Yngve, AR - Darc Ages

by Darc Ages (lit)

  The signal meant that an urgent laser message was coming in on the receiving-disc in the communications room.

  Not until next morning, the new lord of Pasko City took the time to read the recent laser message. His drowsiness all but vanished when he transcribed and read the first part:

  From: Lord Ahmes Seguda, Seguda City of Kibralta

  To: Sir Tharlos Pasko, Deputy Commander, Pasko City, Madrivalo, Castilia

  One of our scout ships has just approached Kap Verita and returned. It reported a massive volcanic eruption in the northern part of the archipelago. Heavy storms make sea-borne transport from Kibralta impossible. The sea attack must be postponed...

  Tharlos stopped transcribing the punch-card tape. He tore it to shreds, his gaunt face contorted by fury.

  "Worthless cowards!" he hissed, his eyes wide with madness. "They betray me at the first opportunity!"

  His grand plan was in peril, and he blamed Lord Seguda. Then Tharlos abruptly changed his mind. He was going to make it without the help of Kibralta, he decided. His airborne allies in Castilia would do - they, and his faithful new robot army.

  Tharlos knew well that volcanic eruptions were bad omens, believed to be manifestations of an angry Goddess. This only increased his defiance.

  "Koban-Jem spits upon your puny wrath," he muttered.

  Tharlos seemed to have already forgotten that only moments ago, his faith in Koban-Jem was badly weakened. Now his lunacy sprang into full bloom, and his personality changed effortlessly. A delusion briefly seized him, that he became one of his black robots: hard, infallible, unfeeling.

  Fantasies of grandeur and bloody triumph swirled through his brain. He whispered to himself - because he thought a spy might overhear him: "If there is no Koban-Jem to guide me... well, then I shall simply have to become Koban-Jem... I shall become death itself . No one can stop me now. No... one... can st..."

  Tharlos slumped down and fell asleep, exhausted.

  Chapter 58

  Bor Damon was sitting at the dinner table with his family - an empty chair signified the prodigal son - when a messenger entered. He delivered a sealed letter to the city lord; Bor opened and read it.

  "May Setan-Klaws take him!"

  "What is it, dear?" Osanna asked, anxious.

  "Our scout crafts have sighted massive gatherings of troops and armaments in Pasko City and down south in Kibralta. Any moment now, they may be ready to attack Kap Verita - or this city, whichever comes first. Damn that Tharlos Pasko, damn him to everlasting oblivion!"

  Andon, who sat by the other end of the table, revealed no reaction to Bor's tirade. Eveli studied him, trying to spot any hidden loyalty toward his brother. Andon's thin, swarthy features were calm - as calm as that frail man could muster - and he chatted indifferently with his wife.

  Another messenger entered the hall, panting. The table-guests looked up from their plates; it was Librian.

  He stopped, breathless, and exclaimed: "My lord - this just came in through the laser link! Lord Migam and his wife Tresa are dead! Murdered, last night! Tharlos is the city lord now!"

  The Damons went quiet. Andon gasped, stood bolt upright, mouth quivering to speak - and finally blurted out: "I knew he was going to do it one day. I knew it!"

  Everyone understood who he was talking about.

  "He's evil - he always was! He told me many times, that he would eliminate me if I got in the way of his destiny - I welcomed the chance to escape him and those wicked parents of ours!"

  His parents gone, Andon seemed to explode with suppressed anguish.

  "They are all sick! Twisted! They have done... things... you wouldn't believe! The Goddess may damn me, but I'm glad they're dead. But he, he's even worse than they were. He started a cult in Koban-Jem 's name - kidnapped and killed people just to gain followers and control them. There's nothing he won't do to for the sake of power!"

  Andon had turned pale, his otherwise dull eyes as intense as his brother's.

  He strode across to Bor and grasped his hand, pleading in a thin voice: "I know you distrust me, my lord. And I deserve it. I am sullied by the bloodline to those people. I'm a weak man. Bwynn, she helped me! Her care saved me from becoming as evil as my brother. I beseech you: You must put an end to Tharlos! If not for me... then for your son."

  Mute with fear and revulsion, Bor pulled away his hand. Andon retreated to Bwynn, who caught hold of him. For a while there was no sound in the hall except Andon's low sobbing into his wife's heavy shoulder.

  After a time, Bor said: "My word stands. I shall have Dohan return to us, whatever the cost."

  He finished eating and Librian joined him to the communications room. They prepared and sent a simple message to their remaining allies: WE CONTINUE TO MONITOR ENEMY ACTIVITIES. STAY READY.

  Later that day, Lord Tharlos Pasko awakened from his slumber. He was still in his private communications chamber, with the laser equipment by the open window; a cold wind howled through it, and he shivered.

  Tharlos sneezed, and remembered his changed attack plan. An airborne expedition ought to reach Kap Verita in just a few hours. He thought of making a speech to his people and soldiers, but immediately rejected the idea; his great deeds would speak for him.

  Tharlos went stiffly to the war room, and gathered his officers and remaining knights. A funeral ceremony for the dead city lord and wife would take days to prepare and perform - so it had to be postponed.

  Tharlos ordered that the bodies should lie in state outside the castle, while the attack was carried out. This macabre decision unnerved his underlings, but they voiced no protests.

  Next, Tharlos put the naval attack fleet that was still waiting in Kibralta on hold, and told the assembled warriors about his latest change of plans.

  Again, no protests were put up. A broad strategy was decided upon, and transmitted to the other allied cities in Castilia. The alliance was to take off at night, reaching Kap Verita by dawn, with just enough fuel to return.

  If Tharlos had mentioned the scout report about a volcanic eruption near their target, his warriors would have been terrified. So he said nothing; in fact he had somehow forgotten that detail himself.

  Tharlos's call to arms reached his Castilian allies the same evening. Several of them promptly refused to answer the call - they found his sudden change of plans too absurd to be taken seriously.

  Lord Seguda in Kibralta, outraged by Tharlos's arrogance, immediately declared their alliance broken. He warned other city lords in the province. And in the space of a few hours, the potential size of Tharlos's forces shrank by the thousands.

  Only the allies of his own province, Madrivalo, responded positively to the call to arms - and perhaps more for their own reasons, than out of great trust in Tharlos as commander-in-chief.

  From Orbes City, Lord Orbes launched a small fleet of heavy transporter jets. His two sons and a few lower knights joined Lord Orbes, with a force of one hundred armed footsoldiers.

  From Yota City, Lord Ue Yota first launched a slower squadron of transporter jets; an hour later, his two fastest fighter craft took off and speeded after. Foremost among those flew The Roaring Wind , piloted by his champion Kamo.

  And finally, Tharlos's own forces took off: six heavy transporters, carrying two hundred footsoldiers and twelve war robots, joined by three brand-new jetfighters. The new city lord himself sat at the controls of the flagship fighter, assisted by a senior nobleman of a lower family.

  A few tiny, patrolling scout ships from Damon and Fache City became the first victims of the winged armada. The one-man ships spotted the passing squadrons, and were relentlessly pursued and gunned down before they might reach and warn their masters.

  Tension ran high among all classes of soldiers aboard the armada, for this was also an expedition into the unknown. Most of them had never been outside a city before.

  When the footsoldiers got their first glimpse through the portholes of the carriers, fright and awe overwhelmed them. In the moonlit winter
night, the great walled cities of Castilia were just specks of light.

  The vast stretches of desolation and ruins in between seemed like a frozen void. This, many of the soldiers thought, was what the world really looked like. Tharlos's soldiers begun to realize how insignificant their previous expedition had been.

  To cross a few miles of wilderness to attack Damon City was nothing, compared to leaving their homeland and the light of civilization behind.

  Whispered speculations and legends passed between the waiting infantrymen. Some drank whatever alcohol they had smuggled with them. And those few who could, wrote a last letter to the ones at home...

  When Fogo erupted, most of the population of the Kap Verita Islands fled south during the night and the following day.

  Hundreds of northern islanders attempted to cross the sea to safer ground, and several of their boats perished in the ongoing storms. And the volcano persisted in its fury, spewing ash and fire throughout the second night.

  A thin film of gray dust covered everything: ground, plants, people. The usually fresh, salty air grew thick with the stench of sulphur.

  Yet, the natives counted themselves lucky; most of the ashfalls blew eastward, sparing them from disaster. Mechao's household returned to his mansion coughing, grimy, and red-eyed.

  As a red-tinted dawn came, Shara discovered that Eye-Leg had fallen seriously ill. She called for Darc and Mechao.

  A quick examination confirmed Shara's worries: Eye-Leg had developed an allergic reaction, unfamiliar as she was with air pollution. She coughed and snored, and with each cough she winced and moaned.

  The laser-welded scar tissue between her neck and body was not perfectly healed yet, even though the straps on her head had been removed. Her wrists, face and neck were partly covered with bandages soaked with potions that made the scars grow away.

  "Please make her calm down, while I find the remedy to stop her coughing," Mechao asked Shara.

  The witchdoctor rummaged in the bag, where he kept a portable cabinet of his homemade medicines. Shara suppressed a horrible thought, that Eye-Leg might cough so hard her head fell off. As gently as she could, she tried to calm and soothe the girl.

  At last, Mechao produced a pump spray-flask. "Open your mouth, girl... this won't hurt a bit."

  He sprayed the liquid into the girl's mouth, and she drew for breath - but the coughing stopped, and she could breathe freely again. Shara relaxed somewhat, and stroked the tattoo on Eye-Leg's forehead. The girl smiled faintly.

  "She's in a fever," Shara said. "She's getting worse again. Why?"

  "I-I don't know," Mechao stuttered. "It could be anything..."

  Darc caught hold of Shara, and encouraged her: "Don't lose faith now. He has worked long and hard to save her. If we just -"

  A woman came running into the room. "Ships in the sky! The outposts sighted ships in the sky! Coming from the north, circling the islands!"

  Dohan entered almost immediately after the messenger; he had already been informed, and was putting on his chest armor as he walked up to Darc. Immediately, the young warrior started to give orders.

  "Hide the women and children! Mechao, where are those new guardian beasts? Every one who's got shields and rifles - come with me!"

  Darc took a shield and rifle from the wall where a row of weapons hung waiting. Dohan, now wearing a helmet and chest armor, raised a gloved hand to stop him.

  "Stay behind, Darc. You're much too important to go into battle."

  "I'll just send one last message on the radio, then I'll join you. Mechao - the greenhouse! Come quickly!"

  Steadying himself on a walking-stick, Mechao joined Darc, past crowds of frightened natives. Hundreds upon hundreds of villagers flocked up the pathways and stairs along the mountainside, into the refuge of the rock mansion. But there was not room for all of them.

  Thousands scurried into crevices and camouflaged caves, huddling there in anticipation of the coming attack.

  Nearly three hundred women and men joined Dohan and armed themselves with shields, rifles, spears, crossbows, and machetes.

  Their new commander was acting on ingrained instincts, forgetting all civility. He shouted and pointed, quenching all hesitation and indecision among his inexperienced fighters with his steely resolve.

  Only when Dohan had led them down the shore, he began to notice familiar faces in the mass of volunteers. He spotted Lucijja and Faluti, hard-faced and determined. He saw Meijji's sister Alchaia, glancing at him from behind her polished shield. This army was dominated by women.

  And he saw... Meijji, hiding far off in the crowd.

  "Meijji!" he shouted. "Come over here!" Up close, he lowered his voice and said to her: "What are you doing here? Get back into the mansion, and help your parents! You're not a trained soldier like me!"

  She was about to reply - when a noise from the sky drowned out all voices and even the distant rumble of the smoldering volcano. They all looked into the clouded sky.

  From the northwest, formations of gnat-sized shapes scattered across the sky - an armada of jet aircraft, thousands of meters above the sea, fast approaching the main island. Many islanders said their prayers just then.

  In Mechao's laboratory cave, the old witchdoctor and his two eldest sons hastily loaded dozens of small bamboo cages onto carts and wagons.

  In the cages, creatures fluttered and hissed in protest. Darc heard and glimpsed the cages being wheeled out - not quite sure what moved inside them, and in no position to bother with it.

  He hurried to the soundstage at the opposite end of the catacombs, and started up the radio transmitter. Perhaps it was already too late. This early in the morning, his broadcast might pass unheard. He switched on the clunky microphone piece that hung from the ceiling.

  "This is the voice of Darc," he said. "This is the Voice of Liberty. Can you hear the thunder outside? It is a flying army approaching my position... an army of the enemies of liberty. They wish to silence me, before I can bring you the message that will liberate the world. At last I can tell you: We have now found the secret of the Plague. There is a cure! With this cure, any Leper can be treated and live, without being harmful to others. Thanks to this cure, Lepers will be able to give birth to healthy, normal children. The cities can be opened to the world again..."

  As he spoke with increasing urgency, Darc was seized by a nagging, persistent thought: What is Shara doing? Where is... our daughter?

  Chapter 59

  Bor Damon's private radio receiver remained activated, day and night - he dared not risk missing any vital information. At dawn, Lachtfot approached him in a corridor.

  "Why have you left your post?" Bor snapped as he saw the robot coming toward him.

  The machine's legs stopped moving, and Lachtfot replied: "Urgent news, my lord. I registered a voice from the radio receiver, my lord."

  Bor hurried into the radio room, and put on his earphones. He heard Darc's distress call - and Bor was still waiting for the report from his missing scout ships.

  "I order full alert now," Bor told Lachtfot. "Tell Librian to meet me. All officers to the hangar bay, ready for flight according to the plan. All hangar personnel to their posts. And - you and the other robots will guard my family."

  "Yes, my lord."

  The city lord transmitted the attack order to his allies.

  Darc finished his radio speech without any musical number, and switched to the homing beacon. He moved over to the central switchboard and found the correct lever. As he pulled it, the elevated cable-line began to sink down into the island's thick underbrush. He grabbed his rifle and ran to the exit.

  On the way he called out for Shara and Eye-Leg, but heard no response. Were they already by the Sunray, as he was hoping?

  No radio communication took place between the ships of Tharlos's armada, or with their home bases. At close range, a primitive system of multicolored searchlight-signals sent urgent orders between ships.

  The signalman in Tharlos's personal ship,
watching the other ships from an observation window, called out in the cockpit: "My lord, the troops are afraid!" Then, after he had signaled with his own searchlight: "Weather's not changing, but the winds are unpredictable.

  "Fuel levels are critical. The troop carriers must land soon!

  "Engine failure on three, no, five ships! The Golden Wing has lost both engines! She's going to crash!"

  Seated in the cockpit of his flagship, Tharlos gazed down at the main island below, and its harbor ruins. He spotted no sign of artillery or armies, only small, deserted terraced fields on the hillsides. But he could not understand what was disturbing the aircraft engines.

  He searched the dark, gray skies for attacking aircraft - but saw nothing there, except a haze of volcanic ashes blowing from the burning mountain up north. Tharlos barely heard the explosion of The Golden Wing plummeting into the ocean a thousand meters below.

  "Sir Devis!" he barked at the senior nobleman next to him. "Read engine status."

  A graying nobleman, wearing pilot's goggles and lightweight armor, surveyed the dials and gauges of the panel above his head.

  "Fuel pressure stable, engine temp high, burn cycle eleven points below normal. My lord, it's the volcanic ashes and sulphur in the air. Our jet tubes are not built for all that pollution."

  "Prepare for immediate landing at the largest southern island!"

  Tharlos shouted at the signalman and the officers. "The foremost flank follows me down to strafe the island - all carriers, start descending now! Mark the ruined harbor for landing."

  The flagship screeched down from the sky, flanked by other diving fighters. Mechao's islanders had no means of shooting down aircraft.

  At the edges of the ruined harbor, Dohan and his small army waited. They were lying down in trenches, behind rocks and palm-trees, hidden underneath camouflage of leaves and twigs, covering their shields so that no reflexes might reveal their positions.

  Their line of defense was not very wide, but they stood between the invaders and the trail leading up to the nearest village and the hidden cable-line.