“Then you must not know me, either.”
The girl said nothing. Still facing down at her bare feet, she peeked from the corner of her eye, spied her brood-sister staring from behind a pillarwood tree.
The stranger’s hand, easily as large as her face and marked with scars and callouses, cupped her chin in a firm but gentle grip. The man lifted the girl’s face to meet his own.
The girl had never seen so many glyphs on one head. Some were split by white, frightening scars. The man’s two ice-pale eyes were piercing, intense. Yet, even with his intimidating size and many scars, she thought he looked upon her with a rare fondness in his eyes. It was the first time the girl felt like anyone other than her brood-sister and hen-mother had seen her as a person, not just another nameless khvazol.
“Look at me now, girl. Listen to what I tell you. I am your blood-grandfather. Your blood-mother was my own daughter. Your blood is my blood, as it was given to me by the Divine Masters. Your blood-mother’s name is Caller Gunna. My name is First Drum Spear. But you, girl, you can call me Grandfather. Grandfather Spear.”
The little girl, though still confused, felt something she didn’t have a word for yet. Something exciting, and it made her smile. When the man smiled back, that strange new feeling grew warm and tingly in her chest. She could sense her brood-sister’s awed stare on the back of her neck. Even though he no longer held her chin, she could not pull her eyes away from the large man covered in glyphs.
“Would you like to have a name for yourself?” he asked.
“Yes,” the girl said.
“Then you must be seen by the Gods,” he said. “Do you know what that means?”
“No.”
“Then I will have to show you. Would you like to come with me and see something new? I’d wager you’ve never been to this part of the Labyrinth.”
“Yes,” said the girl, hopping in anticipation. “But . . .” She stopped her excited bouncing, looked over her shoulder, and turned back to Grandfather Spear. “Can my brood-sister come, too?”
“You should understand that she’s not your blood, Granddaughter. Her shaft may very well be different than yours. But she’s welcome to come if she likes.”
The girl waved her sister over, and the two of them followed Grandfather Spear away from the training dens, down unfamiliar tunnels, and through doors they’d never seen before. They held hands and strode quickly to keep up. Overseers saw them leaving where they were supposed to be, but none said a word or gave a command with their prod. The girl had never seen someone walk so freely through the tunnels and among the overseers.
As he led them through the Labyrinth, Grandfather Spear spoke to the girls, his deep voice reverberating in the ceramic-lined halls. “It’s no small thing for a human to have a name. In the old times, it was forbidden to all the unseen as declared by Divine Will. But Mother of Life felt a small mercy and convinced Star Father that if even a human could be seen by the Gods nine times, then surely they had earned a name under Will.
“The Divine Masters give us two shafts to be seen by the Gods. The Chosen and the Servants. Your blood-mother and I chose the Servants. When you girls are eighteen years, you’ll have your own choice between two shafts. Start thinking on it now, even if twelve years seems like forever to wait. The Divine Masters bestow the gift of choice only once. Don’t waste it.”
Grandfather Spear led them through a doorway taking them to an ancient part of the Labyrinth. Here the tunnels were no longer lined, but bare rock and masonry. It smelled different here, not like humans, but like something very old, mysterious. Other strange new scents awaited them. He paused before a triangle-shaped, clear door.
“It’s amazing if you think about it,” he said. “The galaxy is vast. Wider and farther than the Masters created us to be able to comprehend. And yet, through all of it, the Gods can see even us. If Star Father wishes it, he will find you, no matter where in the universe. No matter how much rock and rubble separates you and the stars.”
The clear door slid away. He led the girls through, and onto a small balcony. The triangular fighting pit fell away beneath them. The lights were dim, the bottom of the pit lay obscured in shadows. The girl thought she could see broken rock and old masonry piled into mounds around the pit floor.
“If you choose to earn your name and be seen by the Gods, this is where it will be. Here, if you prove yourself, all the Unity may one day see you.” His deep voice echoed through the pit like his words were being spoken from every direction, as if the story came not only from the man but from the rough-hewn walls and the distant shadows.
“Sit now, girls, and listen. There are stories you should hear before you die and go before the Shattered Gates.
“When the Gods first came to Nahgohn-Za, They destroyed the mechanical armies of the Old Masters. They tore down their decadent cities and turned the planet’s surface to wasteland. A few of the Old Masters survived. They were starving and fearful, like animals, and they tried to hide from the Gods beneath the rubble. But there is no hiding from the Gods. Star Father found them and lifted them up. The Gods tested the Old Masters nine times, to know if their faith and their strength were worthy. Those who passed the trials became the first of the Nahgak-Ri, and the Gods bestowed Their Will upon them.
“See me now. Remember this. Just as Star Father could see the sinful Old Masters, he can see a lowly human. Even Humans have their place in the Divine Will. That means you have your place too. Keep your hearts pure and faithful, and if you pass your trials, Star Father will see you and raise you up from the ruins of the past.”
Sabira woke up hot, drenched in sweat, parched throat gasping for air. Thuds and booms echoed from afar, a ceaseless, off-beat rumbling. Through blurred eyes, she saw a pale amethyst sky, streaked and clotted with towers of black smoke. The invasion of Target Planet Thirteen-Nine-Seven-dash-Four had begun, but the nearest battles were many kilometers away. By the time the Servants reached this old hive city, she would already be standing before the Shattered Gates.
She wondered if the Gods might finally see her then, but stopped herself, afraid she already knew the answer. Even as Sabira gasped and wheezed every breath, she slipped into a somber calmness. With weary detachment, she felt her chest convulsing, lungs desperate for proper air. She wondered if she would see her crew when it was done. Or if the ones she killed in the pits awaited her instead. And as black smoke blotted out the horizon, she remembered a deeper black, one filled with uncountable shimmering lights.
At least I saw the stars.
Something smacked the roof nearby. She thought it must be the clack of a grenade landing. Her impulse was to find cover from the blast, but she was too weak to move, so she just closed her eyes and awaited incineration. A few long, tense moments passed, and she still hadn’t been vaporized. Sabira opened her eyes, and through the unfocused blur, she caught movement on the rooftop. She wasn’t alone. Was it the Servants, she wondered, just in time to be too late to reclaim her? Or was it the Vleez, determined to make sure she really was dead?
By the time she saw a human face looming over hers, the boy had already pressed the blade to her neck. He was young, thirteen years at the most. She couldn’t make out his glyphs, only dark blurs across his scalp.
Another face emerged into her foggy vision. A young vleez, immature sense tendrils curving curiously toward her. Was it one of the young vleez she slaughtered in the park? No, they were dead. Was this real or was she hallucinating? She struggled to assemble the pieces and make sense of what was happening. A young vleez and a human boy, together. Invasion. Unity. The captured nameless. She had found them. No. They found her.
The knife at her throat.
She reached for her palukai. The boy was quicker. He kicked the stick out of reach and pressed the blade harder before she barely moved her hand. The edge felt rough, not razor sharp like her palukai, but pressed hard enough it would slice skin and bleed her out.
Killed by
a child, she thought. Maybe Trickster sees me after all.
She waited for the last pinch, to see a spray of red before falling into black. Instead, she felt the blade lift away from her throat. Two of the vleez’s four hands pulled the human’s arm back. It spoke in a warbling drone, a whisper among the echoes of bombs and sonic booms.
“She’s dangerous,” the boy said in an accent strange to Sabira. “She’ll kill all of us. This kind kills Humans just like they kill Vleez. She kills for them.”
The vleez responded in a soft drone.
“I know what you were shown. But this can’t be it. She’s too dangerous,” the human boy insisted.
The vleez child again answered in a soft drone and made a pacifying gesture with its two free claw-hands. Sabira thought about slowly repositioning her arm to aim a dose of poison spray at the infidel. Decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Better to fade back into the darkness swelling up around her.
“Then you have to help me tie her,” the boy said. “Go cut some vines. I’ll watch her. We’ll get the other one next. She’s not going anywhere.” The boy wore a small, clear mask over his mouth and nose. It reminded her of the respirators grafted onto the vleez she had faced in the pit, though much less brutal-looking.
Soon the two children were tying her in coils of vines. She tried to push them off, but all her strength was gone, depleted by the gem and the strain of every breath. The boy put the knife back at her throat until the vleez child bound her wrists and ankles together. Once she was secured, the boy pulled off his backpack and pulled out a second breathing mask. He positioned it over her mouth and nose, and it sealed itself airtight to her face.
Sabira breathed in hard and deep, again and again, savoring each inhalation, eager for the next, exhausted but greedy for every lungful of breathable air. Even though she could breathe normally at last, the blackness continued its relentless creep up and over her. She barely saw the boy now, pulling something else out of his backpack and attaching it to her knees, hips, shoulders.
The underside of the dome slid toward her. No, she drifted up, away from the dirt covered roof. Away from Daggeira. The boy had strapped little hover pods to her. He led her floating body forward, between the pillars, until she was under the purple sky bruised with black and gray. Then down through a hatch in the roof, into the building, into the creeping black nothingness, as the weapons of Divine Will fell burning from the sky.
Sabira’s adventures continue in
Part 3: Eon
AFTERWORD
THANK YOU SO much. You took a chance on a new author and I truly hope you enjoyed this second installment of my four part novella series. Please let the world know what you think about it by leaving an honest review here on the Amazon book page. Even a short review means a ton to new and experienced authors alike.
Sabira’s adventures have taken a strange, new turn. You can purchase Part 3:Eon here in order to find out what comes next as soon as possible. Shamanic visions and life-changing revelations await. Might as well pick up Part 4: Sacrificial Altars here while you’re at it.
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Thank you and hang in there.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
SPECIAL THANKS TO September C. Fawkes for her insightful edits and Dan Van Oss at Covermint Designs for making such eye catching covers. You were both wonderful to work with and I’m looking forward to future projects together. Special thanks also goes to Orion Harbour for the amazing Void Forms Media logo.
I would like to thank Julia Glosemeyer, my loving wife and first reader, Mary Glosemeyer (love you, Mom!), and Dale Wilson,for getting me writing again. Particular thanks to Katie Harp, Elizabeth “Izanami” Vaughn, and Stephen Crone—your beta-read feedback was invaluable. Thanks to Andre Polk (you are missed, sorry you didn’t get to read this, my friend), Jarad Coates, Astra Price, Tatiana and Buzzy Brennan, Samuel Peterson, 8tracks.com, Johnathan Clayborn, and the Space Opera: Writers Facebook group.
Additional thanks to following podcasts, for many hours of inspiration, instruction, and distraction, that helped make this book what it is: The Sword and Laser, The Duncan Trussell Family Hour, Writing Excuses, The Story Grid, The Creative Penn, and The Psychedelic Salon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BRYAN S. GLOSEMEYER lives in San Francisco, CA, where he works in tech support, drinks too much coffee, and wanders the bustling streets with his wife. He has previously published a flash fiction piece in the Question of the Day anthology from Clayborn Press.
Copyright 3
Dedication 4
Part 2: Infiltration Crew 6
7. 7
8. 12
9. 17
10. 21
11. 31
12. 39
13. 43
14. 52
15. 56
16. 61
17. 72
18. 86
19. 92
20. 101
21. 111
Afterword 119
Acknowledgements 120
About the Author 121
Contents
Unnamed
Dedication
Part 2: Infiltration Crew
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
Afterword
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Before the Shattered Gates of Heaven Part 2: Infiltration Crew (Shattered Gates Volume 1 Part 2) Page 10