A Thousand Ages

by D. E. Ellis

  Griff waited until the last moment, hoping against hope that something would happen to prevent the Council hearing of the Group’s part in the unfortunate events.

  Time passed. The Tube came to a stop. Shortly afterwards, a note arrived in the city, addressed to the Council. It made its dramatic entry on the wings of an arrow, shot from a neighbouring hill into one of the outlying streets. Within a short wile, the note had been read by those concerned. Rumours spread rapidly, although the contents of the note were kept secret.

  Hearing that a note had arrived, and how it had come. Griff decided there was no hope left. He contacted his father, thereby breaking a silence that had lasted for many months.

  Anu Rama’s joy at being once more in mental communication with his son was quickly overshadowed when he heard what he had to say.

  His grief was partially alleviated by his son’s realisation of his mistakes, and his sincere desire to do anything in his power to remedy the situation—even though his confession should bring punishment upon himself.

  Anu Rama took the only course open to him. He informed the rest of the Council. It would require the resources of all their minds to deal with a situation like this. A situation which was utterly foreign to their natures, and one that had never risen before.

  Chapter 14

  Griff Rama was unable to give Thane much information, except to give him some idea of the general location of Hamer’s camp. There had been no further communication from Rona, so he now began to fear for her safety.

  Thane asked the Council to collect every little piece of information they could about the Gabblers, particularly the local tribes. Dunstable was of great assistance, having already studied the subject which he was planning to make his life’s work. As he laboriously waded through all that was known about them the germ of an idea began to take shape in his mind.

  “Gordon, this sounds crazy I now. But, if only there was a quick and easy way of learning the language and customs, any of the old crew would stand a reasonable chance of mixing with the Gabblers. They could then try to find Bruce and Wormald.”

  “There is an easy way. Jon Rubin once told me that, under hypnosis, an enormous amount can be crammed into the sub-conscious in a very short time. They have a special technique …”

  “That’s marvellous. It will have to be quick. We’ve spent two days already, just summing up the situation. Soon the Gabblers may get impatient and threaten to harm the hostages if the ransom is not immediately forthcoming. The Council may be able to stall for time, by pleading difficulties in obtaining the enormous amount demanded. But I don’t think it will leave me much time to find them.”

  “You speak as though you are planning to go alone. I have always intended to go amongst the Gabblers, to see if it’s possible to spread the idea of a true God amongst them. They already have various ideas about Gods that have to be feared and propitiated. But I wonder how they would respond to the idea of a God of love, and the promise of an after-life. Is it possible to teach them Christianity I wonder, or must the new world have a new religion?”

  “Hold on … That’s just given me an idea. Supposing we both take this language course—you could pose as a wandering priest, or witch-doctor, or whatever they call themselves, and I could be your assistant. Tribes do not intermingle freely, but there are one or two classes of people who seem to be accepted easily into any society—chiefly priests, doctors and entertainers. I suppose their priests and doctors are something like the witch-doctors of the old African jungle. While you are putting on a show, I can scout around and pick up information.”

  “An excellent idea, except for one thing—I have no intention of posing as a priest: I shall be one. I hope to present new ideas to them in a form they will understand.”

  “That’s agreed then. Only don’t overdo it and annoy them so much that they’re out after our blood. The less attention drawn to us the better, if we want to move around freely.”

  Three days later, dressed in a rougher version of Hamer’s clothes, the two approached the Thames rift from the side furthest from the city. In order not to invite suspicion, they had walked along the new inactive Tubeway, emerging from a disused entrance well beyond the boundaries of the city.

  Though Hamer had not renewed his demands, the need for haste was still great. Accordingly, it was with difficulty Thane forced himself to walk slowly. Gordon had a cord in one hand, the other end of which was attached to Thane’s belt. In his other hand was a staff, which he used to guide himself over the rough ground. His eyes stared vacantly in front of him. No one need look twice to assume that here was a blind man. It had been decided that there was less chance of being attacked if they were of poor appearance, had few possessions, and seemed too weak to present any danger. Long unkempt beards and hair, provided by a Klaatan make-up expert, made it difficult to guess their ages.

  They paused on the edge of the rift, half hoping to be seen by some of Hamer’s men. Though it would put their disguises, and the ferocity of their of their adversaries, to the test almost immediately, if they were successful a great deal of time hunting for the camp would be saved. If they were unfortunate, their quest might cost them their lives before they had scarcely begun.

  For several hours they lingered, wandering slowly along the bank. Occasionally, they would stop, while Dunstable appeared to enter a trance. As these tactics appeared to be fruitless and time-wasting, Thane at last decided it was time to enter the forest. They must make some attempt to find the camp themselves.

  Before setting out on their journey, they had collected several small objects from the Unisphere and concealed them on their persons. One of these was a small compass. Descending the bank of the rift at a point approximately opposite to the place Griff Rama had described as the beginning of the route he had taken to the camp, they followed one of the numerous paths that led through the trees. Griff had estimated that the camp was nearest the bank they had just descended. Using the downward slope to guide them, and hoping that the compass would prevent them from wandering in circles, they proceeded to search, ever-conscious of the need to observe their masquerade.

  More precious hours passed. Sustained only by the food capsules the Unisphere had carried, they plodded wearily on. To have been caught eating sandwiches, or any other highly cultivated products of the Klaatan civilisation would have brought suspicion immediately.

  “It will soon be dark,” Thane whispered, as they halted for a brief conference. “We ought to try to find our way back to the bank now, otherwise, we must be prepared to spend the night in the forest.”

  “Since we aim to be captured, I doubt if the forest is more dangerous than the bank. Though I have heard that fierce animals are rather more abundant in the forest than in the open. Rats, for example. Some of them are almost the size of a small dog. I wonder if Klaatan ethics allow the killing of such creatures. They must present a danger to them sometimes.”

  “Possibly the few left after the Disaster have not yet increased so rapidly in numbers they present a real problem. As you say though, they must have had to deal with them sometimes. Still, we’ll face that situation when we come to it. For the present, we need some kind of shelter—somewhere in the open, a place that will make a surprise attack very awkward.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting that we hope to be captured,” laughed Dunstable, very quietly.

  “It’s just possible we might be murdered in our sleep—if we don’t get a chance to talk first. What we’re really aiming for is a kind of escort back tot he cam, not necessarily as prisoners …”

  “You’d better start talking quickly then,” hissed Dunstable breaking in. “We’re surrounded!”

  Dunstable had been maintaining his pose of a blind man, by string blankly over Thane’s shoulder while speaking to him, instead of looking at his face. Otherwise, he would have missed the slight glimpse of a hairy head in the undergrowth; and, elsewhere, the tip of an arrow pointed in their direction. His senses, at once alerted, picked up
the sound of rustlings behind them.

  Thane showed no alarm, but touched the blind priest on the arm. He spoke in slightly louder tones, in the language of a distant Gabbler tribe. “It is time to move on, Master.”

  As if he had noticed nothing, he walked a few paces forward. The priest was prodding the ground with his stick behind him. Immediately, his way was barred by a hefty warrior. The fact that the latter was armed only with a stout stick, instead of a drawn bow, gave them hope there would be a chance to talk.

  “Are you one of Hamer’s tribe?” inquired Thane, in his role as a servant. “My master, the holy one, would like to speak with him. He has come with a message from the Supreme Master.”

  “There can be no harm in escorting them back to the camp. The blind one will not give much trouble. There is plenty of time to put them to death, if Hamer wishes it.”

  Delighted to find their plan working so smoothly, Thane carefully led his blind master along the trail indicated by the warrior. Soon, they were in the clearing described by Griff Rama.

  Hamer stood before them, noble and masterful. It was little wonder that, under his leadership, the respect for the god-like powers of the Klaatans was beginning to crumble, thought Thane. Dunstable, with his field of vision severely limited, marvelled at what he could see as he allowed his eyes to stray unseeingly past the figure in his path. Surely the Gabblers were not as bad as most Klaatans seemed to believe!

  “We have arrived, Master,” said Thane, in the Gabblers tongue.

  “Is your master of such account then?” laughed Hamer slowly. “You seem to show great respect for one so helpless.”

  “To be helpless in body is not necessarily a sign of weakness,” Thane replied, with spirit. “My master is a holy man, a priest, come with a message for those who wish to hear it.”

  “The words ‘holy man’ mean nothing to me. But, indeed, he has certain powers beyond the body, if he is what he claims to be. He can put a curse on my enemies, influence the rain god, foretell what is to come …”

  “He thinks I am a witch-doctor,” thought Dunstable. Aloud he said. “I am called Gor Don. I can do all the things you mention. But the message is far more important.”

  “Give it to me then, and you shall eat before you show us your powers. We have need of a priest. Our last one did not return from the hunt. He probably displeased the gods in some way. Not that he was much good, anyway.”

  “My message is for all men, from the Supreme God. I wish to speak to all members of your tribe.”

  “You have succeeded in rousing my interest. Perhaps, at least, you will provide us with a little entertainment …”

  “Do not take my master lightly,” warned Thane. He knew that respect born of fear was due to a priest; otherwise, their lives were short. “This blindness is only a temporary affliction—cast upon him in order to help him to see inwardly.

  This audacious approach greatly intrigued Hamer. It was different from any used by a priest before. He decided to ignore the insult implied by the last words, and give orders for a meal to be prepared.

  It was an ordeal to eat, exposed as they were to the critical gaze of so many tribesmen: but Thane did his best to remember to aid Dunstable as if he were blind: and at the same time, tried to elicit information on the state of things in that area—pointing out that it would be necessary for the priest to know such things, if he was going to help them. Hamer answered absent-mindedly, hoping all the time to engage God Don, who sat remote and aloof, in conversation.

  “Can your master mix love potions?” he asked suddenly, thinking that Rona might be interested in these two. He was regretting that his action cost him her love, but was still determined to go through with it.

  Thane seized this slight lead, hoping that Rona might be involved. “My master’s potions never fail, provided he has first touched the person concerned.”

  “That can be arranged, if you will come with me.” The meal being over, Hamer led them to his hut.

  Rona was scornful as Hamer explained who the men were, but not why he had asked them to meet her. She backed hastily as the blind man groped to touch her.

  Startled, she heard him whisper, “Unisphere.”

  Allowing his blindly groping hands to come in contact with her arm, she sent a brief thought: “I understand. What do you want me to do?” Then she opened her mind to catch the weaker answer: “Play up to Hamer, and do what he wishes. This will make him believe Gor Don really is a powerful witch-doctor. He is supposed to be mixing up a love potion for me.”

  Rona felt herself blushing. There was a chance to put things right, without going back on her word! Now she would be able to pretend to be under the influence of Gor Don, and yet help her people Only one thing marred her joy—if Hamer should ever find out that their reconciliation was not genuine, it might provoke retaliation undreamt of by her fellow-citizens. It would be genuine though, she promised herself, much more so than if she really were under the influence of some drug. There was only the small matter of not being wholly loyal to him—in failing to betray these men to him. Rally Hamer should be grateful to the for bringing himself and Rona together again.

  Hamer finished introducing the priest and his assistant to her. Then he asked if she would like to listen to Gor Don, when he gave his message to the tribe. Rona agreed wearily, as if anything that would relieve her monotonous imprisonment were welcome.

  “Have you the smallest clue which might help us find our friends?” Thane sent this thought as they prepared to leave. He was already passing out through the doorway as he received his answer.

  “The only thing I can think of at the moment is that they were taken in a Northerly direction from the old station where we discovered Wormald. That was to the North of Ranmor.”

  “There’s no guarantee that they continued in that direction. We’ll have to try and pick up some more information round the camp. Meanwhile, keep your ears open. Hamer may let something slip, once you are reconciled.”

  Dunstable had faced this moment many times before in his imagination. He was handicapped never having witnessed the performance of a tribal witch-doctor, so he was not sure of the best method to approach is audience. Evidence collected by the Klaatans indicated that the utterance of weird gibberish, an appearance of foaming madness, a few apparently magical tricks; and, finally, a torrential outburst of words fitting the occasion, was expected. This not being a tribal ceremony, no sacrifices, orgies of ritualistic dancing, or anything more gruesome, would be needed.

  After all, the beginning was quite obvious to him. He began with the Lord’s Prayer, in English.

  Hamer’s tribe listened, being unaware that here were the seeds of a new philosophy of living. It sounded grander and more purposeful than the usual high-speed gibberish, so Thane could sense that Gor Don had scored a point there. He could hear favourable mutterings from the men gathered round the camp-fire. In the background, the whispering of the women indicated an excited interest.

  Now for the miracles! thought Arnot. Dispensing with the foaming madness act, Gor Don squatted down and appeared to enter a trance. Suddenly, there was a slight pop and a burst of light appeared over their heads, making the scene clearer than daylight—although the dusk was just beginning to turn to the darkness of night. The illumination lasted for a full minute, during which time most of the tribe hid their eyes and threw themselves to the ground in fear. Hamer remained standing in wonder. Reason told him all this was a trick, but the superstition of generations made him afraid to believe love potion would work, but the superstitious side of his nature made him try it.

  In the twilight, Dunstable had fired a capsule from a small weapon concealed in his clothing. As the light faded he leapt to his feet.

  “Now I can see!” he shouted in the Gabbler’s tongue. “The light that brought back my sight is also meant for you—to enable you to see the error of your way of living, to give you the chance to change before it is too late, and to bring to you the promise of another
world, a life after death. Your gods are false. They teach destruction on hate. There is one God, greater than all. He asks only for love, and that you love each other as much as you love yourselves …”

  Thane was horror-stuck. Dunstable was inviting disaster by challenging the tribal gods so soon. He waited for the storm to break.

  “Can he help us conquer our enemies? Bring rain? Make the meat fall to our arrows? Cast spells? Cure our sicknesses? Bring us fine children …?” These and many other questions were hurled from all sides. Some were scoffing, some doubting, a few genuinely interested. Then came the challenge that Thane had been afraid would come.

  “If your God is so powerful, let him do battle and defeat the other gods. Junter’s tribe has a priest who is loyal to the old gods. At least, they did have one a few days ago when I was there. Meet him, and see who is the more powerful.” The speaker was a short, squat man of great strength. His ugly face bore marks of violence. His clothes, mad of skins, showed him to be a hunter.

  “He is one of the men who took Rikky and Bruce away.” The thought slipped into Thane’s mind from Rona, as she watched the proceedings from her place amongst the women. She must also have sent the same message to Dunstable, for the next moment he answered the challenge:

  “My God does not seek wars, but is ready to fight evil wherever it may be found. If you will lead me to this other priest, I will convince him there is only one true God!”

  “Fairly spoken,” said Hamer. “We have an understanding with Junter’s People. Tomorrow, we will escort you to their camp.”

  Dangerous though the situation might be, Thane was delighted. There was every chance that it might provide them with a lead to the two hostages.

  The entertainment over for the moment, the tribe began to disperse. Thane reached Dunstable a few seconds before Hamer approached.