Members of the Inner Council were beginning to arrive. He could see the puzzlement on their faces over a request for a meeting with such short notice. He had sworn his squad to remain tight lipped on what they had seen. They were his most experienced men and he could trust them. Safah Blackstone arrived with Eben Southgate, both whispering conspiratorially. No Jaida Blackstone and no Taio Southgate. Both had volunteered to accompany Myolon to the Pod breeding grounds and the placement of the deadly serum into the underground reservoir. The group was fifteen strong, any larger and it would be difficult to move without detection. They all carried personal cloaking devices which hid them from easy detection but this would matter not if the Pod were near to their position. The rest of the group was made up of two soldiers from each clan and the Changelings. Jaida had been placed in charge.
Quinlan walked in with his daughter, Brisis. After the performance by Kingsley, in the last Inner Council, Quinlan was erring on the side of caution. Brisis was a strong woman of some thirty years, plain but honest and hardworking. Tate liked her. As they took their seats there was a gasp.
Heathlon, High Priestess of Zein, and the Changelings had just entered the room.
It was rare to see her at this forum and only Tate and Safah had access to her quarters. Others were strictly kept away. People tried to guess what age she was but it was so difficult to gauge the age of a changeling. Some said she was nearly one thousand years old. Her face, although lined, was surprisingly still relatively young looking, however, the Changelings were the experts in camouflage. A hush fell on the room as she sat down in Myolon’s seat. Surrounding her were six unyielding warriors, eyes flicking around the room to identify any threat to the woman they called “Mother of Life”.
Tate cleared his throat, uncharacteristically nervous. Heathlon’s eyes stared at him without blinking, seemingly measuring his courage and wisdom. ‘Greetings, your Excellency.’ Tate bowed to Heathlon, who raised her delicate right hand and acknowledged the recognition. ‘And to you your worshipful Elders,’ he concluded his salutation to the rest of the clans. ‘First I would like to thank you for attending this emergency Inner Council meeting at such short notice.’
‘No proper notice and you drag us here at this late hour, ridiculous,’ Eben fumed, he was grumpy from being woken up from his much needed late afternoon sleep. Even Safah raised her eyebrows in frustration at her peer. It looked like the grandfather had replaced the grandson’s stupidity.
‘Eben, that’s why it’s called an emergency meeting,’ said Brisis, sarcastically. Tate laughed inwardly as Eben squirmed under the steely gaze of the Tyther princess.
‘Quite so,’ said Tate, earning a glare from the old Lord Southgate. Tate again cleared his throat as he felt the displeasure seeping out of every pore of Heathlon; she hadn’t come here to watch minor bickering. Heathlon had sensed a change within Zein’s balance of power. She could detect subtle changes in the shift of the magics and the power they brought. This afternoon that shift had not been subtle but more like a sledgehammer, a tool which at the moment, she would gladly ask one of her guards to take to Eben’s head.
‘This afternoon we saw invaders in our capital city,’ said Tate, calculating what would be the reaction around the room. He was not disappointed. There was fear, wonder and then questions began to rain in, tumbling over each other. Tate held up his hand and the noise subsided. ‘Please, one question at a time.’
‘Who are they?’ said Quinlan, before anyone else could get in the obvious question. Tate steadied himself ahead of his next words; this was going to have a major impact.
‘I am pretty certain it was the Zein Inter-Galactic Expeditionary Force returning. They were accompanied by an alien race we have not seen before, similar to us but apart from one individual, no magics,’ said Tate. He may have well set off a bomb. Everyone was on their feet. Questions came thick and fast. So much for one question at a time, he thought.
How many of them?
Are they here to save us?
Will the aliens attack us?
Tate held his hand up and called for calm but it was the regal voice of Heathlon that cut through the babble.
‘Fellow Zeinonians, I for one would like to hear everything that Lord Malacca saw, wouldn’t you?’ The noise subsided,
The members of the Inner Council sat down and waited for Tate to speak. He told them what he had witnessed; the convoy, the mixture of clans and alien race and the sophisticated weaponry. It was when he started to explain and describe the individuals, especially the tall Blackstone man and the alien he had seen last, that he saw Safah and Eben learn forward with their interest truly engaged. Tate finished his briefing and leaned back into the throne.
‘They obviously do not know about the Pods’ nocturnal habits or they would have left well within daylight,’ said Quinlan, stroking his chin in thought.
‘If it is true that a royal from the Blackstone clan has returned, will they not have the sole right to your throne?’ said Eben, pointing out the basis of Zein Law. Safah had forfeited her right three years ago when the Blackstones transgressed by storing zinithium in their enclave. Up to that point Safah had been a reluctant Lady Chancellor after her husband, Ricken Blackstone, had died in a Pod attack. Jaida had abdicated her right. She had no interest in holding such a responsible position.
‘Why you…’ said Kron, stepping forward menacingly.
‘Hold it Kron, Eben is right that if they are part of the royal bloodline then I will relinquish this throne to their care,’ replied Tate.
‘Now don’t you be too quick, Lord Chancellor,’ said Heathlon, as she stood up and moved onto the council floor, ‘We need to be careful. Even if these are our kin they have already shown a lack of knowledge of our ways.’ The other council members listened astounded. For many meetings the Changelings had sat quietly, not becoming involved; now not only had Myolon forced his own agenda but now the High Priestess herself was taking centre stage. She continued, ‘We should send a delegation to the newcomers and seek talks, but let’s not relinquish our safety and the safety of many Zeinonians until we are comfortable that the Pod have been exterminated from this planet.’ The last words were said with fire in her eyes.
Studying the reactions in the room, Tate, knew that they now could not stop the chain of events. The liquidation group sent to the Pod breeding grounds had gone and would carry out their task. Until then he vowed he would not relinquish his position unless it benefited Zein.
The delegation was decided with relative ease. Surprisingly, the Changelings opted not to attend, so when the suns rose in the morning a delegation led by Tate and including Kron, Quinlan, Safah and Eben headed for the surface. They were supported by fifty of the toughest soldiers from all the clans. Today history was to be made.
The moulded hard rock that made her impressive throne rested easily against her back. The throne arched up to the ceiling of the deep cavern. It started narrow and then curved outwards until it touched the surrounding two walls. The walls themselves held basins which tar burned in to provide light, although they needed little light. They had grown as a species used to the solitude of the darkness over centuries. They were an old tribe, born when the planet was born, at one with the earth and elements. Theirs had been a simple life once; now those days had passed.
Festilion, the Queen of the Pod, High Priestess of Zein, leaned forward to take the report of her oldest son. She had many sons and daughters as she was the queen who gave birth to the many and not the few. Her brood in turn gave birth, albeit not as readily as she did. She had many suitors, brave warriors who fathered her children. It was this way that saved them from the evil before. Evolution at its best.
She observed her son move slowly across the room. You are carrying a wound, my son? She passed her thought silently, carefully blocking it from the others assembled in the Great Hall. He gave a lopsided grin, his incisors looping down his face at one side, blood from the ripped throat of a terrified Blackstone trooper st
ill clinging to the ends, I moved too slowly my Queen.
Dominion, I hope you did not enter into the foolishness of your son? she admonished him. He hung his head, the shame of his son trying to communicate with that evil Zein leader of the Aeria Cavern! The Queen saw that her trusted eldest son was not as naïve as her grandson and decided she needed to know more.
‘Please provide your report,’ she ordered as her Head Royal Proctor, Redulon, handed her some cool water to sip. Dominion spoke slowly and clearly, ignoring the pain of his wound, starting on how his look outs had spotted movement within the Aeria Cavern and he had sent a small patrol to track the movements of the Defilers, the name they gave to the people who sheltered the hated Malefic. It was then that they had seen the great ships on the plains and the dust of vehicles travelling into the cursed city. He told her of the attack and that they had suffered greatly. Festilion knew this. She had felt the pain and fear of her brethren as they fought to rid their planet of the invaders.
‘Their weapons are too powerful for us. Much more powerful than those in the Aeria Cavern,’ said Dominion, transferring his weight to his left leg due to the throbbing pain from a wound on his right leg. ‘The ship they came in is the one they left in all those years ago. They have returned to strip us of our land,’ he said with considerable anger.
‘What about this alien who was not Zeinonian but exhibited the evil of our enemy?’ Festilion asked.
‘We captured him,’ said Dominion, his chest expanding, showing his pride. ‘He is in the dark caverns in a deep sleep, guarded by my son, your Highness.’ There was a babble of voices in the room. A prisoner. An alien in their hands. The High Priestess stood up, she was pleased.
‘I am glad my, son. Bring him to me when he is awake. I have many questions for him.’ She dismissed him and walked from the chamber.
Chapter 12: Truths
Tyson gradually awoke. He remembered the explosion ringing in his ears. He had seen the building collapsing on him and seen a hole in one of the buildings beside him. He had flung his body through, ensuring he switched on his protective shield, but not before some of the falling debris had hit him hard, winding him. That is all he remembered as he blacked out.
He blinked and glanced round his surroundings. He was in a cool, dark cave. The walls were smooth, all the rock had been carefully either chiselled or machined away. He was lying on a hard slab of rock. There was no door to what he was guessing was a cell of some kind. He ran his hands carefully over his body and apart from some small cuts and abrasions he didn’t appear injured. He stood up gingerly and casually walked to the open door. A figure moved to block his exit in front of him.
He found he was staring at a Pod. The Pod was male, extremely tall and muscular. He held no weapon apart from his claws. He had simple coverings across his waist for modesty but other than that he was covered in dark blue hair, apart from his chest area. Tyson concentrated and focused on his magics to blast the guard away so he could escape.
He thinks he can use the accursed magics here. He is going to be upset - they are no use down here.
Tyson straightened up. It was the same guttural language he had heard during the battle but now he could translate it. They are so puny. Take away their little toys and magics and they are nothing. Tyson raised his head and caught the creature glaring at him balefully. His internal magics must be enabling him to form the language he had just heard.
What is your name? The guard stepped back in amazement. No outsider had ever been able to converse with anyone in the Pod before. The alien repeated the question.
What is your name? My name is Tyson.
‘Wernion,’ said the tall figure aloud, surprised at the voice within his head. ‘My name is Wernion.’
‘I am from Earth, a distant planet,’ said Tyson.
‘Earth? I have never heard of the place. Are you here to hurt us as well?’ said Wernion, a half threatening and half fearful look on his face.
‘No, no. You attacked us and we were just defending ourselves. We are here to seek those my friends left many years ago,’ said Tyson, placating the towering creature. He noticed the poultice of leaves on the shoulder, held by long palm tree type leaves wrapped round the top of his shoulder. There was another wound to his waist.
‘You have injuries,’ said Tyson, pointing to the wounds.
‘They will heal.’
Tyson was not to be put off. ‘Were you in the attack on the convoy?’
Wernion shook his head in answer. ‘We attacked the Defilers some two suns ago, we broke into their supposedly impenetrable tunnel,’ said Wernion, proudly.
‘What tunnel?’ said Tyson, backing away from his jailor and sitting down on the stone bunk.
‘Where the Defilers and Malefic hide from us.’
‘What do you mean, who are these people?’ asked Tyson, growing intrigued by this formidable creature’s ability to hold a meaningful conversation. Wernion studied the alien. He noticed the slightly different features when compared with the Defilers but he still had those hated blue eyes, a sign that he had been turned by the Malefics. However, he seemed different, calm, and almost normal. How could that be? For years the people who converted the magics had transformed their idyllic life into death, destruction and endless fighting. The sickness that the Malefic had exported invaded the very land in which his ancestors had lived free and without pain for centuries.
‘Please, I want to learn,’ said Tyson, as he saw the indecision within.
‘The Defilers are like you,’ started Wernion. ‘They were given the power of the magics by the Malefics, who in return wanted land and favours.’
‘I don’t understand, who are the Malefics?’ asked Tyson, something nagging him as he tracked the movement of the hulking presence blocking his escape. Though to be true he was now more interested in learning about what was actually happening on Zein. Wernion rested his body against the door frame and the flickering light of the burning tar caught the eyes of the creature. Tyson then realised where he had seen the same black flecked amber eyes.
Zebulon! This creature had the same eyes as the Changeling! Then he remembered that Zebulon had fought as a Pod in some of the battles on Earth. The Changelings are the Pod. The Pod are the Malefics. The Malefics are the Changelings, completing the circle! He remembered the hologram in the library on the Pod; how they were part of the planets evolution and were the true indigenous race. They were held back by their primitiveness and lack of technological advancement. It was thought that this was by choice rather than by lack of ambition.
Tyson wanted to know more and it appeared the creature was willing to tell him when heavy footsteps were heard outside. Wernion sprang back from the door concerned that he may be seen to be too friendly towards the alien. It was his father.
‘Is the alien awake?’ his father asked. In answer Wernion stepped to one side and Dominion could see the alien was wide awake and seated. He frowned and looked back at Wernion, his expression conveying that he wanted to understand why his son had not informed him. Wernion shrugged indifferently.
‘Bring him,’ said Dominion, directing the two warriors behind him to enter the cell. Tyson, who heard and understood every word, stood up much to Dominion’s amazement. The two warriors each took one of his arms and Dominion placed a funny looking rope made of some kind of hemp around his wrists to bind them. Tyson guessed that this cave may prevent use of the magics but outside it was this rope which would prevent such use; like the red manacles used by the Zeinonians. Wernion followed them.
They marched him along a number of tunnels with torches lighting the way. He saw communities living off the tunnels in mini caverns which held cooking areas and sleeping quarters with many animal pelts lining the floor. He saw young baby Pod suckling and older children playing. He caught the relaxed and comfortable thoughts they had as they enjoyed the family atmosphere. Family, yes that was what he felt, an overwhelming bond of love and security. These were so different from the threatening crea
tures he had battled in Reinan. They passed a group of female Pod cooking what looked like a thick soup in a boiling cauldron over a roaring fire. One of the females stood up and waved at Wernion and he tried very hard to ignore her, worried that his father would see him.
Who is that? asked Tyson
My female mate, Hersion, responded a morose looking Wernion.
Are you not pleased to see her?
Yes, but in our culture, when you are on duty there is no contact, she should not have waved to me, explained Wernion.
Tyson looked back at the disappearing Hersion and saw the disappointment on her face as she returned to stirring the cooking pot. ‘She obviously does not follow the cultural aspects of this relationship, weird, just weird,’ he said under his breath and attracted a cuff from one of the other guards. Wernion chuckled, amused at the alien’s humour.
He was taken into a large cavern with a spectacular stone throne. The cavern was empty, except for a tall female Pod wearing a crown of sorts and a few guards. The crown was made of gnarled twigs that were weaved intricately to create an understated regal statement. He was marched forward until he was before the throne. She, like Hersion, wore an additional brief garment across her chest
Dominion pushed him to his knees and then stood to one side with Wernion on the other. The other two warriors stood behind him. Festilion was fascinated. She noticed the strange alien features, different from the Defilers’, but like Wernion, noticed the existence of magics by the blue eyes and her own sensitiveness to the condition.
Zein: The Homecoming Page 13