Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  "Are there news reports from before the Ancient War?" she asked.

  "There are .. . and afterward for a period of ninety-two years."

  "But why stop then?"

  "All the people who knew how to enter the data had ei­ther died or were killed in the first Orlock war."

  Teanna thought for a moment. "Then the creatures ha­tred of us must have started prior to that time. Isn't that right?"

  "Relations between Orlocks and their human masters had been deteriorating for many years," the Guardian ex­plained.

  "Human masters?" said Teanna, shocked. "We owned them?"

  "The Orlocks were created as a worker race for hu­mankind."

  The news was staggering. Nothing she had ever heard or read gave the slightest hint that her ancestors had cre­ated the Orlocks, much less owned them. The very con­cept was bizarre. She was in the process of working her way through its implications when the hum started. Teanna understood what the sound meant at once.

  "Close," she said.

  The Guardian inclined his head and promptly disap­peared.

  She glanced around the room and saw a large gray metal cabinet that was big enough to hide behind.

  "Lights off."

  A point of white light suddenly appeared in the dark­ness, and the hum continued to increase. The light ex­panded into a thin line that gradually thickened and became rectangular. In seconds the air took on a liquid quality. At the center of the rectangle two forms began to take shape. From her hiding place, Teanna watched a hu­man man and a female Orlock materialize. The rose gold ring on the Orlock's finger left no doubt as to who she was. She guessed the man was Terrence Marek.

  "What is this place?" Marek asked, looking around. "I've never seen anything so odd."

  "You are in a town the Ancients created. This is one of their libraries."

  "Astounding."

  "It's quite different from the kind humans use today. There are no books or scrolls here, only these machines," Shakira said, pointing to the consoles.

  "I don't understand," said Marek. "If there are no books—"

  "The machines contain pictures—pictures that move and talk. They can answer almost any question."

  Teanna listened as Shakira explained more about the town of Henderson and where it was located. Marek was taken aback at being a thousand miles under the surface of the world, but controled his reaction well. It was equally obvious to Teanna that Shakira was enjoying herself. When she was through with her explanation, she and Marek went to one of the machines and sat down in front of it. The Orlock passed her hand over a silver disk set in the table.

  "What information do you require?" a mechanical voice asked.

  Marek started when the voice spoke, and he leaned for­ward and looked on both sides of the machine.

  "Orlocks; history," Shakira replied.

  For the next five minutes a series of images floated above the silver disk. They showed a group of scientists in an ancient laboratory working on a humanoid body. Teanna looked closer. There were differences in the body's size and shape, but the face was clearly that of an Orlock. Eventually the images shifted to show Orlocks in the role of servants doing all sorts of manual labor.

  "Even our name was a joke," Shakira told Marek. "It was taken from a novel one of your ancestors wrote."

  Marek shook his head.

  "What your people didn't count on was our ability to develop emotions and think for ourselves. At first the hu­mans refused to accept this. Hundreds of my people were taken to laboratories and their brains were removed so your scientists could study them."

  A montage of images appeared over the disk, showing the most gruesome operations being conducted on the creatures. Watching from the shadows, Teanna grimaced, but did not look away. Marek had much the same type re­action.

  "In the end, the proof was irrefutable," Shakira went on. "Even the most adamant of humans could no longer deny it, but still the Orlocks were kept as slaves. After two hundred years, groups of your people began to petition their governments to free our people from their servitude and afford them rights as living creatures. I would tell you the date this occurred, but it would be meaningless to you. Do you understand what you have seen so far?"

  Marek nodded and passed his hand through the images floating over the disk, then looked at his palm. "I under­stand. Is there more?"

  Shakira laughed to herself. "Do you know what the words sepratus t'equi mean, human?"

  "Separate but equal. It is the old language."

  "Separate but equal," Shakira repeated. "An interesting concept, wouldn't you agree?"

  Marek turned in his chair to face her.

  "The protests over freeing the Orlocks continued for eighty years, becoming more and more violent."

  More images appeared over the disk.

  "Toward the close of the second age a resolution was fi­nally passed which all governments agreed to. Orlocks were to be given status as sentient beings—equal to hu­mans. The only stipulation was that we were banished to live under the earth .. . where your people would not have to look at us."

  "In places like this?" Marek asked.

  "No ... not like this. This town is quite different from any of the others. Perhaps I'll show you why one day. No, we lived in caves and in underground caverns. That's where we built our cities.

  "Continue," Shakira told the machine.

  Once again a series of images appeared, showing dozens of Orlock- towns and buildings under construc­tion.

  "I don't understand," Marek said. "What happened?"

  "Deprived of their servants, your ancestors began to look for something to replace them. Not far from here there is another machine. It took your people a hundred years to develop it, and another thirty years to create this cavern. That machine reaches into the depths of the planet."

  Shakira held up her hand to show Marek her rose gold ring. "It is the reason why these rings function. It has the ability to turn thought into matter."

  "I know all of this, your majesty."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes, I do. I've studied the ancient books. The Church of Coribar has known about the machine since it was built."

  "Do your books tell you what happened after it was built?"

  "If you mean the war, everyone knows about that."

  "Once the machine was awake, if your ancestors wanted something, all they had to do was to think about it. They needed nothing—least of all Orlocks."

  Teanna knew what Shakira was about to show Marek, and this time she averted her eyes. There was no need to view the atrocities she had witnessed again.

  "On the pretense of giving my people more rights, con­ferences were set up in all the great caverns and in stadi­ums on the surface. There, the Orlocks assembled, and there they were slaughtered.. . male, female, and chil­dren alike. The killing went on until the humans were sat­isfied their mistake had been corrected. An experiment that should have never been done, they called it."

  Marek shook his head sadly as he watched the images flash above the disk. Teanna put her hands over her ears to shut out the screams.

  "I am so terribly sorry, your highness," he said. "I had no idea. None of this appears in any of our books. A great wrong has been done to your people. The holy scriptures say that all of God's creatures shall live together in peace and harmony."

  "Words," said Shakira. "Humans find it easy to use words."

  "It is not too late," Marek repeated. "The revolt has al­ready begun in Elgaria and in Sennia. Alor Satar will re­spond by sending its armies to crush the rebellion, but it's they who will be crushed. Once the sinners are gone, we shall all live together as God intended."

  "In peace and harmony," Shakira said.

  From the shadows Teanna could see the cold smile that appeared on the Orlock's face. It never touched her eyes.

  * * *

  Teanna waited until they were gone. She was still in shock from the things she had learned. It was now clear to her t
hat Marek, Shakira, and Seth were planning a trap. She knew that Marek was right when he said that her cousin Eric would respond to a rebellion in Elgaria with force. The mercenaries, she assumed, would be the ones to draw Alor Satar in. That, however, was not the least of her prob­lems. Marek was so blinded by the opportunity for his Church to prevail in the coming conflict he was willing to sacrifice humans beings to the Orlocks.

  Any fool could see that Shakira had no intention of liv­ing peacefully with anyone other than her own people.

  It was no longer a matter of going along with Eric. If Alor Satar were destroyed, they would target her country next. Each of the three had their own reasons for doing so. The Orlocks wanted no more humans to betray them. If men killed men, so much the better—there would be that much less work for the creatures to do. Coribar wanted its doctrine to reign supreme, and anyone who stood in their way were enemies. Her father's theory about Vargoth's motives was also correct. The mercenar­ies saw a chance-to end their dependence on imports from other countries, and Elgaria was rich in natural resources.

  How nicely everything fits.

  "Guardian," Teanna said.

  As before, it took the Guardian a moment to materialize.

  "Princess," he said.

  "How can I reach Mathew Lewin?"

  "I cannot provide that information to you."

  "It's extremely important that I find him. I know he's alive, so you don't need to pretend."

  "That would be a human emotion. I am not pro­grammed to pretend nor can I give you the information you are requesting."

  "But it's imperative that I speak with him. Why won't you tell me where he is?"

  "My programming prevents me from giving you that information."

  "That's ridiculous. You told me that 'programming' means instructions. Whoever built you did it three thou­sand years ago. They couldn't know anything about me, because I didn't exist at the time, nor did Mathew."

  "The reason this information is restricted is because you attempted to harm another ring holder. It's a safe­guard the planners built into the machine."

  "A what?"

  The Guardian folded his hands in front of him. "When your ancestors first created the rose gold rings, they were not blind to human failings. They knew there were some among them that would try to harm others, so they took precautions against it. When evil thoughts were detected, thoughts of doing harm, the machine shut that person down—forever."

  A wave of panic swept over Teanna and she reached for the power. On the other side of Henderson was the labora­tory she'd discovered on her first visit. The needle on the first gauge moved slightly when she did.

  She could feel the power was still there. The machine hadn't cut her off after all.

  "Nothing's happened to me," Teanna said.

  "That is because your ring lacks the restrictions built into all the others. So it is with Mathew Lewin's ring. It is also true of Shakira's and the ones remaining in Alor Sa­tar. They are all part of the original eight," the Guardian explained.

  "Then if there are no restrictions—"

  "Only one. You may think of it as a system of checks and balances. When you tried to kill Mathew Lewin, the machine knew this. It will not aid you in doing so again."

  "But I don't want to kill him," said Teanna. "I was very angry at the time. I don't feel that way now. I just want to talk with him. Can't you understand that? What happened between us was four years ago. I overreact sometimes; I admit it. It's imperative that I speak with Mathew. We're in great danger."

  The Guardian didn't respond. After several more sec­onds it became apparent that he wasn't going to.

  Exasperated, she fixed the image of her bedroom in her mind and disappeared.

  31

  The Wasted Lands

  Gawl d'Atherny opened one eye and looked around. Then he opened the other. He deemed the fact that he wasn't dead a good sign. Inside what remained of the building's foundation, the soldiers were just beginning to stir. A groan from someone on his left attracted his atten­tion. Prince James sat up and spit out some sand. Quinn was about fifty feet away.

  "Well, that was fun," said James, getting to his feet. He put a hand under Gawl's arm to help him up. "What the hell was that?"

  "A sandstorm," said Gawl, brushing his arms off.

  "It wasn't like any sandstorm I've ever seen," James replied. "How often do they happen here?"

  Gawl didn't answer right away. Instead he looked out toward the horizon. "We'd better check on the men and see if anyone was hurt. It would be best if we get everyone to shelter as quickly as possible.

  "Why rush now that it's over? If that didn't kill us, nothing will."

  Gawl looked at the prince and lifted his eyebrows.

  "You can't be serious," said James.

  "They usually come in groups."

  "Oh, this is marvelous. This is just wonderful," James said, throwing up his hands. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

  "You never asked," Gawl replied. "Anyway, we were lucky. Some of them are really violent."

  Gawl clapped him on the shoulder, and James limped off to see about his men, muttering under his breath.

  As it turned out Gawl was right, they had been lucky. On his first visit to the plain years earlier, the storm that had hit his company killed six men. The memory still sent a shiver up his spine. The winds were like nothing he'd ever encountered. It was so bad, the men were un­able to breathe and choked to death on the sand. Given James's present mood, he decided to keep that informa­tion to himself.

  Throughout the day the heat continued to climb and the sky resumed the same gray metal appearance. Dark clouds moved slowly overhead as Jeram Quinn sat down next to Gawl. By the time they stopped to eat the constable was sweating profusely. He accepted a bottle of water from Gawl and took a drink.

  "This is an incredible place," said Quinn. "How is Prince James?"

  "Not in a very good mood. I think he wants to reach Sennia and get things over with as quickly as possible."

  "Don't you?"

  "Certainly. Hanging Edward Guy is one thing, but it won't be confined to just him, or even Ferdinand Willis and his crew. Sennians set great store by their priests, and a lot of my people will believe Guy is in the right just because Willis tells them he is. I've been giving the whole business some thought."

  "And . . . ?"

  "And I'm thinking now there might be another way to handle things. If Guy is a traitor, then we should put him on trial and let the law deal with him. James thinks I'm crazy. He says that the king is the law and to hang him and have done with it. Things aren't as clear-cut as they were a few days ago, Jeram. I suspect your influence may be rubbing off on me."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "I'd like to ask you a question," Gawl said. "Would you be willing to preside over a trial?"

  Quinn was shocked. "Me? I'm not even from your country. I'm an Elgarian."

  "But you fought with our men at Fanshaw Castle. A lot of people will remember that, plus you're a constable. Who better to conduct a trial than a judge with no per­sonal stake in the outcome?"

  Quinn looked at Gawl for several seconds. "Are you se­rious about this?"

  "Completely."

  "You understand that any trial would have to be man­aged according to the law, whatever the result."

  "Whatever the result," Gawl agreed.

  Quinn took a deep breath. "I'll have to give it some thought. You're a remarkable fellow, your majesty."

  "As I keep telling people."

  After an hour the men were rested. A brief debate took place between Gawl and James as to whether they should try to make it to the mountains or camp for the night since the ruins were in relatively good condition. It was settled as soon as Gawl told the prince about the possibility of corrosive rain. James kept muttering the entire way.

  They managed to avoid any more sandstorms, but were unfortunate in that just before leaving the plain an­other quak
e struck. It opened a mile-wide fissure in the earth. Two men were standing directly over it when it happened. Both fell in and were killed. Their deaths left a pall over the expedition.

  As they moved into the higher elevations, the tempera­tures dropped to more tolerable levels. Gawl located the path he was looking for without difficulty. It was just a narrow tract that ran along the edge of the mountain. He glanced at the rubble littering the ground with some un­ease and then up at the rocks above them.

  James looked as well. "Is this way safe?" he asked.

  "I think so," said Gawl, squinting upward. "It appears solid enough. We should pass the word for the men to be cautious just in case."

  "How long before we reach the summit?"

  "A little over an hour. There will be a number of streams coming out of the rocks and two tiny waterfalls about a half mile ahead. Under no circumstances should any of the men drink from them. Once we're over the top, the path descends into a valley. The water down there is fine, but for some reason these streams—"

  "Look, if this is something that's going to depress me again, I don't want to hear about it," James said. "I'll tell the men to be careful."

  "We'd better get going," said Gawl. "I don't want to be caught up here at night."

  "Oh, for God's sake," James said, stomping off.

  Gawl looked at Quinn. "Touchy sort, isn't he?"

  The rest of the journey went without incident. It ap­peared the Mirdanites were as anxious to get off the mountain as their prince was. Compared to the plain, the valley looked like a perfectly pleasant place. The farther in they moved, the, more grass and vegetation they saw. There was even a rapidly flowing spring that ran alongside the path.

  James, as Gawl knew, was an experienced outdoors-man, and despite his grumblings about earthquakes and poisoned water, he understood at once what was wrong there. No sounds of life could be heard anywhere; not from the birds or from any insect. Twice the prince walked to the edge of the stream and looked down at it. Though the water was perfectly clear, he could see no fish nestled along the banks. Unfortunately, not everyone was con­vinced and heeded Gawl's warning.

  A young corporal ignored his captain's instructions and refilled his canteen in one of the streams that flowed out of the rocks when no one was looking. He died in convul-