CHAPTER NINE
Pzolgon rose from his throne to address the multitude gathered in the vast Atrium. This day dawned with a very grave matter to be addressed; one that was foretold an immeasurably long time ago and was now to come to pass. He looked down at the countless silent throng gathered here and knew what must happen. His expression was dark as he addressed his people.
“Adherents of the Transmortal truth. I stand before you this day to bring you grave news. It has been brought to our consciousness from the Great Immortal that the time foretold to us so long ago is soon to come to pass. The one who has been prophesied will soon draw his first breath. The one who wishes to keep us from The Veil.” The crowd of adherents all drew in a breath, shocked at the news they were hearing. Pzolgon continued. “Ever since the first Pzolgon journeyed to The Veil and returned blessed with the gift of Transmortal Truth has this time been foretold. Over thousands of lifetimes we have known and prepared for the coming of this evil one. Ever since that first Pzolgon began to pass on the gift of Transformation to the unfortunate mortals, we have waited for this dread moment. This morning our Visionary saw the moment the evil seed was sown into the fertile soil of the uninitiated. Now that seed lives and grows in the filth of its mother’s mortal womb and plots against the great Transmortal Truth.” Shocked murmurs began to wend their way around the Atrium as the Adherents heard what Pzolgon was telling them. “Adherents, we have devoted our lives to bringing the gift of Transformation to those unfortunate uninitiated; to offering them the greatest gift the Great Immortal has to offer, to bringing them The Veil. Are we to stand by and let this evil doer keep countless millions from receiving this greatest of gifts?”
The crowd of Adherents roared into life. “No, no, no.” Pzolgon looked around the Atrium at the multitude and smiled.
“How do we proceed?” he challenged them.
“Kill the evil one,” they all replied as one.
“It will be done,” Pzolgon assured them. “We cannot allow one evil doer to prevent the coming of The Veil. It will be done.” He turned and strode out of the Atrium, the Adherents’ roars ringing in his ears.
“So where is he, this evil one?” he asked his Visionary who was deep in a trance like state communing with The Great Truth.
The Visionary was at the Windows of Time looking for the evil one’s whereabouts. This device is what the Transmortal Visionaries use to see through time, both past and future. The device consists of two ice blue coloured crystal spheres each four inches in diameter onto which the Visionary holds. As he opens his vast mind the power of these magical crystals enhances his mind’s energy field to such a degree that he can see vast distances through space and time. It takes many years of training for the Acolytes before they are able to use the Windows of Time without damaging their minds permanently.
“Well, where is he?” Pzolgon was getting impatient with the Visionary.
“He’s in sector eleven, a system called Lilea. He is due to take his first breath in one month.” The Visionary saw the look of satisfaction on Pzolgon’s face at this knowledge.
“Good, that gives us plenty of time to get there.” He strode out of the Visionary’s temple and went to speak to his commanders. “Sector eleven, the Lilean system. We must travel invisibly and get there quickly; the evil one will draw his first breath in one month.”
“At once,” the Commanders responded together, thumping their right fists against their chests in the customary salute to their Pzolgon. They returned to their positions and steered the enormous silent Transmortal ship on its way to the Lilean system to keep this most important date with destiny and kill the evil one.
The vast hulk of the Transmortal ship is at all times a mobile battle ship, home to the Pzolgon, Visionary and the Adherents, and place of the Oracle of Transmortal Truth. The Oracle is at the very heart of the ship and is the place where all new initiates are brought for their transformational procedure. The Transmortals have one sole aim, to bring every human life to the Oracle to receive the Transmortal Truth. Only when this is done; when every human life and mind receives the Truth, can The Veil come into being and take them all into the presence of the Great Immortal for eternity. While there is even one human mind that does not receive the Truth, The Veil cannot be manifest. Those that choose transformation willingly have a pain free and untroubled experience within the Oracle, but those who resist and must be forced to receive the Truth find the experience most distressing. Many die during the transformation process and all the deaths are celebrated. It is the Transmortal belief that those who die during transformation are the lucky ones for they are believed to be taken directly to The Veil by the Great Immortal. The process of transformation has many effects upon the one receiving the Truth. It extends their life span by hundreds of years and gives them immense psychic awareness and telepathic abilities.
The very first Pzolgon stumbled his way upon the Transmortal Truth by accident. He was a young man at the time, just twenty six years old and in the prime of his life. He became ill due to an infection he received from an insect bite and he went to the very brink of death and hovered there for many weeks. As he traversed his way between life and death, he grew accustomed to his new state and eventually his soul lost all connection with the imperfect physical life, where there is no truth. When his body returned to life the soul within it was changed forever. He had received the Transmortal Truth, glimpsed The Veil and once he returned he knew what his great quest was to be. He knew he must give others the gift of the Truth, taking them to the edge of death and using his vast telepathic mind to hold them there until their souls forgot their connection with physical life and returned changed forever.
Some of the early experiments with transforming the uninitiated resulted in a disaster whose effects are still evident today. The ones chosen to receive the gift were very primitive humanoids, taken from their own primitive home world to the Transmortals new base for transformation, but the process changed them in a way that was unexpected. They did not return true the way of the Transmortals, but broke away and went their own way. The first few Pzolgons spent thousands of years perfecting the process of transforming the uninitiated, but those early subjects eluded all attempts to make them true Adherents of the Transmortal Truth. They returned the changed ones to their original home world and forgot them. They chose new subjects and over thousands of years their numbers grew and they spread to neighbouring planets, bringing the Transmortal Truth with them wherever they went. They saw themselves as the bringer of the greatest of gifts; the opportunity to enter The Veil and be in the presence of the Great Immortal. Those early transformation test subjects did not simply vanish into the vastness of the universe though. After all, they were transformed forever, just not in the way that was anticipated. They grew and flourished at a rate unheard of in normal evolution and they soon became a powerful, mighty race. All of the subsequent Pzolgons knew of these early initiates, it was Transmortal history that every Adherent knew and studied. Those early initiates were transformed, and so they believed that they would not stand in the way of the coming of the Veil, as only those who have not been through transformation were to be feared.
The Veil is a place beyond physical death, beyond what might be called heaven or the spirit world or land of the dead. It is beyond everything that is known or unknown. It is a world of pure psychic energy where souls abide without desire for physical life. The Veil cannot exist where there is want for physical life. Those that receive the Truth within the Oracle emerge with no want or desire for physical life; they wait only for the coming of The Veil and they know in order for it to come into being, every human soul must be transformed. As the Transmortals grew in number, now and then one would come who was able to develop their psychic and telepathic powers to an immense level. These became Transmortal Visionaries, scanning through time itself and advising their Pzolgon. It was one such Visionary who first glimpsed the evil one. He was scanning
through time looking for anything noteworthy to report to his Pzolgon, when he saw it, one single man bringing an end to the Transmortal Truth forever. He was horrified and reported it immediately to his Pzolgon, and the prophecy was born. Over the intervening millennia Visionaries came and went but always the evil one in the future was observed and, as his time grew close, the Transmortals decided it was time to face the prophecy, and they drew their plans against him.
Pzolgon was in the throne room when the announcement came through. “Mighty Pzolgon, we’re approaching the Lilean System now Sir.” He looked up and smiled to himself; at last his date with destiny was here and he would show the Great Immortal that no prophecy was going to prevent the coming of The Veil. This would surely please the Great Immortal, who might even grant him increased powers and dominion over many more of the unfortunates who were still without the Transmortal Truth. He rose and called to his aides.
“It is time, prepare me for battle,” he ordered as they rushed around him, fussing with his armour, cloak and cowl.
The Lileans didn’t know what hit them when the Transmortals descended onto their planet. They cloaked themselves so they could arrive invisibly before the evil one’s people could save him. The multitude of Adherents swarmed over Lilea, killing everyone they saw and showing no mercy. They razed the great cities to the ground, burned homes and all who dwelt there and when they came upon pregnant women, they tore the new lives from their wombs and snuffed them out, celebrating each death that took a new soul directly to The Veil. These Lileans, the people of the evil one would themselves swell the ranks of the Transmortal multitude and receive the Truth. Those who refused would die. Pzolgon didn’t normally take a personal part in the gathering of souls but he knew this day was different. This was the day that was prophesied and he was the one destined to meet and kill the evil one. So he strode across Lilea amongst the multitude, looking for newborns or those of the women who were obviously near to giving birth and he took great delight in his task for he knew that the Great Immortal was watching and would be pleased.
He was watching the fires burning the Lilean civilisation to ashes when he heard a woman’s cries nearby. As he walked towards the sound, another cry joined hers; the cries of a newborn. Suddenly his mind was filled with images of death; his own death and the falling of the Transmortal Empire. He probed with his psychic mind towards that cry and knew without a doubt that this child who was just taking his first breaths, was the evil one. He strode onwards to meet his moment of greatness and saw before him the woman, dead upon the ground. The newborn was lying between her thighs still attached to her by the cord. He knew that this child was the evil one, he even killed his own mother being born from her body! He stood there in the Lilean night, the winds catching his cloak and cowl, making them billow out in all directions. As he watched, his fury grew until he could contain it no longer. He would snuff out this evil doer right here and now. He strode purposefully over to the child, took hold of his ankles and deftly sliced through the life giving cord as he hoisted him high into the air. How could a mere newborn snuff him out? This weakling child who was without the Truth would never prevent the coming of The Veil. He screamed his anger at the boy, spitting with rage into the Lilean night.
“You will not be the one foretold to me Lilean child. You cannot kill me. You will not bring me down. You will not see me out. No prophecy of yours will end my days. You and your people will be forgotten before I am replaced.” Roughly he cradled the boy, put his other hand over his face and smothered him until he breathed no more. The evil one was dead. He, the Mighty Pzolgon was the one to outwit the prophecy and ensure the coming of The Veil. He felt sure the Great Immortal would smile on him and his people now. He tossed the child’s body into a midden. “Filth is as filth does,” he murmured to himself and strode away to announce the success to the multitude. As the Transmortal Army left the Lilean System, they celebrated their victory over the evil one, over the prophecy that hung over their heads for many thousands of years and they felt sure the Great Immortal was happy with them.
Pzolgon snapped himself out of his reverie. He often let his thoughts drift back to that glorious day when he destroyed the evil one. It was his defining moment and one of which he was immensely proud. The intercom interrupted his thoughts.
“Mighty Pzolgon the Visionary requests your presence; there is an urgent matter he wishes to bring to your attention.” He got up and sighed to himself and made his way to the Oracle to see his Visionary. What could he want now? When he entered the Oracle the Visionary looked at him gravely, his worried expression evident. What he discovered would wipe the smile from the Pzolgon’s face forever.
“Mighty Pzolgon, a grave matter indeed has come to my attention.” The Visionary was pacing up and down, wringing his hands.
“Well what is it, dammit man, out with it.” Pzolgon had little patience today.
“I was scanning the time stream as normal and I err, I found something that isn’t supposed to be there.” He looked genuinely frightened now and his fear began to percolate to Pzolgon himself.
“What have you found? Tell me Visionary or do I have to tear it out of your mind myself?” he threatened.
The Visionary looked terrified at the thought and continued, if rather falteringly. “It seems that err, that is, it seems as though umm, that he still umm, lives,” he backed away from Pzolgon once he got the words out, terrified of what his leader might do to him in his anger. Pzolgon didn’t at first understand what the Visionary was on about, but slowly realisation crept through his mind and as it did so, he became enraged.
“He lives? How can this be? I killed him myself at the moment of his birth. Tell me this is not true Visionary,” Pzolgon roared, anger, fear and loathing fuelling his rising temper.
“I cannot Mighty Pzolgon for it is true, he still lives and breathes. He is still the one prophesied.” The Visionary backed himself right into the corner of the Oracle chamber; there was nowhere else to go.
“Where is he? Where is he? Tell me where he is now.” Pzolgon was beside himself with rage and it took all of his willpower not to crush this messenger of doom right here and now.
“He is at the site of the first Oracle from the very first Pzolgon all those lifetimes ago. The place where our first mighty ruler began to transform the uninitiated and the place where the early initiates turned their backs on the Transmortal Truth. He is on the planet Vinbuk Sire.” Pzolgon thought this was interesting and ironic that the evil one should find himself at the very place where their own first leader began to perfect the transformation process and where those early subjects turned their backs on the Truth. Maybe this was the Great Immortal’s way of granting him the privilege of righting the great mistake made by that first Pzolgon. Maybe in killing the evil one in that place, the stain left by those early mistakes can be erased and allow them into The Veil untainted by the errors of the past. He marched out of the Oracle and ordered his Commanders to travel invisibly to the Vinbuk System with all haste.
Vincent looked down at the domes and even from the top of the mountain where he stood, they looked huge. He squatted and rummaged in his backpack for his scope and scanned the whole area below. No signs of anyone around, in fact they looked as if they’d been deserted for hundreds of years. In places there were cracks and holes in the domes and the vegetation encroached so far that they were almost completely covered over. Syra told him he was to meet his moment of destiny here so he guessed whatever it entailed was down there in those domes. He put away his scope and started down the mountain. It took him considerably less time to descend than to climb and after six hours he was standing at the edge of the greenest oasis he ever saw. He decided that first things first, he’d been without food long enough and whatever was going to happen to him and whatever his destiny was, he was going to do it with food in his belly. Being hungry can keep you sharp, but being too hungry can be a distraction
that can cost you dear. Within an hour he caught his meal, skinned and cleaned it and was roasting it over a fire and it was smelling wonderful. His mouth watered and his belly grumbled in anticipation.
With his hunger satisfied he set off towards the domes and whatever awaited him there. The vegetation enveloped him and he felt the cool moistness of the air on his skin. After his climb in the unrelenting sun this was a very welcome change and it revived his mood so much that he could almost say he was enjoying the walk. Most of the plants and trees were ones he didn't recognise; where he lived in the cave the vegetation consisted of low scrub and brush with the occasional stand of those tall trees that gave the poison. Here the vegetation was thick but not so dense that he needed to hack his way through. He could stroll easily and take time to look at his surroundings, get the feel of it. He noticed a group of trees he recognised up ahead and he moved towards them, an idea suddenly springing into his mind along with the now familiar throb in his chest, just below his scar. He guessed Syra thought it was a good idea too.
There were half a dozen of what he now called ‘poison trees’ and he decided that now was the time to see if he’d watched the other humans closely enough to be able to climb them as easily as they did. He selected one from the group and took off his backpack. He picked it apart so that he was left with a long length of strong hide and, taking a couple of practice swings first, he swung one end around the tree trunk and grabbed it as it came back around at him. So far so good. He knotted the ends together forming a loop and stepped into it. He leaned back, testing his balance and the strength of the strap. When he felt happy, he placed one foot on the tree at knee height, leaned back letting the strap take his weight and lifted his other foot up. He was leaning too far back and toppled over onto his backside hard. He got up and tried again, this time taking the strap much higher up. He got both feet up and took a few seconds to gain his balance before shunting the strap further up the tree and gingerly taking another step up. In a rather ungainly and inelegant fashion, he made progress up the tree. It took him almost an hour to climb up, find the hard little poison capsule growing out of the trunk, dig it out with his blade and climb down again. He was exhausted and decided the indigenous humans deserved a bit more of his respect than he’d given them. He sat down and breathed hard. His arms ached, his legs ached and his back was stiff but he made it and he was proud of himself. He built a small fire and looked around for a couple of rocks to crush the poison capsule, which he found was the home of an insect that obviously burrowed into the bark to make its home. Once crushed into a rather horrible looking yellow mush, he took out the blade he used for shaving and cut himself on the arm. He allowed several large drops to fall onto the mushed up poison capsule before rubbing the wound vigorously. Immediately it stopped bleeding, the rubbing causing the blood to clot in seconds and he knew that within a day there would be no trace of a scar. He picked up a small stick and stirred the blood into the mush and put the rock on the fire. When it turned a glossy brown, he took it off and put it aside to cool.
He used the time to relax and really look at his surroundings and the beauty of it made him wonder about his home and his people. Growing up with the Sylvana family was relatively good all in all, apart from the ever present Wesley of course. They taught him at home rather than sending him to school and he learned the basics quickly. He could read and write and do basic maths before he was eight and had a good basic all round education by the time he left home at seventeen to join the military. He remembered how optimistic he was when he left Mexalon to seek his future, how he finally felt like a man and thought life was going to be good to him if he grabbed it with both hands. He was brought up to be polite and courteous and to obey authority without question and that’s what he tried his hardest to do. In those early years he did okay too but as he grew in experience and understanding of people, the disillusionment started to creep in and slowly he began to realise that not everything they told him to do was necessarily the best idea.
As he sat there amongst the trees he realised for the first time how naïve he was back then and how it hurt to realise that life and especially the people he met, were not as altruistic as he was. That was when he started to withdraw from them and they noticed. People began to comment that he seemed distant and kept asking him if everything was okay. It didn’t take him long to realise that he was never going to meet anyone who could be truly real and so he gave up looking. He went inwards and became his own ally, his own confidante and his own best friend. He learned that when you rely on other people for anything, where there’s even a small chance of them letting you down, they would. People disappointed him greatly back then and it took him a few years to realise he would just have to give up the struggle with them. It was too emotionally traumatic being in the never ending cycle of hoping to find someone real, working at the friendship and then coping with the disappointment when they let him down yet again. He became a loner.
He picked at a small twig, stuck it in his mouth and chewed as he thought back to the times when he had the dreams and how frightened they made him. The images were frightening in themselves but it was the thought that he was crazy that was most frightening. When the voice joined the dreams he really worried for his sanity, so much so that during one particularly active dreaming phase, he tried to go without sleeping at all just so he wouldn’t have to face them again. He managed three days before he finally passed out and ended up in the medical centre. Instead of preventing the dreams he actually made it worse for himself, as he slept for twenty four hours straight and it seemed to him as if he spent that entire time within the dream imagery. He awoke convinced he was crazy and it began to affect him in his job as a soldier. Pretty soon after that he was summoned to his commanding officers who told him in no uncertain terms that they thought it best he retire honourably from military service with fifteen years untainted service and a medal for valour. He took the hint. Vincent is many things but stupid isn’t one of them.
He leaned over and reached for the small rock that held the cooling poison gloop. He decided it was cool enough so he spat out his twig, got up and carefully wrapped the rock in a thick layer of leather and tied it up securely so it wouldn’t leak. He rebuilt his backpack and set off through the verdant forest. It was beautiful here, he decided and in different circumstances he’d be happy to settle here. It offered him everything he needed; plentiful food, water and shelter and no people to bother him. He was allowing himself to daydream and was so far inside of himself that he almost didn’t hear it. The smallest of sounds came to his sharp ears and he was instantly alert, the daydream vanished away. He stopped mid stride, hand going instinctively towards the blade on his hip and strained his ears and his awareness. The forest was full of sounds; birds sang, the trees rustled in the breeze and creatures called in the distance, but that sound didn’t belong somehow. It made a blip on his internal radar and he learned long ago never to ignore it so he wasn’t going to start now. His sense of not being alone was triggered very gently and although it was so subtle it almost wasn’t there, it was there. He stood for long minutes listening, looking and expanding his awareness but the sound didn’t come again. He moved on, feeling no immediate danger but still having that inner awareness that he wasn’t alone.
Three hours later he emerged from the forest and found himself at the base of the first of the huge domes. It loomed up and away above him and as he looked at it, he realised it was very old indeed. The surface itself was made of a patchwork of hexagonal sections of some material that obviously used to be very shiny, like glass but now it was weathered and the surface was pitted; in places there were giant cracks and holes. It hadn’t been cared for in hundreds of years and Vincent decided it must be long abandoned. Maybe whatever civilisation lived here died out or left to find shelter elsewhere. It seemed odd to him that the only other humanoids he saw here were so primitive yet here was something only a very adva
nced race could manufacture. How could such an advanced race and such a primitive one evolve together on the same planet? He was musing on this question when that sound came again, still far away and so quiet it almost wasn’t there, but he heard it. He spun around, unsheathed his blade and scanned the forest in front of him for whatever was stalking him but saw nothing. No creature leapt at his throat, no savages with poison arrows ran at him, all was quiet and peaceful. It was beginning to freak him out now; he wasn’t used to being the prey. He saw plenty of action during his military career and as a Ranger in the mines on Moxal 3 he dealt with plenty of the fearsome Uvees and was even wounded by them a few times. He’d never been in a situation like this before though. It was as though whoever or whatever it was that was following behind, was just enjoying playing with his mind, trying to psyche him out and frighten him into making a fatal mistake. Well he had news for them, no one fucked with his mind and got away with it for long! He shook the feelings away, determined to keep control and retain the upper hand. He hadn’t endured so much in life just to end up as dog meat on some rock out in the middle of shit knows where. They could take all the time they want, he would wait and be ready to show them once and for all that they really didn't know who they were fucking with this time.
After a quick look around, he found a door in the side of the dome and gently tried the handle. It shook in its frame but held. He realised that his only choice was to force his way in which wasn’t his first choice of action in such circumstances. He’d much rather go in quietly when he didn’t know what he was going to find inside and keep the element of surprise on his side. Shit, there was nothing for it; he was going to have to make a noise! He stepped back a pace and with one firm kick, the door broke into pieces. He moved into the doorway, alert for whatever might be waiting for him inside.
Vincent entered the ancient dome and took another step towards fulfilling the prophecy given to his ancestors many lifetimes ago. Syra, ever vigilant for her charge’s safety, was unseen by his side as always and a mile back in the forest, unnoticed by Vincent, they crept forward silently, knowing that their bellies would be full before too long.
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