The Paladin's Odyssey (The Windows of Heaven)

by Powderly Jr. , K. G.

  Belkrini shouted; his bulging eyes ready to burn his challenger to divine ash. “You would challenge the revelation of E’Yahavah El-N’Lil, the Divine Wind? What viper out of the Haunted Lands is this?”

  Nestrigati said, “At least I traveled through the Haunted Lands with Muhet’Usalaq and your father, at Urugim’s summons. You, as I recall, refused to obey your ancestor’s sacred call.”

  The whole amphitheater broke into laughter.

  “Who traveled with whom and where means nothing! There are those who went on that journey who have since betrayed the Work by marrying into spiritual whoredom! A bastard offspring of that unholy union sits in this audience!” Belkrini stabbed his finger at U’Sumi who half expected flames to shoot from it. “That wurm’s whelp is a botch on this valley every bit as much as if he were Watcher’s spawn! There’s reason to believe that a fallen Watcher’s blood runs in his veins!”

  U’Sumi froze to his stone seat. He had not even been aware that Belkrini would know who he was, much less be able to spot him in a crowd from almost a hundred paces. He wanted to get up and bolt from the open-air lecture theater, to bolt from the entire valley, to go anywhere just to escape life under the deceptively fair skies of Akh’Uzan!

  The eyes of a whole community turned now on U’Sumi. He began to fear they might actually attack him.

  Nestrigati yelled, “Don’t try to cover your own weak argument by raising a lynch mob against an innocent boy, Belkrini! Your interpretation of the Sky Sign tables is sloppy and deliberately overlooks the obvious; that the Breaker’s Sword cleaved across the head of Leviathan…”

  “Whose fins touch the Fire River! The Sword swept past the Fire River with the tip of its blade, as a pointing stick is used by an instructor!”

  “At one point; while the full blade carved across Leviathan’s head for many days!”

  Their argument described the course of a giant comet that had moved across the sky almost seventy years ago. The dispute lay over the prophetic significance of where it had touched the constellations along its orbital path. Everybody seated in the amphitheater agreed that the comet had signaled the approach of a prophetically foretold global disaster known as World-end. What they were trying to settle—what many similar informal Seer Clan convocations had been trying to settle for a generation now—was just what kind of an end the world would meet and what to do about it.

  Although U’Sumi’s fathers had given up on the convocations years ago, U’Sumi still liked to sit in on them sometimes to see if anything new had entered the popular debate. He usually left the amphitheater mildly amused or mildly irritated. He never before had to flee for fear of his safety.

  He used Nestrigati’s diversion to scramble from his seat and escape up the steps to the back. He looked only at his feet.

  U’Sumi nearly made it over the outer rim when he bumped square into the mid-section of an enormous onlooker standing on the upper crescent.

  The Giant gazed down at the comic-opera bickering and almost seemed for a moment not to notice the impact against his own body.

  U’Sumi’s breath left him.

  “You see what I have to put up with?” A delicate male voice near the Giant spoke with a condescension mostly reserved for the feeble-minded.

  The Giant, however, no longer listened. Instead, he peered down from a great height at U’Sumi, who stood quaking at his feet.

  The Titan clasped the young man’s tunic, yanked him up off the pavement with one hand, and laughed deeply. “What have we here?”

  That hand could have crushed the back of U’Sumi’s skull between its thumb and fingers. The face, almost inhumanly large and statuesque, bore an aquiline nose, with deep brown eyes the size of small oranges. Teeth fashioned to porcelain perfection glimmered like flattened pearls in the afternoon sun. U’Sumi hung in limbo; his body and soul limp and speechless before the visage of a god come to Earth.

  “Well?” the Titan said.

  “M-M-My ap-p-pologies, good sir. I—I did not mean to run into you!” U’Sumi replied, who only now noticed the bodyguards with their hand-cannons drawn against him. He also saw the aerodrone that had just flown over the amphitheater parked in the old abandoned military field behind the men, with another entourage of soldiers to guard it. He had never been so close to one of the odd flying contraptions or seen one on the ground. It was much larger than expected—they looked like toys when they flew overhead—like his grandfather’s wooden models.

  The Giant lowered him back to his feet. “I’ll let it pass if you can give us information on a certain seer who lives in this region.”

  “We already have all the information we need. He’s married to the Royal Aunt, by the Ten Heavens,” said the Giant’s companion, who bore the crest of the Archon’s family line on a thin gold circlet he wore about his high brown forehead.

  Even U’Sumi knew what that symbol meant. The man wearing it was the Archon-in-Waiting—the Appointed Successor to the Archon of Seti. If being heir to the likes of Rakhau the son of Kunyari did not weigh nearly as much as it once might have, the circlet’s wearer was still the second most important political and religious leader among U’Sumi’s people. Why is he in a rustic outpost like Akh’Uzan?

  U’Sumi’s curiosity outflanked his fear. In a loose-knit nation reduced to being a mere buffer state between the Empire of Lumekkor and the pseudo-theocracy of Assuri, High Family dignitaries clawed after every scrap of dwindling prestige like scavenger wurms over a carcass. It was fodder for endless scandals, but perhaps unavoidable given the political mechanics of washed-up “buffer states.”

  The City-States of Seti had nominal jurisdiction over the Valley of Akh’Uzan, which U’Sumi’s people had resettled almost two hundred and seventy years ago. The circlet’s wearer seemed far too young for such a high office as Archon-in-Waiting—younger even than U’Sumi’s father. With a non-traditional clean-shaven face and painted eyes, the man had an illusion of greater youth still. U’Sumi would not have believed him to be even a first tier zaqen if not for the circlet’s crest.

  The Titan told the Archon’s heir, “I’ll decide need of information.”

  U’Sumi had stepped back from the Giant and noticed that he wore the faceted lightly armored dress tunic of a high-ranking army officer of the Lumekkor Imperium.

  The Giant looked down at U’Sumi again. “What’s your name, boy?”

  “U’Sumi, Great One.” He left out his lineage to maintain anonymity.

  “Either that’s a dead black snake or a crude prince’s braid hanging out the side of your head, boy. You’re no mongrel; what’s your pedigree?”

  “I am son of A’Nu-Ahki the Seer, son of Q’Enukki.”

  “Tiamatu smiles upon us, Tarbet! The very son of your World-end seer is drawn to kiss the power center of my navel like a lodestone. Do you doubt the forces that work for those of us born of the gods?”

  The word picture revolted U’Sumi, although the youth’s head only reached belly-level on the Giant.

  Tarbet—the Archon-in-Waiting—grinned a sycophant’s grin. “It would seem a remarkable feat, Lord Uggu.”

  “It is life for those of us in tune with the universal resonance.”

  U’Sumi said, “May I go now?”

  Uggu said, “Take us to your father and tell me about him as we walk. Don’t be afraid. I mean him no harm. We come to consult with him.”

  This bit of news only slightly alleviated U’Sumi’s fears.

  Tarbet said, “What useful information do you expect to get from the man’s son? He’ll only praise his father like a god!”

  “My father is no idol!”

  Tarbet laughed. “A figure of speech, boy. Mind how you talk to me.”

  U’Sumi glared at him, and then went on to answer the Giant Uggu’s question: “My father is not like those two you saw down in the amphitheater. For one thing, he doesn’t yell much, and he has little use for theatrics when he’s teaching or giving prophecy…”

  Tarbet rolled
his heavily-painted eyes. “That’s unique, a seer that doesn’t rant and scream. Isn’t that a requirement for seerdom?”

  The Titan said, “If you and the Archon, with all your court seers, could produce better accuracy for your predictions, maybe this trip wouldn’t have been necessary.”

  This time Tarbet stood up to the giant. “You’re the one in tune with the universal resonance—whatever that means. Shouldn’t you have the greatest predictive accuracy of all?”

  “Seerdom is not my gift. For decades now, the Powers have told us that the disruption of harmony in the spirit realm emanates from this valley. I would like to ask the greatest of the local seers why this might be so.”

  “Forgive my skepticism! But if you expect a better grade of predictive accuracy from any seer in this region, you are destined to be as disappointed as my father and I are annoyed by all the buffoonery that tries to pass itself off as spiritual guidance around here. Do you realize that every one of these yokels believes the world will literally come to an end as soon as some local gray-beard dies?”

  “Until your grandfather, so did the Archons of Sa-utar, back to Atum-Ra. Were they buffoons also?” U’Sumi said, arms folded, and ready to challenge the Archon-in-Waiting where they stood.

  “Well met!” Uggu chuckled. “The youth has a heart of fire. A good warrior he would make!”

  Tarbet mumbled, “They’re personal symbolic cleansings.”

  “What?” said Uggu.

  “The World-ends! They’re symbolic. The revelation of the Fathers is refined—including that stage which illuminates the symbolic intent of those before. E’Yahavah loves creation. He could never literally destroy it! Can the Creator slaughter an entire world? Such ideas are hateful!”

  “Who cares!” said the Titan. “I want to hear what his father says about the harmonic disruption.”

  “You should care, sir,” U’Sumi said. “My father is Gryndel Slayer and Hearer of El-N’Lil, the Divine Wind of E’Yahavah. He is also keeper of all the old scrolls and tablets. He has full knowledge of these things.”

  Uggu seemed to regard the ‘tween-ager with new respect. “Did you say he is also the Gryndel Slayer—the one known to live in these parts—who discovered the dragon’s weak spot?”

  “The same,” U’Sumi answered, as he guided them onto the foothill trail that led up through the forest to the monastery-fortress of his fathers, which overlooked the valley.

  “Why, every holy seed born titan in Lumekkor and the far colonies still uses his wrestling hold to slay the dragon in sacred arena combats. Does your father know what a celebrity he still is among us?”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

  “Then lead us to him, young seer. I would speak to this one on much more than harmonic disruption.”

  “W

  hat are they talking about?” Iyapeti whispered, a wheaty tuft of hair blasting from the top of his head in an unruly clump. His princely braid hung like a crumpled yellow stalk to one side.

  U’Sumi pressed his ear against the oaken door to the monastery’s hearth hall, his own dark curls held back by his cupped hand. “Something about dragons, disruptions, and the Watcher Uzaaz’El.”

  “He’s the one that visited Q’Enukki!” Iyapeti almost shouted, as if it were not in all the sacred history scrolls. His lanky adolescent body loomed over U’Sumi’s like an arching shade tree swaying in a comfortable breeze.

  “You think, sage-master? This titan is Uggu, Uzaaz’El’s very spawn —pretty creepy having him right here, huh?”

  Iyapeti had their mother’s pale skin, unlike U’Sumi, whose dark complexion resembled their father. Although Iyapeti was his elder by almost two years, U’Sumi doubted ‘Peti’s greater size and strength could match his own speed and wit. U’Sumi fancied himself unofficial leader in their relationship—but never to ‘Peti’s face. No sense rubbing it in—or getting my head squished like a pimple if he gets lucky and actually catches me with my guard down. U’Sumi knew his older brother would never have dared to spy on their father on his own.

  “Is Pahp saying anything?”

  U’Sumi shifted to press his ear further into the door like a suction cup. “Not yet—Uggu’s telling him about some rogue titans revolting in Aztlan—what used to be the Far West Colonies…”

  “The titans are pretty revolting here too—ever smell one up close?”

  U’sumi smiled. “Chuckle me a fart—storm, Goldy-braid, I had to walk this one all the way up from the village to keep him from crushing my head. You wanta know about the Aztlan Rebels or not?”

  “Okay!”

  “Several Watchers are behind them. Also there’s something about a new weird form of soldier titan called an ‘Elyo’—I didn’t catch it all.”

  “You’ll catch it all from me, if you two don’t get away from that door!” said a gravelly voice from behind them.

  U’Sumi and Iyapeti swung around to face their grandfather, who glared at them with eyes trained as weapons to discipline young soldiers, though he actually had to look up at Iyapeti, who involuntarily slumped down before the old Tacticon’s scar-pitted face.

  U’Sumi squeaked, “W-We’re sorry, Pahpo! We just wanted to know what’s going on.”

  The Tacticon softened. “If you want to know what’s going on, you need only ask me. I keep up with things pretty well. I can tell you more about what’s happening in Aztlan with these Elyo than you can learn by spying.”

  U’Sumi said, “Will you? Nobody ever tells us anything!”

  Old Lumekki smiled. “Come with me up to the tower. We’ll talk.”

  The ‘tween-agers glanced at each other and grinned. An invitation to Lumekki’s tower meant tales of valor from the old days, and an opportunity to handle his collection of wooden models from the Century War—armored Behemoths, Firedrakes, ironclad ships, and all sorts of aerodrones, each hand-crafted to the finest detail by the Tacticon.

  U’Sumi only half understood the living contrast of his grandfather. He knew of no one who hated war more and no one who had seen so much of it. Most of his grandfather’s stories contained lessons on the wisdom of avoiding armed conflict whenever reasonably possible. Yet the man had been a professional soldier most of his life and a believer of that timeless policy that said, “The best insurance of peace is to be better prepared to wage war than any of your possible opponents.” A fascination for tactics and strategy kept the old man’s mind sharp—or so Lumekki said.

  U’Sumi sometimes wondered if his grandfather didn’t secretly dream of what it would be like to go back in time and replay the great battles of history. He wondered how the Tacticon would remake all the grand strategic decisions so that Seti’s Commonwealth would hold on to its once powerful position. Surely, the strong leadership of Lumekki would have prevented much of the bloodshed in the real history.

  The window balcony of their grandfather’s turret chamber gazed down on upper Akh’Uzan like a stage. Ancient weapons hung on the walls; many with history plaques of baked clay written in imprint-runes by the Tacticon. The wooden models adorned various shelves and tables around the apartment, which otherwise had a crisp simple decor.

  Lumekki took a seat on the edge of his divan and motioned his two grandsons onto a set of large floor cushions. “So what do you two want to know?” He cracked a wry grin.

  U’Sumi asked, “Why is Uggu so interested in our father?”

  “And what are Elyo?” said Iyapeti.

  “As to what Uggu wants, your father is still finding out. But I can tell you all about this fellow; more than what you already know through your history studies. First, he’s one of the oldest of the titans—older than your father—even a little older than me.”

  Iyapeti said, “He looks many generations younger…”

  U’Sumi punched his brother’s arm. “Show some tact, will you?”

  Lumekki laughed. “’Peti’s right, he does look much younger. No use getting all sensitive about it.”

  “I noticed he spoke m
ostly Younger-speech,” said U’Sumi.

  The Tacticon nodded. “Those are reasons why he’s so highly prized by those who think the titans fulfill E’Yahavah’s promise. He looks and sounds deathless, but is he really?”

  Iyapeti shrugged. “I don’t know. Is he?”

  Lumekki narrowed his eyes. “I think not. Even if he were, the worst kept secret in Lumekkor is that Uggu cannot father children. Sterility traps whatever there may be to his claim of immortality. He cannot pass it on—which falsifies Temple dogma that the titans are a step toward nullifying the Great Curse in stages. No children, no further steps.”

  U’Sumi said, “Are there other titans like him?”

  Lumekki gave a crooked grin. “Neither the Watcher Temples of Ardis and Ayar Adi’In, nor those that followed Samyaza, nor the rebels in Aztlan can breed anything like him. Lesser Watchers haunt the savage tribes of the Far East and Far South, but their primitive herbal and dragon venom-based potions are too crude to compete with the big technological cults. One thing is clear. There’s a cover-up over the fact that many of the other titans are starting to age and die long before even a normal mortal man would.”

  “You mean they have Short-lifer’s Syndrome?”

  “No. Only some of the Samyazas have that because their Watchers took women from the Far East who had the syndrome in their bloodline. This is something different, and it’s got them all rattled.”

  U’Sumi said, “How do you know all this?”

  “I go out to gather information on my periodic journeys—spend some time here, some time there. I am still fairly well-known in military circles. With the Archon’s army and the Dragon-slayers working so closely with Lumekkor, I get my hands on plenty of information. Take these Elyo, for instance…”

  Iyapeti said, “Yeah, what about the Elyo?”