The Sorrow Anthology

by Helen Allan

  She rose on unsteady legs and held out her arms.

  “Sorrow,” he smiled, striding towards her and wrapping her in a firm embrace, “I had given up hope of us ever meeting again.”

  “Five years, I’m told,” she laughed, feeling the ingrained sand in his dirty uniform dig uncomfortably into her sand-whipped cheeks, “but it was only a day or two to me.”

  He held her at arms-length and stared into her face.

  “It was a long five years for me,” he said, his eyes serious.

  “Those bloody gates are so unstable,” Sorrow shook her head, not willing to get into a personal conversation and avoiding his intense look. She looked beyond his shoulders to the many other Earthborns milling around behind him.

  From her limited perspective in this dim light, it appeared they were inside a deep, long and wide cavern. The only light was the sparse sunlight coming in from the large opening one hundred metres or so to her right which appeared to lead to the outdoors, and from the small, low voltage lamps hung from the walls every twenty metres.

  Apart from the other red-uniform clad Earthborn hurrying here and there, the section of cavern she had awoken in contained stacks of dusty weaponry, camp beds here and there against walls, and creatures like the one that had attacked the lizards at the portal; all of them resting or sitting around like so many large dogs, gnawing on bones, scratching and licking themselves.

  “How did you know it had been so long?” he asked, studying her face.

  “The lizard-like creatures that captured me when I landed said nothing had come through the portal in five years.”

  “I don’t know if that is true,” Judgment frowned, “but you did not, that is certain. I thought it must be a time difference when you did not follow the year I jumped. I recalled you saying how time had passed when you jumped from Earth to Heaven. But I could not be certain that you would jump, or that you had not been killed on your return to Heaven with the birdman, or indeed that Lokan had not blown up the portal before you could follow me.”

  “I told you I would jump,” Sorrow frowned, focussing back on his face, “I don’t believe I’ve given you any reason to doubt my word.”

  He breathed out heavily and considered her for a moment. They both knew she was alluding to his having concealed from her his true heritage during their time on Avalona. For her, this betrayal was still fresh – but for him, it was five years in the past.

  “And I have kept mine,” he said quietly, ignoring her intimation and waving at the industry all around them. “I returned in time to convince the leadership that Avalona was a lost cause, a planet destroyed by disease. Your allies threw several dead Gharial through the portal also, and their disease was evident. No more troops were sent through the Avalona gate – it has been abandoned these five years. The gharial do not even guard it since I told them it had been blown up on Avalona and nothing new could come through it. Now you are here, I will blow it entirely from this planet too, so nothing can ever go in or out that portal again.”

  “If Lokan blew it up on Avalona after I left, I imagine it leads nowhere now anyway and will simply fail to appear here next year, if that is how the gates work. Although,” she frowned, “we can’t know. Maybe it will still show up here but lead to nowhere. However, it will not show up at all on Avalona; once blown….” she trailed off, uncertain now just how the gates would react to destruction on one planet.

  “The gates are still a mystery to us too,” Judgment nodded, “although the resistance has managed to blow up several on this planet, there are twelve planets ruled by the gods. We must assume that every planet has twelve portals. Protecting all from the gods and their armies will require destroying them all on every planet, at least, that is what I believe.”

  “You might be right,” Sorrow nodded, “but wait, you said the Avalona portal was abandoned? It was not abandoned. Those two lizard creatures were guarding it. They were about to kill me when your dog-thing saved me.”

  “I know nothing of this,” he shrugged, “I was not aware it was guarded, but no doubt you are referring to the local indigenous peoples of this planet, the Nãga. They are few and rarely seen; those we have seen are puzzling and mysterious in their actions and motives.”

  Sorrow put this aside for the moment but reminded herself to ask him more about these ‘Nãga’ in the future.

  “For now, the Gharial and the gates are my concern,” she said, keeping one eye on the industry around her as more and more Earthborn began to appear and don their weapons. “If we can stop their armies leaving, we can make a dent in whatever plans Shu and Tefnut, and even Seth, for that matter, are cooking up. You said you had managed to destroy other portals?”

  As she asked this, she noticed, for the first time, a great many more children, all Earthborn boys, amid the soldiers and animals.

  “Three,” he nodded, “and more will fall within a matter of days. I will go with my men now and destroy the Avalona gate, to be sure it is forever gone. Then my plan for the others will proceed.”

  “You only have a day left before they all close,” Sorrow frowned.

  “Yes.”

  “What can I do?”

  Judgement nodded, the corner of his lips turning up into a faint smile.

  “You can fight by my side, as we once did. But first, I must introduce you to my men – and to my findaile, Ib, it was he who retrieved you from the gate – he has searched there for you every year.”

  “Ib? You named him after the ancient Egyptian word for ‘my heart?”

  “It is as it sounds,” he said, “in the language of the gods.”

  Sorrow turned as Judgement said this, feeling eyes on her back, and looked into two large, deep, black pools, as they regarded her solemnly. She knew he shared Judgment’s memories, feelings, and one of his hearts.

  Even though she was now standing, the creature was as large as she had first thought. It was, she determined, definitely canine-like, about the size of a small horse and covered in long, shaggy fur, apart from its stocky legs, which looked as though they were covered in tough, skin plates, similar to rhinoceros hide. Its horns were straight and protruded forward from its head above its eyes, but not enough to block its vision. A long, jagged scar visible across its chest was bare of hair and Sorrow surmised this must be the scar that remained from the operation it and Judgment had suffered when one of his hearts was removed and placed inside the creature.

  “Thank you for saving me, Ib,” she smiled, approaching the creature and holding out her hand to stroke it.

  She frowned as it pulled back, recoiling from her touch, and bared its teeth.

  “Findailes are not pets,” Judgment said firmly, “they are warriors.”

  2

  Judgment strode down the marbled corridors dressed in his pristine red suit, Sorrow walking fast to try and keep up. Jury, clean, quiet and similarly dressed, had to run along behind to keep up, like a late afternoon shadow.

  They passed many other soldiers here and there, briskly walking by on this order or that. None gave Sorrow a second glance, and she began to breathe a little easier at their subterfuge.

  When Judgment had gone over the plan to take her with him earlier that morning, she had been sure it would fail.

  “You are absolutely sure?” she had asked for the umpteenth time.

  “Sorrow, I lead my echelon now, I report to my superiors weekly, never has my loyalty been questioned. They have no idea I lead the resistance. You, dressed in this suit with your lumps bound down tight, look like a small red army leader. You want to see inside the fortress; this is the best way.”

  “Breasts,” she smiled, “my lumps are called breasts.” She caught his eye and shook her head. The mention of her breasts had brought up memories she preferred to forget. Memories of the first time Judge had squeezed them, the first time he had kissed them, sucked them – she thought it unlikely he had forgotten either. “Now, tell me one more time about this complex,” she said, quickly changing
the subject.

  He had given her a rough overview of the structure of the army and planet, but no specific details about how he was planning on destroying the portals, simply saying the less she knew, the safer it was for everyone at this stage.

  “Later, after this mission, we will have time to answer all your questions, Sorrow,” he said firmly, ignoring her insistence that he tell her more, “you need to trust me for the next 24 hours – can you do that?”

  Sorrow nodded and stopped questioning, determined to follow his orders to the letter, as it seemed his men did - both those on the side of the gods, and those in the resistance, but her mind was uneasy.

  ‘And that is just the thing,’ she thought, ‘I don’t fully trust him, how can I? He lives a life here of lies and subterfuge, just as he did on Avalona. And yet, I came here, didn’t I?’

  Now as they strode the corridors of power, the centre of armed force coordination known as The Fist, she looked through the vast columns to the paved quadrants below and gasped at the enormous army spread out before her, all Gharials, all standing to attention, fully armed and in uniform.

  “What are they doing?” she whispered to Judgement as he continued to stride towards their destination.

  “They await their turn to jump through the next portals, for the other-world expansion,” he murmured, his lips barely moving.

  “Which world are they invading now?”

  “There are two,” he replied, pausing to nod at a passing guard.

  “Is one of them the portal we plan to blow today?”

  “No.”

  “Judge,” she hissed, “there must be fifty to one hundred thousand soldiers down there; I’ve never seen so many. Wherever they go, they are a formidable force. The planets they invade are doomed.”

  “Yes.”

  Sorrow stopped in her tracks and stared at his back, her halt so sudden that Jury collided with her buttocks, giving a small “oomph” as he stopped. So far, although it had only been a few hours since they had met, the boy had still not spoken a word to her, just stared.

  Judgement turned and walked two brisk strides back to Sorrow, gripping her arm hard and focussing his piercing, angry gaze on her.

  “Do you not understand the risk I take bringing you here? I am still the commander of a large force. If any should suspect that I lead the resistance…”

  “But why?” Sorrow frowned, pulling her arm from his strong fingers, “why are you focussing on a lesser gate? Why not the one they plan to use to invade other worlds?”

  “Because,” he turned and spoke quietly as he walked, Sorrow hot on his heels, “I need them to invade the other planets, Sorrow. If I am to take over this planet, destroy the Gharial once and for all, stop all future invasions, then the strength and bulk of their army must leave here – never to return.”

  “Oh my God,” Sorrow breathed out heavily, “you are sacrificing some planets, to save others?”

  “What other option do we have?”

  “And this is what you have done? Every year for the past five years?”

  He made no reply.

  Sorrow despaired as she looked across the landscape. It was covered, as far as the eye could see in troops now marching in an orderly fashion towards the bright blue portals shimmering on the horizon. Far beyond the portals, she could see another series of buildings, a white city, towering above the desert landscape and shimmering in the heat. It almost looked like a mirage. To the right of the distant city, across the desert plains, more troops were moving like a dark, rolling wave.

  “What have we done?” she whispered.

  “There will be time for despair, for guilt or whatever else is in your heart later, woman,” Judgment muttered, “but if you are still with me, now is the time to keep your mouth shut and listen.”

  Sorrow frowned and turned her head from the troops to the corridor, to tell him to keep a civil tongue in his head, or to fuck himself, perhaps both, but her words froze on her lips as she saw a God striding towards them.

  “My Lord Tefnut,” Judgment bowed, “an honour.”

  The god flicked his eyes over Judgment and Sorrow, ignoring Jury, and swept past in a flurry of white robes, not stopping or acknowledging the salutation.

  As his footsteps receded into the distance, Sorrow turned and cast a quick look at his retreating form.

  ‘As creepy in real life as in the memories I received in the regeneration tank.’

  “Have you ever seen Shu? His twin sister?”

  “No,” he frowned, “never.”

  Their conversation drew to a halt as they turned a corner and stood before two huge timber doors, taller than the average house, they featured engraved and silver-inlaid hieroglyphics all over and two long silver handles, curved, like a pair of giant metal mammoth tusks.

  “This is the heart of The Fist,” he murmured, “take in all you can.”

  Sorrow read the hieroglyphs as Judgment pushed open the doors.

  ‘Enter the door of destruction; the Fist of the Gods aimed by the Finger of fate.’

  ‘They really are insane,’ she thought as she stood behind Judgment and looked at the huge, round conference table before them, where thirty or more commanders sat. Others stood at screens, and around smaller tables, perusing maps and outlining strategy. On one electronic screen, Sorrow could see a projection of various landscapes being shown on rotation – none looked like any planet she had yet seen.

  “Judgment,” an officer approached, saluting, “your mission proceeds to plan?”

  “It does,” he returned the salute and nodded, “our guards are in place. We are ready for any attack on the gates this year.”

  Sorrow kept her eyes down, lest they reveal her shock.

  “This is the first year you are in sole charge of them,” the officer replied, “do not fail me in your assertion.”

  “Failure is not an option,” Judgment replied, “the outbound gates our troops depart through will be guarded with my life, I guarantee it. Of course, we cannot anticipate what the resistance might throw at the others. Still, I am prepared.”

  “The main thing is to ensure our invasion is not interrupted,” the officer nodded.

  “Exactly,” Judgment smiled, “and it will not be.”

  “Good. Proceed.” The officer saluted again and turned on his heel.

  “Thank you, Sir,” Judgment returned the salute to his officer’s back and made a slow turn, detouring to the right, where one screen was showing the planets, and another showing the engineering being undertaken on several prototype pods. Others showed the interiors and loading capacity of craft already in production and operation.

  “Do you need something?” another officer frowned.

  “Just confirming the spacecraft are prepared for the defence of the gates this afternoon,” Judgment said, his voice deep, commanding.

  “They are ready,” the officer frowned.

  “And your pilots?”

  “The same you briefed last week, there have been no changes to the staffing.”

  “Good,” Judgment saluted and turned.

  As they left the room, Sorrow cast another surreptitious glance at the aircraft design. It looked to her like they still had not built pods, but rather, more traditional engine-driven aircraft, not sentient. They could, therefore, if they were smaller, have been flown into a portal to blow it up. These, though, were too large.

  She wondered how Judgment had managed to blow three portals without spacecraft.

  Landing as she had with just one day left before the portals closed, she had been swept up in the preparations already underway by the resistance and had not yet had a chance to be briefed on the content of those plans.

  Something she planned to rectify as soon as she had Judgment alone.

  3

  There was no creeping up, no hiding or surprise attack.

  When the resistance attacked the fourth gate, they did it with speed, courage and fierce determination.

  And they pai
d for it with their lives.

  Sorrow spun to her right as several hundred Gharial, ostensibly led by Judgment, charged her line.

  Behind them, Judgment’s resistance second in command, Truth, and his men riding their findailes bore down to close the net. The bait, Sorrow in her Earthborn grey and blue uniform, having been taken as Judge had said it would.

  Seeing the Gharials charge, Sorrow knelt and fired into the oncoming line. She felled three within seconds. Falling to the dirt face-first and avoiding their shots, she drew her weapon and rolling over, sprung back to her feet, stabbing a fourth in the stomach as his jaws snapped for her face. Grimacing she spun and stabbed another in the eye as it lunged for her, green blood spurting out onto her uniform as she withdrew her sword in one swift motion and backhanded it across the creature’s neck.

  Hacking, kicking and stabbing, she fought the creatures with single-minded precision, noting these were fitter, healthier, but still no better trained in close hand-to-hand combat than those she had fought on Avalona or Heaven. En masse, with weapons, they were formidable, but against highly-trained fighters, their only advantage was sheer numbers.

  As she fought, the sounds of shouting, laser fire and screams were suddenly drowned out by the roar of engines as two large airships erupted from where they had been buried, concealed beneath the sand, not 400 metres from where she stood.

  Sorrow braced herself as the ground shook and sand whirled through the air, forcing her to squint. Fortunately, the Gharial were also hindered by the swirling dust and sand, and many turned to run as the airships began to fire indiscriminately into the resistance and Judgment’s Gharial troops, killing all in their path.

  Cursing, Sorrow spun to run from the ships and the deadly spray of laser beams. Sprinting in the opposite direction to the Gharial, away from the gates, she heard her name called and looking over her shoulder; she saw Ib and Judgement were about to overtake her.

  “Jump,” Judgement commanded as he reached down and, gripping her by the forearm, pulled her powerfully up behind him.