“That’s the power flux. The thing is using a tremendous amount of energy.”
Aspet was looking at something directly in the line of sight of the specter.
“This looks like some faint symbol set into the floor.” He knelt down and wiped off the dust. As his hand moved across the apparition began to speak. Everyone stared in amazement.
“Ersryhestan me golspij’nemol is Qillopot selmone. Klasetgilomj’giloma. Lo kop re’sthklaju Ta’slizh’I,” it said, in a slow, measured, faintly metallic voice. They all scratched their heads as it droned on, repeating the announcement, or whatever it was, in an endless loop.
“My best guess would be some form of protogoblish,” said Ballop’ril, finally.
“Do we know anyone who understands protogoblish?” asked Aspet.
“Only a few academics. Come to think of it, one of them might be Dr. Reoksa.”
“Let’s see if we can get her over here.” He pointed at the RPC captain’s comm.
Half an hour later the good doctor came putting up in her little pram. Aspet explained the situation to her and led her over to the apparition, which she regarded with a mixture of scholarly curiosity and alarm. He stood on the trigger glyph and she listened intently as the specter spoke.
“It’s a dialect of protogoblish known as Noorpridic because it was first documented from a small island a few hundred kilometers off the coast of Esmia...” She tailed off.
“Well,” Aspet asked after a few seconds of silence,” What is he saying?”
Dr. Reoksa scratched her cheek. “He appears to be, um, barking.”
“Barking? Like a hound?” Aspet was incredulous.
“Like a carnival barker,” interjected Ballop’ril, “He is trying to...sell us something.”
“So it would seem,” agreed Dr. Reoksa, “The translation is, more or less, ‘Be welcome here in Qillopot, all goblins, and hear my words: come and try on the raiment of wonder to be transported tothe energy source and return a goblin enraptured.’ I’m not too sure about that last word—re’sthklaju—but ‘enraptured’ is pretty close.”
“So, they constructed this amazing suit just to entertain the masses?” asked Boogla.
“I expect that is merely an afterthought,” said Ballop’ril, “To provide funding for future magical endeavors. Remember that magic was a new phenomenon at the time; most people believed it to be no more than prestidigitatory illusion. In order to gain some cachet as a serious scholarly pursuit they needed to present more than simple parlor tricks. It is one thing to be told of a separate plane of existence where a previously unknown form of energy originates; it is quite another to witness it with your own eyes.”
Aspet chuckled. “So, instead of turning people into amphibians to illustrate that they were legitimate they just let them peek through a window at The Slice, eh?”
“Must have worked; that’s probably where they got the money to build this complex,” Boogla said.
“This was probably the most exhilarating experience most of these people had ever had. Remember, we’re talking four thousand years ago: agrarian economy, iron implements, simple tools. The introduction of a force as powerful as magic must have been enormously transformative,” said Dr. Reoksa.
“Even with the assistance of the arcanelementals it would have taken them years to master the physical control necessary to perform magic at the archmage level. Knowledge of the process is only part of that challenge,” said Ballop’ril, “This carnival act may have been the only way they could impress people enough to support their efforts.”
“In some ways this reminds me of Arbus and the Elder Grove. That early era of exploration and discovery on N’plork must have been an exciting time.” Aspet suddenly stopped and stared off into space. After a few seconds he grinned and walked over to Boogla, taking both her hands.
“I want to make a side trip on our way home.”
“Of course. Where did you want to go?”
“Dockside. In Goblinopolis.”
“Visiting your old neighborhood?”
“In this case, no. I want to meet and talk with a very enigmatic entity who lives there.”
Boogla looked puzzled.
“His name is H’esh’tuk, but he is more commonly referred to as ‘the Exalted One.”
Recognition glinted in her eyes. “The creature with all the tentacles. It’s funny, but one of the Sisters of the Code is a dwarf born into his sect. She left them on friendly terms when she attended Polytechnic, but she still goes back to visit every so often. She says he is a remarkable person: a ‘force of nature,’ in fact.”
“All the more reason to pay him a visit,” Aspet declared. “I ran across him from time to time as a lad, but I always thought he and his dwarven retinue were a bit strange and gave them a wide berth. I understand he and Tol are something like buddies, though. I even saw him at Tol’s knighting.”
Boogla shrugged, “I’m game.”
Chapter the Tenth
in which the origin of The Exalted One is revealed
The next morning, bright and early, the Royal Party set off for Goblinopolis, leaving Dr. Reoksa behind to supervise the excavation and restoration of what they now knew to be Qillopot, the presumptive birthplace of magic on N’plork. Aspet had sent a message to Tol asking him to meet them at the carriage station, to provide an introduction and because Aspet knew Tol would enjoy visiting with H’esh’tuk.
In the Royal limo on the way to Dockside, Aspet quizzed Tol on the mysterious creature.
“So, what is he like? For that matter what is he?” Aspet asked, munching on a protein bar.
Tol accepted his offer of one of his own and thought about the answer as he opened the wrapper.
“I don’t really know what he is. Not from around here, that’s for sure. He can talk, but if he has any eyes, I haven’t seen them. He seems to perceive his environment largely by touch: those tentacles are very, very sensitive. He also occasionally emits a high-pitched trilling noise that may be some form of echolocation. That reminds me: if you’re going to meet him, he will want to run those tentacles all over your face. Better warn the RPC about that or they might get unpleasant with him.”
“Great advice. I will do definitely do that. Are they... slimy or anything?
“No, nothing like that. They are dry and his touch is very light. They just brush against you, really.”
“Good. That doesn’t sound too traumatic or invasive.”
“It isn’t. It’s disconcerting if you’re not expecting it, but otherwise there’s nothin’ to it.”
As luck would have it, the Exalted One was in residence at the Temple of Placidity when the Royal Convoy rolled up. Aspet’s first contact with H’esh’tuk went off smoothly; the RPC, while nervous and extremely attentive, allowed him to probe Aspet without interference. As they sat in the meditation ring of the temple, sipping a herbal infusion that Aspet found delicious and a little intoxicating (although he would not say that out loud for fear the RPC would take it away from him), His Majesty decided to get down to business. “Exalted One, may I ask your origins? How you came to be
here at this place at this time?”
The barnacle body vibrated for a few seconds, tentacles flexing rhythmically, then at last a thin, wavering voice drifted out from somewhere inside the depths of the creature’s bulk.
“My birth name was H’esh’tuk. I am from a world that called itself Djolda, which in my native tongue simply means ‘Everything there is.’ I was inducted at a young age into the Order of Salxeras, a monastic order that studied and worshipped the energies from which all living things are derived. Once every horcan, which corresponds to five circuits around our star, an elaborate ritual takes place in which the monk deemed holiest and most devout is chosen to be dropped into a swirling eddy of dark energy located on a high mountain top. In my forty-third circuit of existence I was named that most holy monk.”
“So,” interjected Tol, “Your reward for being the holiest monk was
to be sacrificed. That doesn’t sound as though it would encourage devotion very effectively.”
“Ah, but do not mistake, Tol-u-ol: being chosen for the
‘sacrifice’ is the highest honor one may achieve in my Order. We refer to it as being ‘sanctified,’ rather than sacrificed.”
“Well, yeah, ‘cause everyone who gets it disappears into a black hole forever. It would be difficult to achieve much of anything after that.”
“It requires many years of study and meditation, as well as being immersed in the culture, to understand why the sanctification
is a goal to be desired,” replied H’esh’tuk patiently,“Remember that we believed the energy field was a portal to paradise, not a death trap as you seem to think. We worshipped it as a manifestation of the Divine and called it the Infinity Pool.”
“What would happen,” Aspet asked, “If someone unworthy were to jump into the energy vortex?”
“We are taught that non-worthy subjects are cast into a vast plane of Limbo, forever to wander a barren and blasted landscape. They have no chance at Paradise.”
“Bummer,” said Tol, “I hope there’s a fence around it or something.”
“What was it like, to be ‘sanctified’ in that way?” Boogla asked.
“As I was lowered gently into the whirling energy field, I really had no idea what to expect. I pulled all of my tentacles in tight to my body and closed my eyes.”
“You have eyes?” Tol interrupted.
“Yes, of course, Tol-u-ol. They are located on four of my tentacles, as you call them. These four.” He waved four of the thicker appendages with bulbous endings on them.
“I see mostly in the realm you would call ultra-high frequency, although I can adjust the reception to a fairly broad range.”
“So, you perceive the world in the radio spectrum, then?” said
Boogla.
“Correct. I do not see ‘color,’ as I have come to understand it from speaking with my adherents, but I can distinguish between very fine textural differences that amount to colors. In other words, the pigments used to provide color often vary at the fine scale and I can distinguish between them, although I have no mental image of the different colors, per se.”
“Fascinating and enlightening,” Boogla replied, “Please, continue your story.” Tol started to make a comment but she frowned at him and he shrank back a little in his chair, looking chagrined for her benefit.
“The air around me crackled and sputtered,” H’esh’tuk resumed,“There were odors and sounds I could not identify. I fell through a hole in reality, plummeting rapidly without the sensation of falling. At last I came to a halt, at least as far as my deprived senses could tell. I opened my eyes gradually, thankful that I was still alive, or at least aware. I was in a small meadow of sweet heather and wildflowers, surrounded by tall plants with thick skin and many, many limbs terminating in clusters of delicate veined scales.
Two odd creatures with bipedal stance and only a single pair of upper appendages came crashing through the high grass, making a whistling noise I recognized as a form of music—yes, we had music on my world; it formed a very important part of our culture. I withdrew my tentacles and instinctively froze. They almost passed me by, but one of them glanced in my direction and approached, curious at what they perceived as an unusual plant form. I was unsure how to react, but I took a chance and began to hum an ancient song from my culture.
At first the creatures could not seem to understand where the noise was coming from, but they finally realized it was being generated by the ‘plant.’ They gawked in fascination until first one, then the other, began to hum along with me. I knew then that they were most likely sentient.
We traded songs for quite some time until they determined it was necessary to return to their homes. They seemed quite saddened by the parting, so I decided to follow them. Initially frightened, they soon realized that I was not a plant, but a sentient animal like themselves and that I meant them no harm. Over the next few months we developed a close friendship. They taught me first Dwarven and then Goblish.
That friendship evolved into a student-mentor relationship that eventually led to the formation of what I understand is now referred to officially as ‘the Cult of H’esh’tuk.’ I find this at once amusing and somewhat misleading, since we were only three for a good long while. Three seems a little sparse for a ‘cult’ to me. At any rate, after they left their homes and for my benefit lived a strictly
nomadic life for some years, my companions were at last able to raise sufficient funds to build the Temple of Placidity, where you now sit.”
“Your followers have petitioned me to grant protected religious status to a rather interesting arboreal manifestation in the center of the newly-created Kopyrewt Natural Preserve,” said Aspet, “What say you to that?”
“That is one of the terminal nexuses for the dark energy vortex—the Infinity Pool—which connects to my homeworld. Sadly, the traversal is efferent only. The vortex provides some of the extradimensional manna the forest organism residing there requires to maintain sentience, although I doubt that organism is fully aware of this. It is a symbiotic relationship, as the vortex itself needs termini through which to bleed off energy in order to remain in an entropic steady-state.”
“Wait,” said Boogla, frowning, “Does that mean every sanctified monk ends up on N’plork? Why haven’t we encountered any others?”
“No one really understands the process fully, but my best estimation from the known facts is that each sanctification creates a new terminus of the vortex at some other dark energy nexus. The possibility exists that if sufficient sanctifications take place the energy pulse may once again target N’plork, but I consider the chances of that quite remote given the dystropic nature of the event.”
“What if the vortex terminus appears in deep space, or underwater, or in solid rock?” asked Tol.
“I have considered that myself,” answered H’esh’tuk after a moment, “And I came to the conclusion that the vortex seeks approximately the same conditions of atmospheric composition, temperature, and gravity in order to terminate. It doesn’t have to breathe or sustain biochemical reactions, of course, but the specific environmental conditions that support our form of life also combine, I believe, to form the ideal terminus point for the vortex. I also suspect this is no mere coincidence.”
“It may also be intertwined with The Slice and therefore restricted to those planets where magic has been tapped,” observed Boogla.
“Yes,” the Exalted One replied, “That is another factor in the equation that plays a more important role than perhaps I had previously determined. Magic is a force to be reckoned with wherever it appears. The Slice and the Infinity Pool seem to share the same energy stabilization processes; it is likely therefore that they are both manifestations of the dark energetic continuum.”
“Well,” said Aspet, standing up, followed by everyone who wasn’t already standing doing so as well, “While I’ve known of you all my life, H’esh’tuk, I’ve never really known you until now. I am granting the petition for special status of the Nexus Grove and I will issue a special limited dispensation for construction there. Please keep it to a minimum, as the area is now a Preserve and we need to limit encroachment of any kind as much as possible.”
“As you command, so shall it be,” replied one of the dwarves. “We will submit our plan for the shrine for your approval before any work begins. Much of it will involve entraining of plants already living there.”
“Excellent and appreciated,” replied Aspet, “Farewell to the Cult of H’esh’tuk and may the fates smile upon your lives and endeavors.”
“Farewell, noble King. I name you Aspet the Wise and predict you will reign longer than any other King of Tragacanth.”
Aspet was taken aback. “I... thank you for the well-wishes underlying that prognostication; many things must fall into place for it to be rendered accurate, I’m afraid.”
“Nonetheless
, the prediction stands.”
Chapter the Eleventh
in which Tol rescues a slave beneath Hellehoell
Tol stepped off the carriage in Fenurian to quite a different picture than the previous time. Instead of tents and generators, there was a real live station house. It wasn’t quite finished, but it was open for business and in comparison with the tents, quite elegant. On the ride to Hellehoell he saw other significant reconstruction efforts, including some needed infrastructure improvements to highways and public utilities. It was a far cry from the quake-ravaged landscape of three months earlier, and it cheered him considerably.
His purpose was to visit with the titan leadership and evaluate for the King how diplomatic ties were progressing. In order to encourage the titans and subject them to as little kingdom bureaucracy as necessary, Aspet had declared the occupied portions of Hellehoell an autonomous region, only nominally subject to the laws and oversight of the Tragacanth government. It was the first step toward granting them full city-state status, which was Aspet’s eventual intent if they so desired it. It was a sincere offer, with no strings attached, and Tol was proud of his brother for extending it. So far CoME had offered no objections.
He drove a rented pram to the entrance to Hellehoell, now patrolled by teams consisting of both Ferroc Norda and titan guards. Tol was met by Tartag, who had been appointed Ambassador to Tragacanth by the first interim Hellehoell Council of Elders. The titan seemed quite excited over the prospect of showing off more of his beloved city to Tol. As they descended from the newly-widened entrance, the considerable progress of the titan restoration crews was quite evident. Gone were the dusty, dull stones and partially filled-in carvings. In their place were brilliantly gleaming facades of granite and marble with cunningly wrought silver inlays. The air, once musty and unpleasant, was now swept clean and cool, brought up from some deep reservoir. The streets were lit by a seemingly infinite number of gas lamps that cast a warm, yellow, inviting glow.
Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 Page 10