Princess of Amathar

by Wesley Allison

  He smiled and stood up. “Now I must leave you to your rest.”

  As I watched the tall Amatharian knight leave, I realized just how much of a rest to which my body thought I was entitled. I was barely able to get up from my seat and make my way to the pile of blankets which Malagor was using for a bed. The blankets, which in the way of all Amatharian linens were man-made yet resembled animal skins, smelled like my alien friend. It reminded me of the time when I had first arrived in Ecos, and he had nursed me back to health in that small shack on the edge of the great plain. I passed into unconsciousness, and slept the sleep of the dead. I awoke to a hand slapping me lightly upon the face, and my shoulders being shaken. I was groggy and my eyes did not seem to want to work, but at last I managed to come back to reality enough to see the flawless face of Vena Remontar hovering above my own. A look of deep concern upon her brow made her look, though not more beautiful for indeed nothing could, but more attractive to me.

  “The Malagor told me that you often slept for long periods of time,” she said sternly, “but I was beginning to worry.”

  I gathered myself and stood up.

  “I didn’t know it was a crime to sleep a long time,” I said.

  She smiled. “You may sleep again. In fact you need much more sleep. But there are other things you must do as well. You must be washed, and not just for cosmetic reasons. I have been discussing your adventures with my cousin, and you have been through much. Your wounds must be tended to, and we must make sure that you suffer no lingering effects of the poison you received from the Bloobnoob.”

  She led me out of the tent and to an enclosure a short distance away, made from stacked cargo boxes and large sheets of hull metal from the ship. Inside the penned-in area, the crew had fashioned a bath house, with several Amatharian bathtubs. On Earth, these could have been called bathtubs in only the wealthiest man’s home. Anywhere else they would have been considered hot tubs, and quite large ones at that. In Amathar, one was to be found in every home, and even on the battleships, they were available, though not to be found in every crew quarters. All of the tubs were presently empty except one, which had been filled with steaming water.

  Vena Remontar gestured that I was to get into the bath, and exited the make-shift bath house, leaving me alone. I shed my clothes and climbed into the warm water, letting myself float in the soothing warmth. Much of the tension began to flow from my muscles into the warm water. I closed my eyes and relaxed. Then I felt a hand upon my shoulder and looked up to see Vena Remontar rubbing liquid soap onto my skin.

  “The color of your skin is so strange,” she said.

  “Strange bad, or strange good?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Just strange.”

  “I think I wish my skin was the color of yours. Yours is so beautiful.”

  “You shouldn’t wish something so silly,” said the lady knight.

  “I’m always going to stand out in Amathar. No matter what I do, I will never blend in.”

  “In Amathar,” she said, “we spend much of our lives trying not to blend in— trying to stand out. Never be afraid of being different. Being different is being special.”

  “It makes me feel good to hear you say that, whether or not I believe it,” I said.

  “I have been talking much to my cousin,” said Vena Remontar.

  “Oh?”

  “She doesn’t love you.”

  “I know.”

  “Does that cause you pain in your heart?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said again. “Once I had found her, it was as though my desire for her disappeared. Perhaps I just needed to find her.” I began to let my thoughts roam, but I continued to speak those thoughts aloud. So many things seemed to fall into place.

  “Once I had found Noriandara Remontar, I stopped thinking of her, and thought of some...thing entirely different. Perhaps the only reason I felt so strongly attracted to her in the first place, is that she reminded me of something which I had not yet experienced. Perhaps she only resembled my destiny without being my destiny.”

  “That is a wise thought,” replied the woman, “and it is good.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know what you want. I know that you are in love with me.”

  “How can you know that?” I asked.

  “Because I know.”

  “I do love you,” I admitted. “I think. But I know...”

  “That is good,” she said, caressing my cheek with her soapy hand.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I love you.”

  “What?” I almost shouted.

  “I love you. I have loved you since we went to the Temple of Amath. I want to be with you always. I want to marry you.”

  “But aren’t you mourning for Tular Maximinos?” I asked, shocked.

  “Of course I am mourning him!” she said sternly, then her face softened and she smiled. “I cared about Tular Maximinos very much, but I had already decided that I could not marry him. I could not marry him when I was in love you. I told him of this before the assault on Zonamis.”

  “He never mentioned it,” I said, “and he treated me like a friend till his death.”

  “Tular Maximinos was a good man.”

  “What now?” I asked, looking into her dark blue eyes.

  “What now, is that I love you and you love me.”

  I reached up and pulled her lips to mine, but before they reached me, she lost her balance and tumbled fully clothed into the bathtub with me.

  “I am in love with a silly pale man!” she sputtered as she pulled her face to the surface of the water.

  “Then kiss a silly pale man,” I said, pulling her to me, and smothering her face with kisses. Chapter Thirty One: The Malagor

  After I had been bathed and bandaged and fussed over for quite a while, I managed to make it back to bed to continue the recuperative rest which my body so direly needed. I later learned that while I was asleep this time, my friend Malagor stood watch at the door and admitted no one, barring even Vena Remontar and Norar Remontar on the grounds that I needed rest. Thus I was able to let my body choose its own time of awakening, and though I had no clock by which to measure the time, nor no moving sun in the sky, I would not be afraid to speculate that it was well over fifteen hours before I lifted my body from the bed clothing.

  When I got up, I found that almost all of my needs had been provided for. Several large pieces of fruit had been peeled and sliced and placed upon the table for me. Nearby, fresh clothing had set out as well. Someone had even gone to the trouble of searching through the downed vessel and finding some of my own clothing, including a fresh new tabard with my own crest upon it— a flaming sun embossed with a golden letter A.

  I had just finished eating and dressing, when I heard a familiar hum and felt a familiar yet peculiar prickling sensation on my skin. I stepped outside the tent to see the eternal noon day sun of Ecos blotted out by a great ship hanging in the sky above us. It was quite obviously an Amatharian vessel, clearly distinguishable by navy blue color and silver highlights, as well as the banners of the hundreds of Amatharian knights aboard which were displayed proudly from the vessel’s lines. This ship was far larger than anything I had ever seen before. It dwarfed even the battle cruisers which had destroyed the Zoasian city. I looked around and saw several of other ships of smaller size circling the area. Several large doors opened in the bottom of the sky ship hanging above my head, and long, thick steel cables, four from each of the compartment doors, were lowered to the ground. As soon as the cables had reached the ground, great platforms began being lowered upon those cables. They were akin to tremendously large elevators, each platform attached to a cable in each of its four corners. Once they had come close enough to the ground for me to observe them, I saw that each platform carried heavy equipment of all varieties, as well as hundreds of personnel, to the ground. It all seemed so
strange at first, but the more I thought about it, the more normal it seemed. The Amatharians never threw anything away. They repaired or recycled everything, from their electronics, to their clothing. Of course they would leave nothing as valuable as a battleship lying around. They would take it home, and either repair it or recycle it.

  It didn’t take too long for the Sun Recovery ship 2, as I eventually learned it was, to completely disassemble battle cruiser 11, and load the pieces, as well as the crew, into its massive form. It seemed to me to be about eight days. During that time, no enemy molested the Amatharians in their work, and I was not really surprised at this fact. I didn’t know precisely how far away from Zonamis we were, but I would not have bet on the Zoasian’s ability to launch an attack from that site, and though I was aware, from my readings, that there were other powerful races living within the hollow sphere of Ecos, I had seen nothing of them, and tended not to think of them as a threat to an entire Amatharian fleet. During that time period, if a specific time period did in fact exist, I returned to regular duties as part of the cruiser’s crew. I stood my turn at picket duty, watching for enemies which never arrived, and I served guard duty for a mission into the nearby countryside to gather fresh fruit which supplemented the considerable stores of the ship. Though I saw Norar Remontar only once and his sister the Princess not at all, I did make time for long talks with Malagor, and I spent as much time as each of our duties would allow with Vena Remontar. Even the time I was not with her, I was thinking of her. It seemed more and more obvious that she was the key to my life in Amathar.

  Once the recovery was complete, the crew of Sun Battle cruiser 11 joined the crew of the recovery ship and the monstrous vessel turned toward Amathar, as did my thoughts. Malagor and I were given a small cabin to share on the way back to the great city, and since we had no jobs of our own to perform on the recovery ship, we spent time talking. I spoke of making a home for myself upon our arrival, and I questioned Malagor on his intentions. He didn’t seem to want to talk of this, instead reminiscing about our journeys together.

  Some time after our final trip home had begun, I was surprised to find myself, along with Malagor, summoned by messenger to the bridge. We went with all haste, and were greeted in the large control room by Norar Remontar and the Commander of the Ship, Desmon Hammerin. His tabard was emblazoned with his crest, a flaming sun with some type of tool, possibly a wrench, superimposed upon it. The light blue of his bodysuit indicated that his specialty was in mechanical engineering rather than warfare.

  “I need your help,” said Norar Remontar. “This vessel encountered an uncharted civilization on its way to our recovery. I think that the two of you should go along with me to make contact with this civilization."

  "We'll be glad to help out," I said, "won't we Malagor?" Malagor grunted noncommittally. I mused that he was wondering why, on a vessel as large as this, there weren't individuals more qualified to serve as ambassadors than myself or him, but he never asked. I had no such thoughts in my head, and I am in general not prone to thinking over details such as this. Besides, I had become accustomed to meeting strange new life-forms and bizarre new societies while I was on my long trek across Ecos. Here was some new adventure upon which to embark, not that I had been craving such, for on the ship I had not only been spending time with Malagor, but had also been enjoying many quiet moments with my newly professed love.

  "Will we need an honor guard?" I asked.

  “I think that the three of us will be able to handle the situation,” Norar Remontar replied.

  “Perhaps he is leading us into an ambush to get you away from his cousin,” suggested Malagor. I laughed at the joke. It was such an un-Amatharian thing to suggest.

  “I am sure that if Norar Remontar had any such feelings,” I replied, “he would simply kill me.”

  “That is correct,” said the Amatharian knight.

  Malagor and I followed Norar Remontar to the lower levels of the ship. I am reminded that on earth sea-going vessels, the lower levels are usually dark and close and full of machinery. While it is true that Amatharian ships maintain most of their engines and power equipment down below, you can also find hanger bays and loading docks which are open to the air below, and provide much more of an open feeling than one might think. When the three of us reached the base of the tremendous craft, a crew was ready to lower us to the ground on one of the descending platforms. This time, the down-going room, which could have carried an entire fleet of heavy equipment, lowered only myself, an Amatharian, and a Malagor to the grassy ground below.

  As I stepped off the platform I looked around. We stood at the edge of a thick forest, with a broad sloping plain dropping several hundred feet to a large lake at our back. Much of the forest and a significant portion of the plain were blanketed in the great shadow of the ship above us. The lake, which was completely open to the noon-day sun, sparkled and shimmered as a slight breeze created a pageant of waves across its surface.

  “I don’t see any civilization,” I said, “though this would be a beautiful spot to live.”

  “In the woods,” directed Norar Remontar.

  Together, we walked toward the thick, tall, robust trees which made up the forest. They were like large oak trees or some other hardy tree, for I am not a botanist. They had gnarled trunks and knobby protrusions, but their bark was smooth and would have made them easy to climb. They were the perfect trees in which to place a fantasy tree-house. I had just completed the thought when I spied just such a dwelling some fifty feet above the ground, then another and another. The entire top of the forest had been turned to a city of tree dwellings which would have been perfectly camouflaged from the air and were nearly so from the ground.

  I felt the Amatharian Knight tap my arm and I returned my gaze to eye level. Walking toward us were three creatures. I have taken to describing so many beings with whom I have come into contact as

  ‘unlike anything I have seen before’. This must cause many to wonder either upon the incredible vastness and diversity of the interior of Ecos, or upon my apparent inexperience. This time I could not use that too often used phrase to describe my encounter, for this time the beings which I encountered were in almost every way just like my friend Malagor.

  “Malagor?” I asked.

  “Yes, they are,” replied Norar Remontar.

  The three dog-like, baboon-like figures stopped before us, and in that strange coughing language that I had first heard upon my arrival in this world, they began to converse with my oldest friend in the world. Though I did not understand any of the words, nor did I know for that matter, if the language even used words as I know them, but I could imagine what the interchange must consist of. There would be introductions, and Malagor would say his name— a growl and a cough. Then there would be explanations— where had Malagor come from, who were these strange companions of his? I was just standing there letting this scenario unfold in my head when I was reawakened by Malagor calling my name.

  “Alexander.”

  “What?”

  “Follow me,” From the testy tone of his voice, I gathered that he had called my name more than once. Norar Remontar and I followed the four Malagor deeper into the forest to a very tall tree, with a ladder attached to the trunk. The ladder led up to a large tree-house, about the size of an average home on earth, though much smaller than Norar Remontar’s apartment in Amathar. Within was a comfortable room, furnished with several great piles of furs which served the purpose of chairs. The six of us sat down and the growling and coughing continued.

  “You knew that the Malagor were here,” I said to the Amatharian prince.

  “As I said before, the recovery ship located them on its way to our crash site. Of course I also knew they were here from the seven survivors rescued from the Zoasians. The Sun Clan had extensive trade relations with them in the past, and there had been indications for some time that at least one Malagor city had escaped the Zoasians. Rumors here and there. Apparently new pieces of ar
twork which appeared to be of Malagor origin.”

  At that moment, one of the local Malagor coughed loudly, apparently addressing us. When he had our attention, he began a series of barks, growls, and snarls which when put all together, was the most extensive example of Malagor language that I had yet experienced. When he was done, Malagor, my Malagor, translated.

  “This is the alpha male of the city. He wishes to thank the Amatharians for returning the lost members of the pack to the true people. He says that the Amatharians have proven themselves to be friends of the Malagor in the past, and they continue to do so. His scouts have already informed him of the destruction of the Zoasian city, which has broken the back of Zoasian power in this region. Now is the time when this city can stop hiding from its enemies and can stand up proudly to face the sleeping bitch-goddess above.”

  Norar Remontar smiled and nodded and acted as though everything had gone as he expected and that he understood exactly what was going on. I on the other hand didn’t have a clue. The four Malagor got up and climbed back down out of the tree-house. The prince of Amathar and I followed. When we had reached the bottom of the ladder, Malagor, that is again, my Malagor, turned to speak to me.

  “This is not my family,” he said, “but these are my people. They have been hiding from the Zoasians for a long time. Now that the Zoasian, strength in this region is weakened, they can come out in the open, reestablish trade, and live prosperously.”

  “Yes, I heard that upstairs,” I replied, somewhat testily. “Are you staying here?”

  “They are my people.”

  “Yes.”

  “We will negotiate a trade and mutual protection treaty,” suggested Norar Remontar.

  “If that is what my people want,” replied Malagor. “I will do my best to arrange it.”