Chapter 40 - The Warlords in the Temple
Kryslie returned at last to Ecla – the only city still not fully sealed. She found her brother, Tymos, there – working side by side with mutants and commoners. Keleb and Jonko wordlessly inserted their help. Kryslie went to see if she could help the survivors of Ciriot torture.
The Ciriot attacks on the shield were continuous. Llaimos sent to their minds the information that the enemy had discovered that all the other cities were fully sealed and to their sensors, the people in them were all dead. They were concentrating on Ecla, the Royal Estate and the Temple, hoping to find the last defenders, and learn how to remove the shields.
In a brief moment when Tymos was taking a break, he sought Kryslie out. She was kneeling beside one of her patients, talking quietly. He insisted that she found time to eat and drink.
“All the dead are identified, and burial rites were performed. I have put the dead into three warehouses and placed a stasis field around them. There were too many bodies to bury.”
Kryslie brushed her hair off her sweat-streaked face, and told him, “I have Burnfire. It is the best way to… well, we will make sure that the dead are not forgotten. Dead mutants and commoners. I have stated that all those here now will become the founding citizens of the new Ecla.”
Tymos gripped his sister’s arm in silent agreement. “The census is complete – I have listed all the survivors of the city and all of the refugees from the mutant clans. All that could make it here have arrived. We should have the final cleansing rite soon. Jonko and Keleb have found the last of the alien artefacts.”
“Tonight then, and we will have the presentation directly afterwards,” Kryslie suggested.
The citizens of Ecla, mutants and commoners, gathered to watch the funeral pyre. The two groups had worked together for many weeks, restoring the town so that everyone had a house to go to. Now, it did not seem odd when a mutant, comforted a friend who was a commoner.
It seemed that all the people found peace as the fire died down, knowing that the spirits of their dead loved ones had been freed to the winds, and all traces of the enemy contagion were destroyed.
The silence broke as people began to turn to go home.
Before any could go far, Tymos called for their attention. He and Kryslie strode to a makeshift dais, drawing all eyes to them. Keleb transmitted there moments later, carrying an ornate leather book embossed with gold, and he gave this to Kryslie before departing again.
Kryslie held the book up and she spoke loudly, “In the name of the Governors, in my position as Heir Designate to His Majesty Tymoros, I present to all of you, the new charter for the City of Ecla.”
She had the undivided attention of all the people. In that moment, despite the grimy brown clothes she wore, and her red hair tied back in an untidy horse’s tail, she embodied the promise of the Governors to the people of the world.
Into the hushed silence, she read the words of the new charter, recognising the origins of the two groups that had melded into one, and the hopes for the future. Then she added, “The names of all those here today are recorded as the founding citizens of the new Ecla. When this war is over, and you can venture forth again, take this charter to the Governors to be officially recorded. With our signatures on the document, no one will dispute it.”
When the cheering finally died down, and the people finished hugging whoever was nearest, Tymos drew everyone’s attention.
“As this is effectively a new settlement, it is my role as representative of the Governors, to appoint councillors to oversee the smooth running of the city. Will the following people please join us on the dais?”
Tymos read a dozen names from the leather bound book. Some were survivors of the old council, some were leaders of mutant tribes. Others were people who had proved themselves as leaders during the long task of clearing up the damage and recovering bodies.
Judging from the renewed cheers, the choices were popular. Kryslie summoned Keleb to return the book to the glass display box in the entry hall of the council building. It was the only part of the building still standing.
Kryslie followed her brother from the dais, intending to slip away and let the city folk celebrate, but before they went far, they found a young telepathic commoner facing them.
“My father says I am to bring you to the celebration. You and Tymos, Jonko and Keleb. And you are not allowed to say that you still have work to do.”
Kryslie found the boy’s cheeky grin hard to resist. “We’ll be there, Morin,” she promised.
“See that you are,” Morin tried to sound stern, but his grin undid the effect.
Later that night, as the last of the revellers sought their homes, Tymos, Kryslie, Jonko and Keleb walked from the Council building. The shield flared frequently as bombs and energy beams impacted on them, and the air temperature was already dropping after they had activated the final shields. Within hours, the city would lapse into a state of hibernation. The people would sleep until the war was over.
“What now?” Keleb asked quietly.
Tymos glanced up. “The Ciriot will soon realise the city is sealed like all the others. They will leave – probably to go to the Estate. Llaimos went there. I think I need to go and do more scouting of the Ciriot base.”
“I guess that leaves me with the task of talking to our guests in the Temple,” Kryslie remarked dryly. “They must have their chance to do what is right. They are the only vulnerable ones left, now that all their warriors have returned to the baseships.”
“I don’t like the idea of the Ciriot on the Estate,” Jonko spoke up. “Will Llaimos be safe? And didn’t you say that Jordan was there?”
Tymos reassured them. “Llaimos has been in and out of there a few times with no one the wiser. We will let Jordan have the same choice – to go or to stay. If he wishes to return to those who nourished him, we will take him there.”
“Shouldn’t we be making sure the Ciriot don’t leave any of their nasty traps on the Estate? And are you sure they can’t access the computer archive?”
“Kel, all will be fine. Just consider how I told you that the aura protects things. The Palaces will not be destroyed because for untold generations, those of us with the strongest power have lived there. And the Guardians of Peace are working with us.”
Kryslie added, “The Ciriot can sense the power there, and they crave it. I don’t think they will try to destroy it, and they won’t be able to get past it. Anyway, let us worry about that. I want you and Jonko to come with me. I think those Warlords are more likely to listen to me with two hulking bodyguards behind me.”
Jonko snorted. “If they want to get out, they will listen to you – female or not. They are a rather captured audience.”
Kryslie transmitted into the Altar chamber of the Temple of Dira. Jonko and Keleb immediately glanced around as if they were indeed guarding her. She found amusement in the idea, since she was as capable as they were of defending herself.
“The Warlords are in the lower side chambers. Only two are together. Xan is about to arrive,” Kryslie told her friends.
The young Aeronite bowed low when he entered. “Princess Kryslie, I am relieved by your safe return.”
“How are the other guests? I sense that their egos are so big that most of them need separate rooms.” Kryslie spoke lightly, sensing that Xan’s self-esteem was very low.
Xan straightened and smiled ruefully. “I think they have had enough of each other’s company. Only Axec and Voltec are talking to each other, but they are brothers. However, they are all unappreciative of the honour being granted to them here. Not an hour goes by when at least one of them states their desire to be elsewhere.”
“No doubt they resent being helpless,” Keleb suggested.
Xan found he could smile faintly. “They have learnt, very well, that they cannot harm me – so they merely insult me at every opportunity. Kellex and Zorrec mainly. I have tried to explain matters to them, but of course, I am a traitor who should have died and I am not listened to. I fear I have failed you and Prince Tymos.”
“I did not expect them to change their attitude without persuasion ,” Kryslie admitted. “It is not their fault that they lust for power. However, they were allowed to enter here so that the Guardians of Peace could judge their true worth. Have they made use of the communicator?”
Xan nodded. “They did at first, until they stopped being able to get messages through. Xezir sent all his people back to his ship…it is in orbit. Kellex demanded that Vila came here. He thought she could get in here using one of those hand device things – the transmitter. Axec and Voltec told their…”
Kryslie interrupted. “Did Vila come?”
Xan had to admit, “No, and Kellex is threatening to have her whipped.”
“How long ago was that?” Kryslie asked urgently.
“Just after they got here…about two weeks ago, I think. None of them believe the Ciriot can be on this world.”
Jonko stared at Keleb and mouthed, “Two weeks?” It seemed like two years since they had last been in the Temple.
“Go and find the Warlords, Xan,” Kryslie said decisively. “Tell them that I have come and they are to assemble in this chamber. I will need to prepare. These travel worn garments are not suitable for a meeting of this importance.”
“ Am I to believe that you left clean clothes here?” Keleb asked as Xan walked down the stairs to the side passage on that level.
“No, however, I expect the Elders will have foreseen the need. Come on. The Governors have suites here and the attendants have a room where they keep changes of clothes for them. That’s where I will go.”
She heard Jonko tell Keleb, “Important people don’t have time to attend to such petty details.”
“Are you two coming?” Kryslie asked with a grin.
They moved next to Kryslie and she transmitted them all to a place she only knew of from her father’s memories.
The room that appeared around them was austere, but had some comforts missing from the sleeping alcoves down on the meeting room level. One wall had a long wardrobe, with three sections. Without hesitation, Kryslie went to the left most of the cupboards and pulled out two black jumpsuits of the type favoured by President Reslic. She gave one to each of her friends. Then she went to the centre cupboard and pulled out a bundle of gold and silver fabric.
“Formal robes,” Jonko grinned. His grin widened when Kryslie shook them out and he saw they were the feminine version. He saw Kryslie scowl briefly, and then heard her sigh in resignation. He and Keleb politely turned their backs to let her change, and they followed her example. When they heard her moving towards them, they turned and were impressed. Not only because of the formal robes, but because she had quickly brushed her hair out of the rough plait she had maintained during their months of travelling and rearranged it into a formal braid that wound around her head. Neatly in place was the simple crystal coronet of her rank as Heir Designate to his Majesty.
“Stand close behind me,” Kryslie instructed her friends, and she transmitted them back to the Altar chamber.
The Warlords were watching the two side entrances like six hungry cats at a mouse hole. They must have run up from the lower level, via the stairways at the front of the Temple, and passed the room where Kryslie was preparing as if they did not know the room existed. Two weeks of enforced idleness had given them plenty of time to explore the Temple fully, or so they thought, but they could not figure out where Kryslie was.
While they waited for her to come along one of the side passages, they muttered angrily and promised themselves to make the obscene whelp obey them.
It was several minutes before Kellex turned slightly and caught sight of Kryslie standing in front of the Altar, clad in the flowing gold and silver robes, with two dark clad figures behind her – each having the stance and alertness of warriors. He moved to face her, cursing in his native dialect. In his mind was the picture of Kryslie as a captive, young and vulnerable. He did not believe that she was any more powerful now than then.
Six pairs of eyes stared at her. Kellex’s with blazing hate, Axec, Voltec and Zorrec with avaricious greed, Wazim with scientific interest and Xezir with a neutral expression.
Voltec spoke first, demanding that she let them leave the Temple. “Any hope of mercy for the Tymorean people no longer exists. You have treated us like dirt, like vermin…”
“Silence!” Kryslie demanded, using the ‘command’ tone. Voltec’s voice was silenced, but his mouth kept moving. The others were too stunned to speak – they had each felt the power of that command.
“I am Kryslie, Heir Designate to his Majesty High King Tymoros and fully empowered to act in his name. I am also one of three Advocates of the Guardians of Peace – appointed by them to preserve the Sacred Trust given to our ancestors.”
“What rubbish,” Axec blurted. “You are little more than a child.”
“And I have the measure of your puny powers,” Kellex claimed. “Should you have the courage to face any one of us – you would lose. Your cowardly Governors would lose. And why are they not here? It is because they know we would defeat them.” He jerked around and pulled out a weapon, spinning again to fire it at Kryslie and the two men with her. The deadly beam had no effect.
From the stairway on the left, Xan remarked, “You don’t learn, do you?” He was breathing a little harder than normal, as if he had been running. “You haven’t been able to kill me in here.”
Kryslie glanced at Xan to silence him. Then she explained, “In this place, sacred to the Guardians, nothing will harm those that they protect.”
Voltec found he could talk again, he claimed, “Your Governors would not even meet us here. We own this planet now!”
Behind Kryslie, Keleb murmured, “In your dreams, you greedy bastards.”
Kryslie ignored his words and commanded, “You will listen to me.”
The Warlords felt the command go deep into their minds, and all seemed to go rigid.
“The Governors acted for the Guardians of Peace when they invited you here. Your needs were provided for, even if there were no servants to wait on you. In here, you have been protected, and the Guardians slowed time. You feel that only two weeks have passed, but my brothers and I have spent the past months protecting our cities, cleansing them of alien detritus, and returning all of your subordinates, ground troops and fliers, back to your baseships.”
Over the mutterings of what they would do to the cowards serving them, Kryslie spoke again. “You are all being intentionally blind to the truth. No one, neither Tymorean nor Aeronite, can survive outside of protective shields. The Ciriot used you, and then turned on you…”
The Warlords glanced at each other, passing messages with subtle facial gestures.
“You are trying to trick us, but it won’t work,” Wazim told her. “They cannot be here – we would have seen them.”
“I have no reason to trick you,” Kryslie told them. “When you leave this place, you will see for yourselves. The Ciriot gave you technology far above anything you knew, but they did not give you the newest technology…”
She went on to tell them facts as the Tymorean scientists had discovered them, and as the Elders had seen them. On four faces, the expression of blind disbelief remained, but Wazim and Xezir were thoughtful.
Wazim drew the attention of the senior Warlord during a pause in Kryslie’s recitation. “Voltec, the terrain reform program was interfered with. My scientists saw robed strangers. Tymoreans rescued them.”
“Gullible fools, like you,” Voltec retorted, turning back to glare at Kryslie. “Show us proof.”
Kryslie faced him calmly. “If you refuse to heed what I say, nothing that I could show you would be believed either. You have my leave to go and observe for yourself.”
Zorrec began to stride towards Kryslie, but he stopped when he saw the subtle change in the stance of the silent bodyguards. Perhaps he recalled that he couldn’t harm anyone here, or did he think the Tymoreans might have weapons that could work in the Temple.
Four angry voices demanded answers to questions. Kryslie ignored them for a moment, as she adjusted her eyes. Keleb had thought a comment at her and she needed to confirm it. She examined the energy shape of the Warlords, and in four of the six she saw a glowing area at the base of their skulls. It was bright and pulsing. It was the same type of glow that she had removed from Zacary and Stenn, only brighter and well entrenched.
The thought that she should try to remove the glows entered her mind, but a breeze of a thought told her, “They chose to accept the glow entity.” The soft mental voice of the Guardians came to her. “They will not let you remove it. Here it is not active, and cannot influence their choice. If they truly wish what is best for their people, they will be allowed to return to them. We will remove the entity. You must convince them.”
“Silence,” Kryslie commanded once again.
The Warlords moved uneasily as their voices were stilled.
“I pledge you that you will be allowed to leave after you have heard me out. Aeronites attacked Tymoreans without provocation. You have claimed that we did not listen to you, but your demands were unacceptable, unwise and self-defeating. Still, in spite of that, we do not consider you enemies. We defended ourselves and when the Ciriot came out of hiding, we defended Aeronites as well as Tymoreans. We saved as many Aeronites as we could, so that they could return to help for the survival of your world.”
Voltec tried to speak, and when he could not, resorted to stabbing the air with his right index finger as his face turned deep red. Kellex’s eyes glittered with hate.
Kryslie went on, gently, “You believe you have conquered us, but if so, then your victory is ephemeral. All of our people are safe, as yours were not. Our animals and forests are safe, but even so, you cannot expect to live here. You are welcome to fight the Ciriot and die for worthless victories. You will find that the Ciriot have conquered you – first by destroying the orbit of your world, and now by destroying your hope of coming here.”
It was obvious that Kellex and Voltec were not going to listen. Axec edged closer to his brother and Zorrec to Kellex as if they planned to attack Kryslie from two sides. Wazim wavered between the two pairs. Only Xezir stood calmly, oblivious of the frustrated jerky movements of his peers. His eyes were on Kryslie, but his expression betrayed nothing.
“You are wasting your breath,” Jonko murmured softly.
“Fine,” Kryslie breathed to herself before projecting her voice again.
“Very well, believe what you will,” she shrugged. “The six of you here are welcome to act on your beliefs and live or die by them. You are no longer of concern to me. I will save that for your subordinates – who don’t deserve to die in a useless war. They all believe that returning home is a death sentence. This does not have to be so. Instead of waging war on us, you should have found ways to preserve you planet. As we speak, my brother Llaimos is transmitting data to each of your baseships. Our scientists have assembled plans for vast underground vaults, that will be completely self-sufficient. They noticed and studied the induced perturbations in Aerdna’s orbit, and predicted that it will eventually break free of its attraction to its sun. If you leave now, and return to Aerdna, there will be time to prepare.”
“The idea is crazy,” Wazim managed to say. “Our whole population cannot move underground.”
Jonko blurted, “Your whole population could not move here. The rich and powerful would take the available ships, the rest would die.”
The Warlords were moving restlessly, frustrated by their inability to silence the Tymorean whelp, who was provoking uncomfortable ideas in their minds. Only Xezir noticed the glow that suffused Kryslie just before she spoke again.
“The Aeronite people will survive. They will live in the underground vaults for seven generations, until the planet’s surface is warmed by a new sun.”
Kellex spat at her. Kryslie was oblivious – in the throes of a powerful fore-vision. The glow about her faded, and she said, “Tymorea will need many generations before it is cleansed.”
“Your people won’t survive in the cities,” Kellex told Kryslie. “They will run out of food, even with all the hydroponic produce.”
Wazim asked thoughtfully, “I suppose the Royals have larger stockpiles?”
Kryslie ignored the innuendo that the Governors would ensure they had enough food.
Wazim tried again. “How will you …children…cleanse this planet? If it is as bad as you say?” He was implying now that everything she had said was an enormous hoax.
Kryslie glanced up at the crystalline glass dome above her – she seemed to be listening. After several moments, she turned her attention back to the Warlords. “I will repeat this once more – you have not conquered us. You have been tricked and used by the Ciriot. They never wanted to help you control this world. They forced you to wage war on us, hoping you would defeat us, not caring if you all died. They wanted the treasures of this world, at least risk to themselves. They didn’t want to live here, so they didn’t care what they did to us, and to the land. They will not leave this world alive. There is now a shield around the whole planet. We have given your baseships orders to blast off. Those you left in charge had enough sense to obey. Each of you have a ship capable of both atmospheric and space flight. You have a choice – If you wish to save your people, and those on Aerdna, you will go to the coordinates that I give you. We will open the shield at that point and allow you to leave. The offer will not remain open for more than half a day.”
“Pah,” Voltec spat on the colourful mosaics that decorated the tiled floor. “You are still trying to trick us. We will order our troops back here to fight the Ciriot and we will defeat them too.”
Jonko lost patience with the Warlords, and shouted at them. “Were you not listening? Your troops are all safely beyond the shield. You have no troops here and the baseships will not be allowed to return. And what possible use can you have for a radioactive wasteland.”
Voltec spat again. “And how will you survive? You don’t seem to be worried about that.”
“Make your choice. The shield will only open once,” Kryslie stated.
Xezir asked, neutrally, “What are the coordinates?”
He listened and memorised the string of numbers that Kryslie recited, and noted the time she quoted.
“Thank-you. Are we free to go?” Xezir said politely.
“Yes. Keleb, send the remote signal to lower the Temple shields.”
For a brief instant, Keleb was confused. Then he heard Kryslie’s mental voice. “Pretend. The Guardians are no longer stopping them.”
Four of the Warlords turned immediately and strode from the Altar chamber, going immediately to the nearest way out – the doorway next to the large north and south chambers. They were not willing to risk Kryslie changing her mind. As Zorrec and Kellex passed the silent observer, Xan, they hissed venomously in their native language. Xan no longer flinched at their threats.
Wazim wavered, glancing after the more senior Warlords and wondering why Xezir was still standing where he had been and was staring at Kryslie. He finally chose to hurry after the others.
When Kryslie said nothing more, Xezir turned, as if reluctantly. He walked slowly to the side steps, but stopped again before beginning to descent. Hesitantly, he turned around and asked a question.
“Princess, is it true that all the Tymoreans are safe? I know of the protected forests, and the protected cities – is that where those of Royal blood have gone? And is it true that you will all survive? How can you possibly cleanse this world?”
“All will be well, Peace Lord,” Kryslie assured him, walking towards him with hands outstretched in greeting. “You have questions. Ask what you will and you will have answers.”
The man’s face slowly changed from having a look of near despair to having one of incredulous hope.
“Why do you give me such a title? Peace Lord.” He seemed to savour the sound of it. “I am unworthy of such an honour!”
“Peace Lord, the Guardians have judged you! They do not bestow honour on the unworthy. You alone of the Warlords will return to Aerdna. Your task will not be an easy one. Come with us, back to the palace, we will explain our vision to you there.”
Xezir bowed low and Kryslie transmitted five people back to the palace. They materialised in the room where Jordan waited with Llaimos. When he saw Kryslie he asked urgently, “Did you see Vila? The Warlords sent for her!”
Kryslie felt his worry and answered gently. “She was not there! The other five Warlords are returning to their scout ships.”
Jordan finally became aware of Xezir; his initial spurt of fear was slowly replaced by puzzlement as he studied the man. The former Warlord, now titled Peace Lord, was in turn was studying Llaimos and Jordan.
“Lord of Peace!” Jordan finally found the words to say and he found himself drawn to the older man.
“Commander, it seems that you too have found your true place.”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “I will fight with my kin. They are fighting to save their people, mine in fact, but they have not forgotten that my adopted people were once of their race and they found the means to save them too. Perhaps that is why I was made and adopted by Aeronites - so that you would have some one to fight for you. Though I do not think that my Guardian would like to think he’d been manipulated by some power!”
Xezir was silent for a moment. “You should know – Vila is a prisoner o