Yngve, AR - Darc Ages

by Darc Ages (lit)

  He did so - and then borrowed a guard's cloak, donning it as a disguise. He was closely followed all the way by Lachtfot, who was under strict orders from Bor to never stray from Darc's side. Man and robot exited through the kitchen entrance, and took a shortcut through the moonlit gardens. He could hear the noble guests playing their little love-games behind bushes and walls, female voices giggling. Darc walked past the main gate, ignored by the slightly drunken guards.

  The city was lit up - partly by the few lampposts controlled by the city lord, partly by the citizens. People walked along the narrow streets with candle-lamps in their hands, danced around mighty bonfires in the plazas. If Darc had seen the spectacles of previous summer nights, he would have noticed a difference in the city's mood: a sense of renewed excitement, expectation tinged with fear - and great hope. He avoided the crowd, and stuck to the back streets until he reached the cathedral. He spotted it one block away, and was about to cross the open place surrounding the building, when -

  "Sir Darc, someone is following us," Lachtfot said in a very low voice.

  Darc ducked into a portal; the robot followed suit. They could both hear steps closing in, then coming right up - Darc rolled out and grabbed the person's feet like a rugby player, knocking him down heavily.

  The pursuer grunted. In spite of the darkness, Darc knew that voice.

  " Dohan? Why are you following me?"

  The ruddy, bearded young man stumbled to his feet, suddenly more sober than the hour before.

  "I... wanted to make certain nothing happened to you."

  Darc took out his mounting frustration on his friend. "Well, you seem to be in greater danger than me," he said sarcastically, "walking drunk in the streets at this hour! Go home and sleep! I don't need nurses to follow my trail! You too, Lachtfot! Capisce? "

  "I must obey my owner's orders, Sir Darc."

  "I'm going to enter the cathedral over there, okay? Are robots allowed in church?"

  "No."

  "Fine. Then stay outside and guard the cathedral, as long as I'm inside it. Okay?"

  "Okay meaning yes, Sir Darc."

  Darc fought back an impulse to kick the robot in the knee - he would probably just break a toe anyway. He left Lachtfot and Dohan, and crossed the open place.

  The cathedral turned out to be much bigger than Darc had imagined; its two thick spires reached up perhaps fifty meters into the starry sky. The stars above, at least, looked exactly the same as in his own past.

  This close, he could discern the wall ornaments that had intrigued him before. They were representations of nature as it was before the apocalyptic wars - animals, lush vegetation, streaming rivers.

  And in this imagined pastoral sat full-bodied women and men - flirting, kissing, embracing - fully dressed yet very sensual. The cathedral had no sharp corners, but was rounded off to resemble... a giant female figure, lying on her back. The two large spires were the "arms", stretching up to embrace the sky. The "head" was the rounded back of the building, where he was heading. And the main entrance, buried between two half-buried "thighs", was... Darc blushed.

  He found the back door portal, and pounded on it with his fist. Immediately, the door nudged open a few inches. Darc could glimpse the figure of Inu standing behind it. She frowned at the cloaked figure, then recognized it and let him inside. Carrying a candle-lamp, Inu silently led him through a dark corridor, into a small chamber, and closed it. At first, Darc was too confused by what he saw, and turned around several times to get his bearings.

  "This is my study," Inu said in her husky voice, ripe with promises, "where I and my novices and students study the scriptures, pray, sing, and meditate."

  He took in the atmosphere - it sure was a room for true believers. From top to bottom, the chamber walls were covered by small icon paintings, resembling the paintings of Christ he knew from Eastern Orthodox churches. On a closer look, the faces on the paintings were different. All of them pictured the Goddess, or other blond women with dreamy expressions on their faces. Gold and silver foil covered their hairpieces. The artwork was stylized, hyperreal, incredibly detailed.

  "Who... who made these pictures?" he asked. Inu smiled, and replied: "The novices and the priestesses. I spent five years completing that one." She pointed one fleshy, white arm to a wall shrine. The largest icon was hanging there, surrounded by lit candles. Fresh flowers lay in bundles at its foot - and open jewel-cases filled with glistening crystals. Diamonds! Darc picked up one stone and held it to the light. It refracted the light perfectly. "A small contribution from the parishioners," Inu said softly.

  An old tune played in Darc's head: Diamonds are a girl's best friend...

  He thought: My God, this is for real. The gold, the jewels - it's all real. He turned to face Inu again. She was flushed and gleaming with sweat - the chamber was hot from all the candles. Darc took off his heavy cloak; he was sweating too. Inu sat down on a couch in a corner.

  "They call you 'Darc'," she half-whispered, "but that is not your real name?"

  Darc wondered how she knew, but he saw no risks in confessing the truth.

  "No, it was Lord Damon who gave me that name. My real name -"

  "I knew it! You are the resurrected Singing King, in the prophesied disguise!"

  "But how can you -"

  "You knew the forgotten words, they way they should be sung!" She flung herself to her knees and spoke rapidly, as if in a fever: "I have studied Old Juro and Aenglich . I recognized your words at the banquet. There were recordings, many centuries ago, that were destroyed - only the memory, and the hymn texts, the notes remained, preserved here. You knew the real words, without knowing the hymns! You can deny it, but you are the Incarnation!"

  Darc shook his head, staring helplessly at the fanatical woman. There was no way to make her change her mind - and he was just a little tempted to play along.

  Stumbling on his tongue, trying to gain control of the situation, he said: "This Goddess... I have seen her face in my time."

  "Have you... met her, the All-Mother made flesh?" Inu was wide-eyed, her mouth agape.

  "Not the person, no! But in my time, there were many... pictures of her. Moving pictures. All over the world. Do you have any of that kind here?"

  She looked down, sadly. "Only memories of the Goddess's first incarnations remain today. The original representations withered away... only the icons remain." She looked up again - desperately, tugging at the lapels of his jacket, and exclaimed: "But you saw her! You! Tell me the names , so I know you do not lie!"

  "Names...?"

  "The names of her personal hymns, in the original language! The ones no one but I is allowed to know or sing!"

  From some recess in Darc's memory came the baffled answer: "You mean... 'Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend' ?"

  "Yes! 'Demanti So Kurlis Befrend' !" she whispered back in Castilian.

  This was fun, in an almost shameful way - and he went on, egging her: " 'We're having a heat-wave, a tropical heat-wave!' "

  "Yes, oh yes!"

  " 'That old black magic has me in its spell!' Um... 'Let's Make Lo -' Oof! "

  Inu threw herself upon Darc, pushed him onto the couch. She wriggled herself out of her black dress, and pinned him down with her warm, soft flesh.

  "Before your experience," she breathed in his ear, "I am but a novice. Guide me! Share the sacred ecstasy with me!"

  Darc finally realized that he didn't want to talk any more. A little later, as they were sharing a significant moment of ecstasy on the couch, he called out: "My Goddess!" - and he thought he meant it.

  Chapter 12

  Darc woke up, very tired - but satisfied.

  He found himself lying on the same couch, covered up by his cloak and clothes... and Inu was gone. Most of the candles in the chamber had burned out, so he guessed it was already late in the morning. He went up, dressed, cleaned himself up, ate some breakfast left behind by Inu, left the chamber and found a bathroom. The ancient art of plumbing had been pre
served, and he was grateful for that.

  When he exited, Darc could pick up distant voices somewhere off in the main cathedral - the chanting of many voices. He found the back door and walked around the cathedral, to the main entrance. The tall portal stood open for the morning mass. Darc sneaked inside to have his first look, while covering his head with the cloak.

  The inside of the cathedral was richly decorated. Above the altar hung a huge icon of the Goddess in full figure - the picture was virtually made of gold, silver, and jewels. Her half-shut eyes were sparkling diamonds; the lips were scores of rubies, like glowing red wine petrified. Darc took a seat in the backbenches. At the altar far off, he could see Inu performing a solemn mass, singing hymns with a choir of young men and women. And over there, in the front benches, he could just make out the Damon family and some of the visiting families... thanking the Goddess for Dohan's victory yesterday, he guessed. The church music sounded somewhat like the gospel music of Darc's own time, only slower, less exhilarated. The text was unfamiliar to him.

  The churchgoers, sitting next to Darc, made a stark contrast to the wealth of the church and the nobility. Several thousand impoverished men, women, and children of the citizen class surrounded Darc - perhaps not starved for food as much as for experience. They were simply dressed: no watches or electronics; rough patches draped their knees and elbows. They sang with all their hearts though, fully believing in the powers of the All-Mother's redeeming love. Darc didn't feel like laughing - he might have experienced a little of that love last night. And yet he felt sorry for them, praying to the distorted memory of a long-lost woman.

  Were they to be forever locked up in this small city, with the entire universe lying outside to be explored? What kept them here? What kind of backward future was this? The song ended, each churchgoer doing the heart-to-mouth-to-eye sign.

  Inu spoke, her echoing voice full of solemn joy: "Last night, I felt the presence of the Singing King." A gasp of astonishment rose from the commoners around Darc. "Yes, he came to me, in flesh and blood. This is the truth: The King walks among us again! Praise the Goddess!"

  "Praise the Goddess" , the congregation murmured in awe.

  Darc didn't like this course of events - not one damn bit of it. What the hell was Inu up to? If someone recognized his face... images of religious fanatics, tearing apart the corpse of a dead Oriental mullah, flickered through his memory.

  Inu continued, reading from a thick volume: "'And the King shall sing his love songs to the Goddess again. They shall join in heavenly communion, and He shall bring new life to the Earth. All sins of the past shall be forgiven, and the Eternal Ice shall melt away. For it is written -'"

  The crowd responded in chorus, knowing the words from previous sermons: "Praise the Goddess who spared her faithful ones, and pray for the return of the King!"

  Darc's gut went cold with fear. An invisible weight on his chest choked him slowly. Intuitively, he understood his life was in great danger. Dizzied by the unreal situation, he half expected his mother to appear again - smiling at the sight of her son dressing up as a little monarch.

  Inu's voice rose, and declared: "The song of the King shall revive the Earth-Mother, and he shall give his life again to the world!"

  Darc fled the church and hurried to the castle library. There, he waited for Librian to return from church.

  "Librian, I'm in trouble. I need information."

  "Knowledge is my creed, Sir Darc. What do you need to know?"

  "Who do you think I really am?"

  The old librarian glared at his visitor, then looked down and shook his head.

  "I... you ask strange questions, sirrah."

  "No. My life depends on the answer. Who do you think I really am?"

  Librian leaned back, resting his dry, thin hands on the table. His watery eyes scanned the library, as if to find an answer there. Finally, he understood.

  "You are not the Singing King," Librian said shortly.

  "Right. I am just a man, a visitor from the past. The church... even Bor, in his way... they are trying to fool the people, use me as an idol. Why?"

  Librian answered: "Because they need the faith." With sudden intensity, he looked into Darc's eyes and said eagerly: " I believe in the Goddess too! I believe in the life-giving love of the All-Mother, and the healing force of the sacred songs. With my mind I see the contradictions inside the church, its corruption and abuse of power, its 'blessings' to the rich and powerful among men. Yet I believe, because I need to!

  "Have you not read Al-Masur as I told you? Have you not seen the horrors of our past? Do you think all the fear, the memories of a lost Golden Age would just... vanish? All this time, we have lived on hope. It is everywhere in these books of mine... All learned men knew that eventually, the Eternal Ice would retreat. Eventually, the Plague would be overcome. Some day, we would be able to leave the closed cities and take back the world.

  "But centuries came and went; nothing changed. And the knowledge turned into hope. Hope turned into a myth... and the myth turned into a faith. The pieces of a glorious past were everywhere: the ruins, the artifacts... and all those pictures. Al-Masur pieced those fragments together. He helped us remember the faith, the common tongue that once had united the world, remnants of which supports our society. And that tradition is now stronger than anything else. A great and wonderful lie - forgive me, Goddess."

  Darc saw what inner turmoil the learned man was suffering, and reassured him: "I understand, believe me. In my time, you would have been a great man - not locked up in this little town." He stood up, and restlessly paced the tessellated floor. "I see your point, Librian. I can't destroy the faith of all these poor people. No, they wouldn't listen anyway. But if I play along, someone is going to pay and it's going to be me. I never was a good liar. What should I do? Escape?"

  He stopped, and watched Awonso enter the library through the big door.

  "Master Darc!" the boy gasped; then he saw Librian and lowered his voice. "Um, Sir Darc, Lord Damon demands to see you in the conference chamber right away."

  Darc wished he could sleep on it for another 900 years. But he raised a weary hand to calm the messenger, and answered: "I'm on my way."

  Darc left, heading for the elevator. Lachtfot and Vhustank joined him, staving off wide-eyed servants and guards on the way. As in the old days, before telling the stockholders some bad piece of news, he felt a great fatigue. Or was it just a lack of sleep that made the air feel so chilly on his skin?

  Chapter 13

  "I greet you, Sir Darc," Bor said in a formal, respectful tone. "And this, my friends, is the man we have waited for. Behold the Singing King reincarnated, arrived from the Golden Age after his long frozen sleep!"

  Darc entered the packed room and Surabot locked the door from outside. He was instantly surrounded by guests from the banquet: Bor Damon, Osanna, Andon Pasko, Lord Ue Yota and his wife, Lord Bes Orbes and family... only Inu and Lord Azuch Fache were missing; probably the room was too crowded for him in his injured state. They all fell silent. The awed guests held a respectful distance. The ladies were somehow even more winsome than before, in spite of the fact that they had taken off most of their electronic jewelry. Osanna Damon's blue eyes were moist, her long hair combed straight and shining in golden tones.

  The faith was strong in her, her thoughts almost visible on her face: You are the one. I believe, I heard you sing. I love you. Please do not turn away from us. I love you. This was going to be hard, Darc told himself. He tried to think hateful thoughts, tried to despise these fat tyrants and their spoiled, privileged families - but he just couldn't. He could only be angry with Bor Damon, the only man who could possibly know Darc for who he really was - Bor, the cynical politician who never betrayed a softer feeling. Damn you for saving my life! Well, I'll show you some of your own game. I'll come out on top of this, whichever way it ends. I'm nobody's puppet.

  The guests waited for Darc to speak. He realized that he had been standing quietly for
a whole minute, and cleared his throat. With a serious expression, he made the greeting gesture.

  "Greetings, lords and ladies. I apologize for not having mastered your language just yet..."

  Outside the chamber, Dohan was waving his fists at the indifferent robots who blocked the door. Librian was right behind him, more anxious than agitated.

  "But I am his son , damn you! Step aside!"

  Surabot replied: "Exclusive meeting, my lord. Lord Damon's orders. I apologize, my lord."

  "So let us get to the point," Darc told the assembled nobles, who had not yet spoken a word to him. "You want me to pretend I am the reincarnated Singing King, right? And some of you think I really am him, right? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I am just David Archibald, frozen alive nine centuries ago. I have never tried to be someone else.

  "But surely I can be of help to you. We can come to some sort of understanding, my lords. I still remember many things from my own age... not just the songs! But powerful knowledge! Things that could be of great help to your people!"

  Bor Damon's facial color turned white with red spots - he was on the verge of a busted vein. Too late he understood that he had underestimated Darc.

  "You possess knowledge which did not yet exist in my time," Darc elaborated. "Fusion power, thinking robots, cures for cancer... but you did not create this knowledge. It is old, very old. And I know things that you have forgotten. But it is not enough to just tell you those things. What you need, is a method... we called it 'science'. A certain way of thinking. It will make you free, and more powerful than you can ever imagine."

  There was a price for science too - Darc knew that all too well. But that was his only trump card, and he was betting his life on it, just as he had done 900 years ago.

  Finally, after a minute's silence, the message began to sink into the most flexible minds in the room - starting with Bor: "I think, Sir Darc... that you should not upset the delicate souls of the noble ladies here. Perhaps if we had a little pause here, an intermission..."