armor flaring from all sides, repulsing the darkness for a few seconds before failing and being completely smothered. A second later, Belguse of Primehouse Shujun was gone.
Straightening, my shadow has such an evil grin on his dark features that I actually feel afraid for Sarah and myself for a moment. Before I could act to contain him, a voice speaks up directly behind me.
“I’m so sorry, Jerry of house Price,” Tarith says as a sharp pain cracks my head. “This must end…” Blackness as deep as my shadow takes me and I know no more.