The Book of Ominiue: Starborn

by D. M. Barnham

  Shayne sat upon Ulossa as the guards silently greeted them. Pan’arden and the Brigadier General remained just behind him and Kíe and Lieutenant Rae behind them. One of the shytarda’s stepped forward and called for the Gate Keeper. The faint sound of running water followed the order and a series of cranking noises broke out as the great steel door steadily glided along the grooves in the ground. The structure revealed a second door on the inner side, opening out like a curtain drawn at a theatre, as both doors pulled into the walls they revealed a set of steps leading to the Palace landing. They were signalled by the Imperial Shytarda to continue once the doors ceased moving; their great bulk coming to rest inside the walls with a loud thud, silencing the cranking. While their mounts road up the isle of stairs the Earthmen and some of the Bohanese warriors looked along the defences to comprehend the mechanism, but nothing was revealed on the other side except for carvings within the wall masonry following them up onto the second landing.

  The palace gardens were astonishing; beauty was everywhere but the Earthmen’s eyes could not help but be drawn to the base of the tower on the western side. There stood the only entrance to the tower, boarded off by its own wall, separating the palace grounds from the towers. The tower grounds had their own guardians. The Citadel Shytarda stood at the tower wall, their bronze helmets covered their faces with a t-shaped slit. They had great white cloaks that wrapped around their shoulders. The head crest was white and unfurled around the helmet from side-to-side, like a male peacock spreading its tail feathers. They shared sentry duty on the palace gardens with the Imperial, but never set foot within the palace itself, just as the Imperial Guards never set foot within the walls of the tower.

  The Palace had a central dome with the highest part made of glass. The structure comprised of three wings that made an E shape. The central royal wing connected to the throne room dome and with the other two wings on either side; each wing had a dome at either end.

  ‘I cannot believe I am actually here!’ Kíe had recovered from the grand reception and almost exploded in excitement. His enthusiasm caused him to speak too quickly. ‘One of the UeVarda’s daughters is a student at the Teaching Halls you know. She spends so much time there that I used to think she had found some secret room of the lost archives or something. She was always reading. Well, she was when I was an apprentice anyway. I never really understood why anyone would do that when they have all this to explore, including their own personal libraries.’

  ‘Perhaps she is too much like you, young Journeyman.’ Pan’Arden responded as they dismounted their horses. A group of servants, both human and lionmen, led them away; bowing slightly as the reins were handed over. Pan’Arden stepped forward, bowing to the shytarda standing guard, ‘Nida Kushnalor Pan’Arden of Bohaníde and Afra’hama of the Sky Ta’Orians seek audience within,’ with the introduction the two door guards opened the large wooden and iron doors granting access.

  They stepped into an open corridor. Heavily armed guards stood ready along the walls and above them rose a balcony on each side where just as many archers peered down at them. At the end of the room sat a female administrative guard. As they approached she rose from her seat and bowed her head slightly in the lionmen fashion.

  ‘Your weapons, please,’ she asked in a husky voice. Pan’arden unclipped her sword and scabbard and handed it over. She also removed a long bladed knife concealed behind her cape. Kíe handed a knife from his belt.

  ‘And what is that?’ the guard indicated to the firearms that were strapped to the upper thigh of each of the Earthmen.

  ‘Lie,’ the Brigadier ordered Shayne. He then addressed the two robots while still looking towards Shayne, the tone his voice deceptive; sounding like a question to unknowing ears, ‘that is an order. Follow the lead of me and the Starborn.’

  ‘You mean these?’ Hanniver placed his hand on his laser triggered propulsion gun, a deliberate expression of question upon his face as he looked at the guard then at Shayne. The guard nodded, her eyes inquisitively fixed upon the device.

  ‘It’s not a weapon. Nothing dangerous.’ Shayne reassured. Hanniver nodded his head as the machine translated the lie for him; a rare quality reserved only for militarised machines. Omar unclipped his fake infiltrator class pulse pistol from its holster, he handed it to the Brigadier in a pre-arranged faint. They dared not use a real gun; all weapons were fitted with electronic trigger systems that react only to certain identity chips: though it was rare failure was known to occur. ‘Do you wish to have a look?’ he asked as he handed it to the guard. She examined it with great interest and without suspicion.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked while turning it in her hands.

  ‘A multipurpose tool,’ Shayne added. ‘They have various applications from medical to communication, plus the odd purpose here and there. They are an emergency item, mostly, just in case our other things stop working.’

  ‘Is it dangerous?’ she looked up at the Earthmen.

  Shayne thought about it for a moment; his lack of expression made him a good liar. ‘I guess so, if you threw it at someone.’

  The lionman faintly grinned at that comment. ‘What about those ones,’ she pointed to the slightly different looking laser sidearm that the Brigadier and higher officers also had.

  ‘It is essentially the same thing, but much more expensive, so they probably would not throw it.’ The guard gave a slight chuckle. ‘But if it is of concern to you, we can hand them over as well.’

  ‘That is quite alright, Afra’hama, Thank you. So you have no weapons upon you at all?’ she asked with a slight hint of concern. Kérith-Árim was as safe as any place, but their law meant all citizens had to be armed, this did not extend to foreigners, but their ways were so ingrained into them that it was an instinctive response.

  ‘They are with the horses. We agreed to only handle them when our new friends here requested, a sign of trust we put in your people. Last time we had our rifles upon us was near the forest, we used them against the wolf creatures.’ Shayne’s explanation was not entirely a lie. To dispel suspicion, they were open about the larger weapons from the start while able to conceal the deliberately deceptive design of their infiltrator class pistols. The guard handed Shayne the gun and he in return handed the prop back to Omar.

  ‘And we must enforce that they’re extremely dangerous weapons,’ Hanniver added. ‘They’re deactivated and safe, there isn’t any concern for your servants as no one will be able to use them. If someone was to try it won’t work, but better to be safe than sorry, so please pass the word around to be careful with our gear.’

  ‘We understand. It would be interesting to see a demonstration of these weapons of yours. Your words have peeked my curiosity,’ the guard replied, causing Pan’arden to frown. ‘Any other weapons?’

  ‘Pocket knives, possibly,’ Shayne said. Hanniver asked if anyone was carrying one. Dominic pulled out a multi-tool and passed it to the Brigadier who in turn gave it to the guard. She looked at the steel handle in confusion; she then returned her quizzical gaze to the Earthmen.

  ‘It opens up,’ the Brigadier said, miming with his hands. Shayne reached for it and pulled out a few things. Pan’arden and Kíe came closer to look. Kíe made a sound as he marvelled at it. The guard took the blade and played with the functions: a pair of scissors, the knife blade, a can opener and a few other items as she pulled them out one by one wondering what each did.

  ‘A clever idea,’ the Imperial Shytarda said in amusement as she pulled out more bits.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you what,’ Hanniver happily spoke out, ‘you can keep it.’ Dominic made an involuntary sound at the redistribution of his pocket knife. Hanniver shot him a look that instantly silenced him. ‘You can always get another one, Corporal!’

  ‘Thank you,’ the guard said, putting the knife down for a moment and signalled two nearby guards who grabbed the door handles; revealing the next room. ‘You are free to enter. Your belongings will be housed in the armoury just here,’ s
he pointed to the side door closest to her, ‘you can reclaim them when you leave.’

  They came into the first hall, an intermediate space to receive lesser guests and work through more mundane aspects of rulership. Despite its lower function it was still a grand and splendid structure. The Earthmen marvelled at its beauty, many taking recordings of the room and its treasures. The floor was covered in a series of complicated mosaics depicting different patterns. The hall was longer than wider and was held up by columns running along the edges. Stained glass windows covered the upper half letting in coloured light. Statues of man and beast adorned the sides and flags hung from the upper regions.

  The Earthmen walked slowly along the hall, spreading out to look at the many items and statues. The flashes of their wristcoms and portable devices drew the attention of the few guards in the room who watched carefully and suspiciously from behind their helms. Shayne walked down the middle of the room with Hanniver and Pan’arden, but like them his gaze was drawn by the things around them.

  At the end of the long hall there were two great dragon statues and in between them stood a giant open oak door leading to the throne room. As they passed the threshold the company all gasped in awe. They came from a splendid hall into one that far surpassed it.

  They treaded softly to the centre of the room, walking over a complex and integrate mosaic; a great circular piece with dragons and lions forming complex patterns of dark colours and circles.

  The glass domed roof flooded the hall with brilliant light; the clear panes curved down to meet the solid bottom half of the dome. Imperial archers silently watched them from a balcony running along the circular room. A single door connecting the upper level to the right side wing while many more guarded the ground floor.

  The dome was supported by a double ring of pillared archers. A path between them was patrolled by two more shytardas. Banners and shields from all the nations connected with Kérith-Árim rested amongst the outer ring of pillars: flags depicting constellations and animals, ships and mythical creatures, symbols of many kinds all with many colours and patterns adorning each space. Below each flag, shields and weapons of each nation hung; the shape and make all unique to their respective country and culture. The pillars wound around the room until they gave way to the throne of the Great King, the UeVarda. On the wall behind the throne were three engraved lines of golden text, framed by two Kérith-Árim dragon banners draped on either side. Above the characters rose three stained windows stretching high above them. The Earthmen walked under a great looming pendulum clock to the centre of the room. Looking back, they saw that the clock was suspended above arch to the main entrance. The old device was supported by the balcony and dome structure. It no longer kept time; with its gears seized and much of its shine long gone: its design was beyond art. There was a sphere in its centre representing the moon. One half was divided into four silver sections while the other half into four black sections representing the phases of the moon. The sphere was surrounded by several different rings of brass with different hands pointing to the local hour and minute markers. Well-crafted gears were exposed to show off the clockwork; a testament to an ancient society now lost.

  The circular room directed the eyes to the throne. Several steps lead up to the king’s seat where no pillars obstructed it. The throne itself was a wonder. The back held the head of a gold gilded lion, its mane spread out in a ring, like a golden sun. The armrests were in the shape of dragonheads; further glorifying the ancient architecture that was scattered in those lands.

  Sitting on the throne was a frail, dark haired lionman hunched in sickness. He was leaning towards his queen who knelt by his side. Shayne looked carefully at the small entourage who surrounded the king. The silent group consisted of ambassadors, bureaucrats and the stewardship council that was unique to Kérith-Árim. There were also monk-like warriors present, one standing alone to the side, the other by the kind. Their faces hidden by the dark cloaks they wore but unmistakably human.

  The UeVarda’s ensemble in return observed their strange guests, but there was very little joy to be shared in their curiosity. A ferret-like creature peered from under the head dress of a female human and other strange, but noble animals lurked about their masters. The Earthmen had since recognised there was cultural significance behind these pets; some form of prestige or honour.

  They stood patiently for around five minutes before the monk who conversed with the UeVarda and his wife made a slight bow and retreated to join the other monk by the wall. As he made his way across he briefly looked across at them. Shayne thought he saw a glimmer of metal under the hood, but he was too far away and the glance too brief for him to be sure.

  The king’s thin figure slouched over as he rested heavily on the armrest. His wife, the Venra, had her hands resting gently on one of his arms. She looked up at him, her face furrowed in deep sorrow. Their attention focused solely upon each other as they softly spoke; words that were inaudible to the approaching guests, broken only by harsh coughing fits from the sick lionman. Only when the company drew before the steps did the king glance up. His breath was laboured and his sunken features further betrayed his illness.

  ‘May I present, to the UeVarda of the Realm of Kérith-Árim, the Afrada ala Hama and the Hama Ta’Orians.’ Shayne received a gentle nudge from Kíe. The Starborn took the customary approach as was explained to him, stopping at the first step where he lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head. The UeVarda at first only coughed and wheezed but finally he straightened himself out and weakly spoke.

  ‘I am afraid the hour brings little but grief, friends from the stars, for my time on this world is drawing to a close.’ With this introduction the UeVarda coughed painfully, raising a cloth to his mouth and afterwards looking at it with disdain. Shayne turned to his Earthmen companions and spoke briefly in English before turning back to the UeVarda, an act that received shock and disgust from two of the natives.

  ‘May I ask what ails you, Sire?’

  ‘Nothing we can cure. Not a single moment in time goes by without suffering, every breath is a labour, and it is so that even this conversation, though greatly cherished brings me great pain.’

  ‘UeVarda, we are a people of great advancement, it is rare for a developing civilisation such as yourselves to recognise science as an art, like your nation does, rarer still to accept us so willingly. We travelled many lengths of the stars to reach your world, give our doctors permission and we will cure your illness.’ Upon hearing this, the small crowd burst into excited chatter and his wife, the Venra’s eyes brightened in hope.

  ‘Your concern, Afra’hama brings me joy, but I do not think I could bear much more, I can feel death approach, if I last beyond this week I will be much surprised.’

  ‘One of the reasons for our audience with you, UeVarda, was to obtain permission to bring our flying machines to your nations; to initiate trade and to explore uninhabited lands for precious minerals that we require. In return we offer knowledge, technology and medicine. Give the order and we will have one of our machines here within 15 minutes[12],’ the Varda’s wife clasped his arm again, drawing his attention.

  ‘Daí karn galaman amark malikan kev, dol Heiman ka Areda? Han anos barka anosmó bine amdó luf ra ilshann ten onarnŭ keró ho hunmark aunkun amdó dando amark vanda.’

  With a deep sigh the king replied to his pleading wife, ‘I am so tired, Daí hafama hama Ta’Orian malikan koolungŭ? My kev v’angal pundan my und horken jahra randarder.’

  ‘Anos nan daran tellus — anosmó valhinan nan daran tellus — bahool the anosmó onanífa,’ she spoke with such strength and compassion that the king’s face changed. He looked upon her with sorrow as he raised his hand to touch her face, closing his eyes in thought.

  ‘What do you have to lose, my love?’ she finally said after his extended pause. ‘You can barely eat as it is; we all know that if you do nothing now then it may soon be too late. If you do not accept their help now, then you will be scattered to
the four winds like the UeVarda’s of old; sooner than your time. Do you truly wish such a fate? If we try, then maybe you will be given the years you deserve!’ The lionman king looked deep into her eyes which now held tears: his heart broke at seeing her in such a way. He weakly nodded, turning to face his new guests.

  ‘Afra’hama, bring your flying machines and healers, for I will receive your treatment.’

  ‘My Lord,’ Shayne bowed again, ‘we shall bring the doctors, but please understand that you might have to come to our settlement to receive the necessary treatment.’

  ‘I understand, but I ask you to do all that you possibly can in the safety of my palace, if after that time you still require me to turn to your medical-halls then I shall, but not first.’

  Shayne bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. He nodded to Brigadier-General Hanniver, who then ordered the other droid, 14D-SCMSR to arrange transport and designate a drop off point within the grounds. The android, accompanied by Dominic gave the silent command as it made its way out of the hall. A high ranking shytarda organised a group of Imperial Guards to announce to the public that strange flying machines would be coming to the city. Soon the throne room was in a rush as guards came and left to deliver messages and issue commands.

  ‘What is the consensus?’ Shayne asked the other robot while the Earthmen huddled together to listen.

  ‘97 percent probability of Lung Cancer,’ the droid automatically responded. ‘Though uncertainty arises in unknown areas of lionmen anatomy. The pitch and nature of the cough holds variations that might not be related.’