Banners of The Sa'yen, page 6
I frowned at that, never feeling comfortable over that last prophesy. Why would a God deny that He was indeed a God? Why would a God come among His people in the guise of a mortal, and allow Himself to feel die pains, the emotions, the weaknesses of His people? Aye, I knew all the standard answers to these questions. The Sa’yen, even though the God of War, was nevertheless a compassionate deity. When He comes among His people, He comes to feel and understand the woes and terrors that sometimes makes His people grow weak in their devotion to Him. And in order to feel the many tribulations of the true mortal, He comes in the disguise of a mortal, leaving behind the powers of His deity. All His powers except one and none knew what that power might be. Aye, I knew the standard answers to the questions in my mind, yet I could not accept them fully. I had trouble accepting the idea that a deity such as the Sa’yen would need to delve into such complex disguises just to be among His people.
And yet, how could I doubt Him? Had He not appeared before me and the five who survived the massacre of the old Princess Tagia miraculously? And had I not seen with my own eyes the resting place of His fiery chariot? Aye! That was a sight to behold! The Master had made a request, after successfully fleeing from the Hakadian ships, to return to the same valley a few weeks later so that He could journey back to the sight of His chariot. I had protested vigorously concerned that again we might be drawn into battle with the Hakadian ships but this time might not be so fortunate. Yet Tadan and Fidor pointed out to me that in all likelihood the golden-hulls of the Hakadian ships would be gone from such a lonely and out of the way valley by then, and we could journey safely. And what if the Hakadians were there? Was not the Sa’yen among us? Did we fear the Hakadians seeking combat with us with the Master to lead us? Aye, I had no argument for that, and we turned about, to return to the High Tors valley, with me grumbling all the way. Yet, as we approached the resting place of His chariot, I stopped my grumbling. The prophets of the past had said He would fall among us in a fiery chariot. And as we all stood beside the port railing looking downward, there were no doubts in our minds that He had indeed fallen in a mighty chariot of burning flame. It was staggering to behold! The blackened, charred land below us had been consumed by a furious, intensive heat. For miles as we traveled up the valley, the once mighty Yab’lal forest of the valley was barren of all growth, its ground desolate and charred to a blackness, short, blackened stumps jutting up from a barren ground where Yab’lal trees had towered into the air. Miles and miles of this burnt desolation! And even though my Lord had professed to us earlier that He had lived among the wilds for almost a year before we were rescued by Him from the Aggarian pirates, yet nothing of new growth had started to appear in the ravaged, blackened valley floor. We were speechless at the sight. Yet as we watched, soon we came, floating our black-hull over the resting place of the Sa’yen. Furling sails, we quickly threw out mooring anchors and after some difficulty we had heavy ropes tied to stout mooring stakes that were driven with mallets deep into the blackened soil below us. And directly below us was the chariot of the Sa’yen.
Such a strange object! I had always thought that the chariot the Sa’yen would descend down to us in would be that—a typical chariot. But below us, looking massive and disturbingly foreign, was a huge object that was made of gold. Gold! Gold discolored from the intensive heat and in places blackened from the conflagration that had consumed the forest around us, but nevertheless most of the chariot gleamed a dull gold. A huge object, looking like a ball half severed, with a slightly curved plate of gold with a blister in the center of the surface. It had buried itself deeply into the charred ground, leaning somewhat to the starboard as it sat in the soil. Around the chariot were large, twisted pieces of metal—large pieces almost the size of the chariot itself, the metal twisted and charred a deep black from the fire and littering the area for some distance around the chariot. I estimated the chariot was a good thirty feet high and perhaps that length in diameter. In silence, Fidor, at the Master’s urging, threw over the side the heavy rope ladders, and we descended to the ground below. In silence, filled with awe, we meekly followed Our Lord as He stepped up to the gold craft before us. We watched Him as He lifted a hand up to a strange little bump on the curved wall of the chariot. And then suddenly we heard something like air escaping through a thin crack and a door appeared as if by magic, opening from the once-solid gold wall of the chariot. I, with the others, jumped back some feet away from die opening door as it slid out in silence. Hagbash, being yet a young boy, yelled in terror and dropped to his knees, repeating over and over a common prayer of forgiveness to the Sa’yen. Irritably, the Master told young Hagbash to rise to his feet and stop his gibberish, and then He stepped up onto the lowered door and turned to motion us to enter His heavenly craft. After much discussion among us, only I and the dour-faced, strong-willed Fidor entered the Master’s heavenly craft. And we entered with our mouths dry, our knees weak from the honor of it, and our eyes wide with near terror. But the Master gruffly told us to forget our terror; there was nothing inside His craft to be afraid of, and He even smiled at our fear. We, being men coming from fierce and proud ancestors, tried to recompose our normal selves as we followed the Sa’yen through His heavenly craft but neither of us could overcome the humbling awe of standing in such a holy place. It was strange, yet I found that the Sa’yen’s heavenly craft reminded me of a small ship, with cramped, tiny compartments packed with strange objects of glass and multicolored wires whose use I couldn’t guess. But to old Fidor’s and my surprise, we found four rooms within the Master’s chariot In one tiny closet room w? found four bunks; sleeping bunks, stacked one above the other. On the top bunk was the bedding where the Master had slept sheets wrinkled, now covered with a fine, soft coating of dust from disuse. In silence, we followed the Master up a cramped, narrow spiral staircase made of steel to the two upper compartments to help the Master carry some of His belongings from His chariot to our black-hull riding motionless, moored to the stakes, overhead. As we watched, the Sa’yen opened a few small doors built into the bulkheads themselves and pulled out several large, black leather cases. Frowning, old Fidor and I exchanged questioning glances, then we turned again to look at Our Lord. The Sa’yen handed each of us two large cases, each case surprisingly heavy. The bearded, golden-haired Sa’yen grinned His pleasure at us, then turned again and withdrew something that was long and narrow, much like a portion of a lance and shaped roughly like the killing point of a lance tip. But this strange object was made of some metal that was grayish white in color, with handles of dark coal black jutting at a ninety-degree angle from the main portion of the thing. One end tapered down to a fine point while the opposite end thickened and finally bent to form a large Y-shaped end. The cup of the Y-shaped end was rounded and it occurred to me it would fit nicely a warrior’s shoulder if one held it up in such a fashion. I was obviously right, for My
Lord read my thoughts, grinned at me in pleasure and held the thing up between us for Fidor and me to look at more closely.
“This is to be in your care, Magdar. You are to carefully preserve this for me. And never, under any circumstances, is anyone allowed to touch this object unless you have heard it from my lips directly. Can you do this for me, Magdar?”
“Aye, My Lord! It will be just as you say while in my keeping.”
“Good. I knew you would say that.” The Sa’yen nodded, smiling through His golden beard. His gray-blue eyes fell upon the strange object He held in His hand for a moment. Fidor and I saw Him frown in deep thought before speaking again. “This is a weapon, my friends. A weapon that has been beside me for years and years. We have fought many engagements together; this weapon and 1.1 would feel strange if it were not beside me again.”
“A weapon, My Lord?” Fidor asked, his dour-looking, weathered face looking at the strange object with suspicion mixed with awe and then at the Master questioningly.
“A weapon, Fidor, my friend. A weapon with such power as you have never seen before. A weapon that, with one shot, could cut the largest ship that you know of in half like a hot knife slicing through butter. Eh? You do not believe me?”
“It is not that I do not believe you, My Lord.” Fidor hastily put in, paling at the last words the Sa’yen had uttered to him. “It is that, that…”
“That you cannot imagine such a weapon. Eh?”
“Aye, My Lord. It it sounds so impossible to me.”
The Master smiled at old Fidor, a smile I thought had the look of sadness, a sadness that had been earned after years of experiencing knowledge we knew nothing of. He nodded, looked at the weapon He held in His hand and paused a heartbeat or two before speaking again.
“Yes, I can understand your disbelief, my friend. Listen, both of you. You have given me the honor of thinking of me as your god returned to you. And I admit, there are too many legends that explain away what the actions would be of an alien cast among you by accident I shall have to examine these legends more to ascertain the truth to that thought. But that is not the point I wish to make. What I am trying to say, my friends, is that I am not your god. I am a mortal like you, who, in the end, will eventually die either from old age or from battle wounds. Yet, what you cannot realize is the one important difference that separates me from you. And that is I come from a different planet, a different world! But this world is so far ahead of yours in science and technology that, as of yet, the best minds you have could not grasp the gap of knowledge that separates our cultures. And this, this in my hands, is but one example of what you cannot understand. Aye, I am just like you two, my friends. I live, I eat, I breathe just as you do. And I will die, in the end, just as you will. But try to understand, try to grasp what I have to tell you. The world I come from is so far advanced compared to yours that the knowledge I take as commonplace, the things my race uses every day without a second’s thought, your race will consider magic. Or the powers of gods. Come; come, I will show you what such a weapon can do and perhaps you may grasp some of my meaning.
We followed the Master out of his heavenly craft and stepped out onto the scorched, blackened soil again. Overhead, the large mass of the black-hull floated, straining against the mooring ropes. The black-hull, her keel masts only a man’s body length above us, appeared to me to be eager to leave this blackened, desolate scene. And reluctantly I conceded to myself that I too wanted to leave this place. Yet, keeping my thoughts to myself, I followed the Master out to stand below the ship and watched the Sa’yen as he stepped to one side and lifted the long, gray-white, rod-shaped object to His shoulder. Glancing up hurriedly, I noticed that the others were leaning over the railing, looking down at the Sa’yen. Hakba Baru, in a green robe, was to one side of the rest of the men, his darkly bearded and cruel looking face just as interested in what the Sa’yen was ready to show us as the rest were. Turning my eyes back to die Master, I watched Him as He lifted the thing to His shoulder, paused for a second, and then pressed His finger to a bright red button built into the black handle at the rear portion of the object.
I was not prepared for what was to happen next. I had no idea that such things could exist. There was suddenly, overpowering us, a deafening crack of thunder. There wa9 a glaring green light, so bright that I had to throw an arm up, dropping one of the Master’s cases in the process, to cover my eyes. The glaring, dazzling green light was so intense I saw old Fidor beside me, an arm up to protect his eyes as well, standing directly in the midday sun nevertheless fully bathed in the unnerving light. There was a high-pitched hissing sound, like the sound of snakes in the dark but a thousand times louder, and suddenly I found myself gripped with unimaginable terror. Above, faintly, I heard young Hagbash’s voice screaming, joined surprisingly by two or three others, and I too felt like screaming. But I fought to control my natural emotions, and forcing mysell I kept my eyes on the object that the Master had pointed to just before lifting the strange weapon to His shoulder. It had been a large stump of a Yab’lal tree, perhaps forty or fifty feet in diameter. Charred and blackened from the conflagration that had swept through this area like a curse, the stump rose from the ground only to the height of four or five feet. Yet as I watched, my eyes burning like hot coals as I peered at the green light coming from fire thing at the Master’s shoulder, I saw the giant tree stump absorb the green death, and then after throwing off large sparks of bright white and yellow fire, the stump disappeared in a cloud of white smoke.
As suddenly as the blinding green light appeared, it was no longer with us. As if I had stepped out of a bright sun into a dark cavern, I found myself momentarily blinded. 1 found my mouth dry and parched, my mind unable to comprehend what I had just witnessed, my ears still echoing the sharp crack of thunder that had sounded the instant the green light appeared. I felt myself stagger to one side, my knees weak, and I had an overwhelming desire to sit down and rest. I did so. Turning, I saw old Fidor down on his knees, his face lacking color, thoroughly shaken from the exhibition of power we had just witnessed. I said nothing. I cast my eyes upon the face of the Master. He stood a few yards away, the strange weapon in one hand down at His side, His face looking Into mine with sadness. I could not understand that—the constant look of sadness every time He tried to convince us of His mortality. Or that he originated from another world much like ours, yet very much different from ours. With such command of vast power, and with all the weapons I was familiar with, why should the Master look saddened? I said nothing as I helped the dour-faced Fidor to his feet and collected the leather cases the Sa’yen gave us to carry for Him. Yet I felt uneasy at the look I saw on the Sa’yen’s face. Or perhaps I was more uneasy at the feelings I myself was experiencing, feelings that, if known, would be called blasphemy.
I stood beside the Lord at the stern railing, our eyes cast down upon the site of the mountain city of Triisus. The city was situated some fifteen hundred feet up from the valley floor, on a large ledge that ran for miles on the eastern wall of the mountains that made up part of the valley below. Triisus was, by comparison, a small city. I told the Master that I did not think the city had a population of more than fifty thousand, but in” my mind, that fifty thousand were fierce, proud people, proud of their city and very proud of the ships they were noted for. And indeed, the sky above Triisus was busier than that of many cities her size. Large, single-mast (per upper and keel) grain transports littered the sky. From die rooftops of several landing towers we could see the hulls of many ships, sails furled, their masts sporting banners of bright colors, their crews on leave with only a handful on board each ship to maintain the buoyance fires in their fire holds. Dotting the sky above and below us, their crews scampering up and down the rigging, ships made sail to leave or worked to take in sail in preparation for mooring. The sky was a rainbow of colors. The hull of each captain’s ship was a color he preferred, with sails of different colors as well. I was always pleased to see such a sight. Triisus was the city I had adopted and I was proud that such a small city would have such renown. Triisus was noted for its shipwrights, considered by many to be the best in the business. It was also a thriving farming community. At the base of the mountain range that held her aloft and stretching off for miles up and down the valley floor, we could see the checkerboard squares of cultivated croplands.
The city itself sat on the ridge, clinging to the side of the mountain like a barnacle. The majority of the buildings were the stubby, three-storied fortress towers of merchants. Here and there among the roofs of the thick-walled small towers, a rich merchant had imported marble and built towers of tall, tapering, graceful lines. Such merchants liked to hire artisans to carve designs into the walls of the white marble, to be inlaid with gold or silver. There were also the towering, rounded towers of the landing platforms for the ships. These were the most plentiful, since landing towers facilitated trade. Far to the south, at the end of the ridge the city sat on, was the only road that led down to the valley floor below. It was a sharply twisting, narrow road of roughly hewn stone. Where the road pushed out onto the valley floor we could, in the distance, barely see the walls of the fortress that guarded the city’s gates. It was constantly manned by the city’s meager but well-trained troops. The road itself, sharply angling up from the valley floor to the city, was, despite its severe twists and turns, nevertheless heavily used by the peasants who farmed the valley floor. To the north, another road twisted and turned as it climbed upward to the top of the mountains where, guarded by another powerful fortress, a road had been constructed over a narrow mountain pass to connect with the valley on the other side of the mountain range. From the tops of many towers, and from almost all ships moored to the landing towers, banners and flags of all sizes and shapes danced in the morning breeze below us, adding gaiety to an already colorful scene.
The Master was quite pleased to see such a spectacle below us, and He had many questions to ask me about the city, its customs, and the customs of the people that lived in this region. I answered everything He asked, conveying to the best of my ability the information He was seeking. I was pleased with the Sa’yen immensely. After weeks of constant tutoring, the Master had discarded His strange-looking talking device that had helped Him understand what I said to Him. I had, quite frankly, felt somewhat uneasy with such a strange thing having the ability to speak words, even though it did nothing but translate the Language of Man into the Language of the Gods. Now He stood beside me, conversing easily with me in the language I could understand with only the slightest of accents that would indicate to others He was perhaps not from this world. Actually, I was doubly pleased with the Sa’yen. As He began to comprehend better what I said to Him directly, He demanded that I show Him the black-hull we now claimed as our own from one end of the craft to the other. And He demanded that I treat Him as a child, explaining to Him everything about the ship from the simplest to the most complex. Pleased and somewhat expecting a request such as this, since the prophets had foretold the Sa’yen would eventually ask, I plunged headlong into teaching the Master the intricacies of a Hungar skyship. We began first down in the bowels of the ship, in the fireholds of the buoyance tanks. The Master had often said to me He could not understand how such a ship, a dirigible as He called it, could float in the air, powered by sail, and yet tack back and forth and even sail into the wind. I explained to Him, as we crawled through the cramped corridors of the ship down to the fireholds, the Sacred Stones of the Pictii.
