Author: Kirk Straughen
Synopsis: In an alien universe Taxa, navigator of the Nemsu, finds himself caught up in a hunt for the treasure of an ancient race. Space pirates, fierce battles and mortal danger are the stuff this tale is spun from. Read it at your peril!
Edit history: Minor changes were made to this story on 7 June 2021
Prolog
In the beginning there was non-being, becoming. A wine dark radiance emerged from this foaming chaos, its dim light the cool purple void.
The void gave birth to glowing nuclei – golden helices imbedded in lucid spheres of force - that threw off spinning ethereal loops of pearly light. These expanded in concentric rings, condensed and then gave birth to worlds impaled upon their ghostly bands – strange orbs that rotated slowly like beads upon a string.
The central nuclei blazed with golden light. They cast their limpid rays upon the infant worlds. The worlds gave birth to life, life to a diversity of forms. Intelligence emerged, and thus a universe, not ours, was born.
Chapter 1: Corsair of the Void
The ether-ship, Nemsu, traversed the gulf between the worlds. It was a thing of strange beauty - a huge pentagonal dodecahedron whose faceted sides, like a carmine jewel, reflected the central nucleus’ aureate rays.
Once more her drive-crystal was attuned to the emanations of Yaxkan - one of the quartet worlds of the second ring in the system of Youwon. The man tall icosahedron in the vessel’s core hissed with vibrant pulsing crimson light that drew the merchantman homeward bound like iron to a loadstone where, upon arrival, the huge brass gimbals in which the blazing jewel was mounted would slowly turn the gem, and thus gently lower the Nemsu to the soil of this emerald sphere.
To Taxa, her navigator, this was nothing new. Many a time he had voyaged between his home planet of Yaxkan and Besminur, chief of the sextet worlds in the third band of this ring of orbs.
What was new was the turmoil in his heart. Could one find more than earthy love in the arms of a whore of Etra? He wasn’t sure. Her ornate mask had hidden all but her eyes (in accordance with the customs of that strange land) but in them he seemed to see the play of emotions that were other than base desire.
By the nine thousand gods, he thought. I must be a fool to think such thoughts. I neither saw her face nor know her name, yet her presence lingers about me like the scent of fine perfume.
He gazed in solitude upon the purple void's expanse, separated from its vast immensity by the vitreous cupola of the observation turret. The dusky emptiness stretched out before him in illimitable depths and distant nuclei, like phosphorescent gems, seemed to beckon him with the siren call of unknown worlds.
The chronometer chimed, breaking his reflections upon the strangeness of his mood. It was time to check the ship’s position relative to the celestial spheres.
Looking down, Taxa gazed upon the orrery – a model of the planetary system set beneath the glassy floor. Its intricate mechanisms mimicked the course of the twelve worlds in their orbits, and traced out the ship’s path – a glowing crimson dot – upon a graduated silver wire. According to the apparatus, they had traveled only a fraction of the distance home. Their speed was still slow - only a few times that of a running man, but would slowly increase to stupendous velocity over the coming months.
The world-finder – a device more resembling an abstract sculpture of prisms, mirrors and lenses than an instrument of science – automatically swung upon its pivot, bringing itself to bear upon the quadrant of the heavens where Yaxkan should be at this appointed hour.
The emerald world loomed before Taxa’s eyes as he focused the instrument upon the distant orb, and saw it slowly rotating about its faintly glowing band like a wheel upon its axis.
His heart gladdened at the sight of her crimson seas kissing the emerald continents. Clouds, stained golden by the light of the central nucleus, obscured much of Vez, the empire of his people.
On course as usual, he thought.
Grabbing the communication cord, he was about to ring the True Course signal through when something in the void drew his eye - a swiftly moving shimmer against the backdrop of its purple vastness. Using the manual override, he swung the device upon the anomaly, his deft hands tuning the mechanism until the object stood sharply in his vision.
Taxa sucked in his breath sharply. His body tensed and his hands unconsciously tightened on the instrument. The thing was a corsair of the void – long and lean with predatory grace. The camouflage of her tapering cylindrical body rendered her almost invisible in the purple expanse. From her stern projected slender tubes that shot forth pastel light – her propulsion rays which lanced the abyss of worlds with their glowing shafts.
Taxa cursed violently as the corsair swooped down upon the Nemsu like a falcon upon a dove. With another oath he grasped the alarm cord. He was too late. The pirate darted in like a speeding arrow. The attacker struck. There was a tremendous bone jarring impact as the buccaneer’s ram punctured the metallic glass of the hull. The force of the collision hurled Taxa heavily to the deck.
His senses swam as a dark tide of unconsciousness threatened to engulf him. Fighting off the seductive blackness, Taxa struggled to his feet. Fear gripped him. Already, he could hear the sound of fighting. The corsair’s hollow ram, lodged deep in the heart of the merchantman, would have opened like the beak of some monstrous bird. In his mind’s eye he saw it disgorging hordes of rampant, wild eyed buccaneers, their savage blood crazed countenances more frightening than demons from the lowest hell.
Face grim and heart thudding, he quickly descended the turret’s spiral staircase and emerged upon a shocking scene of unmitigated brutality. The open space of the command deck was alive with cursing men locked in uninhibited violence. Pirates and crew exchanged blow for blow. Men fell, their gaping wounds spewing blood and washing the deck with sickening amber gore.
Terror sank its ice-cold talons into Taxa’s heart when he saw the sight before him, and it was only by an utmost act of self-control that he fought off its debilitating grip.
Courage, he thought. My crewmates need my aid as we teeter on this precipice, and I can’t help them if overcome by fear.
Taxa glimpsed one pirate. The man was massive, brutal of feature. The barbarian charged at him in a bullish rush. The buccaneer’s armor was as black as death. He howled like a fiend. His huge axe glittered with diamond hardness as it swept down upon the navigator.
Whipping up his two handed mace, Taxa barely blocked the vicious blow. The navigator gasped in agony as he was driven to one knee by the terrific impact of the savage stroke. Desperately, he jabbed upwards into his opponent’s groin. His foe parried the blow with such violence that the Yaxkanite’s weapon was nearly torn from his hand.
The pirate screamed a triumphant war-cry. His axe whistled a death-tune as it fell brutally upon Taxa. The navigator flung himself forward. He slammed into his opponent’s shins. The buccaneer crashed to the deck. Taxa staggered up. The pirate lurched to his feet, snarling savagely. Both men came together in a clash of sparking, whirling steel.
Taxa’s arms were fast becoming numb from blocking his foe’s sledgehammer blows. The sweat of fear and frantic effort drenched him. He knew he couldn’t withstand the savage onslaught for much longer. The pirate barked a brutal laugh. Again his flashing axe swept towards the Yaxkanite in a furious decapitating stroke.
But this time Taxa ducked the wild blow and rammed the vertical spike on his mace through a chink in his foe’s segmented cuirass. The man fell back, howling in pain and rage as yellow blood spurted from the deep wound. Taxa advanced. The battle swirled round him. He brought his mace down with all his might upon the pirate’s helmet. Simultaneously, his foe launched a desperate swinging stroke. The casque cracked under the navigator’s mighty blow as if it were a wooden bowl.
The buccaneer fell, blood gushing from his cloven skull. But the flat of his descending axe caught Taxa a glancing blow upon his unprotected head. The Yaxkanite reeled. He collapsed and was dragged by darkness into unconsciousness’ ebon realm.
Chapter 2: A Choice of Gruesome Deaths
The transition was gradual, like a diver swimming up from sable depths to the light above. A glow crept under his eyelids, unwanted but persistent, levering them open.
A light-gem in the ceiling cast its cool radiance upon his prone form, illuminating the cold gray cell. Taxa was alone, and his head felt as if a herd of stampeding karm were running about inside his skull. He cursed venomously and gingerly touched his throbbing pate. He wasn’t sure he was grateful to be alive.
Lying still, Taxa began to employ the Inner Healing taught him by his father, who was a priest of Ulim, one of the many philosophical sects prominent in Vez. After a time the pain began to ease as the curative processes of his body accelerated under the direction of his will.
Soon, he was able to sit up and with the alleviation of his agony began to consider his situation. The pirates could only have kept him alive for one reason – sport. They were a notoriously cruel lot, especially when a prize yielded little in the way of treasure to sate their rapacious greed. The Nemsu had been carrying nothing of extraordinary value, only spices such as memna and tez, and a small collection of ancient Besminuran documents for the Prince of Vetu, who was given to collecting such things.
Looks like I’m in for a rough time, he thought, grimly. Hopefully, I and whoever else survived can face our end with fortitude, and show these villains how the men of Vez can die.
Brave thoughts indeed, but would his actions be their equal? Of that he wasn’t so sure.
As if on cue the door slammed open, making him start violently. The Yaxkanite stifled a curse as a being stepped within. The weird creature was a native of Tekyis, one of the twin worlds of the second ring. It regarded him with an inscrutable air. The gray horny plates on its gaunt body, freshly polished, shone dully in the soft light. The face, an expressionless bony mask, was emotionless as a stone carving. Even so, it radiated a dark aura of menace that caused chills to dance up and down Taxa’s spine.
The navigator eyed the thing with wary tenseness. These creatures, possessing venomous claws and many times the speed and strength of men, tolerated no company other than their kind. They were the very essence of death itself manifest in humanoid form.
That it had not attacked him forthwith, he realized, was because of the murim set upon its bony brow, just above the cone-shaped infrared organ with which it sensed the world. This device – The murim - was a diadem whose single blue jewel gave off a hypnotic emanation, which made the creature subservient to its master’s will.
The Tekyisan beckoned Taxa, and he slowly stood, his mind swirling with impotent plans of action.
Unarmed, there is nothing I can do against that thing, he thought. Best follow it for now, and hope some chance presents itself.
The creature ushered him from the room into a gangway lined with doors whose appearance suggested they gave egress to stately cabins rather than prison cells, and it was obvious to him that he was in that section of the corsair reserved for her officers and special prisoners. He wasn’t in any way flattered by the thought, nor did the grim lines upon his face relax.
Following the gangway with the Tekyisan stalking behind, he soon entered a spacious room paneled in fragrant nakris wood whose puce timber had been carved with intricate arabesques of startling complexity.
Before him in the room’s center stood a tableau of seven roguish figures in richly embroidered garments of multitudinous hues. Festooned with sparkling jewels and cunningly wrought ornaments of precious metal, they exuded a gaudy richness that bespoke of great wealth and outlandish taste, a stark contrast to Taxa's simple uniform of red and black.
The chief among them was a man of mighty thews and the cruel predatory continence of a raptor. His hairless lavender skin marked him a native of Masmoon (a lesser world of the third band). The rogue smirked at the sight of the Yaxkanite as he stepped forward and gave the prisoner a mocking bow.
“I am Torquimis, Captain of the Nemesis,” he rasped in patona, the lingua franca of the system. “Perhaps you have heard of me?”
“What man hasn’t,” replied Taxa, coolly, hoping his voice did not betray his fear, for the buccaneer’s name was a byword for wonton cruelty. “What have you done with my crewmates?”
Troquimis’ scarred face split into a broad grin, which would have been congenial but for the hardness of his black and narrowed eyes.
“The survivors entertained my crew before departing to the Realm of Eternal Shadow. You, on the other hand, have been reserved for our pleasure.” And then, with a sweeping gesture that encompassed his men who were cast in the same hard mould as he.
“My officers, young sir. We’re one short – you, having slain Besu, my First. My ill humor is only tempered by this,” he continued, with a malicious grin as he possessively caressed an ancient scroll tucked in his black sash. “So I’ll offer you a choice of gruesome deaths …”
Taxa’s bold laugh interrupted his enemy. “If I’m to die then I’ll die fighting you. If I win I’ll have your ship, if I lose you’ll have my head. It seems a fair exchange. Are you man enough to take the challenge?”
It was a daring speech (mostly bravado), but he knew he was as good as dead, and hoped to goad the pirate into killing him quickly rather than by slow torture.
Now, if only I could feel so brave, he thought, strangely amused by his desperate bluster which sounded so hollow to his own ears.
The corsair captain gave a hearty laugh and smote his thigh. His officers echoed his dark mirth, punctuating it with insulting comments that questioned Taxa’s manliness.
“I almost regret that I must kill you,” grinned the pirate captain. “Slave,” he said, turning to the Tekyisan. “Fetch me my dueling axes and we’ll see if this fellow can match worthy words with equal blows.”
The creature departed and the two men regarded each other in silence. Taxa measured his opponent – the breadth of his shoulders, the depth of his chest, the bulging muscles of his bare arms, a desperate plan forming in his mind.
I’ll avenge my comrades before I die, he thought, grimly. It’s the least I can do before I meet their fate.
For his part, Torquimis gazed upon the young man with contempt - his dark bronze hair and skin were displeasing to the Masmoonian’s prejudiced eyes and, though of a tall athletic build, the Yaxkanite lacked the mighty thews the pirate considered a sign of manly strength.
I’ll slice him in two with a single stroke, was his scornful thought.
Returning with the dueling axes – broad headed weapons with metal hafts - the Tekyisan handed one to the grinning buccaneer and the other to Taxa. This was the moment the navigator had been tensely waiting for. His lithe form moved with swift and surprising speed as he grasped the axe and struck the murim in one fleet and fluid blow that shattered the crystal to sparkling shards. Then he threw himself to safety upon the floor as the creature staggered back under the impact of the unforeseen attack.
There was a moment of horrified silence as the import of his actions registered upon the pirate's minds – the creature was free of its controlling crystal, and knew it.
The room exploded into wild uproar and the former slave into violent motion. It fell upon the buccaneers in a frenzied blur of vengeance. In less than one second three men fell beneath its envenomed claws that left their bodies writhing in agony upon the floor.
Howling with rage, Torquimis struck at Taxa’s prone form. The Yaxkanite rolled aside. The axe missed him by an inch. The pirate leader spewed vile oaths as the flashing blade buried itself deeply in the intricate parquetry of the deck. Springing to his feet, Taxa countered with a lusty stroke. Bent over and unable to pull his weapon free, Torquimus caught the full force of the blow upon his back. He was driven to the floor by the smashing impact of the heavy weapon.
Chaos reigned. Pirates swung at the Tekyisan, who moved among them like a wrathful ghost – its outline blurred by speed. Taxa caught movement from the edge of vision. He spun about and barely blocked another howling pirate’s brutal slash. A quick chop felled the man and then he bolted for the exit cutting down several pirates in his path. With breathless haste he slammed the hatch and wedged it shut with his axe.
The alarm gong sounded its discordant cry; and the tramp of feet came to Taxa’s ears. He turned like a hound at bay, spitting curses. Other pirates, not yet visible, were racing up the passage.
He tried a door. It was locked! Another portal yielded to his desperate touch. Wrenching it open he entered the night dark room and slammed it shut. Pressing his ear to the door he heard the racing buccaneers swiftly pass his hiding place. Taxa relaxed slightly, only to tense again as a blade was pressed against his throat with frightening suddenness.
Chapter 3: This Gauntlet of Enemies
An efficient hand roved over his body looking for weapons. Finding none, the pressure of the blade eased as who ever it was stepped back to unhood a light-gem, which flooded the room with its soft radiance.
“You may turn around but, if you value your life, make no other movement, for I can cast a dagger with great speed and accuracy.”
Taxa turned and stared. The speaker was a young woman, a Besminuran. Her skin, the color of antique gold, glowed softly in the gentle light. The girl’s cat-like eyes, pure turquoise (as were her lips and the nipples of her bare breasts), widened in surprise, perhaps recognition? Her face was elfin and framed by frizzy translucent hair the shade of rubies that glowed faintly with refracted of light.
A crimson girdle, slung low on her shapely hips, supported her only apparel – a narrow strip of black gauze that hung between her thighs. She was very beautiful, and also a horii* (as indicated by the white triangular tattoo on her forehead) – one who is born locked in a single gender – a freak by the standards of her own people, and therefore made a pleasure-slave by the prejudice of ancient custom.
Taxa knew his situation was desperate – trapped within by an armed beauty; pirates without hunting him like beasts of prey. He wondered if he should make a frantic lunge and hope her vaunted skill was just mere bluff.
But before he could weigh the matter, the door burst violently open and sent Taxa sprawling to the floor. Staggering upright he beheld the frightening sight Torquimis. The corsair captain’s scarred face was livid with rage. It was as gruesome in appearance as the Tekyisan’s slimy blood dripping from the axe that quivered in his knotted fist. The pirate’s eyes were as hard and glinting as the shirt of chain mail that had saved his life which could be glimpsed through rents in his gore stained apparel.
Torquimis’ eyes blazed with bloodlust as his wild gaze locked upon the navigator. His mouth opened and closed in inarticulate fury at the death of all his officers. Foam gathered at the corners of his lips and his nostrils flared like a savage beast. His barrel chest heaved with the violence of his raging hate.
All this Taxa took in at a glance as the pregnant tableaux held for but a moment, and then pirate chief was upon him in a blistering rush of wild violence. The Yaxkanite ducked and the singing axe stirred his hair. Torquimis cursed, and then grunted as Taxa sunk his fist into the man’s belly with such force that the fiend felt the blow through his armor. The pirate's weapon spun away and slammed into the wall. The navigator drove his knee into the hunched corsair’s face, rocking him back on his heels and sending him crashing to the floor.
Torquimus was on his feet in an instant, his fury numbing him to the ache in his gut and the blood oozing from his mouth. With a roar he hurled himself upon Taxa like a savage predator upon its prey. Hands, like crashing rams burst through the younger man's defenses. They closed about the navigator’s throat like bands of iron as both men crashed to the deck.
The Yaxkanite battered the pirate’s face with a desperate rain of wild blows that laid ugly cuts open above his eyes. Torquimis bleeding mouth split into a satanic grin. His massive hands grew tighter. Taxa gasped for breath. His fists faltered. His eyes grew wide with the fear of death. He couldn’t breath.
Is this the end? He thought as his vision began to darken as with weakening hands he tried to prize apart the noose of fingers about his purpling throat.
The girl watched in frozen horror as a raging storm of emotions surged within in her heaving breast. To whom was her greater loyalty? Was it to her feared and hated pirate master or this man she hardly knew? She knew she must act quickly, or not at all. Her heart, perhaps her soul, hung in the balance. With a savage cry, she made her choice. The girl leapt. She flung herself upon the corsair’s back and pressed her dagger to his throat.
“Release him or you die,” she hissed. And to the other pirates milling at the door: “Back you lackeys. Drop your weapons and get to your bunks, or by the gods I’ll slit his throat.”
Torquimis cursed sulphureously. “Do as she says,” he cried as he released his grip about his victim’s throat. The sting of the keen blade had cut through his madness with sobering speed. “Vesula, you treacherous she-vanth,” he glowered.
The girl uttered an ironic laugh as she watched the pirates reluctantly retreat. “No more so than you,” came her sharp reply.
I’ve leapt across an abyss and can’t turn back, she thought. Fate willing, I’ll reach the other side.
Then, turning to Taxa, who still lay on the floor massaging his neck and gasping for breath: “Quickly, bind his hands with cords from those hangings. We haven’t a moment to lose.”
Struggling to his feet, the shaken navigator spurred his unsteady limbs into motion, all the while wondering at the strange turn of events. Quickly, he bound Torquimis, who stabbed him with venomous eyes and cursed him with a stream of vile oaths. Then, hauling the snarling pirate to his feet the Yaxkanite shoved him out the door by prodding him with his own axe. Vesula followed close behind, her sharp eyes alert for sudden ambush.
“I swear I’ll seek my vengeance from the grave if I must,” growled Torquimis, furious with impotent rage.
Vesula ignored his outburst, as did Taxa, who glanced at the girl. I feel we have met before, he thought. But where, and why did she save my life? Never mind. Best I watch for lurking pirates who no doubt plot our deaths.
“The falkora* are this way,” whispered the girl.
“Are any accessible from the power room?” asked Taxa, a plan forming in his mind.
“Yes, but the way is longer.”
“Be that as it may, we’ll go there. Lead on.”
She gave him a questioning look, but said nothing, sensing that he had something in mind he could not yet reveal least the savage pirate captain and his lurking corsairs overhear his plan. Prodding their snarling captive ahead of them they cautiously traversed the corsair ship’s central gangway. It was a nerve-wracking journey, for here and there buccaneers still lurked in the shadows, menacing them with sinister silence, eying them with predatory looks, waiting for an opportunity to pounce and rend like the animals they were.
The tension mounted. Slight sounds and strange shadows startled them, much to Torquimis’ amusement, and it was only by using him as a shield that they passed through this gauntlet of savage enemies.
After a time, they entered the power room and Taxa gazed in wonder at the huge mechanisms ranged about them. He had never been within a Masmoonan ship before, but had gained an understanding of how they worked from talking with their crews at spaceport taverns.
Even if we use a falkor to escape, thought Taxa. The Nemesis may overhaul us, and the boldness of the buccaneers shows Torquimis’ value as a hostage is almost at an end, for the loyalty of a pirate crew is a most uncertain thing. What I am about to do is virtually suicidal, but circumstances force my hand.
His searching gaze fell upon a large silver colored sphere – the boiler for the ship’s generators – that occupied the center of the room. From its base protruded a slim graduated plunger that controlled the distance between two thin metallic discs – one of raythnis, the other of uthoris - that hung suspended within the globe’s core.
Taxa knew that when these elements were in proximity, their radiations began to interact producing increasing temperatures as the distance decreased, eventually liberating a tremendous burst of energy if united for too great a time.
To prevent this catastrophic explosion, a flange about the plunger limited the inward movement of its discs, and it was this flange that Taxa now attacked. With a swift blow of his axe he broke it in two, then rammed the device to its fullest extent and snapped off what little remained.
For a moment Torquimis looked on in horror, temporarily paralyzed by the knowledge his ship was doomed. Then, with a wild cry, he flung back his head. The cunning blow caught Vesula by surprise. The pirate’s skull crashed against her chin with such speed and force that it sent her spinning senseless to the deck.
Taxa spun about. He cursed at the sight of the fallen girl and swung his axe in a wild blow at Torquimis. But the pirate captain had broken his bonds with a terrific surge of furious strength. He lunged and caught the flashing axe by its haft before it could cleave him to the jaw.
The navigator’s boot lashed out. The pirate howled when it thudded against his shin. Spewing oaths, Torquimis jerked his opponent off balance. Taxa stumbled. His foe tripped him. He clashed to the floor. The buccaneer ripped the weapon from his grasp and swung it down upon him in a savage blow.
Taxa rolled. The axe splintered decking, stuck fast. The Yaxkanite sprang at his enemy. Both men crashed against the silver globe, grappling furiously. An ominous radiance grew and grew within the boiler’s heart as the brawlers rained fearsome blows with fists, knees and elbows upon each other. Searing forces discharged between the discs with increasing intensity as the roiling energies mounted towards their flaming zenith.
Taxa silently cursed as he ducked a wild haymaker. Every second their escape was delayed could prove fatal.
“I’ll see you in Hekmeth's* realm,” raged Torquimis, as the gauges swung into the danger zone and triggered the alarm gongs to voice their warning cry.
*Footnotes:
Besminurans are normally hermaphrodites. The yonim (sexual organ) is composed of eight fleshy turquoise petals that form a bud-shaped protuberance about four inches in length and three in diameter.
During the female stage of the sixty-day sexual cycle, the yonim opens like a flower during arousal to disclose the vaginal entrance; however, during the male stage, the yonim remains closed during arousal, and elongates to about six inches forming a phallus-like structure that is used for impregnation, the sperm being discharged from the internal testes through ducts at the tip of the organ.
With the female version of the horii (about 60% are female), the testes have not developed; the yonim is shorter in length (about two inches) and also the same color as the rest of the skin. In the male version, the yonim is fused, golden in color, and never opens because the internal female organs have not developed.
Falkora (the plural of falkor) are small but swift attack craft that, in emergencies, double as escape modules.
Hekmeth: The Masmoonian god of the underworld
Chapter 4: Treasure of the Elder Race
Vesula rose dazedly to an elbow. She saw Torquimis trip Taxa and wrench the axe from the deck as he tumbled to the floor. Her heart seemed to miss a beat as the pirate raised his weapon to deliver the killing blow. With a gasping cry of knifing fear she snatched her weighty dagger from the deck and made a desperate cast. The throw was not her best for the pommel, not the point, struck the corsair captain’s skull. Nonetheless, it sent him crashing unconscious to the floor.
From where he lay, Taxa saw the pirate hoard burst in and charge towards them, their glinting weapons poised for brutal murder. The mechanisms of the ship began to howl like a dying beast, echoing the cries of the maddened, fear crazed men. Suddenly, a pipe burst, spraying the yelling mob with scalding vapors. Acrid fumes filled the air. Bedlam reigned.
Quickly, Vesula helped Taxa to his feet. She shoved the war-axe into his hand, then snatched up the scroll that was still lodged in Torquimis’ sash, thinking: You owe me this at least, oh spawn of demons. And then aloud:
“This way, she cried. “And hurry or we’re lost.”
Stumbling through the swirling vapors, they found an airlock that opened under Vesula’s knowing hand. A screeching pirate, like a wrathful demon, loomed from the churning mist and swung his axe with a lusty stroke. Taxa blocked the blow. He countered swiftly and split the man’s snarling bearded face with his weapon.
Taxa cursed. Through the roiling noxious vapors he dimly glimpsed more wild-eyed pirates racing for him in an overwhelming tide. Somewhere an explosion boomed. The ship gave a convulsive shudder that tumbling them into the lock. Through the second valve they raced, the sound of yelling pirates hot upon their heels spurring them to greater effort. They gained egress to the falkor. Vesula slammed the hatch on a buccaneer’s arm. He howled. Other pirates piled up behind him as they fought to gain access to the escape craft.
The girl uttered a frightened cry. The hatch was being forced open by weight of numbers. Another arm snaked in. Taxa’s axe flashed twice. Pirates screamed. Two bloody limbs splattered on the floor. The couple slammed the portal closed. Vesu dashed to the controls. She punched a button and the craft, like a startled bird, took flight.
An explosion of light flowered in the void, blasting the corsair to a thousand whirling fragments and strewing her wreckage across heaven’s breadth as the smaller vessel sought to outrace the all-consuming flare.
Vesula sat tensely within the speeding ship. Her painted nails sunk into Taxa’s hand as she gripped it. He was oblivious to the pain, for his eyes, like hers were locked on the image disc that showed the frightful scene with such dreadful clarity that made both call upon all the gods they knew.
The explosion, like a flaming maw, expanded before their terrified gaze. It was like an incandescent monster that sought to engulf them within its fiery maw. The sphere of raging light expanded. It swelled dreadfully, flinging off jagged bolts of energy as it encroached upon the hurtling craft. Vesula buried her face in Taxa’s shoulder. The grim faced man placed his arms about the trembling girl. It seemed the end. An eternity of horror had them in its grip.
Then slowly their falkor pulled away. The roiling conflagration diminished with distance as their tiny craft flashed towards the safety of Vesula’s world. For a time they sat in calming silence, simply luxuriating in being alive as they watched Besminur loom before them, its amber seas and vermilion continents becoming more distinct with every passing moment.
Slowly, Taxa became aware of Vesula’s body pressed against his. The pressure of her curvaceous figure infused him with the presence of her vibrant beauty and again that strange sense of familiarity came upon him, even stronger now, that sundered all inhibitions circumstance had placed between them.
He touched her face, his gentle fingers tracing the lines of its splendor. Their eyes met, their lips joined, souls entwining in a timeless moment of wonder. Then the spell was broken, and she turned her face away.
“I will not love you,” she whispered, her heart a maelstrom of turmoil. “For love brings troubles of its own, and I’ve had my full of suffering.”
“But to suffer without love, is that not the greater tragedy?” was his insightful reply.
She picked up the scroll and handed it to him, sadness shadowing her face. “I’ll tell you the truth about all of what has happened, and then we’ll see how you feel about me.
“The Jewel of Besminur is a treasure of the Elder Race, a long gone people of my world. Legend says it holds the secret of immortality, and many have sought it through the ages, Torquimis included. Indeed, it was his life-long obsession, and he spared no amount of time and expense tracking down all clues as to its whereabouts.
“This scroll is a map that leads to its location, or so Torquimis believed. It was recently found in the vast archives of the Temple of Wisdom at Massan, but was quickly stolen and made its way by a circuitous route to a dealer in antiquities in Etra, eventually being purchased by agents for the Prince of Vetu who, I suspect, engineered the entire affair.
“Do you think that chance alone made you the target of the Nemesis? How do you think Torquimis knew where to lie in wait? He knew your course, that’s how. And how do you think he obtained that knowledge?”
Taxa’s face assumed a shocked expression. “You were that woman in Etra,” was his startled reply as his mind churned with contrary emotions. “You betray me, save my life, and yet say you will not love me. I am greatly confused.”
“A slave must obey her master or be killed,” was her hot rejoinder. Then, more gently: “But when I saw you dying before my eyes I … I was compelled to act. I have known many lovers but never felt this way before. I am as confused as you and also, a little afraid.”
Taxa sighed. Odd, I should hate her, he thought. But I don’t. Still, love is a strange thing that not even the great sages fully understand. Best change the subject for now, and give her time to think.
Unrolling the map he laid it on the control board and studied it carefully. It was very old, and faded almost to illegibility. Although the hieroglyphics were meaningless to Taxa, it was a masterpiece of the cartographer’s art and was sufficiently detailed for him to identify familiar Besminuran landmarks.
Vesula studied the map with him; relieved he had moved on to other things.
“Here is the Bay of Natoor,” he said. “and there, in the middle, the Island of Nashret. Note the golden glyph in the island’s center. It’s the only one of this color on the map, and therefore may be significant.”
Vesula looked thoughtful, and then replied excitedly: “I do not know that symbol, but Nashret in my tongue translates as ‘jewel’, deriving as it does from ‘neshet’, which means the same in toparr, the language that was spoken by the Elder Race. There are also ruins of great antiquity on the island. I do believe we have solved the mystery.”
Taxa was skeptical that the Jewel contained the secret of immortality, for his philosophy saw death as a natural and inevitable consequence of life, but Vesula’s excitement was infectious and, despite his earlier misgivings, he found himself saying with a grin:
“Then let us go there at once, for I have a sudden urge to see this wonder.”
**********
Like a feather, their craft drifted down towards the island, and on the horizon both could see the orbital band impinging upon the globe. Here, where its ghostly circuit touched the world, strange forces reacted with the orb’s own field producing a wondrous coruscation: It was a kaleidoscope of opalescent light whose emanations shot forth in rays of brilliant color that tinted heaven’s vault with peacock hues and crowned Besminur in radiant glory.
Taxa watched the image disc intently - the vessel’s low speed now made them most vulnerable to attack. Suddenly, another falkor swept down upon them, coming out of the blazing light, its four mechanical talons extended for the kill.
Taxa cried a desperate warning. Vesula rolled their craft belly up. She stabbed another button and the metallic claws of their own ship sprang from its keel like glittering scythes. The two craft collided with shattering force. The terrific impact was partially absorbed by resilient springs supporting each hull’s kinetic shields, but even so man and girl were jarred violently by the frightening collision.
Claws dug into metal, shields crumpled, sparks flew. The two falkora, like iron hawks, became locked in a deadly tumbling roll. The craft clawed each other as if birds of prey. Long lances telescoped from their bellies and the pilot of each craft thrust at the other. Vesula’s forehead was beaded with sweat as she fenced with her opponent.
The metallic stings rang against each other. Thrusts and ripostes came in quick succession. The girl glimpsed an opening. She thrust. Her point speared through the other’s hull, injecting a volatile toxic gas to kill the occupants within. But the victory was short lived for the enemy pierced her guard and also scored a fatal hit.
Chapter 5: Ancient Ruins
Vesula cursed. “We’re entangled and can’t break free,” she cried. Taxa coughed. The stench of noxious vapors tainted the air. In the image disc he saw they were falling closer and closer in a dizzy plunge towards the island’s rugged heights. Death was closing in from every point.
Desperately, the girl jerked the lever that released the forward section of their craft. It fell away, tumbling to the hard earth far below. Nausea and fear gripped Taxa with violent hands. Then parachutes burst from the nosecone halting their headlong plunge, and they were slammed them into their padded seats with jarring force.
Taxa fought off the encroaching darkness threatening to devour his senses. He was deathly ill from the gas that filled his lungs with burning vapors. Terror was upon him for he felt strength and life being swept away by the deadly poison tide coursing through his veins. Fingers trembling with fear and weakness, he fumbled for the antidote, wrenched free the vial’s stopper and, with shaking hands, poured its contents down his throat.
Suddenly, his fading mind realized the girl was insensible. She couldn’t save herself. Like a drowning man, he clung to the shreds of consciousness. He grasped another vial. His hands trembled violently from the poison as he edged the antidote towards the girl. The tiny bottle nearly slipped from between his palsied fingers. He cursed, tightened his grip upon the vial. His arm felt as if leaden weights were hanging from it. Taxa’s vision swam. Desperately, he drew upon all his remaining strength. With a mighty effort through darkening vision he forced the dose between Vesula’s pale lips, and then collapsed into oblivion’s ebon realm.
**********
With a groan Vesula opened her eyes. Light filtered through the portholes illuminating the interior of the gently swaying cabin. Their seats were now horizontal, and the bulkhead had become the floor. She turned to Taxa, and uttered a heartfelt prayer of thanks that he still lived. He stirred feebly, and she shook him awake.
“We’re down. There isn’t time to spare. We must depart. I’ve no doubt that was Torquimis who attacked us. He has studied the map, as have we, and he’s no fool. We’ll have to find him and kill him, or be forever fearful of knives lurking in the dark.”
A cold chill went up Taxa’s spine. Not because of her words, or any reluctance to kill the pirate chief, but at the feral gleam in her eyes as she uttered them.
She’s a contrast of many facets, that’s for sure, he thought. The girl’s a strange study of dark depths and gleaming heights. Then aloud:
“I agree. We must move quickly. I’ll grab those dart-throwers clamped to the wall. You gather some supplies, and we’ll be off.”
As Vesula assembled the supplies and opened the hatch, Taxa removed the dart-throwers and their ammunition from the racks. These weapons were tubular in form, and at the end of each was a lever that also served as a stock. Pumping the lever actuated the mechanism that compressed a powerful spring within the barrel until it engaged a catch, which was released by the firing stud when pressed.
The ammunition consisted of poison filled darts, whose tips were capped for safety. These were muzzle loaded and, when fired, were accurate to about fifty yards.
Their preparations completed, both stepped from the cabin and looked warily about. The forward section of the ship hung a few feet above the ground, for its parachutes of non-conductive material had become caught in the tall dedosa trees of the island’s forest.
These strange growths, whose knobby gray trunks rose about them like woody pillars, were surmounted by fan-shaped leaves of vermilion hue that crackled with electric discharges - their unique defense against those creatures that sought to feed upon them.
Vesula consulted her pathfinder – a small lucid sphere in which floated a triangle of green metal whose tip pointed at markings about the globe’s equator.
“This way,” she said, heading off into the forest. “The ancient ruins are not far.”
“If so, and the Jewel is there, why has it not been found before?”
The girl uttered a bitter laugh. “The peasants of this remote region eke out their incurious lives, noses buried in the dirt like the digging sticks they use. The ruins are held in superstitious awe, and therefore avoided. I should know for I was born among them.” And then, with a touch of bitterness: “Oh, what a strange homecoming this is.”
Her eyes grew distant as memories, like phantom players, conjured visions of lost innocence upon the theater of her mind and all the while Taxa wondered what deep wounds upon her soul still lay unhealed.
They had traversed about a hundred yards when something stirred the undergrowth to their left. The couple halted. They tensed, weapons raised. The foliage seemed to explode as a heavy body burst from concealment in a savage charge. Taxa fired. He missed. The creature bore down upon them, roaring madly. Vesula discharged her weapon. The dart lodged harmlessly in its horn. The girl screamed as the monster leapt at her. Taxa hurled himself upon Vesula and shoved her from the path of the hurtling beast. Man and girl tumbled to the ground as it rushed madly passed, missing them by a hair’s breadth.
The thing skidded to a halt, then turned and charged again, bellowing furiously. Taxa leapt to one side. He jerked the axe from the harness on his back and waved madly to attract the enraged beast's attention.
“Don’t move,” he cried. “I’ll draw its ire.”
Vesula watched in horror as the thing bore down upon him. Frantically she pumped the lever to compress her weapon’s spring and prayed that whatever he planned to do would work. At the last possible moment Taxa leapt aside, twisted, and brought the axe down aiming for the creature’s neck.
Disaster struck – he slipped and missed, fell heavily. The axe spun from his hand as he struck the ground. The beast turned upon him. It snorted and pawed the earth with its wicked claws. Taxa scrambled to his feet as the brute lowered its trident-shaped horn. The thing snorted. It charged. Vesula fired. Taxa leapt aside. The dart struck the creature’s rump. The thing bellowed in agony. Its legs buckled mid stride and it ploughed head first into the loamy soil where it expired in frightful shudders as the burning toxin knifed through its shaggy russet body.
The girl rushed breathlessly to Taxa as he climbed unsteadily to his feet and leaned against a tree. “That was a very brave and very foolish thing to do,” she admonished. “I had forgotten this is the mating season of the azu, when those in the male stage of their cycle are most dangerous.”
He took her hand, kissed it. “One protects those one loves.”
Vesula’s heart quickened at his words, and she smiled. It was a simple truth, but when uttered by Taxa seemed more profound than deep philosophy.
“No more distractions for now,” she said, hoping her practicality would not hurt his feelings. “This place is full of danger. We had best move on.”
**********
Within half an hour the ruins stood before them. The broken buildings were shrouded in the verdure of a thousand ages, and slumbered quietly in the muted light of day. Flowering lanais wrapped stately columns of violet crystal in their clinging embrace, while shrubs clothed the fallen stones with fragrant leaves. It was like a beautiful woman, grown old and worn, but whose youthful grace was still discernable beneath the weight of time.
Slowly, they threaded their way through shrub choked avenues, climbing over fallen pillars and circling blocks of tumbled stone. In the middle of the ruins they halted before an impressive temple-like edifice.
“This is the central building,” said Vesula. “If the Jewel is here, then this is the most likely place where it would be housed.”
Mounting the cracked and broken stairs, they climbed carefully to the entrance and cautiously passed between the graceful pillars that still supported the timeworn golden dome. Their hearts beating with excitement at the expectation of what they hoped to find. Eyes piercing the gloom, the couple beheld a podium in the rotunda’s center, above which floated a man high translucent cube of tawny crystal.
“The Jewel of Besminur,” breathed Taxa, as he gazed in amazement and wonder upon its glinting form.
“Indeed it is,” said a harsh voice from the shadows.
Chapter 6: The Play Ends
Both quickly turned and simultaneously fired at the dimly seen figure lurking among the shadow-shrouded pillars. The solid impact of the darts was startlingly loud.
The intruder leapt towards them. A shaft of light illuminated Torquimis’ running form. The two projectiles had buried themselves harmlessly in his long kite-shaped shield. Taxa swore. His foe’s axe glittered in a deadly spinning arc.
Man and girl leapt apart. Taxa ducked. The axe missed his head by an inch. The grim faced Yaxkanite cast aside the empty dart-thrower and drew his weapon.
Vesula reloaded. The chamber echoed with the clash of ringing steel as the two men whirl about each other and across the floor in a frenzy of slashing blows. The girl cursed vehemently, lowered her weapon. They were too close together, and a shot meant for Torquimis might easily strike the navigator.
Oh merciful Tewen, she thought in desperate ritual prayer. Hear my heartfelt plea - let not my love fall before his enemies. Shield him with your strength, preserve his soul.
Torquimis turned Taxa’s blow with his shield, and countered with a lusty stroke. His agile opponent leapt aside, struck the swinging weapon with such force that it flew from the pirate's grasp.
With a vile oath, Torquimis leapt forward and rammed Taxa with his shield. Both men fell against the floating jewel. It flared to life and both stumbled back, startled by its sudden activation.
Light burst forth in an amber tide that swept away the shadows. All present were frozen by its shining splendor, and stood in awe of the fantastic sight. The light condensed. A form took shape within the crystal – a face, noble and serene, a sculpture of living light. The eyes opened and gazed upon them, full of wisdom but touched by sadness. The lips parted, and thus it spoke within their minds; not in words, but with images and emotions deep and subtle that plucked the chords of thought and thus engendered inner speech in each one’s native tongue:
We, the first-born of intelligent beings, who climbed from savagery’s dark nadir to civilization's glowing heights, are no more. We have become as dust, our works fallen, laid low by time's fell hand that rends all things with slow decay.
Though we drank from the cup of immortality and grew not old, we wearied of life everlasting and thus sought death’s embrace, for it is the brevity of things that lends meaning to existence; mortal beings are not meant to taste eternity.
I, Sumin, the last of my kind, made this thought-crystal. I leave this message, a treasure of wisdom for the benefit of those to come: Seek not immortality; for all things must pass away so new things can come to be. Therefore, rejoice in the presence of those you love, the smile of your children, the joy of existence, for when death’s hand marks the end of life all must descend into that realm of eternal night.
At last my hour has come upon me - my earthy vessel comes to grief upon that dark shore. The play ends, the actors depart the stage. Farewell, and may peace be with you all your days...
The crystal dimmed and cracked under the weight of centuries. It fell into a thousand tinkling shards upon the floor; then disintegrated further to mounds of worthless dust that were stirred fitfully by the gentle breeze. The shadows crept in. Silence reigned once more.
The corsair captain, a shocked expression on his face, staggered to the ruined jewel. He dropped his shield, fell upon his knees, scooped up handfuls of gray dust and watched it sift between his fingers with disbelieving eyes. The others, the effects of the astounding experience still upon them, looked on in a daze.
By Hekmeth's bloody beard, thought Torquimis, in utter anguish. The secret of immortality is lost forever, and all my dreams have been reduced to this, rendered thus by fate’s cruel hand. Then, grimly: But at least I will have my vengeance ere this day is done.
The pirate captain dashed for his axe and snatched it from the floor. His sudden movement broke the spell upon the couple. Vesula fired at him. Torquimis ducked and the dart whizzed above his head. He charged Taxa, howling like a demon possessed maniac.
Taxa dodged the wild swing. He countered savagely. Torquimis leapt back and the Yaxkanite’s axe scored a shallow cut down the corsair’s brawny arm. The pirate laughed. He came at the lighter man in a whirlwind of spinning slashes. The navigator was driven back before his foe’s savage onslaught, dodging and ducking those wild blows as he danced across the room.
Torquimis was in a berserker fury. He was an unstoppable killing machine fuelled by insane rage. Taxa sweated. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of those sledgehammer blows connected and then Vesula would be at the fiend’s mercy. And then his worst fear happened – his weapon was torn from his grasp by a wild arm numbing blow.
Vesula cried in alarm as Taxa staggered back and barely dodged a decapitating stroke. She aimed her reloaded dart thrower at Torquimis’ back. Taxa ducked another wild swing. He grabbed the corsair’s ankle, jerked erect and upended his wild foe. The pirate crashed to earth. The girl went cold as she eased her finger off the trigger button. Taxa now stood in her sights. She had come within a hair’s breadth of accidently shooting him.
The navigator seized Torquimis’ axe which had fallen from the stunned pirate’s hand. He raised it for the coup de grace. But the swirling conflict had carried the pair near the buccaneer’s shield. In one fluid motion the corsair captain seized it and Taxa’s blow struck solid wood not flesh. Torquimis’ hand shot out. He wrenched free a dart and hurled the missile at Taxa. It struck his shoulder. The Yaxkanite reeled, gasped. The toxin felled him like a mace’s blow.
Vesula cried in horror. She fired. The dart missed, her aim was spoiled by the sudden shock of Taxa’s doom.
With a wild laugh the corsair captain vaulted the Yaxkanite’s writhing form, eyes glinting like the naked dagger in his fist. He charged towards Vesula. She leapt aside and struck his arm with her dart-thrower as he hurtled past.
With a cry of pain Torquimis dropped his weapon. The cursing pirate spun around and cast his shield at Vesula’s legs. Its hurtling mass knocked her to the ground. The snarling fiend flung his brawny fame upon the girl. She cried as his heavy body crushed her to the floor. She screamed and madly struggled as his brutal hands ripped the girdle from her hips. Torquimis cursed her. He slapped her viciously into submission and then bound her arms behind her back with the remnants of her apparel.
Breathing heavily, Torquimis leered at her. “You were ever eager for my touch,” he taunted sarcastically. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Animal,” she cried, spitting in his face. “You’ve killed the only man I ever loved.”
Uttering a cruel laugh, he slapped her again, then forced her thighs apart to expose her sex and drew another blade.
“Lets see if you enjoy the thrust of this as much as the other,” he said thickly, his eyes alive with sadistic lust as he pressed the point against her breast. Cold fear crawled through Vesula as she watched in wide eyed horror as Torquimis caressed her nipples with the point of his dagger. The girl bit her lip to stifle her cry of pain as the blade made shallow cuts across her skin.
Vesula trembled. The pirate captain laughed. The blade descended to the valley of her breasts. She flinched as its cold hard tip slid across belly and towards the junction of her thighs and came to rest against her sex. Torquimis gloated. His face was a study in inhuman cruelty. His fingers tensed upon the dagger’s hilt in preparation for the torturing thrust.
The girl, despite her bravery, screamed in anticipation of the knifing agony. Torquimis echoed her wild cry. He stiffened, eyes bulging. The blade dropped from his nerveless fingers and clattered upon the tiles. He collapsed upon the floor, and the startled girl saw a dart protruding from his nape.
Taxa swayed above the corsair captain for a moment before falling to his knees. His eyes rolled in their sockets and then, his strength spent; he sprawled across the corpse of Torquimis. His final thought was one of vast relief at having saved Vesula’s life.
The girl cried his name as she madly struggled free of her hastily tied bonds. With sweeping arms she clasped Taxa’s still form to her breast. Vesula sobbed uncontrollably, rocking backwards and forwards in inconsolable grief.
“Oh, these tears - the essence of my grief,” she cried. “That I could drown in their bitter flood and be no more. Oh my love, how can I bring you back to me?”
Time passed. The weeping girl’s sorrowful cries subsided in numb exhaustion. Slowly, and to her amazement she felt the cool body began to stir. Life, like coals beneath the ash, began to flame, roused by Nature’s healing art. Heart and breath quickened, the pale cheeks flushed with youthful health, and Taxa slowly opened his eyes, like a man arising from the depths of slumber, to smile weakly upon his love.
“Grieve not, for I still live.”
She hugged him tightly and cried, but this time her tears were of joy, not of sorrow. “But how?” she gasped, between sobs. “The poison …”
“Most of it was spent in the shield. What little remained I could, unlike Torquimis, neutralize using my Inner Healing. Even so, it was a near thing.”
“Oh, I thought I’d lost you forever,” she cried as she caressed his face. “No more doubts, no more foolishness. I am yours until death.” And then more softly, with lowered eyes: “If you’ll have me.”
“I would be honored,” replied Taxa, climbing to his feet and raising her up. “For though that gem is dust,” he continued, with deep sincerity, “the Jewel of Besminur stands before me still in all its radiant glory.”
Vesula smiled, a great joy welling up in her heart, for life now held the promise of new beginnings.
Taking his hand, she said: “Then let us heed the wisdom of the Elder Race and rejoice in our love for as long as we shall live.”
And thus they turned their backs on the cadaver of Torquimis, and walked out of the darkness and into the light of day.
THE END