Yngve, AR - Darc Ages 02 - City Of Masks

by City Of Masks (lit)

  Awonso pointed on the map and said: "Like any old city, Vanitia has an outer wall with gun turrets and electric traps. Its harbor can be closed in a matter of minutes, by raising this great underwater chain which is visible from the air. The northern and southern breakwaters reach several hundred meters out into the bay, and have two giant cannon towers with a range of up to a mile.

  "The city has many canals, and hundreds of houses surround the central palace. The city appears to possess no aircraft and no landing platforms... not even a hot-air balloon.

  "Any sea vessel that passes Vanitia has to pay a hefty toll. It has happened that an entire fleet was sunk by the city guns, as it tried to rush past the harbor without paying tolls. The city also restricts the number of ships passing through, and the contents of their cargo. You could say that Vanitia is like a big fat leech on the region."

  Kensaburé frowned at Awonso. "Do not judge it too soon. I believe in it when I see it. How many live there?"

  "It is estimated... thirty to fifty thousand. Perhaps more underground, but we do not know their catacombs. The city has a large fishing-fleet of several hundred boats, and its farmlands stretch a mile or so around the outer walls."

  Kensaburé let out a whistle; Vanitia made his home city look even punier than he used to think it was. If he could negotiate an alliance with the Vanitian city rulers, it would be a great boon to Orbes City. He felt torn between loyalties, representing the interests of Damon City, the vaccination campaign and his own clan at once.

  He dearly wanted to prove himself to his brother and father. Their pride has suffered from their betrayal of the old city lord Bor Damon, who died defending Darc and killed Lord Tharlos Pasko, who had put the Orbes and Yota clans under his brief but fervent spell. Too many loyalties made Kensaburé confused; he wanted things simple. Focus on the mission, he told himself. The vaccine is more important . He turned to their doctor, Threo of Mechao.

  "Doctor," he said, "can you really vaccinate a city of fifty thousand? How long will it take?"

  Threo seemed amused, or childishly excited, by the question.

  "Sir... my father has instructed me to share my knowledge, but it is not easy to explain these matters. The vaccine is grown from a culture of virus DNA, which has to be isolated and copied in the mobile laboratory which I carry in my chest. The vaccine cannot be stored for long periods, so I have to produce it near my patients, and then use it at once. Nothing must happen to that chest, or I cannot produce more vaccine. What I have now is only enough for a dozen people. I hope to teach other doctors in Vanitia how to reproduce the vaccine. Ah - I almost forgot..."

  Threo opened a small leather case and took out a syringe. "I have to vaccinate us all before we get on that boat."

  Suddenly every human onboard, except Threo, grew tense.

  "I've already taken my shot," Awonso said. "Our Guild of Doctors has your vaccine now, the whole city was inoculated."

  Threo smiled: "I know, but we have to take precautions. This is an improvement on the vaccine your doctors were given last year. There may be several strains of the Plague we do not know about yet. Now who's on first?"

  The men looked at each other. Then Lady Okono pulled up the sleeve of her silk dress and offered Threo her pale, smooth arm.

  "I believe the honor is mine."

  Threo gently grasped her white wrist, and started to clean the skin before applying the needle. Then he noticed some parallel scars on Okono's wrist, barely concealed by a layer of talcum powder or greasepaint. He knew what those scars meant, and felt a cold shiver. His physician's oath forbade him to speak of suicide attempts in the presence of the others, but he ought perhaps keep an eye on Lady Okono.

  What a shame, he thought, that such a beautiful woman had tried to hurt herself like that. She was just about his own age, but had no wedding-rings on her fingers - not that it was any business of his, he told himself.

  Okono was not afraid of needles, and she did not think Threo had seen her scars. She quite looked forward to the distraction of the needle-sting, to block away what boiled in the recesses of her mind. If this mission failed, she thought without fear, her disgrace would be complete.

  It was no coincidence that her family had made the startling exception to clan rules and allowed her, a Yota woman, to travel without entourage to an unknown city. They were ashamed of her - the woman who had once courted the despicable Tharlos Pasko.

  Stains on a person's honor carried forever in her family, until atoned for - by deed or by suicide. This mission was her last chance. Could the other travelers see it on her face? Could they see through her mask of calm? Her gaze fell on the wrist scars and she realized with terror that they had become visible. Instinctively she glanced at Threo, and caught a glimpse of awareness in his dark, almond-shaped eyes.

  He made the slightest excusing smile, and said softly: "Now relax and look at me, my lady. Look at me."

  She obeyed, and barely noticed the syringe entering her arm. When she blinked, Threo was already done and wiping her arm; then he applied some powder on the pinprick wound and pressed a small laser-device against it. A quick hot flash - and the pinprick had been sealed.

  "Thank you," he said. "Did that hurt?"

  Not sure why, she smiled at him. "No. Thank you, doctor."

  "Any other brave souls here?" Threo said jokingly. "I save myself for last, in case you would not survive." He made a little laugh. He countered tense situations with humor, a habit taught by his father.

  No one laughed, and he blushed. It was awful when patients did not laugh. But soon enough, he had vaccinated everyone onboard without complications.

  A few hours later, the jet craft landed in the large port of Kibralta, formerly Seguda City, on the southern tip of Espa, where one could see across the strait to Awrica on a clear day.

  The new city lord greeted the company of travelers at the landing platform, welcomed them warmly - but briefly - and escorted them to a waiting sea vessel. Thanks to the newly established radio network, Dohan Damon had been able to arrange their transportation with the city lord weeks in advance. The transport, a forty-meter wooden ship fitted with plate armor, driven by two mainsails and electric propellers, was one of the city lord's own. Named Blackwhale , it sailed regularly between the coastal cities across the strait.

  None of his ships had ever gone as far as Italica, for many reasons: the fear of the Plague and its offspring, the Lepers; treacherous weather and reefs, and the lack of communications outside Espa. Radio was now changing all of that: new trade routes were being drawn up across the entire Mediterranean.

  While the port crew loaded their luggage onto the ship, Kensaburé inspected the Blackwhale and its crew, and the ship's captain followed him. Any vessel built of mere wood failed to impress the knight, who was used to flying in armor and jet-powered metal aircraft. The ship's floor planks creaked loudly under his thick boots, and the wood had grown dark with age.

  "What if the ship were attacked with lasers?" he asked the captain. "Would it burn up?"

  "We have water-pumps and hoses, sire," the captain assured him. "We are prepared to put out fires."

  "Are the waters hostile? Do you expect safe passage?"

  The captain stopped to yell at a sailor. "Get that topsail tied up tighter, you lazy bastard!" He turned to Kensaburé, who was carrying some light personal weaponry; lasergun with two shots, a sword and a dagger. "Let me put it this way, sire: my ship has about one year of service left in it. If it were lost at sea, the good city lord would lose no sleep."

  "Dohan Damon is going to hear about this. We requested your best ship and paid in advance!"

  "But it was our best ship, sire! For about thirty years. I am glad, though, that this new radio' thing is on board, so we can call for assistance."

  Kensaburé let out a displeased grunt. "How long to Italica?"

  "If all goes well... ten days. As you requested, we make no stops on the way."

  "Good."

  As the spring
sun set, the Blackwhale sailed out from the port of Kibralta. The city lord and his court waved goodbye from the pier and a band of brass musicians played a slow version of Love Me Tender, a song recently made popular through Darc's radio broadcasts.

  It sounded ominously like a dirge.

  Threo had long experience with boats from his upbringing on Kap Verita, and quite enjoyed the change from air to sea travel and fresh air. He stood in the aft of the ship and whistled along with the receding music from the port. The sun turned deep red in the darkening sky.

  Awonso became violently seasick and sat on the deck, breathing slowly; Threo had forgotten to bring along a remedy for seasickness.

  Okono had stowed away her robot Kiti-Mo below deck to protect it from saltwater spray, and switched off its circuits before she joined Kensaburé and Threo on deck.

  They admired the sunset and how it colored the rock of Kibralta in gold and glowing red. They all had left behind so many troubles, and only now they wondered if they were merely trading familiar problems for worse ones. Awonso thought of Librian, and worried that the old man might not be alive when he returned to Damon City.

  "Awonso!" Kensaburé called out. "A soon as you can stand up, I want you to transmit a message back to Castilia and tell them we are safely on our way."

  From his corner of the deck, Awonso nodded weakly.

  Okono remained quiet and made no complaints about the hard beds, the flea bites, the poor food or the sour wine. Kensaburé paid her the attention that courtesy required, and went no further.

  He noticed how Okono's bodyguard eyed his neck as if waiting for a chance to defend her honor... and in any case, Kensaburé preferred the ripe figures of Madrivalo's other women to the slim curves and high cheekbones of the Yotas.

  As the days passed, Okono took care of her physical appearance while the men grew beards and their clothes began to smell. Even her robot stayed polished and clean. Awonso dared not speak to her, as he was all too aware of the clannish divides between the Yotas and the Damons.

  Only Threo, a complete stranger to the customs of Castilian nobility, was innocent enough - or ignorant enough - to approach her directly, without courtesy or formality. At first she met his friendly greetings and good-mornings with formal nods and downcast eyes.

  Slowly, during days and evenings in the confined space of the ship, she let Threo closer into her personal space, until she could greet him almost like an equal.

  Threo began to look forward to seeing her, even for nothing more than a "Good morning" or "Good night," or some boardgame to pass the time. He told himself he was only being polite, and that he felt sorry for her in her isolation.

  Chapter 3

  After five days at sea, Awonso had recovered sufficiently to use his radio on a daily basis. His unit was safely packed inside a water-proof glass casing and powered by solar cells.

  He sat for hours skimming the wavelengths on shortwave and longwave, hearing many voices - from his home region, from other cities in Espa, and the occasional static-obscured, faint voices from cities in Italica. The radio traffic was mostly without encryption: public broadcasts, calls for trade with other cities, prayers to sailors at sea and travelers by land, the occasional music, and communications between the many guilds, exchanging knowledge and information... and warnings.

  Early in the morning on the sixth day at sea, Awonso received a broadcast from Italicas eastern coast: a sea vessel had been attacked and plundered. A low-flying aircraft had spotted the attack and identified the pirate ship as coming from the east.

  Awonso ran to alert the captain and Kensaburé, who were practicing fencing on the deck while Threo and Okono watched. All travelers were now dressed in rough, casual clothing and Awonso had borrowed a clean shirt from the ships crew. He ran barefoot across the dark deck, carrying the radio unit on his back.

  "Sea brigands..." he shouted breathlessly, "...spotted off the eastern coast! Attacked a trade ship!"

  The captain sheathed his rapier, rang the alarm bell and told the crew to watch out for foreign ships.

  "They must be coming from Kisili , the great islet southwest of Italica," the captain said. "The Kisilians have a reputation for banditry." He looked uneasily at Okono. "You should hide the woman."

  "Bring up your cannon," said Kensaburé, and scanned the deck for a gun turret. "Better we shoot first."

  The captain made a nervous face. "The city lord had our long-range gun removed, sire. He needed it for a new ship."

  Kensaburés face, ruddy from sunlight, turned a shade redder. He grabbed the captains shirtsleeves and lifted him off his feet.

  "Did someone pay your master to sabotage this journey?" he snarled. "Speak, coward, or Ill have your ears!"

  The captain went very pale under his suntan, and his jaws worked to produce words; nothing came but a soft babble. Without letting the man down, the big knight said: "Awonso. Send a distress call to Damon City and inform Dohan that we have been betrayed! The lord of Kibralta is not to be trusted. This dog knows only what he was paid to know."

  "What do you mean, sire?" asked Threo, and came over to him accompanied by Okono and the two manservants. "Are we not headed for Vanitia?"

  "We are," Awonso assured them. "I can use my radio to measure our direction relative to other radiowave sources. We are definitely on course for Italica. But..."

  "But what?" asked the knight.

  "Other ships with radio can pinpoint our position simply by listening to the strength of my broadcast signal. You know that the previous lord Seguda of Kibralta lost face and a great deal of his army last year, when his coalition with Tharlos Pasko was defeated on Kap Verita... the current lord is his relative, and the Segudas always hated the Lepers. It could be they still hope to stop the vaccination campaign, or at least hamper it."

  Kensaburé dropped the captain on the deck. "You shall sail us to Vanitia without delay. Ill deal with you later."

  The lookout shouted from the mast-top: "Ship ho! From the north, heading our way! Three-master! No flags! Two guns!"

  The captain took a telescope out of his jacket, extended it and scanned the landless horizon. He quickly spotted the other ship.

  "No signals... a small radio mast in the rear... could be brigands." He turned to the still furious-looking knight. "We cannot outsail it, not in this wind... I swear. I suggest you offer them a ransom. Itll save our necks. They only kill you if you refuse to pay."

  "And what about my vaccines?" asked Threo, now visibly upset; he put away his eyeglasses and bared his teeth. "Will they try to steal them, even though they know nothing about them?"

  "They steal anything."

  "Then we fight." Kensaburé put two fingers in his mouth and whistled for his manservant. "Jacob! Ready my suit! Charge up our weapons. Give my friends a rifle each."

  "Youre mad," said the sallow, frightened captain. "We are outnumbered. They can sink us just like that."

  "Do as I say." Kensaburé had no plan, except to fight; he was no strategist like his father. "Awonso, make that distress call. See if you can scare off the other ship, in case they are listening in. Try to hold them off until my suit is ready."

  "Right away, sire."

  "Lady Okono, can your bodyguard keep the captain from doing something behind our backs?"

  She nodded and snapped her fingers at the large, bald, silent man in black. " Buchu! If the captain or the crew try and trick us again... kill them all one by one, until they behave."

  The captain, his crew of ten and the other travelers stared in disbelief at the silent giant, who walked barefoot like the others. The floor-planks creaked under his weight. From hidden pockets in his wide black trousers, he whipped out two metal pipes with coiled-up metal wires at one end. From the other end of both wires hung a spiked metal ball, no larger than a fist.

  One sailor lost his nerve and reached for the knife in his belt. Buchus arm pistoned back, then forward, and threw one spiked ball through the air with a metallic twang. It whizzed fo
ur meters across the deck, past the captains head, and hit the sailors skull. There was an ugly crack and the sailor flew backward onto the deck, stone dead. Buchu jerked back the spiked ball and whirled the elastic wire around the pipe, until the ball came to a rest above his head. He let out a snort and regarded the captain with cold, slit-like eyes.

  The trembling captain screamed at the crew to obey the passengers every whim and prepare for battle with the incoming ship. Kensaburés servant armed the travelers with laser rifles, and then joined his master below deck.

  Okono took aim at the captains head; Threo held his rifle awkwardly.

  "This goes against my physicians oath," he said. "I was sworn to heal, not to kill."

  Okono shot him a fierce sideways glance. "My father, Ue Yota, returned from Kap Verita a broken man. It was your father who decimated Yotas finest men with monsters he had bred and raised. If you say that you did not help your father do that, I will not believe you."

  Shame burned Threos neck, and he knew it was true.

  "We defended our home from invaders."

  "I respect that," she said, keeping her aim steady. The sun was high in the sky, and she had started to sweat; her long black hair fluttered in the growing breeze. "But your side killed my dearest brother, Kamo."

  "I am not a killer!" Threo said, aggravated. "It is you, the 'nobility' with your arrogance and persecution, who branded us 'witchdoctors' for our knowledge - you are killers by profession. If I was -"

  A heavy clanking noise from behind caught their attention. Threo turned slightly and glimpsed the suns reflection in polished armor. The sight brought back terrible memories from the battle for his home island. How he had envied those armored knights then - and hated them...

  The armor-clad figure laid down sheets of pig-iron on the deck, took cover under a sheet of canvas, and told them not to pay attention to him.