Yngve, AR - Darc Ages

by Darc Ages (lit)

  He asked Mechao, who explained without unease: "In your time, you could decide the sex of an unborn child, no? You could abort an unborn, because it was going to be of an unwanted gender, no?"

  "That is true," Darc admitted uneasily. "And it caused problems in some lands, because most parents prefer sons to daughters - well, in my time they did."

  Mechao nodded. "In my practice, I am regularly asked to control the gender of an unborn, by sorting the male seed into male and female tendencies."

  He meant chromosomes - female, X-shaped chromosomes and male, Y-shaped chromosomes. Sorting them was a relatively simple mechanical process, since they had different weight.

  Darc said: "I see. So, why do parents here choose to have daughters more often?"

  "Because this is a small, peaceful, isolated island... and we desire it to remain so. We have no need for soldiers or brawlers. Our women argue thus: why need so many men, when all they do is sleep in the sun, use the crops for making beer, waste their money on gambling, get drunk and beat their families - and then leave their wives for the mainland?"

  Mechao's words reminded Darc of angry female litanies from his youth; and though he himself stayed away from drinking, he knew the bitter truth of those complaints.

  "But... but isn't this dangerous for the reproduction?" he objected. "What if all men eventually disappear from Kap Verita... or the risk of inbreeding?"

  Mechao giggled in his peculiar way, then said with a knowing smile: "I was going to ask you and your young friend a small favor, a small repayment for my services..." He held up a set of tiny glass tubes, and winked benevolently. "Would you care to make a small donation to the island's genetic treasury?"

  A strong, thin arm reached under Dohan's bearded chin, and kicking legs pulled him up to the surface, back to the pebble beach. He was barely conscious, until someone began pressing her soft, warm lips against his, blowing in air. She removed her lips - Dohan took a gasping breath, coughed up seawater, and wheezed like an old man. Then his vision cleared again, and he could see the person who had dragged him up.

  She was roughly his age. Her small face had Mechao's slanting eyes and long nose - and her mother's broad cheeks. Her light-brown, soft skin glittered with drops of water, and her slim, curvy figure was showing under the wet skirt and shirt. The girl's brown hair stretched to her shoulders in thick braided dreadlocks, set with colored beads that framed her long neck. She was kneeling beside him, and he saw that she was surveying his pale body with curiosity... or fascination. He blushed, and covered his crotch.

  "Who are you?" he croaked.

  The young woman retreated several meters, then retorted: "I am Meijji of the Mechao. And you... are a dumb brute."

  She put her hands on her hips and just stood there, as if waiting for him to get angry at her. Dohan got to his feet with some effort, and found his clothes. He rinsed them in the waves, and dressed - the sun was already burning his skin hard, and his nose had been peeling for the last few days.

  "I ought to thank you for pulling me up!" he called at her.

  She sat down on a rock, watching him dress.

  "I should have let you drown, paleface!" she called back. "You murdered my Pipo!"

  She was insane, Dohan told himself. And insane women were best left alone. Meijji thought: He is as big as he is dumb. A big, muscular paleface. Never have I seen a member as pale as his...

  Against his better judgment, Dohan approached Meijji again. He disliked the idea of her running about accusing him on false grounds, so he decided to put her in her place.

  "Let me just say this: I did not 'murder' your monster. He attacked me . What was I to do - let him trample the ship and hurt my friend who was inside?"

  Meijji raised her small chin - a very cute angle of her face, Dohan admitted to himself - and gave him a defiant laugh.

  "Pipo ate nothing but vegetables, I used to feed and wash him every day! Those front teeth were just for scaring! You think you are a brave warrior, huh?"

  "I know I am," he said with a feral grin, "just as I know that you are a madwoman. And I have no more time for you. So leave me alone!"

  She made a childish face, and stood up. "Fine! See if I care! I hate you!"

  Meijji turned and fled, skipping over the round boulders with graceful ease - Dohan was unable to trace her way into the hills. He sighed, and thought of home. Could he ever return now, having disgraced his family and broken the oldest of all taboos? He ought to be defending his city from the Paskos now - if they weren't attacking already. And to top his miseries, he was being persecuted by a madwoman.

  That last thought kept Dohan occupied for the rest of the day.

  That evening Mechao and his wife, the venerable Amada, were informed about the events on the beach - the women of the island had their eyes and ears on the new visitors.

  Amada laughed at this news, wrinkles spreading over her dark, smooth face.

  "The Great Sea lends a hand," she told her husband as they went to sleep. "It is fickle but generous."

  "We are indeed blessed." He smiled.

  "Tell me, dear, will he bring us many grandchildren?"

  "Many, many ones. Meijji will have five sons and five daughters."

  "Four. Four sons."

  "Why four?"

  "Four is her lucky number."

  "Woman, you are so... so..."

  The word he was aiming for would have been "irrational", but it did not exist in their vocabulary. So he kissed her instead.

  Darc took a break in his genetics studies, and staggered to bed for a full night's sleep. Finally, he was on his home ground - unlawful or not, he wasn't going to quit science. From outside his room, the distant music of a village feast beckoned - maybe he could do a few rock songs for them? - but sleep overcame him. Later, he told himself.

  Dohan slept a little better in the ship that night, but he dreamt uneasily - about laughing, brown-skinned women who ran around him, teasing him with glimpses of naked flesh.

  Meijji spent most of the night among the feasting villagers in the valley below Mechao's mansion. She stayed away from the dances, and rejected all invitations from the young men. Her friends, relatives and elders knew what was bothering her; it was futile to explain to Meijji what she would soon find out on her own. And not a few of them, also her sisters, envied her. Jealous thoughts grew in the night.

  Early in the morning, Meijji traveled down the cable-way to the harbor ruins, and had a second look at the carcass of Pipo. The sight made her wince.

  Birds, insects, and small animals had picked his bones clean - only the huge ribcage, the long skull and rags of scaly skin remained. Meijji was suddenly filled with disgust, seeing Pipo for what he had been - a monstrosity, a dumb animal. She felt a strange surge inside. Meijji was clueless as to why, but she craved Dohan's attention. Immediately.

  Chapter 17

  Dohan sat out in the open, and was just finishing the shaving of his beard with a sharp knife, when a small rock hit the Sunray's hull. He grasped the knife as a weapon, ready to stave off the vandal - but saw nobody. Another pebble bumped into the ship, bouncing off the front windshield. Somehow, he knew it was Meijji.

  "Stop that!" he shouted at the hills. "Or I kill you!"

  Meijji's head peeked down from a nearby cliff, and she yelled: "You haven't got the balls! And I'm too quick for you, clumsy paleface!"

  Dohan's face went red with anger, and he rushed up the rocky slopes to catch her. He did not intend to kill Meijji, just bring her to her father - so that he could lock her up until he left this cursed island. Meijji knew the island well; she skipped over crevices, hid in bushes, taunted him from a distance. He ran, climbed, lunged at the girl who suddenly appeared and disappeared before and behind him - always one step ahead. After having chased her for what seemed half an hour, Dohan was exhausted. He slumped down in the shadow of a palm-tree, breathless, and wiped his face. Fighting armored knights was child's play compared to this.

  Then - a low rust
ling from above caught his attention. He went taut, darted to his feet, gazed upward - and saw Meijji, clinging to the upper part of the tree trunk, staring down at him. He could glimpse her smooth thighs under the skirt. Almost immediately, Dohan threw his weight against the elastic trunk, and shook it forcefully. The girl screamed, lost her hold, fell - and with a groan, he caught her in his thick arms.

  "Let go of me!" she screamed. "If you rape me, the other women will cut off your balls and -"

  He hardened his grip to a bear hug, and she fell silent with a yelp of pain.

  "By tomorrow or very soon," he explained in a hard terse voice, "I will have to leave my friend here and return to Castilia. I can never come back! What more do you want from me, madwoman?" Meijji twisted in his grip, and faced him up close. She had tears in her eyes.

  "I don't want you to leave," she said in a much softer tone. "I never said that."

  He frowned, then looked into her brown eyes with wonder. She was incredibly beautiful. He wanted her more than anything else in the world.

  Dohan wanted to say it, but instead he asked: "Is this another taunt?"

  "No!"

  "You want me to stay?" he shouted.

  "Yes!" she cried.

  "Why?"

  She was speechless. He was about to let go of her - when she kissed him on the mouth. He responded without thinking, and they embraced each other. There was no need for further talk. For the better part of an hour, they were content with kissing and caressing each other. Later still, they grew bolder and made love at the foot of the palm-tree.

  Meijji's passionate moans and Dohan's heavy breathing were nearly drowned out by the shrill song of the crickets. Afterward, they rested in each other's arms, and the surrounding world ceased to exist in their minds. Dohan could only perceive Meijji's lovely, vulnerable face. Meijji was only aware of him holding her.

  Darc met Dohan in the mansion, late in the evening. The young nobleman seemed to him different, more mature - and infinitely more troubled.

  "Darc, I cannot stay here any longer. By keeping the Sunray here, I am endangering my home."

  "I understand. We leave as soon as possible."

  " 'We'? You cannot go back - my father would kill you - and slowly!"

  "It has to be. If you return alone, you will take the full blame for having helped a suspected witchdoctor. I must go with you, to defend you against any charges. And to clear my name."

  Dohan made an incredulous laugh; it was so absurd he practically forgot about the Singing King, and saw just Darc the man. "You talk of defending me? With no army, no city behind you - you stand powerless against the nobility - the church - and the Doctors' Guild! They will hunt you down like an animal!" Darc shook his head, and said: "What if I stay here, then? The islanders will be endangered by my presence, because Bor will seek me out here. Then the Guild will find Mechao, and wipe out him and his family."

  "No!" Dohan exclaimed - the thought of Meijji being killed was unbearable.

  "Yes," his friend insisted. "And you are mistaken about me having no power," he added. "I have something infinitely stronger than weapons. Ideas. Democracy. Free speech. Human rights."

  "It is beyond my understanding what you are blabbering about," Dohan said in a whining tone. "All I know is that I love Meijji, and I do not wish to live if I cannot see her again..."

  Darc laughed and patted the lovesick young man's shoulder. "Well, why didn't you say so? Good for you! Will you marry her?" he said, jokingly.

  Dohan didn't laugh when he looked at him and said: "You do not know our laws , Darc. The nobility must stay united to avoid internal power struggles. The ruling families marry away each other's children to strengthen their alliances. Could you imagine the chaos, if I married the daughter of a criminal... a witchdoctor? Damon's dynasty, smashed."

  The red-haired young man slumped onto a chair, and buried his face in his hands. If he was weeping, it did not show in the darkening room. Darc suddenly felt very old. So that's the picture, he thought. No matter where I walk, there's an establishment or a taboo I'm stepping on. Even this lad, for all his guts and glory, is shackled by a rigid, oppressive feudal society. Looks like I'm up against a whole world. Once again he played the Popeye tune in his mind; it always helped raise his spirits before a fight.

  "Dohan," Darc said, "I must ask you to trust me again. I swear, on my life, that I can help you marry Meijji - and make it legal. I can even come out of this alive, if I use my head right. But I need allies. Not city lords or armies - people. I already have Mechao's support, I think - perhaps Librian too, and maybe Inu if I'm lucky. And I have you. Are we still friends?"

  Dohan looked up, recalling his vow to Lord Fache. "To the end."

  "Good. We leave tomorrow, then I'll tell you about my plans. Now go get some sleep."

  He pondered later, how early he had found out the great difference between him and the peoples of these second Dark Ages. They lacked a sense of self-consciousness - and were governed more by simple, strong passions and society's laws, than by reason and reflection. As Darc went to sleep, it came to him: there was one other man who had shown a capacity of thinking ahead of all others - though he had used his initiative for destructive purposes.

  Tharlos Pasko.

  Should Darc fight him, or was it possible to turn him into another ally in the coming struggle? In the eyes of a man from the 20th century, who had seen the most unlikely alliances, nothing was impossible. He slept on it.

  Meijji and Dohan were together once more that night, trying to forget that they might never meet again. Few words were spoken; promises of everlasting love were whispered. They made love and caressed each other without pause, until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

  In the late morning the next day, Dohan checked the Sunray; before an hour had passed, he deemed it safe for immediate lift-off.

  When he received the flight clearance, Darc was ready to go. Mechao's large family and a few hundred villagers crowded at the shore to see them leave. His wife Amada kissed and hugged Darc, then Dohan, as if they were family members.

  "Be careful, my handsome ones!" she told them.

  "Promise," Darc replied, but resisted the temptation to wink at her. Discreetly, Mechao handed Darc the tubes of equipment he had asked for earlier, concealed inside a large thick cloak.

  "The microscope is fragile," Mechao instructed him in a low, serious voice. "Do not drop it. There are written instructions inside, too. The sample test tissue must be heated to at least halfway the boiling point, or the color reactions will not be visible. I have prepared it to react to the most important larger genes we discussed, but there are many genes which will not give any reaction."

  "I will return," Darc promised, shaking the old doctor's bony hand.

  Meijji, when it came to her turn, refused to let go of Dohan - she followed him up to the plane, weeping incessantly. The two fire-fighter women, the first ones Dohan had encountered on Kap Verita, were the saddest members of the villager crowd. Patting each other's shoulders, they waved at the departing guests.

  "They'll never come back," the short one sobbed. "It's a jungle out there."

  "Knock up some women and leave," the tall one said stoically. "Just like those sailors used to do."

  Darc was soon settled in his cabin seat, waiting for the pilot. Dohan halted on the cargo ramp, holding Meijji tight.

  "I love you. We shall meet again, I swear," he told her, wishing it would be possible to keep his promise.

  "You must. I shall think of you every day, every moment."

  He gave her a little golden figurine of the Goddess, a lucky charm he had worn since childhood. They kissed each other a last time, and parted. Dohan rushed to the controls, almost forgetting the safety belt.

  The islanders backed away; the Sunray rose up into the blue sky, whining so high the bystanders had to cover their ears. They kept watching until the ship turned to the north and roared off past the mountain ridge.

  "Is there a radi
o on board?" Darc asked Dohan once his stomach had settled after the rough start. The vessel was up among the clouds again, speeding northward across the sea. He had to repeat the question before Dohan noticed.

  "What is a 'ra-dio' ?" Dohan asked, his mind absent, brooding over Meijji.

  Darc clarified himself: "An electromagnetic machine that sends and receives messages. What do you use?"

  Dohan blinked out of his moody trance. "Oh, that... laser pulses, of course. We use the kind that are invisible to the eye, and they can reach very far, but the curvature of the globe sets a limit to how far, unless they pass through the way stations that are posted across Castilia."

  "Can you listen to the laser communication between other cities? Now, I mean? Then we might know what is going on back home."

  Dohan shook his head; Darc never ceased to say the strangest things. "How do I do that? A laser-beam is like a bundle of very thin lines. The sender must know the exact location of the receiving disk, or he will just send his pulses into thin air. What is good about this, is that the signals cannot be overheard on their way..."

  "I know, I know," Darc said with slight irritation. The boy's understanding of physics was abysmal - as with most people of this era. "So you can communicate with Damon City?" he asked.

  "Not in the air, no - it is nigh-impossible for me to get a reliable aim on a receiver, even on a steady course like this. The cities have an old static network for communication - it is upheld by the ruling families."

  Darc thought he understood this: the city lords were secretive, and had long since given up radio waves since they were so easy to intercept. Then he thought about something else.

  "Dohan... I need to learn more about the people outside the cities, out in the wilderness. You know..."

  Dohan was silent for a few moments, then replied in a tense voice: "There are no... people ... in the Wastelands."

  "The Lepers... who are they?"

  The young man turned to give him a quick glance - and Darc saw the blind fear behind Dohan's outward anger. "Don't say the word in here, it brings bad luck!" Dohan snapped. He added, only slightly less harshly: "We call them 'The Ones Whose Very Name Brings Disease' . They carry the Plague. They are evil, pure evil."