The Secret of the Golden Gods Omnibus Edition

by Pedro Urvi

  “What am I doing here? Why did you bring me?” Kyra had said when she found herself in that round chamber which reminded her too vividly of the Dungeons of Oblivion.

  “You’ve spent days mourning his death beside my lake.”

  “I don’t need your sympathy.”

  “I know, I can see the strength of your spirit, my young lioness. I didn’t bring you here to offer you sympathy, but to ask for your help.”

  Kyra stared at her, not understanding. “My help? I don’t understand… why?”

  “You’d better come with me. That way I’ll be able to explain better.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you! You think I don’t know who you are? You may have fooled the farmers and woodsmen of this county, but I know what you are, I know your people, I’ve lived among hem and I recognize you.”

  The witch laughed dryly. “You’re smart, more so than your fiery character is willing to show. I like that. I believe we’ll get along well.”

  “I doubt it very much. The Golden are my enemies, and you’re a Golden, a Goddess.”

  The witch acknowledged this with a small bow.

  “Yes, indeed I am. Although I’ve been hiding the fact for a long time.”

  “You can take that mask off, I know it hides golden skin. I know you’re with them. You don’t fool me.”

  “We, the Children of Arutan, wear this mask, and maybe one day I’ll take it off, but today’s not the moment. And no, my young lioness, I may be a Golden, but I’m not with them, rather I’m against them.”

  There was confusion in Kyra’s eyes. “Against them?”

  “I’m one of the Ancients, one of the leaders of the Children of Arutan. I’m on the side of Mother Nature, and against those who corrupt it, be they Men or Golden. I and my people.”

  “I’m not interested in your reasons. Let me go.”

  “But I need your help with the Prince of Ether.”

  When she heard this, Kyra’s heart gave a leap.

  “What horrible things are you going to do with his body? Let him be, let him rest in peace!”

  “You’re mistaken. You’d better follow me.”

  The Witch turned and left the hall. Kyra hesitated for a moment. She looked for a way out, but the chamber only had a single door and the witch was leaving through it. So she followed her. The Witch led her along several tunnels until they reached a spherical silver chamber. In the center of it was a white marble bed, and on it Adamis was lying.

  Suddenly the Prince-God opened his eyes and moaned in pain.

  Kyra was petrified, her heart in her mouth, unable to breathe.

  “By Oxatsi! It can’t be!” she cried.

  “I’m afraid it can,” the Witch said.

  Adamis moaned again.

  Kyra ran to his side and put her hands on his face. His eyes were closed, and he looked as though he was in great pain. He was cold, and his golden skin had turned a greenish hue. A putrid smell emanated from his body.

  “My love! You’re alive!” she cried, overcome with joy, tears running down her cheeks.

  “He can’t hear you. He’s more in the other world than in this one.”

  Kyra kissed him on the lips, but he did not respond.

  “How did you save him? He was dead, I don’t understand,” she said, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her.

  “Not exactly… he was dead for men, practically dead for the Golden. You see, girl, our bodies, although similar to yours, work differently. Time passes more slowly as far as our organisms are concerned. That’s why we live ten times longer than you. In the same way, death doesn’t arrive so quickly. The Slayer of Kings poisoned him, and it will kill him, eventually. But when you brought him to me it hadn’t yet done that, albeit only just. Now his body is paralyzed and he’s dying, but he’s still alive.”

  “You mean to say he’ll live?” Kyra cried, filled with a joy she could not restrain.

  “I didn’t say that. I can’t stop the poison, and there’s no antidote. Most of his body has already been corrupted by the noxious substance. But I’ve managed to slow it down. I’ve postponed the end.”

  “That gives us hope!”

  “Yes, it does, girl, but I need him to come back to this world, or else his body won’t fight the poison and we’ll lose him. I’ve tried by all the means Mother Nature has put within my reach, but I haven’t been able to summon him back. If he doesn’t wake, he’ll die.”

  “Is that why you brought me?”

  “Yes, that’s why.”

  “And what interest do you have in Adamis?” Kyra asked, suddenly suspecting foul play.

  “The Prince of Ether is important for the Children of Arutan, for our cause. The High Kings pursue us, they wish to finish us off, the Prince is an important ally.”

  “Are we on the same side?”

  The Witch nodded. “We are.”

  “I’ll bring him back, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  The Witch smiled. “Sooner than that, I hope.”

  And for a time, which to her seemed like years, Kyra tried every possible way of waking the Prince. But he was deep in a sleep which it seemed impossible to disturb. Neither her kisses, nor her caresses, nor her whispers, nor her care, nothing managed to stir him. She was beginning to lose hope.

  “Wake up, wake up, you proud prince,” she said furiously, hammering on his chest. But a moan was her only answer. His eyes remained closed.

  “I’m here, open your eyes. Come on, open them.”

  But Adamis could not see her.

  Kyra tried everything, without success. He was there, in front of her, and their bodies were touching, but not their souls. And it was at that moment that an idea began to form in her mind. Not their bodies, but their spirits were something else. She remembered what Adamis had taught her: her Power came from Ether, from the spirit of things in nature. Without stopping to think twice she took out his disc and summoned its power. She focused on glimpsing his aura, and as soon as she did so she used all her being to penetrate it. Until then she had always used the Power to interact with things and people, to move them, hurl them, even break them, but never to penetrate them.

  Just as she had guessed, at first it was impossible. But she refused to give up and went on trying. Her beloved’s life was at stake. She tried and tried, without response. Looking for help, she told the Witch what she was trying to do. The Witch thought for a while and then prepared a reagent to make her concentration and focus more powerful. Kyra drank it, and things changed. She concentrated on Adamis’s chest, on a particular point in it, and in that spot his aura began to weaken and change color. After a while she managed to make a breach in it. Then she let her spirit emerge, as if it were a ghost, and it slipped into the crack, to enter Adamis’s chest.

  Kyra’s spirit found that of Adamis, and both of them united.

  He reacted and opened his eyes in shock. He screamed.

  “Kyra…” he stammered,

  She lost her concentration and her spirit came back to her body.

  “I’m here, with you.”

  Adamis looked into her eyes. “Kyra, my love.”

  And they joined in an intensely loving kiss, with her tears running down his face.

  “You’ll get well,” she assured him. “We’ll save you.”

  It took them a whole year before he could get down from the marble bed by himself. A year of terrible pain and suffering which he bore with extraordinary strength and fortitude. Under the care of the wise witch and her knowledge of healing they managed, little by little, to make the Prince-God’s body regain some vitality. But it would take him an eternity to recover, if some day he ever managed to. He never once complained, either at the bad hand destiny had played him or at the suffering he had to bear daily so as to manage the slightest action or movement. Every step was an agony, every gesture a hell of pain. But he never protested, not even when the witch assured him that she could not heal him and that the poison would live in him u
ntil it finally killed him.

  Even now, Kyra felt that instant as if it were fresh. And every time she remembered, her hand went to her chest. It was there that she had felt something tremendously intense and wonderful when their spirits had joined. Something which would always unite them. Oh, how much I’d give to touch you, feel you by my side, my love. But that would have to wait for a better moment.

  Lone Wolf crouched down beside her. He had appeared so stealthily that she had not even noticed. She came back from her memories and focused on the present. The warrior began to sharpen his hunting knife with a whetstone. He had the habit of constantly looking after his weapons.

  “You’d do better looking after her,” Kyra said, nodding toward Quiet Spirit, who was tending to the horses.

  The warrior frowned and gave her a look of incomprehension.

  “Don’t play dumb, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”

  Lone Wolf gazed at Quiet Spirit for a moment, then went back to his weapon.

  “By Oxatsi! It’s clearer than water. You can’t stop glancing at each other, and when you’re close to each other, sparks fly. Are you that blind?”

  “I… don’t know…”

  “Yeah… yeah… as chatty as always. You’ll have to tell her how you feel, won’t you? Because you’re drooling, big man,” she said, with a gesture of despair.

  “Maybe… she doesn’t want…”

  “Of course she does! I can assure you she does. If you’d rather, I’ll tell her myself,” she said with an impish smile.

  “No!”

  She giggled. “Well, go catch her a cougar or something, but tell her. Life’s too short and too full of troubles not to seize the good moments when we can and share them with the ones we love. Heed me.”

  Lone Wolf nodded. He eyed Quiet Spirit and nodded again, as if trying to convince himself.

  Kyra slapped him hard on his strong back.

  “They’re coming,” Lone Wolf said all of a sudden. He waved his arm to the east.

  “A dozen riders, as we’d agreed.”

  “Four Great Chiefs and their champions,” said Quiet Spirit, who had come to stand beside them.

  Kyra breathed out sharply in relief. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure they’d come.”

  “They’d given their word,” Lone Wolf said, sounding offended.

  Quiet Spirit put her hand on his arm. “Not all our people know honor, or respect their word, as you do.”

  The warrior looked into her eyes for a moment and bowed his head.

  “Yes, there are men without honor.”

  “Let’s hope these ones have it,” said Kyra.

  “We must trust,” Quiet Spirit said. “They’re the four most important Chiefs of this County. We need them on our side. They control more than a hundred small tribes. Their decision is key.”

  The twelve riders came toward them, raising a light cloud of dust in their wake. They entered the gully and rode down to the ravine.

  “Welcome,” Kyra said with open arms.

  The riders looked at her closely, without dismounting.

  “Greetings, spirit that walks two worlds,” said one of the four Chiefs. He was thin, with a sharp and prominent nose like the beak of a bird, and long white hair. He was old, and did not seem fit for battle, but he radiated wisdom. Kyra recognized him from the meeting of the Chiefs.

  “That’s what they call me here in the steppes.”

  “I am White Owl, of the Fifth County.”

  “I remember you.”

  “And these are my blood brothers. We are here. I gave my word at the Council of Chiefs, and my word is sacred, like the sun that warms the steppes.”

  “It reflects honor on you. Your forces?”

  “They’re waiting, a little further east.”

  “So what is the plan?” asked one of the Chiefs. He was young, the only young man among them; the others were more like White Owl in age and appearance. His body was athletic, and though he did not look too strong he appeared agile and determined. His eyes were light, his nose small. His face had a touch of feminine beauty, emphasized by his straight, shoulder-length chestnut hair.

  “You must forgive my nephew Swift Deer. He’s eager to wield his weapon against the oppressors.”

  “Those treacherous swine killed my father, your brother, and I swore to the moon by sacred ritual to avenge his death. Not a single Proxy or Guard will be left alive when I’ve finished.” As he spoke he wielded a short, light axe.

  White Owl bowed his head, and his eyes turned melancholy.

  “My brother was a great man, a great Chief. He brought the message of freedom to his tribe, he made it take hold, and that cost him his life.”

  “And now revenge will be mine.”

  White Owl motioned him to calm his fury and Swift Deer’s body seemed to relax a bit, but his gaze was still fiery.

  Kyra pointed to the north. “We’ll head to the great river. There we’ll meet with the forces of Crazy Cougar of the Sixth County. Silver Eagle and the warriors of the Fourth County have already set off for the meeting-point.”

  The Chiefs nodded. “With our braves of the Fifth County, that makes half the tribes. But what about the other half? I don’t trust Brown Fox the least little bit and Gray Raven even less, and they’re in control of the First and Second Counties.”

  “They’ll be there,” Kyra replied, but with less than total conviction.

  White Owl sat up straight on his mount. “I’m not so sure. You ridiculed them in front of all the Great Chiefs: they won’t forget that. They’ll never forgive you. Their pride is as great as the prairies we walk on and their hate as wide as the sky over our heads.”

  “If they don’t come I’ll go and get them myself, and drag them by their nether parts.”

  The Chiefs laughed heartily.

  “I like you. You have courage and honor. And the spirits of the steppes have blessed you with their power. Let’s hope they don’t back down, or even worse, betray us.”

  “The die is cast. Today the rebellion begins,” Kyra assured them. “We’ll make it. One way or another we’ll gain our freedom.”

  The old Chief smiled, and his wrinkled face showed his age clearly.

  “I’ll follow you, spirit that walks two worlds. Lead us to the battle.”

  Kyra was about to answer when the warning came from Lone Wolf.

  “Danger, to the east!”

  They turned. Crowning a hill there appeared riders, with a cloud of dust behind them.

  Kyra shaded her eyes to see better. “Who are they?”

  White Owl sighed heavily.

  “It’s the Guard. A hundred men or so. They’re coming for us. We’ve been betrayed.”

  Kyra looked at Lone Wolf, who nodded.

  “How do you know it is?” she said. “They’re too far away for us to make them out clearly. Maybe they’re hunters passing through.”

  “By the dust they raise. Their mounts are saddled and shod, not like ours. We ride bareback. And they’re coming to hunt us, unless there’s somebody else round here plotting against the Regent and the Gods?”

  She looked at Lone Wolf again, and he nodded.

  “It makes sense,” said Quiet Spirit.

  “Then someone has betrayed us. And the traitor has to be here among us. Nobody else knew about the meeting-point.” She stared at the Chiefs and their champions, her eyes hard and cold, but none of them made the least move to run away.

  Lone Wolf pointed at the first riders, who were galloping towards them. “We have no time.”

  “Let’s get away before they trap us,” Kyra said to Lone Wolf.

  But White Owl dismounted from his horse. And with him, his three champions. Instantly the other Chiefs and their champions followed suit.

  “Why are you dismounting? We have to get away!” she urged them.

  Quiet Spirit whispered in her ear: “The Chiefs are too old. They won’t manage to escape.”

  Kyra understood
. Those brave men had too much pride to let themselves be humiliated by being hunted like hares as they fled.

  Lone Wolf came with the horses. “Come on! I can see Hunters at their head.”

  “But…” She looked at the Chiefs, then at the enemy she could already see clearly riding fast toward them.

  White Owl stuck his spear in the ground. “Today I will die here, in my own land, fighting for freedom. I don’t regret it. It’s a glorious end, the end every warrior wishes. I have lived a life of slavery. I shall die the death of a warrior, in freedom.”

  Kyra’s eyes moistened as she heard this.

  “Perhaps we’ll make it,” she said.

  The great Chief gazed at her tenderly. “Thank you, but no, we’d doom you all. Get away to safety. Escape today, then fight tomorrow. This is the good fortune the prairies have dealt me,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “and I will embrace it.” Then he turned to the other chiefs. “I’m honored that you’ll stay and fight beside me to the end. We’ve known each other all our lives, and I couldn’t ask for better company on the journey to the world of spirits.” The other Chiefs nodded and stuck their spears in the ground.

  “It’ll be a glorious end,” Swift Deer said.

  “Not for you, nephew. You must survive.”

  “I’ll fight beside you! We’re family, blood of the same blood. I’ll die fighting, beside my own people!”

  “But that won’t be today. You’re the best rider in the steppes. Nobody can catch up with you.” He indicated Kyra, Lone Wolf and Quiet Spirit. “I need you to guide our forces.”

  “But uncle, I can’t leave you.”

  “We’ve fallen into a trap. They want to cut off the lion’s head before it can use its claws. If all of us Chiefs die here, who’ll guide our warriors, who are waiting to be led into battle? No, you and the one who walks two worlds must survive and reach our forces, to guide them to war. Be a worthy son of my brother and do my bidding, for the good of the People of the Steppes.”