Reformation

by Henrikson, Mark

  The projectile cleared the city wall and crashed down onto a wooden bridge built across a sewer canal in the center of town. The boulder reduced the bridge to splinters and imbedded the projectile several feet deep into the ground.

  Like a stone lobbed into a lake, terror rippled from the point of impact all the way out to the city walls. Women grabbed their children and dashed indoors, as if the thatched roof would provide any protection when the bombardment began in earnest.

  Kublai Khan’s self-satisfied glow was immediately extinguished the moment he looked back at his proud new weapon of destruction. The trebuchet still stood, but numerous cracks and hairline fractures riddled the weapon’s frame. He and General Kang rushed down from the watch tower to assess the damage.

  “What happened?” Kublai Khan asked.

  “With that much weight set into motion and suddenly stopping, the damn thing nearly shook itself apart,” the lead engineer reported while practically pulling the hair out of his head in frustration as he looked upon the frail machine. “One or two more shots like that and this weapon will be nothing but firewood.”

  The man paused to look at Kublai and bowed his head slightly in obedience. He did not want his words to in any way be considered a leadership challenge. “Mighty Khan, this magnificent device is your design, how should we proceed?”

  Kublai Khan vented a frustrated huff through his nose and headed for his command tent. “I must meditate on it.”

  He did not say another word, he simply threw open the entrance flap to his tent and let it flop closed on its own behind him. Without stopping he moved into his bed chamber to consult with the divine spirit of his god. Flanking the robust flame on either side of the trunk stood two of his magnificent hound warriors.

  Kublai Khan sunk to his knees and addressed his deity with the utmost respect. “Mighty god, the machine is indeed powerful as you promised, but I fear it is too powerful. It nearly tore itself apart on the test fire. My engineers tell me it will not survive launching another volley. I may need the services of your warriors to complete this conquest as I did in the Dali valley.”

  A shudder rippled through the divine flame upon hearing the request. “My warriors are not at your beck and call. The less they are seen the better. As for the machine, did you mount the trebuchet on four wheels as I instructed.”

  Kublai Khan sheepishly looked for a hole to crawl into before answering. “Actually no, my engineers assured me the machine would be too large to roll about the battlefield on wheels. A device as powerful as this needed to be anchored to the ground for stability.”

  “So you chose to defy your god in favor of those uneducated buffoons taking their best guess?” The flame instantly tripled in intensity as it spoke further. “I do not tolerate insubordination in my followers. You either have complete faith in me or you do not.”

  To emphasize the severity of the situation, the seven foot hound standing to the flame’s right drew his blade and stood ready to enforce the divine will.

  “I am your humble servant,” Kublai begged.

  “Then do as I instructed. Mount the trebuchet on four wheels and behold the wonders of my knowledge.”

  Kublai Khan slowly rose to his feet and bowed at the waist until his chest lay parallel to the ground. “Thy will be done.” With that he backed out of the bedchamber and straightened to his full height only after the curtains had closed. Then he paced toward the machine with purpose in every stride.

  Two days later the august presence of the counterweight trebuchet rested upon four wooden wheels as tall as a man and just as thick. Knowing that the device being anchored firmly to the ground caused it to nearly shake itself to pieces made Kublai Khan cringe at the thought of what it might do on wheels. However, he trusted his god, or rather feared his wrath, far too much to disobey him.

  “Ready when you are,” General Kang said standing next to him atop the observation tower once more.

  “Then by all means,” he said with a hesitant pause. “Fire.”

  The engineer tugged the release lever and then ran for his life. With the first firing, the counterweight bucket followed a circular arch around the fulcrum point on its way toward the ground. This time the bucket dropped straight down which rolled the entire machine backwards several feet, but then the massive frame suddenly lurched forward, adding speed and momentum to the throw as the weight effortlessly swung under the fulcrum point.

  Rather than tearing itself apart with an awkward and jarring motion, the rolling wheels gave the machine a beautifully smooth and efficient transfer of energy into the trebuchet’s arm and missile. Not only did the device survive the throw, the added momentum caused it to launch the boulder clear to the backside of the city and obliterated three houses before the stone finally came to rest.

  General Kang’s face lit up with surprise and immediately transitioned to admiration of the potential. “Brilliant.”

  “I’d say that is sufficient proof of concept,” Kublai Khan calmly stated, while resisting the urge to perform an excited backflip. “Commence construction of the rest.”

  A week later five massive counterweight trebuchets reduced the city walls to rubble in a matter of hours and the Mongol army consumed the city like a swarm of locusts. For three days the horrifying wails of rape and murder filled the air and carried the three mile distance to the twin fortress around the city of Fancheng.

  As Kublai Khan’s army approached the new target with their massive bombardment tools, they did not even have to bother setting up. The city gates willingly opened and welcomed them with open arms.

  Kublai Khan entered the city surrounded by his honor guard and was greeted by the city administrator holding the last three members of the Song royal family in irons.

  “Yes, these gifts will do nicely, and I welcome you into the fold of the Yuan Dynasty,” Kublai Khan declared.

  Chapter 31: Indulgences

  Tomal looked on as Tonwen sat at his table atop the steps leading into St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, Austria. The city had an inordinately large population of disgustingly wealthy families due to the high demands for salt found in the nearby mines.

  At the bottom of the church steps stood a long line of lavishly adorned citizens wishing to ask questions about their financial contributions to the church. The funds necessary to support the production and distribution of a vaccine for the plague had long since been accomplished, yet Tonwen continued the fund raising with more enthusiasm than ever before.

  Half the proceeds were sent to the Vatican to support the latest addition to St. Peters Basilica. Nearly all of the rest went to Archbishop Leonhard von Keutschach to fund yet another ring of defensive walls around his already impenetrable fortress lording over his city of Salzburg like Zeus on Mt. Olympus. Only a small fraction of the proceeds were going to support the well-being of society.

  “My sister lost her son to the plague,” a middle aged woman wearing jewelry expensive enough to have funded the vaccine distribution program all on its own explained to Tonwen. “The child was only four months old and was never baptized; I fear for his eternal soul. Is there anything I can do on my nephew’s behalf to earn him a place in heaven?”

  “Why of course there is my child,” Tonwen began with his most conciliatory voice. By now he was well practiced in knowing what tone to strike with people to wring the most coin out of them. Tonwen grasped a large wooden box resting beside him on the table with a miniature statue on top of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus in her arms. He moved it in front of the woman.

  “As soon as the gold in the casket rings; the rescued soul to heaven springs,” Tonwen declared and slapped the wooden box two times with his right hand prompting the woman to open her purse and deposit a hand full of gold coins into the coffer.

  “Rest easy my child,” Tonwen said while laying a hand of blessing upon her head and then dismissing her to the side so that he might fleece the next gullible fool.

  Next, a man wearing fine robes tha
t reached all the way down to his ankles stood across the table from Tonwen, mustering a laughable attempt at a contrite expression. “Bless me father for I am in need of forgiveness.”

  “What is your sin my child?”

  “I have committed adultery with the younger sister of my wife,” the man admitted.

  Tonwen glanced toward the wooden coffer. “That is a grievous offense against God and his commandments.”

  “Will thirty pieces of silver absolve me of this sin so that I may still know the blessings of heaven in the afterlife?”

  “What?” Tonwen protested and looked to take great offense. “Do you mistake me for Judas? Thirty pieces of silver?”

  The man quickly adjusted his offer. “Five gold pieces then?”

  Tonwen tapped the coffer with his right hand while making the sign of the cross in the air between them with his left. “May God’s many blessings fall upon you.”

  Five heavy clinks in the coffer later the man went to stand, but was held in place by Tonwen’s expectant hand. “And what about the soul of your mistress?” Five more clinks and the man sauntered away feeling renewed.

  The whole ridiculous exchange was enough to bring Tomal’s blood to a boil when the financial proceeds went to a good cause. Now that it was just money coming in for the sake of a fattened treasury made even Tomal’s morally questionable past look quite virtuous.

  Yet another individual stood across the table from Tonwen. This man wore a frilly garment of royal blue with a matching hat sporting the plucked feather of a peacock.

  “Yes my son, what is your sin?”

  The arrogant man did not even pretend to look troubled by his spiritual need. “I have not committed a sin yet, but a man owes me money and I need to make an example out of him. If I kill this man can that sin be forgiven?”

  “The gold you contribute will need to provide medicines to save many, many lives if you have taken one,” Tonwen said quietly.

  “I have not killed anyone yet,” the man said and then took a quick glance back at the line. “I am a busy man though. I don’t wish to wait in such a long line again to pay my penance. Could I make an adequate contribution now for the sin I will soon commit?”

  Twenty clinks of gold in the coffer sent the man on his merry way. That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for Tomal. He stormed forward before the next contributor could approach.

  “You fools don’t you see what is happening here?” Tomal bellowed from the top of the steps down to the hundreds lined up below. He gestured with both arms toward Tonwen and the church behind him. “They preach only human doctrines that forgiveness and safety from purgatory may be bought. It is certain that when gold clinks in the money chest, greed and avarice can be increased; but when the church intercedes, the result is in the hands of God alone.”

  “What are you doing?” Tonwen insisted through gritted teeth.

  “If men of the cloth are meant to serve the common good, and it is in their power to grant forgiveness and a place in heaven, are they not obliged to perform this service with no demand for compensation?” Tomal went on as though Tonwen did not even open his mouth. “No good comes from this. In fact, it is the height of evil.”

  Tonwen sprung to his feet and defended his work. “Money raised by indulgences is used for many righteous causes, both religious and civic in nature. A cure for the plague, construction of churches, hospitals, leper colonies, schools, roads and bridges are all results from these contributions. Not to mention the eternal salvation of these fine people’s souls.”

  “It’s evil and I want no part of it,” Tomal declared and stormed down the steps away from the church and Tonwen.

  Chapter 32: Half Way There

  From the ground, the five hundred foot tall burial mound could easily be mistaken for just another hillside. Its steeply sloped sides made of rammed earth were covered with trees and vegetation just like the surrounding area. However, from the air it lit up the Alpha spacecraft’s range finder like a giant landing beacon.

  Now two years after landing on the planet Kuanti returned to the mound after helping Kublai Khan conquer the territory with the knowledge that the earthen pyramid served as a mausoleum to Qui Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China. Specifics of the monument were difficult to come by since legend told that the emperor had all seven hundred thousand slaves who worked on the construction trapped inside with the emperor upon his burial so that its many secrets would die with them.

  Local legends also stated that vast treasures lay within: piles of gold coins, a scale replica of the empire, a jeweled map of the sky along the ceiling, and rivers of flowing mercury.

  Kuanti was not interested in the treasures and models, his engineering mind had other designs for the powerful structure; however the thousands of immaculately crafted clay warriors were also intriguing to him.

  Kublai Khan had completed the conquest of this vast land with the Alpha’s help and was now in the process of consolidating his power. Kuanti felt comfortable leaving that mundane task to Cora’s relic. He planned to use his time more productively, so he made the five hundred mile trek back to Xi’an.

  “Kuanti, what are you up to?” Goron asked through the mental connectivity the relics shared. You should be in Dabu with the others making sure Kublai Khan is kept properly under foot. Instead, you pull a half dozen warriors and yourself away for a cross country sightseeing trip?”

  “I have an idea to share with you and the others once the planetary orbits come back together,” Kuanti cryptically answered.

  “That time is now,” Goron demanded. “I have felt their intermittent presence for several days now, or is your mental focus so inferior to mine that you could not detect them yet?”

  Kuanti allowed the insult to pass without incident. He yearned to respond to Goron’s provocations, and if he had a body to engage in physical combat he would. Instead, Kuanti had to endure these mental battles. Over the past two years he found it best to just ignore Goron’s incessant little barbs. Failure to acknowledge the mental hits angered him far more than any counter insults could ever achieve.

  “I want sustained contact with the Mars relics before revealing my plan.”

  “Now should suffice,” Noren’s unmistakable thought pattern communicated from across the forty million mile gap between the planets. He had been Kuanti’s brightest student over the years and a natural choice to lead the Mars collective while out of touch with the relics on Earth.

  “Report,” Goron demanded as he successfully took command of the entire collective once more.

  “The second ship is half completed as is the new fusion reactor,” Noren proudly declared. “I estimate another two years and we will be in a position to transport all fifty thousand residents of the colony to Earth.”

  “Your instructions were to quickly construct a ship capable of ferrying five hundred warriors at a time to get the migration underway as soon as possible,” Goron chastised.

  “Constructing a larger craft is not the limiting factor, it is building the reactor,” Noren countered. “If we have the time, we may as well make the ship able to carry as many as possible.”

  Kuanti felt a surge of pride roll across his consciousness. His former student expertly maneuvered the conversation to maximize the perception of his accomplishment and painted Goron into a corner where he would have to acknowledge the achievement. Victories against Goron were few and far between; Kuanti reveled in it, even if it was truly his student’s moment.

  “Excellent work, Noren,” Goron finally managed.

  Kuanti decided the time was right to press his agenda. “What about the relics? Is there room on the transport for them to make the trip with you?”

  “No,” Noren admitted. “Though the relics individually are rather small, over half a million of them take up considerable volume. In fact, we recently had to open up another network of caves to accommodate them all. Almost every life force now is choosing to remain since they know the ability
to return home is finally within our grasp. Transporting them all from here to there will take dozens of trips.”

  “Each of those round trips could take several months if the planetary orbits are not properly aligned. The whole process could take years,” Kuanti added.

  “I suppose you have a better way?” Goron snapped back.

  It was Kuanti’s turn to shine now. “Actually I do. The shape and size of the pyramid I am traveling toward has the ability to harness and focus energy with the addition of the gravity coils from my ship. We spotted its unique properties when our landing sensors were drawn to the structure. I believe the addition of a control chamber within the pyramid will allow me to draw the life force energy of the relics from Mars to Earth without the need for a transport craft.”

  “You what?” came a resounding cry from the collective thoughts; most prominently Goron.

  Goron quieted the masses so he could address the issue. “Caring for and personally transporting our revered elders is natural and righteous. Exerting Mother Nature’s resources and energies on the relics in the manner you suggest approaches blasphemy.”

  “We vilify the Novi for wasting nature’s resources to reanimate the dead. This is not the same, but it is taking a few steps in that direction,” Goron went on with several others voicing a similar argument.

  “It is a slippery ethical slope to be sure, but given our circumstance, I strongly feel it is the best option to get all of the relics safely to this planet,” Kuanti responded.

  Dead silence echoed throughout the collective and everyone retreated into their own thoughts to consider the implications. In the final analysis, some found the idea repugnant, most thought it distasteful but prudent, and Kuanti was certain a surprisingly sizeable sect would not mind taking a slide down that slope all the way to reanimation.

  Goron finally came down with his decision. Kuanti could feel the conflict and hesitation in the back of his leader’s mind, but the order came. “You may proceed with your plans for the pyramid.”