The War of the Realms

by C Steven Meldrum

  gestured forwards and it slowly advanced on the invisible wall. When it came

  into contact there was a shower of lightening and crackling of electrical

  energy. The two guards turned and immediately levelled their pikes at me. But

  I was too quick. I launched myself forward, grabbing the mystical Kośa Sastra

  from the air and in no time had dispatched both. I had expected them to simply

  fall to the ground but the tremendous power of the spear disintegrated both of

  them in a crackling electrical haze.

  Sukhothailooked dumbly at me. “What are you?” he shrieked. “Come,” I smiled. “I am just like you, but I have some … gifts.” He walked slowly toward where the electrical barrier had been, hands

  extended, expecting to feel a shock. When nothing happened, he came to stand

  beside me.“Thank you, Tashi. You don’t know how long I’ve sat in there, and

  dreamt of my freedom.”

  “We’re not out of this yet. Do you know where they would be holding

  my friends?

  “Any humans they don’t kill end up dying in the arena.”

  “The arena?” I asked.

  He paused and shrugged.“They tell them they can win their freedom. It’s

  inhumane. I have sat hidden and watch the contests. There are some that die

  straight away while the stronger ones may last for days. But they all end up

  dying eventually.”

  “Take me there. I want to see this place for myself.”

  Sukhothai’s knowledge of the machine city was incredible. He must have been here for many years. We worked our way by many byways and through cloistered alleys and tunnels, constantly on the lookout for any of the machines. It was hard to identify threats though because there were so many machines of different sizes and types that buzzed about on their own errands. I guessed that it was not their mission to look for two humans that should not be there.

  I did not know if our captors had found us gone from the holding cell and started searching for us but there did not seem to be any large-scale mobilisation of security forces looking for us.

  Within a few watches we had made our way to a tall structure and climbed to a place where we could look out over many hundreds of square miles of the city. Sukhothai was panting when we got to our observation point.

  “Over … there,” he said, pointing off into the distance. I beheld a massive lighted circular complex with an open roof which could have been a stadium, standing only a mile from us.

  “Do you know how to get in without us being seen?”

  “Yes,” he breathed. “We can watch from a section near to where the underside of the dome meets the wall. You will be able to see if your friends come out.”

  Before long we came to the outside of the structure. Sukhothai knew the paths to get us inside and after what seemed an eternity of working our way through the superstructure we came eventually to a high space where an opening would allow, I imagine, servitor droids or other mechs access for maintenance. Sukhothai clambered through and I followed. We were now in the top-most viewing area, looking down hundreds of feet to the arena floor below.

  It was in my mind a hideous and perverse replica of an ancient structure from the days of Irth’s pre-history where I believe mighty armoured gladiators fought to the death with swords and shields and spears for the pleasure of the paying audience. From the holo-vid recordings I had seen, they tended to follow a similar look where hundreds or thousands of seats encircled a central floor, with each successive row tiering higher to allow the audience a view of the contest below. There was no seating here however. I imagined that pretamechs might stand on each of the tiered rows. Buy why would preta-mechs watch sporting contests?

  In histories I had seenfrom Irth’s later golden age, rather than being armoured in iron and leather and carrying swords and shields, gladiators instead wore colourful clothing and were sometimes armoured with patterned plastic or carbon fibre. They chased each other for possession of a ball to place in a net at one end of the field. One game in particular stood out as the progenitor of one of my favourite games, bochu. In other games they tried to get a ball past a structure that looked like an antenna and into a particular zone to score points. In some recordings the ball was oval in shape and in some it was round. Yet in other games combatants armed with a stick with a taut net at one end would hit a small ball over a net that separated the combatants. I didn’t understand all of the variants but I remember from our study of the ancients, they did have a predisposition to competition, in sport, in international relations, in a variety of occupations. It seemed that in times of relative peace and happiness, humans still craved competition and conflict.

  But what did these creatures have to compete against? Did they have a ‘love’ for anything, or know it for anything more than a word descriptive of an interest in, or enjoyment of something? Did they have actual enjoyment in anything? Did they experience personal satisfaction or show pride in accomplishment? What was life to them but a functional state of awareness and a task to perform? Did successful completion of a task, benchmarked in some way to show that the task was completed faster or more efficiently than another was able to complete the same task, provide a personal reward? Did a mech seek to realise its own potential or feel compelled to strive for its own success or was individualism a nil concept for the race as a whole? Did intelligence equate toa selfish desire to promote one’s own agenda, as a human, in a capitalist sense, would seek to profit and accumulate wealth and items to provide personal comfort, security, then profile and power, to strive for one’s own ultimate goals? Or were mechs completely utilitarian, with no thought of the‘self’? What I had seen so far concurred with the latter.

  We had waited for no more than a watch when a lot of activity seemed to happen at once. We were well concealed in our aerie above the concentric rows but I marvelled that in a very quick time virtually every standing spot in the stadium was filled with the robed, armoured and helmeted preta-mechs, all looking exactly alike and all completely white in colour. At the far end of the stadium, almost directly across and down from us, a large and ornate throne appeared from a concealed area under the floor. I knew who that was for.

  I looked over to Sukhothai and he seemed on the verge of panic. He whispered, “She comes.”

  I turned my gaze back towards the throne. A smoky haze suddenly obscured the entire area. When it cleared, I beheld a ghastly sight. The WitchQueen of Garbhodaka, the twisted and evil serpent queen, sorceress and Captain-General of the Legions of Darkness. She seated herself. From this distance I could not make out her facial expression exactly but she seemed oblivious to our presence.

  Next to her, my host, the enigmatic creature with the tube-shaped head of red lights, waited upon her. What had these creatures done to themselves, allying with such evil. How desperate were they?

  “You do not know with whom you treat,” I said under my breath, as calmly as I could, my anger rising.

  Sukhothai interrupted my thoughts, “Look, the far doors are opening for the first contest.”

  I looked down at the wide arena floor. Doors opened on one side and I saw maybe forty or fifty human captives emerge, dressed as ancient gladiators, wielding swords and spears, exactly I had envisioned the ancient fighters to be. The crowds of preta-mechs, in a mocking tribute to the fighters below, cheered for them and saluted, in a strangely unnerving display, by brandishing their own weapons towards the sky in perfect unison.

  As the prisoners looked around at their surroundings, a large door on the other side of the arena opened and a similar number of armoured demonspawn emerged. The two forces squared off, leaders on both sides organising their troops. Then they charged. The forces came together, and in the yelling and screaming that followed, I saw both forces diminished. Swords clashed on shields, limbs and heads went flying and the amount of the dead and dying grew by the second, the hard floor awash
with blood both red and black. I cried as the humans gave their lives for nothing more that the entertainment of the blackest of souls, who sat calmly in an air of self-satisfaction.

  But one man fought better than the rest. His moves were as familiar to me as my own. His leaps and kicks and the precision of his blows and defensive blocks had me wanting to run down there and join him. Even when all the other humans were dead and there still were half a dozen or so of the demons remaining, he fought on. They tried to encircle him and such was the ferocity of his attacks they fell back and he was able to take one and two at time.

  He launched at them and downed one and then two. The remaining demons became increasingly panicked. He picked up weapons from the fallen and wielding a broken spear in one hand and a sword in the other ran down the remaining the demons, driving the broken spear through the chest of the last one. He then faced the Witch-Queen. He held the sword pointed upwards to the dark sky and crossed the broken spear across his chest. He gave a curt bow and then lining her up, charged and threw the spear towards her. She casually held up her hand and the spear met some sort of force mid-flight and disintegrated in a shower of lucent green sparks.

  I looked toward where another door opened below where she sat. Nothing emerged for a second and then I heard a long low growl. I cried when I saw what loped out. My friend, my protector, my sister. I would have been so happy to see her but for her condition. Weak, injured, tortured, frail, but still deadly to the tired warrior standing before her. With a crazed and savage look in her eyes she charged at him and the lone warrior stood in battle stance, ready to leap and drive the sword into her. I glanced at Sukhothai and saw the fear etched on his face as I stood up, revelling myself to everyone there.

  “Stop this!” I yelled in voice of absolute command, but also hopeless exasperation, tears pouring from my eyes. Everyone and everything suddenly stopped and looked up at me.

  “You!” The red-bulbed thing yelled back from across the stadium.

  I turned quickly to Sukhothai and suddenly in my hands were the two magical kirpans. I handed both tohim. “I’m going down there.”

  He looked at the two daggers, turning them over in his hands, feeling the power that flowed from them.

  “Ha ha!” he laughed. “Every day I have been here I have expected to die. And every day I am surprised to find I am still alive. If there is no other better day to die, it might as well be this day!”

  We charged down the tiered rows passing the hundreds of rows of stationery preta-mechs and leaped over the wall to land on the floor of the arena.

  I looked up at the Witch-Queen who was now standing. Everyone, even the Lady, were still. The creature held its hands up and a floating platform came towards it. It stepped onto the platform and allowed itself to be carried down to where I stood, flanked by Sukhothai.

  “You are brave and have initiative. But this is not your fate. Step up on the platform and come with me.” When I did not move it beckoned with its hand as if willing me to move.

  “I will not ask again,” it said.

  It seemed about to do something. It suddenly raised a hand which glowed with a white-hot ball of energy. I heard something whiz past my ear and saw a kirpan embed itself in that weird head. My cudgel was suddenly in my hand and I swiped at it. It crashed backwards off the platform where Vajra ran passed the warrior and launched at it and with rending claws and that powerful jaw that crushed the multiple red-lighted head and tore it from the body.

  The Witch-Queen stood and started weaving her hands. A black and green ball of smoky and nubilous energy was growing between them.

  I ran to where my two friends stood, watching what was going on.

  “Jigme! It is good to see you again,my friend!”

  He was no long the giant who had stood against and helped vanquish the demon lord Likmigya in the halls of the once blessed city Khyunglung Ngülkhar and was much thinner and very pale. But his steely blue eyes showed a new wrath and fey lust for revenge. I did not know how long he had been a prisoner of these creatures or what suffering and torment he had been forced to endure, but the time of his redemption was at hand and he embraced me as a brother.

  “Strength and honour,” he said, smiling. He let go and ran forward.

  “Take this!” I yelled. From the air materialised the Gada, the famous weapon of the Giant Warrior of Ghnāti Whatua. I threw it to him and he grasped it with relish and turned towards the Witch-Queen.

  She had completed her incantation. I could see our death at hand. I brandished my staff and it suddenly became the spear of light that the Goddess had bestowed upon me. I whirled around in a circle and created an impenetrable dome of crackling white and blue energy to protect the three of us.

  The Witch-Queen screamed a deathly and indignant scream and threw her evil energies at the dome. I ran towards the tigress. There was nothing left of the thing that had been my host up to this point. Small pieces of black metal and the red eyes that had been its tube-shaped head were scattered everywhere. She stopped chewing as I approached and looked up at me, recoiling and roaring, preparing to attack. I could see an internal battle going on. The savagery and ferocity of the massive amur fought with the intellect and soul of the goddess who was somewhere inside. I stopped and held up my hands. The tigress roared and shook, circling back, a paw raised to defend herself. My approach, and her retreat, resembled, in a horrible fashion, some sort of mocking display of an ancient and cruel circus trainer subduing the injured and desperate animal with a cracking whip, forcing the beast the heal in a pathetic display for the enjoyment of the crowd. I could see a cruelly spiked black collar tight around her neck with a long chain trailing behind her. The long black spikes stabbed towards her neck and upwards toward her throat. Every movement would have been hideously painful. Her beautiful fur was covered in her own blood and she looked diseased and near death, but in the same instant savage and hate filled. I held up my hands and slowly approached her.

  “My lady, it is me. It is Tashi.” She growled and moved toward me. I held up hand and closed my eyes, praying. “You are Vajraveena Sarasvati, the Lady of Melody, chief consort of Manjushri, the Lord of Wisdom.” I raised my hand and closed my eyes, waving my handacross her. “I release you from this evil. Come back to us!”

  I could feel the evil that had been done to her. I could also feel the powerful control that was being exerted on her. The glistening shield helped and my own healing powers gently poured into her. I bowed low to her and lay on the ground completely prostrate, my eyes closed and my arms spread out in a crucifix. I prayed and spoke again, “You are Vajraveena Sarasvati, the Lady of Melody,chief consort of …”

  I felt a wet nose against my head and a snuffling sound which became a deep rumbling purring. I looked up and into the massive face and saw again the wisdom of the lady in those huge eyes. Her rough tongue rolled out and licked my face. I sat back on my knees and she allowed me to hug her. With tears streaming down my face I said a word and the cruel collar clattered to the ground.

  “My lady.” I bowed my head.

  “Holiness!” Jigme interrupted. The amount of force being levelled at the protective bubble was amazing and the hundreds of preta-mechs who had made up the audience had surrounded us and were attacking it with their powered awl pikes. Blue and white lightening crackled around the outside of the bubble.

  “This stops now!” I breathed. “Jigme, protect the lady.”

  In one hand the gentle and incorporeal radiance of the spear glowed stronger and in the other the Sudarshana Chakra appeared. I looked at them as I rose from the arena surface and passed through the top of the bubble. The fire and energy being expended on the bubble was suddenly directed at me. I released the Sudarshana and as I had seen so many times before it went on a path, slicing effortlessly through the hundreds of preta-mechs. Their energy weapons did nothing to me. I instead focussed on the Witch-Queen. I moved closer to her, her own energies reflecting from the ephemeral light radiating from my spear
.

  “Fool!” she screamed. “You dare face me! No mere mortal can stand against me!”

  “True enough. But I am no mere mortal! I have looked into your mind, evil one, and I see your fear. You have answered my question for me. For I am Gesar and Padmasambhava. I am the son of Lord Targo and the mighty goddess of the lake, Dangra Yumtsho.”

  Memories and incredible knowledge flooded my mind. I smiled.

  “I have returned, enchantress. You thought you had destroyed me when you imprisoned my mother and razed my father’s kingdom to the ground. You do not know whom you have awakened! You have done much, yes! I have bested your petty general and your grovelling hordes. But have you enough magic left to do battle with me?”

  I unleashed the fury of the spear’s powers at her and she cowered back into the alcove. The throne and the entire structure exploded and she fell to the arena floor. She was gigantic in size. Black and twisted; never to be underestimated. She laughed a cruel and cutting laugh and with a thought suddenly thousands of daemon-kind materialised beneath me. The pretamechs were all gone, their bodies strewn across the floor of the arena. The Sudarshana began a new path of destruction. I looked behind me. The bubble was still intact. I could discern Jigme and the lady within it. I turned back to face my foe and with a preternatural scream she waved her arms and more black and green energy crackled. I could feel the penetrating evil of it and despite my new knowledge it began to affect me. I strengthened my will and screamed myself as I poured my own energies towards her. But such was her strength and the depth of her hatred I began to faulter. I was drifting down towards the screaming horde below me. I began to lose sight of what was going on around me, and the pain of her evil was more than I could bare. But suddenly another bright light appeared, whizzing round in a circular pattern around the arena. Bolts of lightening flashed from it and each demon that was hit suddenly dropped to the floor, writhing in agony and then stopped.

  I landed upon the floor of the arena, amidst hundreds of dead preta-mechs and the sprawled bodies of daemon-kind. I looked upwards and saw the smiling face of Irirangi. She had commandeered some sort of flying bike and was racing around the arena shooting at everything.