PRINCESS OF AMATHAR
By Wesley Allison
Smashwords Edition
Princess of Amathar
Copyright © 2007 by Wesley Allison
All Rights Reserved. This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If sold, shared, or given away it is a violation of the copyright of this work. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by Wesley Allison
Cover Image Copyright © Luca Oleastri | Dreamstime.com
ISBN 978-1-4523-0653-7
Dedicated to Victoria Allison and Edgar Rice Burroughs
Princess of Amathar
By Wesley Allison
Chapter One: Transported to Ecos
I don't expect you to believe this story, but it is the truth. My name is Alexander Ashton. I was born in the heart of the American west. I have often been known to say that I was born either a hundred years too late, or perhaps a hundred years too early. It always seemed to me that I had the misfortune to live in the single most unexciting period of time the panorama of history had to offer. I don't say that I longed to be transported to another time or to another world, for never in my wildest dreams did I believe this to be possible. I was destined to be surprised.
I was born in a small city. I played as a child in a park that was once a dusty street where outlaws of the old west fought famous gunfights. When I was seven, my parents were killed in a motor vehicle accident. I really remember little of them. I was put in a state run children’s home where I lived until I was eighteen, passed by time after time by prospective adoptive parents, primarily because I was too old. I hold no ill feelings about it now. If there is one thing I learned while I was a ward of the state, it is that no matter how bad off one may be, there is always some one worse off than you are.
After graduating high school and being set on my own by the state, I entered college at the local university. I became a voracious reader and excelled in athletics, but did poorly in my required studies. After two semesters of academic probation I was asked to leave. I walked down the street to the Army Recruiter's office and enlisted. There wasn't much to the army, since there was no war on at the time. While I was there, I did learn to shoot, and fight with a saber, and to keep in good physical condition, but otherwise I left the service just as I had gone in.
After finding a new apartment in my old home town, I happened to run into a fellow whom I knew from college. He was running a small grocery store, and doing quite well, since no large grocery chain was interested in such a small market area. He offered me a job, I took it, and we became pretty close friends.
My friend, the grocery store owner, was engaged to a nice girl, and they decided in time to get married. I was chosen to be the best man. The wedding was nice, and the reception was even better. I have never been much of a drinking man, but that night I made a name for myself in that capacity. I don't know why I drank so much. Maybe I was feeling sorry for myself and my lot in life, I don't know. I do know that in short order, I had worked myself into a staggering, slobbering, half-conscious stupor. How, when, and where I became unconscious, I cannot say, but at some point I did. And this is where my story truly begins.
I awoke with a chill in my bones. I was lying down in a small stream bed with icy water running over my feet. I tried to rise, but couldn't. My body was stiff and weak and its only response was to shiver uncontrollably. Around me was a thick forest, and I could see dark shapes moving around in the trees. I sensed then, on some deeper level, that I was in a place I had never been before. Then I heard a deep growling as I passed once again into unconsciousness.
When next I awoke I looked around to find myself in a small shack. I was lying on a cot made of animal furs, and I was bathed in a cold sweat. The walls of the small shelter were made from cut logs and a roughly fashioned wooden chair was the room's only furnishing. When the door of the shack opened, I truly believed for the first time in my life that there were life forms other than those I was familiar with on Earth.
The creature that stepped inside the door, and closed it after him, was most ugly. That he was intelligent was demonstrated not only by the fact that he had opened and then closed the door, but also by the fact that he wore clothing-- ugly clothing yes, but clothing nonetheless. He was about five feet tall and stood in a kind of perpetual crouch. His body was covered with coarse brown hair, two to three inches long, from his head to his feet, which reminded me of the feet of a dog or a wolf, although larger. He was somewhat wolf-like in every aspect, such as his protruding snout, but he also seemed somewhat baboon-like in his expressive eyes. I am comparing him to earthly animals, but this is really inadequate, as the similarities were actually quite superficial, and he was totally unearthly in appearance. I remember most looking at his hands. He had four fingers not too different from my own, but his abbreviated thumb possessed a great, long, curving claw.
The creature, stepping slowly over to me, reached out a hand and gave me a piece of dried fruit. I was quite hungry and the fruit was quite good. As I began to eat, the creature began to bark and growl at me. At first I thought he was angry, but then I realized that he was trying to communicate in his language. I was too tired to respond and fruit still in hand, passed back into sleep.
The next time I woke the creature was sitting in the chair looking at me with his head cocked to one side. I pushed myself up on one elbow and he spoke to me again, this time in a more human sort of language. It seemed almost like French, but having learned a few phrases of that language in the army, I knew it was not. This language was so much less nasal. He pointed to his chest and said "Malagor" then he pointed to me. I said "Alexander". He smiled wide exposing a magnificent row of long, sharp teeth. My language lessons had begun.
It took a long time for me to recover from my illness. It seemed to me that I was nursed by the creature for at least a month. I slept many times, but each time I awoke I found light streaming in the window. Not once did I wake to find darkness, or even the pale light of the moon, outside the window. During this long period of time, my host provided me with food and water, took care of my sanitary needs and of course, taught me to speak his language. One of the first things that I learned was that "Malagor" was not the name of my companion, but was instead his race or species. He told me his real name, which seemed to be a growl with a cough thrown in for good measure. I decided that I would call him "Malagor", and he didn't seem to mind.
As soon as I was physically able, Malagor helped me to the door. I was understandably anxious to see the world outside because the presence of Malagor, and an indescribable gut feeling, both told me that the world beyond that wooden threshold was not the world into which I had been born. I stepped outside with my shoulder supported by the alien. For a moment I was blinded by the brightness of the sun, but after my eyes adjusted to the increase in light, I looked around.
At first glance the scene before me was no different than a thousand other views found in many scenic valleys on Earth. The small crude log cabin sat at the edge of a large beautiful golden plain near a lovely green forest. The horizon was formed in the distance by a line of low rolling hills. But as I let my eye roam toward the sky above those hazy hills, I found that there was something different and unsettling about the sky. It was as if the edge of the world blurred up into the sky. It was as if I was standing in a great bowl, with the edges rising up all around me. In reality I could discern little more than a greenish brown band above the horizon, but I felt as if I could, concentrating hard enough, make out more hills, more meadows, and plains and forests and the shore of a mighty sea, pasted on the edge of the firmament. The world, instead of disappearing over the horizon, rose up into the sky, actually becoming a part of the sky. And above it all, high above, stood the noon day sun.
I felt weak. Malagor steadied me and helped me back inside the cabin. He sat me down in the chair and gave me a drink of water from a wooden cup that he had apparently carved especially for me. Then he sat down on the floor.
"Tell me about this world,” I said when I had finished my water.
"You are not from this world," he stated, matter-of-factly. "I thought this when I found you in the forest."
"No I am not. I am from a very different world," I replied, "but tell me of this one."
"The world is Ecos. That is the name. It is a great sphere. We are in the inside surface. What is outside, no one knows. The sun is in the middle of the world. It shines on all."
"If the sun is always above you," I asked, "how do you know when it is night time?"
"I do not know night time. What is night?"
"How do you know when to sleep?"
"One sleeps when one is sleepy." He gave me such a strange look that I had to laugh out loud.
"Your people live in Ecos?"
For a moment he turned away. Then he looked back at me. "Many different species live in Ecos. Many of these species are intelligent beings. I myself have seen many of these."
"But we are speaking the language of your people?"
Malagor opened his mouth wide and his tongue fell out the side. I had learned that this was his way of smiling. He replied.
"When I first found you I spoke to you in the language of the Malagor, but nature was unkind to you and gave you too small a mouth. So instead I taught you the language of Amathar which we now speak. I knew that you could speak it because you look somewhat like an Amatharian."
"How do they look like me?"
He smiled again. "They have funny little ears, no fur, flat faces, puny noses, and long feet."
I laughed. "How are they different from me then?"
"They are better groomed," he said.
I felt my face with its scraggly beard, and my dirty, sweaty, almost matted hair. I was indeed most poorly groomed. My clothing, the remains of a rented tuxedo, was in equally bad shape.
"If you take me back to the stream where you found me so that I can take a bath, and loan me a sharp knife, and help me with some decent clothing,” I said, "I shall see if I cannot become more presentable."
Malagor agreed to help me, but it was several days before I was well enough for even the short walk to the nearby stream. I had taken a long time to recover from what I now believe to be the effects of my transportation from Earth to Ecos. I never found out what bizarre method that transportation was, and I suppose that I never will. When I had finally recovered, I went to the stream with my new companion, I made an interesting discovery. The gravity of Ecos felt different from that of Earth. I found that I was stronger here. I wasn't a superman, but it was a noticeable difference. I could now jump almost twice as far and twice as high as I could before. Then I tried lifting some fallen trees in the woods, and found that I could lift almost twice as much as the equivalent on my planet of origin. I impressed Malagor, who said he had never seen one as strong as me, and I must admit that I impressed myself as well.
After bathing in the stream, I used Malagor's knife, which was nearly razor sharp, to shave off my whiskers. I tried to trim my hair with it as well, but had less success in this endeavor. I did manage to get my hair reasonably clean. I washed my tuxedo too, but it was so poorly made that it practically fell apart in my hands. It was then that Malagor presented me with a set of clothing that he had made for me. The suit consisted of a hard leather shirt and a pair of pants made from the softer hide of several small animals, held up by a broad leather belt. There was also an excellently fashioned pair of boots with hard leather souls. He had dyed the entire suit by hand with berries and roots. The poor creature had terrible taste in colors, and the outfit could have blasted the eyes out of an onlooker with its contrasts of bright greens and purples and oranges, if only there had been an onlooker there to see it. It was a gift though, and one sorely needed, and I appreciated it. I felt as though Malagor were truly a friend-- a friend such as I had never had before.
Later, Malagor and I sat on the grass in front of his cabin, beneath the perpetual noon day sun, and ate our dinner of dried fruit and a small roasted animal that he had provided.
"You must know that this world is not natural. Planets do not form like this. Who created Ecos?" I wondered.
"I know no such thing,” replied the beast. "If you had not appeared claiming to be from another world, I would never have given it a second thought."
I knew that he was baiting me, because I had described the Earth in great detail to him before, and he had accepted it, and I knew that he believed that I was not a native of Ecos.
"I do know how Ecos came to be though," he continued. "Many years ago the universe was empty. The only thing that existed was the great Goddess Bitch. She lived in the void for a long, long time. Then she became tired of the darkness and ate up all of the black and let the day come. She shed her fur and it became a ring around her and hardened into Ecos. She gave birth to pups and they became Malagor. She left her feces and it became the other races of Ecos. Then she curled up and went to sleep and became the sun."
"Do you believe this?" I asked.
He cocked his head to one side and looked at me for a moment. Then he smiled. "This is what my mother told me when I was a pup."
I smiled too. We sat in silence for a moment. Then I spoke again.
"Have you always lived here, in this cabin?"
"This has been my base camp while I have explored the nearby land,” he explained. "I was making ready to leave this place and move on when I found you. Again I am thinking that I should move on now."
"If you don’t mind,” I said. "I would like to accompany you."
"I would like that," he replied, and then he said for the first time, "Alexander."
Chapter Two: The Hidden Artifacts
After getting a good long sleep, Malagor and I began to pack our meager belongings for an extended journey. Our belongings truly were meager. My dog-like friend had only a few furs and some weapons and tools to his name, and I had almost nothing to mine. I was interested to observe Malagor's weapons. With the exception of his knife, which was obviously well-manufactured, they all seemed to be hand-made, and consisted of a spear, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. As soon as we had grouped the possessions into two bundles, we each took one and started on our way. There seemed to be no north, south, east, or west in Ecos, so we went in the direction that Malagor said he had previously been traveling. After we had walked across the plain quite a long ways, I looked back at the cabin. It was inching its way up toward the sky. It seemed a lonely place now. As we got farther and farther away, it would move up the endless horizon, though of course it would disappear from view before it got very high. I wondered though if, when we reached where ever it was we were going, it would be looking down at us from some point high up in the heavens.
While we walked along, I asked Malagor many questions about the world of Ecos, the fauna and flora, and the intelligent inhabitants.
"How big is Ecos?" I asked. I had thought that had Ecos been just a hollow planet, I would have been able to see far more of the horizon as it stretched up into the sky and that much more clearly than I could. It seemed to me that it was far larger.
"Two hundred twenty six thousand hokents,” he replied.
This of course, led to my lesson in the measurement of distances in Ecos, which was common to the Malagor and the Amatharians, and a few other intelligent races. The kentan was the basic unit of measurement, and had apparently been derived from the size of an insect lair, as strange as this may have seemed at the time. Then again, I recalled that honey bees made cells in their hive that were completely uniform in size, no matter where you happened to find the hive, or what the bees were using as a source of pollen. I marveled that the kentan had come from a zoological observation such as this. As nearly as I could calculate, the kentan was about five and one-quarter inches. A kentar was ten kentans, or about fifty two and a half inches. A kent was ten kentars, one hundred kentans, or about forty three feet nine inches. A kentad was one hundred kents, or some eight tenths of a mile. And a hokent was one thousand kentads, one hundred thousand kents, or eight hundred twenty eight miles.
So when Malagor said that Ecos was two hundred twenty six thousand hokents in diameter, he was telling me that it was about one hundred eighty seven million miles in diameter. With a little mental calculation on my part, I realized that with a sun just under one million miles in diameter, this would put the surface of Ecos about ninety three million miles from the surface of the sun-- about the same distance that Earth is from the surface of its sun. If my calculations held correct, then Ecos would have a surface area of over three billion planet Earths. It was quite an astounding concept.
For a while I thought about the fact that the great plain we walked across, might well be larger than the surface area of my home planet, and yet be only a tiny fraction of Ecos. But after a while these types of musings can only give one a headache, so I turned my head to other thoughts. Looking around across the plain, I observed a marvelous collection of plains animals. I could identify the ecological niches of most of the beasts, by observing their similarities to Earth animals, and yet some of these denizens of the great prairie were completely unearthly. There was a herd of beautiful antelope-like creatures, with long spiral horns and stripes across their backs and six legs. There were beautiful flying things that looked like butterflies two yards wide. Whether they were birds or insects or something entirely different than either, I could not say. There was a large caterpillar creature thirty feet long, with a huge maw in front, that ate everything it came across, plant or animal, and there was a beast that preyed upon it that stood twenty feet tall and looked like a cross between an ostrich and a praying mantis. Some of these animals we hunted for food, some of them we gave a wide berth, and some of them we stopped and stared at in amazement, because not even Malagor had seen the likes of them.
We walked, and we hunted as we walked, and at last I was sure we must have been traveling for a week. It is very eerie to do anything for a long period of time, and then to look up and see the sun in the exact position that it was in when you started whatever it was that you were doing. That's how it was for me. At last however, Malagor decided it was time to stop and sleep, so we cleared the grass from an area and made a fire. Malagor and I then took turns watching for beasts and sleeping. We each slept once, ate, then slept again, and then we started on our way once more. We followed this procedure many, many times over. We continued to hunt for food animals along our way, and at every small stream, we stopped to fill our water skins. I must confess that I never did know how long a journey our trip was, but it seems to me that it must have been close to a year. At one time I asked my friend how long he though that we had been walking. His only reply was, "What does it matter."
At long last we reached the edge of the great plain. Before us stood a line of small hills which looked to be easily passable. On the lower slope of the hills grew many small bushes, profusely covered with tiny blue berries. Malagor picked one, smelled it, tasted it, and pronounced it good.
"We will stay a while here,” he announced. "Berries do not grow enough places to warrant passing them by."
I examined the bushes closest to us.
"Some of these berries are new growth, and some of them are rotting on the plant,” I said. "How long will the season last?"
"I do not know season," he said. "What is season?"
I then realized that in Ecos, beneath the perpetual noon day sun, with no variation in sunlight or length of day, there would be no seasons, at least not in the sense of the word I knew. I was walking around in an endless springtime. I wondered of the mechanics of such a weather system. It had to be completely different than that of a regular planet. I knew that there was weather, for I had experienced it myself, at least in its mildest forms. There had been some partially cloudy skies as we walked along, and even an occasional shower to help keep us cool. But I had not experienced a great storm, fog, or snow. I asked Malagor about this and he explained.
"There are many high places in Ecos, mountains and hills. In these places it is cooler. Low places, deserts and plains are warmer. There is much rocky land. The air above this is warmer. The air above the swamps, bogs, and other soft lands is cooler and wetter. The hot air moves up. The cool air moves down. Then they both blend together to make many kinds of weather."
As if on cue, we were suddenly darkened by the shade of a large cloud above us. Moments later it began to hail. We held our furs above our heads to shield us, and quickly scrambled around looking for a cave or an overhang in which to hide ourselves. I found a large overhanging cliff and called Malagor over. We sat down under it and built a fire from some scrub brush.
"I will cook the meat of our last kill," said Malagor. "You can unpack our furs and tools. This little overhang will make a good place for our base camp. When the hail stops, I will hunt for more meat, and you may pick some berries."
"You won't need any help hunting?" I asked.
"I have watched you, and have decided that you are not a very good hunter,” he said. "Perhaps it is because your nose is too small."
"What does my nose have to do with hunting?"
"You cannot smell when an animal is ready to become dinner."
I laughed. "I must admit that before I met you I'd never hunted at all, and certainly not with a spear or a bow. I don't have the benefit of having hunted all my life as you have."
"I have not hunted all my life,” he said. "When I had a home, I traded for my food."
"Tell me about your home,” I said, but he only mumbled that he had to go hunting, and picking up his weapons, he left, even though he had not yet cooked our meal, and the hail had not completely stopped.
I watched him head across the plain toward the roaming, grazing herds that wandered there. He was a strange and lonely figure. I sat down to unpack the rolls of furs that were our bedding, and tossed a few damp twigs on the fire. Then I began to look around the small overhang that was to be our home for who knew how long.
The area beneath the cliff was about forty feet wide and fifteen feet deep. The ground was bare of the tall golden grass that reached from the plain, right up to the edge of the sheltered overhang. The area was completely clear of fallen debris, with the exception of a pile of small boulders at one end. I walked over, knelt down, and examined the stones. There seemed to be no place above from which they could have fallen. It looked as if someone had piled them there. I looked between them and saw only darkness. Using my newfound strength, I began moving the stones away from their resting place, setting them to the front of the overhang to serve as a wind break. In no time I had moved them all, building a suitable wind break as well as exposing a small tunnel leading back into the hillside.
I knelt down to look into the tunnel. Then I heard a noise behind me and turned to see that Malagor had returned, with the carcass of a small antelope-type animal slung over his ever-crouching shoulders.
"What have you found here, my friend?" he asked, setting down his burden.
"It is some kind of tunnel. It looks like it was dug by intelligent beings. At least it was hidden by intelligent beings with those boulders. They seem to have been placed here deliberately."
He laughed, and for a moment I did not understand why. Then he said. "You moved those boulders all by yourself?"
"With powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.” I smiled. "Shall we go inside?"
"It is your hole,” he said.
I retrieved a burning twig from the fire, and kneeling down, began to crawl into the tiny tunnel. It was a tight fit. When I had made my way completely inside, Malagor followed. The tunnel remained the same for the first fifteen or twenty feet. Then it opened into a chamber large enough for me to stand up in. Raising the small torch above my head, I looked around. Even with the light, it took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It had been a long time since I had been in darkness of any kind. At last though, I began to be able to see around me.
The chamber was roughly round and carved out of the solid rock. I realized now that not only was the tunnel man-made, or shall I say life-form made, but the cave was artificial as well, for there was no evidence of water or any other natural mechanism for creating subterranean caverns. Placed around the room, apparently with great care, were a number of interesting artifacts. There were two rifles the likes of which I have never seen before. They seemed like some kind of laser gun from a science fiction movie. The metal parts were bright silver or chrome, and the stocks were made of some unknown wood and carved into beautiful but unearthly designs. There were several small square devices next to them which might have been batteries or rechargers. Sitting in a small stack, were a half a dozen cans with no labels. They were the only things made of metal in the chamber which showed any sign of rust whatsoever, even though the thick covering of dust made it plain that we were the first to enter here in a long, long time.
Also in the chamber were a number of interesting tools. There was a beautiful hunting knife. It looked similar to one that might be sold in a sporting goods store on earth, but the blade was carved in bizarre, alien designs of unequaled craftsmanship. There was a hammer, saw, screwdriver, and a shovel, all obviously designed to fit into a backpack or utility belt now long returned to the dust of the ages. Sitting in the back of the room were two swords.
The swords were the most incredibly beautiful blades that I had ever seen in my life. For you to appreciate this completely, I must explain that I take a great interest in swords. While I was in the military, I was given cursory training in fighting with a saber. I have always thought it unfortunate that in the twentieth century, such a civilized weapon should be discarded in favor of the assault rifle. I enjoyed sabers and joined a club of military officers and enlisted men who practiced their use and studied them. It was great fun. We went to many museums to see beautiful old swords, and I must say that in our matches staged purely for our own enjoyment, I became quite a good swordsman. So when I say that these were swords more beautiful than any that I have ever seen, you may see that I do not speak without some experience in the subject. There was a long sword and a short sword. They were somewhat similar to the Japanese samurai swords known as the katana and the wahizashi, with gentle sloping blade and two-handed hilt, but unlike the Japanese weapons, these blades had sharp pointed tips. They too, were beautifully carved with unearthly designs, and the hilts were set with large gems, which sparkled in the light of the now fading ember. The sheaths, if ever there existed any, were long rotted away.
"Amatharian swords,” said Malagor, looking over my shoulder. "An Amatharian warrior placed these here, and the other items, planning to return later. An Amatharian warrior would never leave his sword without good reason."
"These have been here a long, long time,” I said, dropping the now short ember.
"Apparently,” he replied, as the light went completely out. "The warrior died before he was able to return."
Chapter Three: The Stummada
I crawled out of the tunnel into the bright light of the eternal Ecosian day. Malagor followed me. Between the two of us we carried the artifacts found in the inner chamber, with the exception of the rusty cans. I had a feeling they contained foodstuffs that were far from fresh. Besides, we didn't have a can opener. We set everything down, and Malagor skinned his small game animal, spitted it, and put it over our camp fire. I tossed a few more twigs on the fire and then sat down to examine the fascinating swords which I had found.
I hefted the long sword in my hand, and was surprised to find that though it had obviously been crafted as a two-handed sword, it was too light for that method of swordsmanship. I then recalled that here on Ecos my strength was increased, roughly doubling what it had been on Earth. If I had not had this additional strength, the sword would have been quite heavy and well balanced as a two-handed weapon. The blade was bright silver in color but strangely, neither the blade, nor the many small runes and designs carved along its length, reflected the sun. The hilt was carved of a material that looked like wood, but was much harder and did not show the great age that it must have been. It too, was carved with fantastic designs, and set all along it were fourteen beautiful gems. I guessed that they were quite valuable, though I suppose that the value of gems, like so many other things, really depends upon one’s culture. I was never much for mineralogy, so I don't know if they were emeralds or sapphires or what, but they certainly were lovely. The short sword was almost identical to the long sword, with the exception of its length, and the fact that it was designed to be used single-handedly.
I looked up from my examination of the sword to see my dog-faced friend. He had finished getting dinner cooking, and now was devoting himself to an examination of the rifles. He drew one to his shoulder and looked down the barrel. I was somewhat surprised, because I had assumed that Malagor was from a low technology society. It had never occurred to me that he might be acquainted with fire arms, or in this case an even more advanced weapon.
"Do you know this particular weapon?" I asked.
"It is an Amatharian gun. They call it a light rifle,” he said. "I have used weapons similar to this, but never one this fine or this powerful."
"Tell me something of these Amatharians,” I said.
"The Amatharians are a most interesting race. They look much like you, and yet they are different. They are a race of honor. If you insult an Amatharian you must be ready to kill him or to die. They travel over a wide area, but live only in their great city of Amathar. It is said to be the greatest city anywhere. They are trained in war, but do not love war the way some other races do.” He stopped for a moment as if trying to remember.
"An Amatharian warrior's soul is in his sword. If the sword sees the warrior turn from an enemy, the soul will be disgusted and will never be with the warrior again. If the warrior dies bravely, the soul leaves the sword to live in the sun, shining brightly forever. If a warrior gives his sword away, he gives away his soul."
He stopped and looked at me.
"These Amatharians are funny people,” he said.
"Have you actually known any Amatharians?"
"When I was a little pup, a group of Amatharians came to our village. There were only six of them. The leader of the group was an old trader. He wanted the pottery and leather crafts that our bitches made. He traded us tools and interesting foods. The others were his assistants, all that is except the Remiant."
"Remiant?"
Malagor went to some length to explain to me what I suppose would be sort of a combined military rank and social status of the Amatharians. Most young Amatharians, he explained, were militarily trained. Even those that pursued other occupations within their society were also soldiers. After leaving military duty, the former soldiers became explorers, scientists, or merchants. A beginning soldier was a warrior or remiantad. After glorifying himself in battle he became a swordsman or remiantar. When a swordsman became somehow complete, a true living weapon, he became a Remiant, something like a knight. To be a Remiant, was the ultimate goal of all Amatharians. Though there were ranks beyond Remiant, a Remiantad or captain and a Horemiant or general, these were only ranks for use in large scale warfare. In the context of social status, all remiants were equal. Yes, a Remiant was a knight. Malagor went on.
"The knight was tall, even for an Amatharian. He stood, back straight and head held high. On his tabard was the crest of his house. His swords were strapped to his sides. They were not as magnificent as the ones you have found, but it seemed to me that the long one shined with the light of the soul within.
"The merchant and his apprentices went into the house of our alpha male to discuss the terms of trade. The knight took his position outside the doorway. There were several of us, all small pups. We stood there watching him. He smiled at us. That is all that I remember."
"Was that a long time ago?" I asked.
"A very, very long time ago.” He looked at me with his head cocked to one side. "It is a boring story."
"No, it is not boring," I countered, "but I wonder why the Amatharian left these swords here, and what happened to his soul?"
“It is possible that these swords have not seen use. They certainly appear to be in fine condition,” said Malagor.
“You know a great deal about Amatharians and their swords considering you met one only when you were a small child. You must have studied them.”
He just shrugged.
We sat quietly for a moment. Then the smell of the roasted meat brought our stomachs to life. We enjoyed our dinner and the last of the water in our water skins. After building up the fire we lay down upon our furs and had a long sleep. When we had both awakened, we left our new home to take a trek around our hill. Malagor brought with him the light rifles from the cave as well as the power sources. I slipped the swords into my leather belt.
As we circumnavigated the hill, Malagor explained the rifle to me. For all its unearthly beauty, it was quite terrestrial in method of operation. The stock and the barrel were designed much like those of an AK-47, with a trigger and trigger guard in the usual location, but instead of a clip of ammunition projecting just in front of them, there was a slot where the power source plugged in. The sights were placed along the barrel, just as with any rifle of earth. Malagor handed one of the weapons to me and together we practiced plugging in the power source replacements. Then we slung the rifles over our shoulders and continued on our way.
When we had reached the other side of the hill I had to stop and laugh. As far as berry picking was concerned, we had certainly chosen the poorer side. From where I now stood, the hills beyond were completely covered with the berry bushes. We were both in the mood for breakfast after having slept a long time, so we began wading through the thicket, picking the ripe berries and transferring them to our mouths. The little fruits were juicy and tart, and I am sure would not have been all that good if tasted at home with dinner, but here in the wilderness, picking them straight off the vine, they were delicious.
Malagor and I had moved apart as we picked. He was about thirty feet or so away, but there was nothing to be concerned about. We were two grown men, or in any case, two grown beings, in sight of one another. I must admit that I was not being all that watchful, and I suppose that Malagor wasn't either. Suddenly I heard a noise from him that I had never heard before. It was a lot like the startled yelp that a big dog makes when his tail is accidentally stepped on. Then a tremendous roar reverberated through the hills. I turned to a scene that made my pulse quicken.
There, standing above the berry bushes, a full fifteen feet tall, was the most frightening apparition that I have ever beheld. It was a huge beast. It might have seemed like a bear or a large ape at first, because it stood on its hind legs and had a shaggy but almost humanoid form, but it was neither bear nor ape nor any combination of the two. It was covered with long black fur, and it had a large head. Its eyes were large, round, multifaceted, insectoid orbs. It was obviously an omnivorous beast, having like humans a variety of tooth types, but at the moment I was concerned with only one type-- the great long fangs with which it was attempting to impale Malagor. The creature held him in a tight grip and was attempting to reach his throat with those great ivory tusks. For his part, Malagor was struggling to hold back the giant head and at the same time find a spot in which to employ his own considerable canines.
If I had thought about it, I am sure that I would not have bothered trying to use the light rifle; because I was fairly sure that there was no way that the power source could still be viable. But the fact is that I didn’t think. I just did. I put the weapon to my shoulder, took quick aim, and fired. The gun spit a thin stream of energy from its barrel. It was not like a laser or a beam. It was like molten sunshine that bubbled and churned as it flew through the air. It went past Malagor's shoulder and into the eye of the giant beast. Then with a big explosion, it blew a large hole out of the back of the thing's skull. The beast's head collapsed in a most disgusting way, and then it fell to the ground.
I ran over to where the monster had fallen. Malagor jumped up to his feet, as if to prove to me and to himself that he was all right. He looked at me with a blank expression.
"Finally, an animal I know," he said. "This is a stummada. It is not good to eat."
"I don't think he had the same opinion of you,” I replied.
"No it did not. But it is not a he. It is a female. The mate of this one may come along at any moment. Let us return to our side of the hill."
We started on our way home. I would like to if I might, interject a small commentary at this point. As I tell this story it must seem that I was well versed in the language of the Amatharians. I must confess that at the time I was not, although I count myself now, to be quite fluent in that beautiful language. For example, in the previous conversation between myself and Malagor, we had a great deal of trouble at first with the Amatharian terminology for the animal's mate, but after examining the context of the word, and a little impromptu tutelage by Malagor, I was able to piece together the meaning. So it was with a great deal of the language that I learned during my time with my alien friend. If I do not fully detail every element of my conversational education, please believe me when I say that it is not an intentional effort to make myself seem more intelligent. Rather it is just that in looking back I remember the content of our conversations rather than the exact wording.
Malagor and I made our way back around the mountain to our cliff camp. There we slept and then went out once again to fill our water skins from a small mountain brook, and to hunt for our dinner. This time Malagor let me stalk and hunt the game. He guided me, carefully giving me helpful instruction. I eventually managed to bring down a small rodent-like grazer which proved to be quite tasty.
During what seemed to me to be a few weeks, Malagor and I went hunting frequently and he seemed to take great pleasure in teaching me how to track and kill animals of all types. After a while I became relatively adept. I began to notice that when we hunted, we did not follow a random pattern. Each time, Malagor would choose a direction just to the left of the direction which we had taken upon the last hunt. While we hunted, he was surveying the land around us in a very systematic way, dividing it up like a giant pie, with us in the very center of the search pattern. On one occasion I asked him what we were searching for, but he seemed to clam up, and become positively morose for the rest of the trip, so I didn't ask him again. He had been very good to me, and indeed we had become close friends, so if there was something that bothered him too much to talk about, I wasn't going to pester him about it. After all, I had nothing else to do in the world of Ecos. So if Malagor wanted to conduct a search while we hunted for our game, what difference did it make to me?
One time when we out were hunting, we began tracking a particularly large bird-like animal about the size of a cow. Neither Malagor nor I had any idea whether it was edible, but we were beginning to tire of our usual catches, so we decided to experiment upon the unfortunate creature. We were still outside bow range of the beast, crouched in the tall grass, when the hair on the nape of my neck began to stand on end. I glanced at my arm and found that the small hairs there were acting in a similar fashion. Then I looked at my friend and almost laughed. He looked like he had just been blow-dried, every hair sticking straight out.
Malagor was looking at neither me nor our prey however. Then I noticed a distant hum and followed Malagor's gaze to discover its origin. Sailing along above the countryside at an altitude of about a thousand feet was the most remarkable vehicle that I have ever seen. It was many times the size of the largest modern aircraft carrier or battleship of earth, fully a mile long and nearly half that wide. It was only a few hundred feet tall over most of its span, but there was a tower rising a hundred or more stories from the top middle of the thing. The entire vehicle was painted black, and was bristling with weapons or instruments of some kind, and the closer it got, the more obvious it was that this was the source of the strange magnetism in the air. This was some kind of great cruiser riding through the air on a field of electrical energy.
"What is that thing?" I asked.
"It is a Zoasian Battleship,” replied Malagor.
"You never mentioned the Zoasians," I pointed out.
His voice became low.
"The Zoasians destroyed my people,” he said.
Chapter Four: The Battle
Malagor and I crouched in the high grass watching the mile long Zoasian battleship hum along in the sky. The great dreadnought cruised to a point about four miles away from us, and came slowly to a halt. I asked my friend if the Zoasians might have spotted us, as there seemed to be no other reason for the ship to have stopped, but he did not seem to think it likely. I asked him if the ship was equipped with radar or sonar, but he had no knowledge of those devices. I tried to explain them to him, but since I am neither a scientist nor engineer, I didn't do a very good job. Malagor seemed to get the gist of it, though he said that such technology was unknown in Ecos, or at least the part of it known to him. He assured me that the only detection apparatus aboard the great vessel were powerful telescopes manned by Zoasian observers.
We continued to watch the ship from our location for a very long time. It might have been an hour, or it might have been a week-- there was just no way for me to judge. As we waited, I strained my eyes to make out every detail possible on the fantastic vessel. The weapons were massive and futuristic in design, though possessing none of the simple beauty of the light rifles we carried. There were numerous structures and housings along the top and sides of the ship, but it was impossible to determine what the purpose of any individual compartment might be. In the foreword of the vessel was what I assumed to be an airstrip, lined with bizarre looking aircraft. This was somewhat of an assumption on my part, since they did not look at all like earthly planes, but I was later to be proven to be correct. I could see tiny figures moving around on deck but the distance was too great for me to make out any detail.
I was drawn away from my careful observation when Malagor tapped me on the shoulder. He directed my attention by pointing off into the distance. At first I could see little except the green band where the Ecosian landscape reached up to become the Ecosian sky. After a moment though, I saw a dot in the distance which steadily grew in size. It didn't take long for me to determine what the object was. It was a ship similar in size and method of locomotion to the great Zoasian battleship, and it was zooming toward the black ship at over one hundred miles per hour. Of course the eternal sun of Ecos makes the measure of miles per hour almost meaningless in terms of long distances covered, but it seems the best way for me to describe the velocities involved.
I glanced at the first ship and saw that it was turning its weaponry toward the interloper. The airstrip on the upper deck began spitting aircraft into the sky. It turned slowly like some great black beast crouching for a spring. It presented all its teeth to the enemy.
The second ship was close enough to observe clearly now. It was roughly the same shape as the Zoasian vessel, and seemed to have a similar array of armament. Instead of being the hollow black of the battleship though, it was painted navy blue with bright silver trim and highlights. From all over the craft were hung colorful banners and bright waving flags. Along the bow was a great golden insignia-- two crossed swords above a flaming sun. This ship too began disgorging squadrons of aircraft.
"Amatharians," said Malagor. "The banners on the ship are the colors of her knights. The insignia means that there is someone important on board."
"Why would they fly into battle if they were carrying someone important?" I asked.
"If an Amatharian sees a Zoasian, he will attack. If a Zoasian sees an Amatharian, he will attack. These two things are as sure as the sun in the sky."
The two ships began to fire their weaponry almost simultaneously, as the squadrons of fighter aircraft began to engage in a huge and deadly dogfight. The Zoasian armament consisted of a broad range of weapon types, from missiles to powerful cannon to a particularly ugly black ray. The Amatharian weaponry appeared to be all of one type, based on the same principles as the light rifles, with their churning bubbling liquid sunlight, although the shipboard guns fired light streams anywhere from one inch to one foot in diameter.
The battle went on and on. It seemed incredible that ships of even that size could withstand the punishment that those two did. Each took hit after hit from the enemy ship and its aircraft. Fighters were shot out of the sky right and left, and they dropped to the ground bursting into fireballs. Several of them crashed into the enemy ship, or into their own. Explosions rocked the battle-cruisers, and we could see tiny figures on the deck fighting fires and in many cases, losing those fights. After a while it seemed that most of the fighters were gone, victims of the ongoing conflict, but the two great dreadnoughts refused to give up. They kept pouring volley after volley into each other. As they did so, the battle began to slowly drift our way.
"I think that we had better find another vantage point." I said, as I started to gather our things together.
"Wait, look," said Malagor, pointing at the conflict.
It seemed that both ships had been damaged to the point where they were no longer under complete control. The Zoasian ship began to slowly twist away out of control. It was the Amatharian vessel though, it was now obvious, which had taken the greater damage. First it listed slowly to one side, then tilted over more and more, until it appeared as though it was a toy hung from a string attached to its bow. Then, slowly at first, but with rapidly increasing speed, the ship dropped from the sky. As it plowed into the ground below, it erupted into flame as great explosions rocked the countryside. It reminded me of the old film clips of the Hindenburg disaster, though on a much greater scale, and I could feel the heat of the explosion upon my face.
As the victims of the great disaster ran from the explosive fire and destruction, their enemy took after them. Apparently the Zoasian commander was unable to lower his ship, or even turn it so that its weapons could engage his surviving enemies. Instead, dozens of long ropes dropped from the bottom of the great battleship, and hundreds of Zoasian soldiers slid down to attack their remaining foes. The Amatharians though greatly outnumbered did not flee. They turned to face the conquerors. My heart went out to them. Then as if to hurl insult upon injury, the few remaining Zoasian fighter aircraft swept down from the sky and began to strafe them with the deadly black rays. This seemed to me a most cowardly act, and it was something that I could not stand. Pulling out my sword like some quixotic fool, I ran down the gentle slope of the countryside toward the raging battle, with little regard to my own hide.
I do not say that I am brave, and I don't like to think that I am a fool, but I must admit now that this particular action at the time was somewhat foolish, and perhaps somewhat brave, but it set into effect such a remarkable chain of events with consequences so important to my life, that I have never regretted it. In retrospect, I know that I heard Malagor calling after me to stop and to come back, but at the time my brain didn't consciously register him. I ran straight into the fray, and as I did so, I was able for the first time, to take in a great deal of information about the appearances of the Amatharians and the Zoasians, and though I did not ponder that information at the time, I will relay it to you now in the hope that it will enhance your appreciation for my subsequent actions.
The Zoasians were the further away of the two forces, but they were close enough for some important distinctions. For one thing they were large-- very large. They were about the same height as me. I am just over six feet, though they were more massive. They seemed to be about five feet wide at the shoulder, though I later learned that their clothing enhanced their width by about a foot. Even that day, at that moment, I had a sense that they were very, very heavy, a sense which was later to be confirmed. They weigh almost one thousand earthly pounds, too much for even my gravity-enhanced earthly muscles to lift. They were big and they were black. They were so black in fact, that at first they seemed to be nothing so much as great looming shadows, but then their features began to fill themselves in. They were reptiles, or something like a reptile. They were scaly, and slightly slower moving than humans. Although they had an upright form with two arms with two humanoid hands, and two massive legs with somewhat humanoid feet, they trailed behind them a thick powerful tale. At first I felt something vaguely familiar about their facial features, but I knew that they did not quite resemble the heads of a lizards. Then it struck me. Their faces were the faces of snakes, with the perpetual smile of the cold blooded killer.
The Amatharians were, as Malagor had said, much like me, or for that matter much like any humans. They were human, and but for a few racial characteristics, they could have seemed at home anywhere on earth. Those racial characteristics however, were a bit unearthly. They were tall, ranging in the six foot to seven foot range. Their hair was universally straight and black. The men wore it cut straight across the forehead and straight at the back of the neck. The women wore theirs in a variety of lengths, though in each case it was straight and evenly cut, whether at the shoulders or across the middle of the back. Facial hair was not in evidence, and I was later to learn is completely unknown among them. Their skin was blue in color, with a wide variation of shades. Some were as dark as the inside of a Teflon frying pan, while others were almost a baby blue. The clothing they wore was an interesting contradiction of utilitarianism and style. They wore a black body suit from their necks to their ankles, which was tighter, and of thinner material than the spandex biking pants that had been popular shortly before I left my home planet. Through the material, every muscle was visible as it strained to heft the swords which almost every Amatharian used in his defense. Over their body suit the knights of Amathar wore a tabard-- nothing more than a long strip of cloth eighteen inches wide, with a hole so that it fit over the head. It reached down to below the knees in front and in back, but was completely open on the sides. On both the front and back panels was emblazoned a great symbol, that was the coat of arms for that knight, and which was different from one to the other.