Soldier of the Legion sotl-1

by Marshall S. Thomas

  Just when it was closing in on me, we came to another room, considerably smaller, roughly circular, with a roof close overhead. It filled with smoke from the torch. Moontouch laid a hand on my arm.

  “Do not move, Slayer. Look at the floor.” She held the torch up, so I could see. Black pits, man-sized, set in the stones of the floor. Four of them.

  “All right, now what?” Tons of stone surrounded us, and I hated it.

  “Three of four, Slayer, in the room of pits. And the others lead to death.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” I hissed it, impatiently.

  A phantom smile for an instant, flickering over her lips. “Follow me.” She chose one of the pits and jumped in, feet first.

  Gone in a flash, taking the torch, the glow immediately faded from the pit, darkness rushed into the room.

  “Oh, no!” I leaped for the pit and hurled myself in after her. She’s crazy! My back slammed against stone and I found myself sliding almost straight down, my boots scraping against slimy stone, something smashing against an elbow, a wild ride down the gullet of a great stone beast. I landed in a shallow pool of water with a splash, the orange glow of the torch flickering around me. Moontouch stood calmly before me, holding the torch high.

  “Follow me, Slayer. The road to the past is long, and perilous.”

  I got up, shaken. “Moontouch. Don’t do that again. Stay with me, can you?”

  “We are together, Slayer, walking into worlds long gone. Slayer and Moontouch, phantoms in both worlds, shadows in the mist, walking with the living and the dead.”

  Spooky!

  Another long tunnel, cloaked in cold and rot, peeling walls and slimy floor, Moontouch’s torch flickering up ahead. We walked through endless rows of arches, built into the corridor. Between the arches, black rectangular openings lined the floor, all along both walls, hundreds of them. I did not want to know where they led.

  Tired of all the mystery, I flicked on the light in my E, and the corridor lit up. Frozen in all its awful glory, every rotting little pebble glared white-hot in the light.

  “No, Slayer! Turn it off! You will confuse me, and we will die!”

  I killed the light, my eyes dazzled, slowly adjusting again to the smoky torchlight. She had sounded rather insistent about it. “I’m sorry, Moontouch. I wanted to help.”

  “No help, please! This is my world, and you cannot help. I am counting, and if I count wrong, we die. Quietly now, follow me.”

  “Thinker, Dragon. How about a sitrep?” My comset crackled suddenly. I had not contacted Dragon since my entry into the maze.

  “Nothing to report, Dragon. How you?”

  “I’m engaged in a little cross-planetary communication, Thinker. And I don’t want to hear ‘nothing to report.’”

  “Don’t follow me in here, Dragon. No matter what happens.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that I would recommend the guided tour. Solo trips are not encouraged.”

  “You call me when you need me, Thinker.”

  “Tenners. Thinker out.”

  Moontouch paused, one hand against the left wall, poking the torch down to examine the floor. Wisps of smoke curled all around her, and for a moment, in the dim, flickering light, she seemed trapped in some in-between dimension, not quite here, not quite there.

  “We are here, Slayer.” She raised her eyes to mine, glowing, excited, transformed.

  “Good. Where’s here?” I could see nothing except another stone arch just ahead, and another dark opening in the floor.

  “This is the Gate to the Past. Twenty and six on the left, through the avenue of arches.”

  “What if we kept going?” I asked. “What’s up there?”

  “Death.”

  “What if we chose another hole?”

  “Death, Slayer.”

  “And if you counted wrong?”

  “Death.”

  “Why don’t we go back and count it again, just to be sure?”

  “No, Slayer. I am sure. Now you follow me. We must be quiet, for this is the realm of the gods.”

  The slot in the floor was just barely wide enough. We faced another wild slide down into the unknown. Moontouch went first, with the torch-a rush of sparks, then blackness. Pausing at the abyss, I made the sign of the Legion, and released my grip.

  A screaming adrenalin rush into the dark, things flashing past beside me, my arms gripped tightly around my E, hugging it to my chest. I landed suddenly, hard, in a soft orange glow. Moontouch stood beside me, a princess of fire in the dark, flames licking along the torch. Her black hood was thrown back, her lovely face revealed. Red-gold skin, eyes of ice, glowing, ecstatic, raising the torch.

  “Look, Slayer. Look!” A fierce whisper.

  The torchlight flickered softly in a large chamber; smoke stung my eyes and inky shadows teased my vision. An odd element wafted on the smoke, but then I glimpsed something to the right-against a wall, the glint of beaten gold, a faint dark line of steel. A yellowed skull, in the helmet of a King. A skeletal arm, revealed through fragments of rotted cloth. A hand of bones, grasping the pommel of a dark jeweled sword. A skeleton King, still on his throne, reigning over the Kingdom of the Dead.

  Moontouch moved the torch. Another one, beside him, a warrior King, clothed in black rusted iron, a massive axe over his bony shoulder, the vacant sockets of his fragile skull staring into the ages. Once an unholy terror, his word was law, and a movement of his hand brought life, or death. Now his bones were turning to dust.

  It was all fading into the dark-I could barely see in the dim, smoky light. A long line of Kings, still on their thrones. There was a hollow roaring in my ears and the chamber appeared to be slowly spinning around me. I shook my head to clear it.

  The torch moved, the shadows moved, torchlight glittered off a floor covered with glorious relics from ages long lost to history; the opposite wall now came into view. Another Emperor of the Dark, another immortal, a grinning skull, holding court in a pile of dirt littered with ancient tools of war. And beside him, a skeleton Queen, clothed in gold and jewels. Had empires risen and fallen, at her whim? Now even her name was lost. A garland of fresh flowers hung from her tiara. Both walls were lined with the dead. A thrill of horror shot through my veins. I could hardly breathe the hot and musty air, and the smoke from the torch was really starting to bother me.

  “The Tomb of the Kings,” Moontouch whispered. “They are all here, all the Kings and Queens of Southmark. They live still, here, in the past. I keep them alive.” Her face flushed and unshed tears gleamed in her eyes. She, a servant of the dead, a slave of the past, was helpless before the terrible bony fingers of those ancient Kings. I understood, completely. For I was a slave of the future. How strange that we should meet like this, in this holy place, in this faraway world.

  The walls revealed faded golden runes and mysterious figures, phantoms from a lost world, frozen forever all around us. A magnificent panorama of the Kingdom of Southmark, everything these Kings had ruled. The ceiling glowed faintly with strange gods. At one end of the cavernous room, a single skeleton slumped on a dark, austere throne.

  “Who is he?” I whispered.

  “He is the Golden Sword,” Moontouch replied softly, “who led the Far March and built Southmark with mortar made from blood. We can never forget him.” She raised one arm, and turned her face away. “Look upon his glory, and despair.” His bones were almost black, crumbling into the ages.

  Crazy, I thought. I was sweating, but she wasn’t. I guessed she was used to it. Why is it so damned hot?

  “I must show you the Book,” she said suddenly, raising her head.

  The Book! The Book of the Men of the Book-her holy writ, never seen by non-believers. Surely this would hold the secret of the Beasts, and lead us to the Systies. She led me to a stone ledge, full of ancient books. Southmark’s history! My heart leaped. What a find!

  “Here is the Book of Books,” Moontouch whispered.
“There is only one. Here is everything we believe!”

  It was truly a magnificent book, a massive volume, bound in a thick cover of leather and metal and precious stones, placed on a small platform. Golden runes spelt out the title. The sign of the crown and the skull, engraved in gold. Cautiously, I opened it. Dust seeped out, hanging in the air. Pages of dust, all dust, a book of dust. I turned to Moontouch.

  She stood beside me, hypnotized before the Book. She leaned forward and blew slightly, a faint whistle, raising a little cloud of dust.

  “History, Slayer,” she hissed. “Look! A thousand years has just vanished. A little more goes each day, even if you do nothing. Try it, Slayer. Blow away the past!” The light of madness showed in her eyes. I closed the book, slowly.

  History. Yes, I had found history, hundreds of ancient books, but the pages had all turned to dust. Only the titles remained, intricately inlaid in gold on the leather-bound covers. Moontouch translated some of the titles for me: History of the World, Our Heritage, Glory of Southmark, Annals of the Kings, Tales of the Golden March, Voyage to the End of the World…all dust, all that Southmark had ever been, lost and vanished and gone, forever and ever and ever. My head was spinning. I leaned on the ledge for support.

  Moontouch reached down to the darkened floor and picked up a skull. I slowly realized that bones littered the floor, hundreds of skeletons, all jumbled together, a ghastly harvest of vanished souls. My mind was working very slowly, I thought-everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Moontouch held the skull before me, bringing the torch closer.

  “They were a harsh people. When a King died his servants died, too. They were killed right here, in the tomb.” She spoke dreamily, the torchlight transforming the skull into an evil mask. “Look at this one. Who knows how many ages have passed since this one breathed and hoped and loved. I wanted to eat the past once. I wanted to swallow the past, and grieve in the dark for all those who went before, for all those who are lost forever, and never remembered. Now I feel they are more real than I am. I am only a servant in the House of the Dead.” Her words were hypnotic and I watched her in fascination. She touched the skull gently to her cheek and swayed dreamily, her eyes closed, mourning the dead. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

  Stunned by the enormity of the place, I felt trapped in a stale bubble of the past that had somehow slipped through time, a secret, unsuspected black hole, where even a soldier of the Legion could tumble into ages long lost to history, and maybe not ever come back. A hot wave rushed through my blood-something was wrong, I knew, but I felt calm, almost sedated.

  Moontouch was trapped. She would never come back. She clutched the skull to her throat, holding the torch up, swirling gently to her own music now, eyes closed, singing softly to herself, dancing with her long-dead lover, clad in the cloak of death. She was lovely, absolutely enchanting. I wanted to pull her out of that evil world, out of the past and into the future. Has she ever known love, or just despair? I gently took the torch from her hand, and reached over to the nearest King, and propped up the torch in his bony fingers. Moontouch ignored me, clutching the skull to her bosom, continuing her terrible dance. She was humming now, entranced. I pulled her to me, and took the skull from her grasp, and dropped it to the floor. Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. I loosened the cloak from her shoulders and it slid to the floor, revealing a sleeveless knee-length tunic.

  She who had entranced me, eyes of mystery, her lovely mouth opening in surprise. I slipped a hand behind her neck, hair of sweet soft silk, smooth tender flesh, and she was swaying in my arms, so lovely I thought my heart would stop.

  I kissed her gently, hot and sweet, and pressed my cheek against hers. I could taste her tears on my tongue. Taste the living, Moontouch, taste the living!

  The torch flickered, and orange torchlight ran over her lovely skin as the skeleton King patiently lit the scene, and long black shadows darted all around us. I wanted to tear the tunic from her body but I did not seem to have the strength. My fingers clutched at the material. Moontouch was calm. She was so lovely it was almost supernatural-I grew dizzy and weak and I wanted to fall to my knees and worship her like a Goddess. Surrounded by death, she was a nova of life, glowing with beauty. I pulled again at the tunic, puzzled that it would not come off. What was wrong with me?

  “No, Slayer,” she gasped weakly. “I am a Virgin of the Book-I belong only to the Past.”

  “No, Moontouch. You belong to me. You said so. Don’t you remember?” I whispered. My mind was working very slowly. I could not understand why she did not remember. She had said clearly…

  I tried to pull her to me, but now the entire chamber spun slowly around me, fading away. The tea, I thought-the tea! Moontouch gazed calmly into my eyes now, raising one slim arm towards me…and then I fell into the dark.

  ###

  I drifted back to consciousness through a severe headache, blinking my eyes painfully as a soft light roused me. I sat up abruptly-I was resting on a bed of silken pillows on the floor of the Temple of the Virgins. One of the temple girls dabbed gently at my forehead with a wet cloth. Dragon stirred beside me, attended by another girl. It was dawn-the third girl appeared with a metal tray stacked high with teakettles and plates of fruit. Incense smoked in a corner.

  “Dragon!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “I told you not to drink that tea,” he said, squinting and touching his head gingerly. “Damn! That’s potent stuff!”

  The girls gathered around us and offered cups of steaming liquid. I pushed mine away rudely. I sure didn’t need any more of what they were pushing. The girls faintly smiled, treating us with great reverence.

  “Perfume!” I exclaimed, touching my neck. “And my clothes-they’re moist-as if washed! But what happened, Dragon? What happened to you?”

  “Well, all I can say is I hope you had as good a time with Moontouch as I did with these three. I mean, I don’t remember exactly-I was about to make my move when everything just kind of got all blurry and-well, I’m not sure. But it was terrific-I remember that much!” He reached out and touched one of the girls. She gave him a dazzling smile.

  “Where is Moontouch?” I demanded of the temple girls. “Where is she?”

  They bowed low and one of them whispered in Taka: “Your wife prays for you in the Tomb of the Kings. The dead will walk by your side, through this life and into the next. All of the power of those who have gone before will be yours to wield, oh mighty Slayer.”

  I pondered this for a moment, stunned. “Dragon.” I finally said. “Can we try to keep this, um, kind of quiet? Can we?”

  Dragon laughed. “You can count on me, Thinker. But we’ll have to tell Snow Leopard something.”

  “We’ll tell him something, all right. Don’t worry.”

  Chapter 12: Atom’s Fist

  “Are you as sick of this as I am?” Dragon asked me. It was two months after our fruitless mission in the Tomb of the Kings and we were in armor, trudging knee-deep through grisly exoseg parts. We were deep in the heart of what appeared to be the oldest exoseg complex, far underneath the Forest of Bones. I hated exoseg duty, but somebody had to do it, and Squad Beta had been selected.

  “Stop whining,” I replied. “You know you love it.”

  “I’d rather be back in that laundry we discovered-you know, the one with the tea and the incense?”

  “Shut down, will you?”

  “Relax, we’re on private. Seriously, Thinker, I finally realized what you were trying to do back there. I thought you were nuts at the time, but I understand it now. You were looking for a shortcut. It was just too damned bad there was nothing there. If it had worked, we could have avoided all this exo nonsense.”

  “Well, it didn’t work.”

  “Yeah, but you were thinking! It could have worked! I never thought of it. No, it was a fine idea, Thinker. You’re always thinking-they’ll probably make you a One someday.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “I’m
serious, Thinker!”

  “Alert! Alert!” Sweety suddenly interrupted. “Situation Violet! Probable advanced attack! Probable advanced presence! Probable imminent combat! Readings inconclusive, maximum alert!”

  The alert galvanized us.

  “Prep for combat, Thinker!” Sweety warned me. “Probe has identified a cenite hatch ahead-please see the zero. I will give you every warning.”

  “All right, gang, this is it,” Snow Leopard informed us calmly. “Combat advance. Whatever it is, we attack. Coolhand, take the second element.”

  “This has to be the Systies, right?” Warhound asked tensely.

  “Silence in the ranks, guys,” Coolhand replied.

  When in doubt, advance, an old Legion saying. Now this. I could taste death, and it had nothing to do with exosegs. This was what we’d been looking for since we first dropped!

  We advanced.

  We found it moments later under a tangled pile of exoseg dead, a circular cenite hatch on the tunnel floor, slimy with a deceptor cloaking field, leading, surely, to our doom. No identifying marks.

  Snow Leopard finally broke the silence with a whisper. “If it happens quickly, I want anyone who survives to maxburst whatever you see. Just scream it out, you hear me? Once you know what it is, you let Command know. I don’t want Beta to go out without at least getting off a message. They got the same probe report we did, so they’ll be waiting to hear from us. You hear me?”

  We heard him. But we weren’t going without a fight.

  “Psycho, Snow Leopard. You get those nukes warmed up.”

  “They’re dead, Snow Leopard. If I see something move, they’re going to be dead.”

  Snow Leopard kept his voice down. “Merlin, how can we open this? Quietly.”

  Merlin pondered the hatch. “Laser, all around the edges. We’ll have to use laser. But when it opens, things may happen.”

  “Acceptable. Merlin, open it. As soon as we can confirm what the enemy is, we call it in maxburst. That’s the mission! That’s the only mission! You girls think you can handle that?” He had often used the phrase in Hell, but it was no longer funny.