“The name is a contraction that means Agents of Judgment. Nobody ever sees them—only the war machines they operate. These are mostly lighter, faster versions of the old Behemoth self-propelled fortress chariot, or special aerodrones and astras that incinerate themselves if they crash, to discourage people from rifling through the wreckage.
“Some think that there are no Elyo; that their machines are either demon-possessed or think using advanced differential calculating engines like in Tubaal-qayin’s Great Pyramid at Bab’Tubila. Yet even the pyramid engine can’t make tactical decisions as an Elyo does on the battlefield.
“Only Aztlan has them and their titans, Psydonu and At’Lahazh, are sweeping up the Southwest Inland Sea City-states with them as far as Aertimikkor. Tubaal-qayin Dumuzi is worried—just ask your mother. He’s even sent messages asking your father for divine guidance! Since Psydonu and At’Lahazh revolted against Lumekkor six years ago, full-scale war seems inevitable. Tubaal-qayin and Psydonu are in a naval race, making more armored ships, aerodrones, and astras each year.”
U’Sumi asked, “How did Aztlan get such a big jump on Lumekkor?”
Lumekki smiled. “Good question. Not long before the Century War, a titan priest of Ardis brought quickfire to the Far West Colonies against Uzaaz’El’s wishes. Dumuzi used the affair to expand his empire by a remote Temple mining and industrial consortium to increase production of military units. During the Century War, however, that rogue priest made a conspiracy that jilted Uzaaz’El for another Watcher. He took with him many Temple secrets from Ardis and built on them with newer, more advanced facilities.
“The rival Temple in Aztlan began to unleash the Elyo openly just two years ago. I spoke with a Lumekkorim military observer on my last trip to Bab’Tubila. He actually saw one in the field while he was an envoy to the city-state of Kemvor, by the Far South Inland Seas—which; by the way, has since fallen to Aztlan. He said that in all his centuries of warfare he had never felt real terror until he witnessed that thing at work.”
Iyapeti said, “What are they?”
“Only Aztlan and E’Yahavah know. What I heard from my observer only raised more questions. It would seem that the Elyo are a specially bred or built monstrosity. The poor man said one thing I’ll never forget…”
“What’s that?”
Lumekki’s eyes darkened and his pitted skin lost its rich red tone. “Somehow they feed on human blood.”
THE PALADIN’S ODYSSEY | 367
And against the angels whom He had sent upon the earth, He was exceedingly wroth, and He gave commandment to root them out of all their dominion, and He bade us to bind them in the depths of the earth, and behold they are bound in the midst of them, and are (kept) separate. And against their sons went forth a command from before His face that they should be smitten with the sword, and be removed from under heaven. And He said ‘My spirit shall not always abide on man; for they also are flesh and their days shall be one hundred and twenty years.’ And He sent His sword into their midst that each should slay his neighbour, and they began to slay each other till they all fell by the sword and were destroyed from the earth.
—Jubilees 5:6-9 (a Judaic history written circa 120 BC)
THE PALADIN’S ODYSSEY | 367
2
Conscripts
L
ate afternoon orange-golds filtered through the open windows of the small boy’s academy at Akh’Uzan Village. Founded by the acolytes that had accompanied the Seer Clan through the Haunted Lands some two hundred and seventy years ago, the modest stone building was the last place in the world where youngsters could receive a formal education after the tradition of the old Archonic Fathers. The “new Archonic Fathers” were too busy rewriting history to notice one remote little school.
U’Sumi tapped a stylus on his wax writing tablet, and tried to listen. It was getting more difficult to pay attention each day. He knew most of the information already from his own reading up at the monastery library at home. Rarely did the instructors down here have anything noteworthy to add.
Senior Acolyte Nestrigati rattled on with a prophecy lesson that had degenerated to a sales pitch (as always) for his idea that the Seer Clan must build a mountain haven immediately against a coming World-end of water.
“The stability of this mountain chain is well known, especially since the Holy Seer used it for sacrifice and meditation…” Nestrigati’s hands made careful gesticulations to illustrate each word, as if he were building a little air city on top of his magic air mountain.
Does he even know he’s doing that? U’Sumi wondered.
Each of Nestrigati’s tedious points ended in a toothy grin that sparkled with just the right touch of smarmy wholesomeness to make U’Sumi’s stomach churn. “…Since it was the Seer who illuminated the prophecies of Seti and Atum-Ra, we can find no safer haven than to settle at the highest point in the region where so many of his revelations came…”
Oh, get off it and finish! U’Sumi wanted to scream. Never mind the fact that there was no logical correlation between the Seer’s illumination and the stability of the mountain range he received it on and that Q’Enukki had never even drawn a metaphorical connection between the two. The “Holy Mountain” theme was rich in Setiim theology and in Q’Enukki’s visions, but it had always referred back to the Mountains of Aeden, east of Sa-utar, whether literally or figuratively, to mean the body of truth revealed to Atum and Seti. Q’Enukki had never applied it to the local range.
However, U’Sumi’s real difficulty was not the Senior Acolyte’s love affair with his own voice—torrid as that was. It was that, despite the logical fallacy about the Seer and the local N’Zar Range, Nestrigati made a certain amount of sense. It was only wise to start preparing a higher ground to flee to when the time came—to at least draw plans and gather basic supplies. Yet something about the Acolyte also felt wrong—something more than just bad logic, annoying mannerisms, and overdone showmanship.
The man had hungry eyes.
Nestrigati reached that familiar point in his lesson—a lesson he gave nowadays at least twice a month—when his eyes almost bugged out of his toothy skull in what U’Sumi liked to call, “the happy death mask.” Yeah, there it is! Come on, tighten those cheekies—you can do it—harder, harder! I want to hear jowl flesh ripping—that’s it! I knew you could do it! Oooh… your teeth are so full of skudge! But think how stretchy your face will be later when you have to change it for all your mercantile forum friends…
Nestrigati guaranteed his students in frantic nods and loud spiritual sighs that he had “prayed in the divine words” to his brainchild. A sonorous stream of praise right from the Q’Enukkian Antiphons (complete in High Archaic verse) always followed this litany. The only thing dignified about it was that it meant class was about to end.
U’Sumi yawned. It’d be worth World-end just to get him to shut up!
The lecture/sales pitch ended and class dismissed.
U’Sumi joined up with Iyapeti and their kid brother Khumi for the walk home up the hilly forest trail.
Iyapeti seemed unusually quiet, until they passed the bat caves to their right. Then he said, “What do you think of Nestrigati’s mountain haven, ‘Sumi?” His voice had a hesitant lilt.
U’Sumi raised an eyebrow. The implications of everything he had seen for a long time came home in single rant: “Some of it might be common sense but he’s pushy like a fanatic. This whole valley’s becoming a roost for crazy jackasses! How can the Seer Clan expect anybody to take it seriously when all we do is show the world our most idiotic face?”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t ya think?”
“Harsh?” U’Sumi wanted to smack some sense into him. “We’ve got Flaming Belkrini ranting fire, Volkras screaming how the earth will open up and swallow people where they stand, and then there’s Satori! He’s trying to pretend he’s above it all by holding the Archon’s party line that the World-ends are just symbolic! Symbolic of what? Limp ‘inner cleansings?’�
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Iyapeti shrugged. “How should I know?”
“Here’s a clue; symbolic didn’t used to mean unreal! Now it does, to most people. Satori’s even sponsored some Samyaza Cult immigrants down at the Crossroads because they believe Samyaza will somehow make World-end unnecessary, as if their sworn ‘holy war’ against Seti magically won’t have any other consequences. Now there’s Nestrigati, acting as asinine as the rest, even though he interprets the Sky Signs the way Pahp does. But is he really helping?”
“It’s better than nothing, I suppose.”
U’Sumi blew up. “You suppose? Well, aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine! They go out of their way to ignore Iyared’s Prophecy about Pahp and about a dozen other independent ancient references. Pahp is the Comforter sent by E’Yahavah A’Nu, but nobody seems to want to deal with that! Even Nestrigati likes to downplay the Comforter’s role in public!”
“Be fair! He gives Pahp credit; I’ve heard him.”
“Yeah, for having a correct interpretation of the Comet, sure, but not where governance of the Seer Clan goes! Then he melts into the background to keep his own following at the debate forums! World-end theories are fine, but Pahp’s right to actual authority is too controversial! It offends the Samyaza Cult, the Archon, and especially most Seer Clan elders! Since when did it become smart to obscure the truth from people because they might find it offensive? Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need!”
Iyapeti winked down at his brother. “What’s the matter? Does it bug you to see your flame in someone else’s eyes?”
That stung. “Quite acting like a moron! This is serious!”
Iyapeti laughed, wagging his head like a half-hearted harvest wave offering. “Yup, I hit it! Nobody sniffs out pushies like another pushy!”
“I’m not a pushy!”
“Hey Khumi, isn’t ‘Sumi a pushy?”
Both ‘tweens paused and turned to await Khumi’s answer.
Khumi’s dark eyes widened, probably in wonder that the two older ones even cared what he thought—until his chin drooped when he must have realized that, no matter which way he answered, one of them would probably beat him up for it. Then it seemed that a gleam of embryonic life-saving wisdom washed suddenly over his boyish pre—adolescent face.
Khumi asked, “What’s a pushy?”
“Never mind!” ‘Peti scowled. “What do you know anyway? You’re just a kid!”
U’Sumi said, “Oh, and you’re like the great mountain sage!”
“At least I’m not a pushy.”
“So what did you ask me for, if you didn’t want to know what I thought? I suppose you like Nattering Nesti’s nonsense!”
“No,” Iyapeti answered, suddenly quite serious. “I don’t like The Nat. Something about him sort of gave me the creeps—kind of like last month when that titan came up to the monastery, only not as bad.”
The sibling rivalry vanished.
U’Sumi said, “I know what you mean.”
They started walking up the trail again.
Khumi ran up between them. “What were you guys talking about?”
U’Sumi glanced down at him. “You wouldn’t understand, Khumi, you’re just a kid.”
“I’m not a kid!”
“Yeah, you are. But it’s not your fault.”
T
he living chambers at Q’Enukki’s Retreat settled down from the day’s bustle. Mahm and her maidservants had just placed dinner on the great stone table in the common hall, and Pahp had just blessed it. They had all barely gotten in a first bite when U’Sumi heard a harsh metallic roar from outside, over the courtyard. Roving shafts of light stabbed through the windows like searching swords of fire in the twilight. Without asking, he leaped up to see what the commotion was, followed by his two brothers.
A golden hover-drone hung over the monastery like a giant dragonfly. U’Sumi stared up into its open belly, probing this monster of flame, whirling army-mincer blades, and metal-feathered wings for some unlikely weakness. For his trouble, he got dust blasted into his eyes like a stinging insect swarm. Glimpses of pulleys and winches inside the great hole flashed between his shielding fingers, as the shadowy machinery lowered a caged platform on lines from the airship’s heart.
As the cage neared the ground, U’Sumi recognized its passengers; the smaller man clasped the outer mesh like a terrified tree lizard, while the larger stood comfortably at the platform’s center of gravity. Uggu and Tarbet apparently had more business with Father. Both stepped from their lift as it reached the courtyard cobblestones. The hover-drone then quickly pulled up, taking the empty cage with it, as it swung out of view around the monastery and the mountain behind it. U’Sumi rubbed his ears at the sudden silence.
His father did not look pleased.
A’Nu-Ahki pushed past U’Sumi and his brothers to approach the two visitors. His silver-streaked mat of thinning black hair ruffled in the breeze of the departing drone.
“What do you two want?”
The Titan answered, “We’ve come to notify you of war.”
“What have I to do with your wars? At this stage they’re death throes from a dying world—nothing more.”
Tarbet answered, “Well, it seems you’re going to have a lot to do with this one.” An eager grin slit his yellowed, bloodless face.
“The Oath protects the sons of Muhet’Usalaq from all but voluntary service. Tubaal-qayin Dumuzi, ‘the Shepherd,’ promised not to abrogate Iyared’s Testament.”
“Well, it seems the Archon and I don’t interpret the Oath in quite that same light. And ‘the Shepherd’s’ political needs have changed over the past two hundred years. We feel that a clan regiment can be ‘voluntarily’ reactivated under the command of your father, the Tacticon, or…”
“Or what!”
“Or Marshal Uggu, beyond our powers of control, can send his people in to conscript all able-bodied men fifty to five-hundred-and-fifty years old and send them off to whatever units have most need, thus splitting your clan. It’s up to you and the Tacticon which.”
A’Nu-Ahki said between clenched teeth, “The blood of the oath-breaker is upon you and your father’s house.” He clapped his forearms together in a traditional gesture of contempt at an illegal arch-betrayal.
“I doubt that.” Tarbet smirked. Then, as if by afterthought, he said, “Tell me something Nu; how is Na’Amiha? I often think of her. I hope she’s well. Say, between you and me, does she still stiffen up the way she always used to in the old night-chamber?”
The Archon-in-Waiting’s taunt hit U’Sumi like a club. Tarbet just stood there, his soft eyes smiling, as if he had just been making innocent conversation. He licked his lips; either because they were dry or out of some perverse gesture intended to incite A’Nu-Ahki further.
The evening air hung in sultry silence, while the men just stood there. U’Sumi shook off his shock and then moved to tackle Tarbet, but his father intercepted him and held him back.
A’Nu-Ahki growled, “Is your business here finished?”
Uggu cleared his throat, as if apologetic for Tarbet’s rudeness. “I need an answer now, I’m afraid. Aztlan has invaded across the Central Channel Narrows. Their Elyo push speedily inland—my own stronghold of Uggu-stavaar and Twins Haven fell yesterday. As we speak, they are sweeping across Southern Lumekkor in what seems to be a drive on the eastern coastal port of Akko. From there, they can easily cut northward into our heartlands. We would need your regiment to join up with Marshal Avarnon-Set at the Balimar Straits gap fairly soon. I, for one, would consider it an honor to have the Gryndel Slayer fighting by us.”
A’Nu-Ahki released his son. “U’Sumi, go get your grandfather.”
U’Sumi bolted for the tower, blood pumping in his temples—he turned fifty in three weeks! No more stories of valor or petty Akh’Uzan bickering over World-end, no more being the “botch of the valley!” He was going to war, where a man could rise or fall on initiative and courage, not on who his parents were or on
what they believed about World-end.
He almost ran into Lumekki at the base of the turret stairs. The Tacticon had doubtless heard the hover-drone and rushed down from his chamber. It surprised U’Sumi that so much could change in the time it took a late-middle-aged man to descend a spiral stair.
Uggu quickly reiterated the situation for the Tacticon.
Lumekki answered, “I need a month to train the lads in basic skills. Then all of us will need equipping and training in the latest weaponry.”
The Titan smiled. “You will operate as light infantry and need only learn how to use thunder-pikes and hand-cannons. Expect to be in the thick of it. Many of your old melee weapons could prove just as useful as in the days of our youth. You shall have your month for basic training, after which I’ll send a captain to act as your adjutant.”
“I have an adjutant,” the Tacticon said, “my son, A’Nu-Ahki.”
“Then my captain will be your liaison with Alliance Command.”
“That is acceptable. Is there anything else?”
Uggu said, “I will announce in the villages of the lower valley what is necessary. I already have a company waiting at the old drone field. How soon can you organize your training camp?”
“I’ll be ready by the end of the week.”
The Giant nodded.
A’Nu-Ahki stepped between his father and the two visitors. “If your business is concluded then, please leave!”
“My apologies for disturbing you,” Uggu said, who motioned Tarbet to follow him out the front gate. Outside, a detachment of bodyguards had marched up to meet them from the drone field. They all turned down the hillside trail to the village before the gate even shut.
U’Sumi watched his father swing around to the common hall arch where his mother stood, tears flooding her hollow eyes. She had been last to the door. Seeing the callers, she had remained inside until they left. A’Nu-Ahki’s eyes flared, unstable stars in the night of his usually good-natured face. For a few sickening seconds, U’Sumi feared he would strike her.
The Paladin's Odyssey (The Windows of Heaven) Page 3