Forbidden World

by Jeremy Michelson

  What was it trying to accomplish?

  “I am nothing, Dragon,” he said, “Take your tricks and you pointless power to someone who wishes to play these silly games. I seek nothing but release from the bonds I have taken on.”

  The Dragon’s sinuous neck snaked in a wide circle around him. The beast’s blazing red eyes were like a parade of torches. The Dragon’s head stopped somewhere behind him. The heat of the Dragon’s sulfurous breath made his back uncomfortably hot. Almost as if he were about to burst into flames.

  “Games?” The Dragon said, “What else is there but games? All of us are pawns. Choosing not to play does not mean you are not part of the game, little man. You play whether you want to or not.”

  Koba crossed his arms over his chest. The taste of ashes made his mouth dry. The smoke hurt his throat. What he wanted most was for the pain to end.

  The pain of his world turning to dust and ash before him. The pain of being at the tip of the spear. The pain of drowning in the blood of those who should never have been his enemies.

  And…most of all, the pain of seeing his beloved Ivfa turned into a tool of war. She was The King’s sword. The scythe he wielded in his endless harvest of death.

  It hurt to be beside her and know that she did all these terrible things willingly. Gladly.

  Anything for the service of The King.

  She didn’t crave power. She didn’t aspire to be the rarified elite of society.

  She merely wanted to serve The King.

  Whatever he may want.

  “What game does The King play?” Koba asked the Dragon.

  The Dragon drew its coiled neck back into the smoky air. The blazing red eyes dimmed in the recesses of the thick, black smoke.

  The great beast’s heartbeat vibrated the ground…thump thump…thump thump…

  “All Kings play the same game,” the Dragon said, “They play the game of power. With power they build. With power they destroy. There is a better question, though. Isn’t there, little man?”

  There was a better question. But he pressed his lips together. Refusing to let the words out. He was playing the Dragon’s game with every word he gave the beast.

  The Dragon brought its great, scaled head down again. Smoke swirled and eddied around the beast's long snout and the twisting black horns. The fiery red eyes were half-lidded, their fires banked and dim.

  “What is the question, little man?” The Dragon said.

  “This is foolish,” Koba said, “I have no desire to play your games.”

  The Dragon opened its jaw a few inches. A sulfurous glow escaped around the jagged teeth.

  “What is the question?” The Dragon said again.

  Koba closed his eyes. There was no getting around this. The beast wasn’t going to have mercy and just kill him. It wanted to play.

  “Very well, Dragon,” he said, “Here’s your question: Where does a King’s power come from?”

  The Dragon’s head bobbed up and down, sending the smoke swirling again.

  “Very good, little man,” the beast said, “And the answer?”

  Koba sighed. Then coughed at the acrid smoke taking up space in his lungs.

  “A King’s power comes from the people he rules,” he said, “Which means every terrible act committed by a King is done with the help of those whom he supposedly rules.”

  The Dragon let out a short, harsh laugh. It raised its head up, half disappearing into the smoke.

  “Evil is never lonely, is it, little man?” The beast said, "It keeps company with us all. It lives in our homes. It slips under the covers with us at night and wraps its chill arms around us. It embraces us as much as we embrace us. For it is us."

  How to respond to that?

  There wasn’t a response. The Dragon wasn’t speaking any revelations. It was just stating fact. Terrible things were allowed–often encouraged–to happen.

  And people were forever turning their face and not acknowledging their role in it. They pretended there was no blood on their hands. Acted as if the knife had been in someone else’s hand, not theirs.

  Such as it had always been.

  “There is yet another interesting question, is there not?” The Dragon said.

  Of course there was. But calling it an interesting question was stupid. It was the least interesting question about power and those who allowed its abuse.

  Why?

  “If you want me to ask why people allow these things to happen, you’ll be disappointed, Dragon,” Koba said, “There are as many reasons as there are people. And every reason has the same parents: Apathy and Fear.”

  The Dragon eased its great head closer. The heat of it made Koba’s skin feel like it was about to blister. But he didn’t shrink back from the beast.

  The beast’s blazing eyes brightened. In those twin orbs, Koba could see flames like a blast furnace. Near white hot at the centers. The beast’s bronze scales seemed to faintly glow. As if the raging fire within the beast was near to erupting through its skin.

  “Would you say every person’s refusal to take responsibility for what they do…That is what gives rise to the abuse of power by those who rule?” The Dragon asked.

  Koba frowned and waved his hand in a cutting motion.

  “What else could it be?” He said, “This world has been laid to waste because the armies of the dukes and warlords did not have the courage to say: Enough. This stops here. And before you point it out, I have lacked that courage too. At least up until now. I will follow no King. Nor Duke or Lord. They can kill me, or torture me, or imprison me. I no longer care. I will not be a pawn in their games.”

  The Dragon chuckled. Tilted its head back and laughed. Orange flames licked along its snout and jaw. Koba tensed. Was this it? Would the Dragon finally kill him? Give him the release that he craved.

  But the Dragon simply brought its head back down. The great leathern wings rustled, then beat the air with a mighty thump. The sulfurous smoke swirled away from the beast’s huge body.

  “What if I offered you power?” The Dragon said, “The power to heal your world. Power to bring justice to those who do wrong. Power to remake the world in whatever image you see fit?”

  It was a trick. Even a beast as fantastic as the Dragon didn’t have that kind of power to give. The beast was trying to get to him through greed and lust. Trying to reveal the evil within his heart. The evil that temped everyone…

  If only they had the power to…

  "I don't need your silly power, Dragon," Koba said, "Nor do I want it. Such power is not yours to give, anyway. Now leave me alone or kill me. Then go lick your King's feet. This farce has his blood-soaked fingerprints all over it."

  Koba turned his back on the beast. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of him. Were Ivfa and the King still out there?

  Blistering heat scalded his back.

  This was it. The Dragon was going to kill him after all.

  But the cleansing fire didn’t come.

  Instead, the beast spoke. A sulfurous whisper in his mind.

  “With my power, you could do good,” The Dragon said, “Think of the wonderful things you could do for the people of Dendon. You would be a fair and just ruler. They would rejoice and sing your praises. You would be loved. Loved by all. Unconditionally and purely. Would you not want that?”

  Koba squeezed his eyes shut. His chest ached. His whole body tensed with sudden longing.

  Oh, if it could only be so. He knew exactly how to make things right for his world. For his people. They would prosper. They would be happy.

  And that was hubris.

  For there was no one way to make people happy. To give people everything they wanted…to make them want for nothing…was to take everything away from them.

  It was the struggle…the challenge to find one’s way through life that brought satisfaction and completeness to one’s soul. A life of ease was not a gift. It was a gilded prison. It was a life lived small. A shad
ow of what could be.

  Koba shook his head.

  “No, Dragon,” he said, “I will not be a part of your game. Take your power and give it to someone who enjoys treating lives like toys. Who believes the world is clay to be shaped to objects of their own pleasure. I am no King. Never will I accept any crown you–or anyone offers.”

  He strode forward across the scorched ground. Away from the Dragon’s sulfurous breath.

  “KOBA!” The Dragon shouted. So loud the ground shook.

  The beast beat its huge, leathern wings against the air. A blast of wind buffeted Koba. So hard he stumbled and nearly fell.

  The smoke swirled away from him. Parting to reveal Ivfa standing just feet away from him. She shone in her oiled and polished armor. The wind made her long, white hair dance around her head. Her face was fierce. Her eyes angry silver slits.

  In her hand was the sword he discarded. The blade seemed to glow with a life of its own now. She held it high.

  “KOBA!” She cried out.

  And in that instant, he saw the resolve in her face.

  “No!” He shouted, “Stay back!”

  But she didn’t listen. No more than any of the other thousand times he’d tried to stop her from charging into battle.

  With the glowing sword held before her, Ivfa charged the Dragon.

  Sixty-Seven

  Zek

  The Dendon ship was remarkable.

  Beyond remarkable.

  Zek sat in the not too uncomfortable flight chair and ran his fingers over the controls on the sleek, black console.

  Systems came to life quickly. Easily.

  Colored displays lit up the flat console. Three-dimensional images popped up in front of him. Dendon words scrolled by. Fortunately the translator makers that every citizen of SixUnion had embedded in them still included the Dendon language.

  He’d never considered why, thousands of years after Dendon’s passing, SixUnion hadn’t erased Dendon from the language centers.

  Now he was grateful for it.

  The air inside the cabin started to warm. Bringing up scents of metal and strange spices. The natural, offensive stink of Dendon. He would probably never get the stench fully off.

  The deck plates under his feet gave a faint vibration as auxiliary power systems came online. It was amazing that there was any power at all. What energy source did the Dendon engineers put into this craft?

  It was a question for the engineers on HeJovna. Bringing this ship to the homeworld would be a triumph unlike anything HeJovna had seen in hundreds, maybe thousands of years. The Emperor would no doubt reward him. As long as he was sufficiently humble about it. Emperor HeJov did not like being upstaged.

  Perhaps it would be best to bring the ship in quietly and let HeJov take credit for it however he chose.

  A clatter arose from somewhere in the ship. He found and activated the ship’s cameras. Exterior views showed the guards, their arms laden with weapons, piling onto the gangplank. He switched to an interior view, down in the ship’s compact hold. Captain Tejoh was there, in some very ill-fitting armor, shouting at the guards to be careful with the weapons they were dumping on the metal floor.

  Zek ran a hand over his face. Idiots. If any of those weapons accidentally discharged…

  Something else caught his eye. He zoomed in on the image. Bit off a curse.

  He jumped up from the flight chair and ran down to the hold.

  The space was filled with the stench of sweaty bodies and Dendon spice. Captain Tejoh yelled at two of the guards to start securing the weapons for flight. Apparently they had found some spools of wire somewhere and were wrapping it around the blasters and projectile weapons from the armory.

  Zek almost stopped them. The Dendon ship had a clever particle beam restraint system.

  But then his eyes lit on the two bronze cylinders he’d seen in the monitor.

  “Captain!” He shouted, “Is it wise to bring those into the ship?”

  Tejoh turned on him with a furious scowl. Loose plates of armor over his out-of-shape body clanked and clacked as he moved. The old fool had discarded the Earth creatures’ environmental suit in favor of armor designed for beings taller and thinner than he ever hoped to be.

  “Are you questioning my orders?” Tejoh said in a half growl.

  Yes. Every single order out of your stupid mouth should be questioned, you flaming ass.

  Which, of course, he didn’t say. The captain still had the small projectile hand weapon tucked in his belt. The old fool fingered it. A pointed warning.

  “Of course, not Captain,” Zek said, “Your commands are our law. I was just wondering aloud if those smaller versions of the thing that attacked The Hojan’s Murder should be brought along. They might be quite dangerous.”

  Tejoh snorted a laugh. “As soon as your blade ran through that Earth creature, those worm things became non-functional. They’re as dead as that corpse over there.”

  Corpse?

  Slowly, Zek turned toward where the Captain’s scrawny finger pointed.

  Yes, there it was. The corpse of the Earth creature–Chris–tossed in a corner like a sack of rags. For some reason, the creature was now naked. The wounds on its chest were still gaping and crusted with dark, dried blood.

  Zek turned back to the idiot Captain.

  “Why?”

  Tejoh puffed up his chest. A smug, sly expression crossed his face.

  "The Artifact, fool," Tejoh said, "If that creature still has it, I–we–will be wealthy beyond measure. HeJov himself will open the royal treasury and pour gold upon us."

  Or he might just have all of them quietly executed and steal everything himself. HeJov hadn’t become and stayed emperor for so long by being charitable or soft.

  “The emperor’s scientists can take all this crap apart and learn its secrets,” Tejoh said, “And we’ll be the ones who brought it home. We’ll be legends.”

  Zek stifled a groan. And this was while the idiot was sober. Fortunately there wasn’t any wine to be found on the ship.

  “Yes, of course, Captain,” Zek said.

  Maybe he could get the guards to knock the Captain out. Then they could get rid of the more troublesome objects.

  But, the guards seemed more on Tejoh’s side at the moment. They were laughing and slapping each other on the back as they wired the weapons into bundles. The guards had appropriated pieces of Dendon armor to cover their nether regions at least. Looking at them, they seemed more like barbarians from the dark ages of the Don world than highly trained space troopers.

  Clothes definitely made the difference.

  “Captain,” Zek said, “Perhaps if we secured the metal worm objects in an airlock. That way if–”

  But before he could put forth a reasoned and thought out way to reduce their risk, two more guards came up into the hold.

  Along with the other Earth creature.

  And…

  Grunting and laughing, the two guards carried the large, golden object between them. The Earth creature–who seemed to be dressed in the dead Earth creature’s clothes–shot nervous glances at the guards. And the object.

  The object that appeared to be a golden, stylized statue of a female. Possibly an Earth female.

  “Dump it over there,” Tejoh said, waving toward an open spot in the corner.”

  The guards laughed and patted the statue on its ass and cupped its breasts with their hands. They carried it over and dropped the statue on the floor.

  Oh, by the tarnished balls of Hergot the Destroyer, what…?

  “Captain…” Zek said.

  Tejoh grinned and rubbed his hands together.

  “According to the Earth creature,” he said, “That’s the fabled maker armor of Dendon. Imagine if the scientists can figure out how to reproduce that. We wouldn't have to put up with this crap armor anymore."

  Tejoh tapped the stunted black triangle at the base of his throat. Which must have been nonfunctional since the captain wasn't using it t
o cover his flabby nakedness.

  Zek let out a quiet sigh. The golden female form lay face up on the floor, half atop a pile of what looked like Dendon plasma blasters. If it was indeed the Dendon armor, it would be a prize indeed.

  If anyone could figure it out.

  And if the current wearer of the armor didn’t suddenly come back to life.

  There were becoming far too many what ifs in this mission. The biggest one was what if this ship couldn’t actually get off the ground?

  Captain Tejoh grabbed his arm. “Is there any food on this ship?” He said, “I’m starving.”

  Zek shook his head. “The ship seems to have some sort of food synthesis technology, but it doesn’t seem to be working. There don’t seem to be any organic compounds on this world.”

  Other than a few Dons and a couple Earth creatures.

  Tejoh eyed the corpse of the Earth creature. “Suppose we could cook it up,” he said, “See what it tastes like.”

  The blood drained from Zek’s face. His breath caught in his throat.

  “Captain…” he said. Carefully. “SixUnion treaties specifically forbid the consumption of sentient beings.”

  Tejoh shrugged. Stroked his chin as he continued to eye the corpse.

  “Who says it’s sentient?” He said, “Besides, their planet isn’t a part or SixUnion.”

  Zek stifled a groan. There were few SixUnion rules that the Don bothered to even pretend to follow. However…It had been long established that eating other sentient beings was bad. It was beyond bad taste. So to speak.

  “Captain,” Zek said, “Perhaps we could wait until we ascertain where The Hojan’s Murder is. The food stores on it would be more palatable than a scrawny and surely ill-tasting Earth creature.”

  Tejoh stared hard at the corpse, licking his lips. Then, he sighed and turn away.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “Is this piece of junk ready to lift off?”

  “I’ll go check on that,” Zek said.

  He made haste out of the cargo hold.

  Before the captain came up with anything more stupid to do.