Chapter 42 - Confronting the Ciriot
Pyr went back to the hangar cavern with Jordan to prepare Llaimos’s ship. As he warmed up the engines and turned on all the control systems, he explained what he knew about the ship to Jordan.
“It is so much more advanced than Kellex’s ship,” Pyr boasted. “It used to be the President Governor’s ship.”
Jordan’s finger itched to take the controls, and he yearned to fly it.
At that point, Jonko and Keleb arrived in full armour, carrying boxes. As he watched them store the smaller packaged contents in space behind a wall panel just back from the cockpit, he studied the armour.
At first sight, the grey metal had seemed to be made of hinged solid plates, but as Keleb squatted done to store things at a lower level, he realised the material was infinitely more flexible than solid plates. It also had an odd purplish blue shimmer about it.
Pyr slipped out of the co-pilots seat when Llaimos and Kryslie climbed into the ship. Jordan found his eyes drawn to them. Llaimos was now clad in robes similar to those Kryslie had worn on her arrival at the estate. He recognised the type of official robes worn by the Governors. He hid a shiver of alarm, but that was quickly forgotten when Llaimos directed, “Let’s go.”
Jordan felt Pyr pushing him towards the co-pilot’s couch, and he would have resisted, except he saw Kryslie strap herself into the navigator’s couch. Llaimos in turn, gestured him to the seat he craved to be in.
“Pyr, send that program,” Llaimos said as he waited for all his passengers to report they were secured for lift off.
At the communication’s console, across from Kryslie, Pyr twisted his couch to access a wall screen and console. Jordan twisted to see what came up, and via this screen, which was linked to the Estate security monitors, he saw the attackers cease strafing the shields part way up the mesa rock face and veer off to left and right.
Pyr reported, “Attackers heading west. The entrance is clear.”
Jordan returned his attention to the controls in front of him as the ship began to move. He realised that what ever it was Pyr had done, had caused the Ciriot to redeploy.
Llaimos flew the ship out of the cavern, allowing Jordan to familiarise himself with how the ship handled by gently holding the auxiliary controls. Once they were away from the mesa, he allowed Jordan to fly it.
Kryslie, sitting in the navigator’s position, was in mental contact with Tymos. She gave the others forewarning of what to expect – such as the packs of Ciriot fighter planes, shepherding the Warlord’s ships towards the Ciriot base. “Tymos is tracking them. He is hiding in one of the Ciriot ships that are grounded near the Ciriot base,” she explained.
Jordan was amazed at her telepathic range. What he shared with Vila was nothing like it. He glanced at the two commoners, Jonko and Keleb. Neither looked surprised; they must have known of her ability.
“Can we help them?” Jordan asked, referring to the Warlords.
“We are one ship against hundreds of Ciriot,” Pyr remarked to his brother. “Anyway, why should we? They had their chance and didn’t take it.”
Jordan glanced sternly at his little brother who stared calmly back. He looked then at Kryslie, his eyes still holding the question.
“The Guardians have judged them,” Kryslie said in an emotionless voice. “They will protect those that are worthy. Xan and Xezir are safe and the others are still alive. Perhaps they have a second chance to prove their worth.”
“The Ciriot torture their prisoners,” Jordan reminded Kryslie. “Kellex was a harsh man but he cared for us.” He was thinking more of Vila and what they might be doing to her.
“Your concern does you credit, brother,” Llaimos acknowledged. “However there are powers at work on this world that we must obey. If any of the remaining Warlords survive it will be the Guardian’s will and we will help them to return to Aerdna.”
“I don’t agree with you about our Guardian,” Pyr told Jordan. “He stole us from our rightful parents and he was not averse to a little torturing either.” Pyr glanced at Keleb who was sitting in one of the rear couches. Jonko caught the glance and nodded approval of Pyr’s remark.
Pyr was right, Jordan had to admit, but did Kellex deserve to be given to the Ciriot?
Instead of commenting further, Jordan increased the speed of the aircraft trying to catch up to the captured Warlords who were still resisting being forced to fly north.
Flying was one skill he had that he was rightly proud of. He exhilarated in the speed he was travelling and he felt he was doing something towards helping Vila - she must be at the Ciriot base, and he was getting there as fast as he could. He was travelling faster than the speed of sound. Some of the instruments were not being used, Jordan wondered if the craft was also able to travel in space. He marvelled anew at how well the Tymoreans had hidden their technology.
He asked the question of Llaimos, and the Tymorean Prince took over the controls and showed him how to take the craft up to a sub orbital flight level, and then let him have control again. Flying that high, in that craft, now meant that they would reach the Ciriot base even faster.
The dome field that covered the Ciriot base clearly visible to all of the people in the approaching craft. All had Tymorean power to some extent and this is what made the screen visible to them. Llaimos took over the controls again, and put the craft into a wide spiralling descent, giving them time to study what they could see of the Ciriot base and the area around it. He intended to land well away from the base and any grounded Ciriot craft.
When they had hidden the ship under a Tymorean protective field, Kryslie and Llaimos transmitted the six of them to Tymos’s observation position. He was in a Ciriot ship, and he was using the instruments in it to spy on the Ciriot base and monitor the transmissions. He could translate the clicking speech with the help of a box he had strung around his neck. Through an earpiece in his ear, he heard the translation into Aeronite and from that understood what messages were being sent.
Tymos grinned when he saw the others materialise, and immediately went to touch hands with Kryslie and Llaimos, and to give Jonko and Keleb hearty thumps on their backs.
Jordan stood back, and watched with a sense of anguish. There was no mistaking the closeness between Tymos, Kryslie and Llaimos. He yearned to be a part of it. They were his siblings. He had been close to Vila, but he did not even know for sure that she was still alive.
Pyr edged his way from beside Jonko and slipped his hand into Jordan’s. It seemed he could understand the conflicting emotions of his older brother’s mind.
“They are Great Ones, Jordan,” Pyr whispered. “You can sense it. This is their destiny. It was never yours or mine. Even if we had not been taken by Kellex and away from our inheritance, it would still be those three who must act now. I didn’t see it happen but the Guardians caused Llaimos to grow from child to man in moments. Kryslie and Tymos were conceived on a distant world and we were taken away as children. Llaimos told me that the influence of the Guardians in our lives is unrecognized by most people. I believe there is a reason for our existence and for all that has happened to us. We have still to recognize our destiny.”
“You are right, Pyr,” Jordan admitted. “Vila and I pledged each other that we would return to Aerdna and help protect the people we grew up to think of as ours.”
Jordan looked up and saw Tymos had come over to him.
“Perhaps your greatness lies there,” Tymos suggested.
Jordan studied this younger brother that looked so like him, then looked away. “Perhaps.”
“Vila is alive,” Tymos told him quietly. “At the times that I sneaked into their base, I could not get to her. She is in the lower level of one of the joined ships. May I share an image with you?”
As Jordan ‘saw’ the picture in his mind, it changed to appear as if he were walking there. Tymos told his mind where he needed to go from the place in that image to where Vila was a prisoner, and what dangers lay along the way.
“What if I am not strong enough?” Jordan asked himself.
Kryslie came over and spoke quietly. “Brother that you have Tymorean power is beyond doubt. It is in your favour that you have not let it control you. However, you have not mastered it. When you fight, fight to the best of your ability but if you have to call on those inner reserves, concentrate on the rightness of what you must do. When Vila is safe, you must both join Pyr in our craft. You will be safe there. You still have a transmitter?”
Jordan nodded.
“Good, now, before you go – you will need some armour. Llaimos has several sets of Ciriot stuff, cleansed and deodorised. It will protect you from their weapons, and the foul air outside, and be a disguise. Jonko will get it. He and Keleb will go with you.” She nodded over at her friends.
Llaimos got Pyr’s attention. “Pyr, will you return to our craft and be ready to lower the shield long enough for Xan and Xezir to pass. It is almost the designated time.”
“Yes, Great One” Pyr bowed as he agreed to obey. He knew he had no part in the fighting to come. He took out the transmitter Llaimos had taught him to use and went back to the Tymorean ship.
Tymos turned to collect his weapons, which were beside the monitoring console – ready for use. Kryslie moved quickly and stopped him reaching them. She gave him a deliberate head to toe scrutiny.
She glanced at Llaimos before speaking, “There is something you need to do before we take on those invaders. Can you think what that may be?”
For a moment, there was a blank look on Tymos’s face. He tried to read his sister’s mind and found it shielded. He did know she was teasing him.
Llaimos enlightened him, “I have some spare formal robes on my ship. We will fare much better if we look the part.”
Tymos grinned wryly and glanced at his travel stained clothes. “And I suppose you think we should bathe and all that too?” was his response.
“For the Ciriot? They are not worth that nicety,” Kryslie told him. “They won’t smell us over their own stench.”
With a laugh, Tymos capitulated. Both Kryslie and Llaimos were already in formal robes. “Okay, okay…I’ll dress the part of Supreme Adversary, but I think we should ditch the capes. They serve no function except decoration and could catch on things.”
Before he went to change, he asked Keleb, “Do you and Jonko know what to do?”
When Keleb nodded, Tymos transmitted to Llaimos’s ship to change.
Tymos, Kryslie and Llaimos were clad in close fitting silver and gold garments. Kryslie’s long skirt had been designed to enable her to fight in it if necessary. A physical fight was unlikely though, as the Ciriot preferred blasters and disintegrators. Even so, the three Tymoreans wore no weapons. They were going to talk to the Ciriot leaders and offer them a chance to leave peacefully. Weapons would be provocative.
For any other beings to approach the Ciriot unarmoured, and with out weapons, would be suicide. However, the Guardian’s Advocates needed neither. In each of them, the Tymorean power was so strong that it hummed in their ears, pulsed through their veins – even the silvery fabric seemed to glow.
Together in the Ciriot ship, alone because Jonko, Keleb and Jordan had already transmitted into their waiting position, Tymos projected the image of the Ciriot main bridge to his siblings. He hadn’t been there, but had obtained the picture from images pirated from the ships computer records
The three transmitted together, arriving unseen behind Ciriot intent on computer and monitoring tasks. By remaining still, their power cloaked them from visual observation. They observed the activity for a time before sending the command for Jonko and his companions to transmit to the lower levels and begin the search for Vila.
In this control area, most of the Ciriot attention was on five screens showing the approach of the escorted Warlords’ aircraft.
One of the observers was a Ciriot wearing purple robes and armour. Tymos knew him to be superior to those that only wore black armour. None of the workers here wore the concealing brown robes, they had no need to. Most also had their helmets open showing their blue tinged faces.
As some of the workers moved around the area on incomprehensible errands, the three observers subtly deflected them around their position, even as they studied the alien features.
“I can see why they hide in their armour,” Kryslie remarked mentally. “Those bony ridges and the taut skin cannot be mistaken for human or Tymorean.” She had shared her brother’s earlier view of A Ciriot face, but this was the first she had seen for herself.
“The Princes are not here,” Llaimos told them. “They wear scarlet armour, and never show their faces. That purple one over there is an officer, or an aide to a Prince.”
Knowing that Llaimos intended to challenge the Ciriot, Tymos and Kryslie turned so that between the three of them, they could observe all of the room.
Llaimos drew the attention of all thirty-five Ciriot, when his loud voice carried over the muted clicking speech. “We have come to speak to your Princes.”
All speech, all motion, in the area ceased. The upright Ciriot spun around with weapons drawn. The officer spoke a loud clicking command and soldiers, those with black armour, ran directly at the intruders, and tried to grab hold of any of the three they could reach.
Only they couldn’t even touch them – though they doggedly kept trying.
“Bring your Princes here,” Llaimos commanded, ignoring the futile groping of black metal covered hands. The Ciriot could come no closer than three feet away, and now they found the urge to move back further, irresistible.
Clicked orders forced them to try again, but this time all that came too close crumpled to the ground. Then some of the more distant black clad Ciriot fired at the intruders. Tymos, Llaimos and Kryslie made no perceptible movement. Even when projectiles and beams seemed to be fired at their faces. The wall of force around them absorbed or deflected the weapons effects.
Now the purple clad Ciriot approached to face the intruders. He clicked more orders, and a second field of force suddenly shimmered in a circle around the intruders. This was a sickly orange in colour. The Ciriot officer stared at them a moment, and then turned his back on them. His clicking speech was translated into Tymorean speech, as he gloated at his easy capture of them.
Within the field, Tymos and Kryslie studied the effects of the forces. They had much more personal experience of such things than Llaimos.
“It won’t hurt us,” Tymos confirmed. Mentally, he told his sibs to join hands with him. They walked forward, through the field, and the only effect was a shower of sparks. Their own field of protection remained intact.
The Ciriot Officer spun around, and betrayed a moment of agitation, but then he controlled his fear and his anger. In his mind, if these intruders were able to kill him, they would have done so immediately.
Llaimos spoke again, this time in a passable imitation of the Ciriot clicking speech, even though the sounds were unsuited to human vocal chords. He commanded, “Summon your Princes.”
This time, the Ciriot Officer ordered a subordinate to comply. He now knew these intruders were more than they seemed, and would know if he disobeyed.
Tension built in the room. All the Ciriot there knew that the Princes would resent the summons.
On the route to the prison where Vila lay, the group searching for Vila encountered many or the lesser ranked Ciriot. They were no match for the trained Tymorean warriors, Jonko and Keleb. Jordan noted that Jonko was the better of the two, but both were far superior to him in fighting with blade weapons. It was also obvious that the Tymoreans knew exactly where the Ciriot armour was vulnerable to their blades. Jonko and Keleb aimed for the body joints and totally ignored the blaster fire from the Ciriot. The beams just bounced off their armour and often reflected back with its power somehow increased, killing or disabling the Ciriot. They left no Ciriot in any condition to report to their superiors or to strike them from behind.
Finally, they stepped over the bodies of the last defenders to the door behind which Vila lay. On this door, Jordan used his Ciriot made blaster and destroyed, or more correctly, vaporized the metal door.
Through the hole thus made, they could see one of the Ciri Princes leaning over a table. Jordan moved forward knowing Vila be on that table. Then, unexpectedly another figure came into view. With an angry oath, Jordan sprang forward and knocked Kek away from the table. The Ciri Prince calmly aimed his weapon at Jordan, but Jonko was already firing his weapon with incredible accuracy. The Ciri Prince’s weapon was blasted from its hand and landed as a fused lump of alloy on the floor but the creature was unharmed. Jonko continued to watch every move of the Ciri Prince while Keleb went to check Vila’s condition. Kek had been only shortly off balance and he had sprung to a fighting crouch faster that Jordan thought possible and then sprung at him. Kek was unarmoured and Jordan was in the ill fitting and unfamiliar Ciriot armour putting him at a disadvantage but he fought hand to hand with the changeling Kek; holding his own, but finding it impossible to overcome the traitor.
The Ciriot always seemed to be armoured, even within their base. Jonko pondered this as he watched the Ciriot, still aware with part of his mind of Jordan’s fight. The Princes were the most powerful of the Ciriot and obeyed by all the lesser Ciriot. They must have talents of a kind for this one was too calm, and this was giving Jonko a warning.
“Keleb, finish that creature” Jonko murmured softly.
His friend drew a knife and advanced on Kek, who saw him, approach.
“Another changeling, even two won’t finish me!”
That Kek was himself a mixture of two races was clear in his manic expression. His features were humanoid but his eyes had the hooded look of the Ciriot.
“Changeling I certainly am,” Keleb agreed amicably. “At least I am not such an abominable mixture as you; half human, half something else!”
Anger emanated from Kek in palpable waves. He grabbed Jordan and threw him aside as if he had simply been playing with him. Jordan was momentarily winded and could only watch as he sprang at Keleb who was ready for him. Keleb danced lightly away and kept moving - looking for an opportunity to attack. Kek was abnormally strong and a seasoned warrior and could hold his own even against an armed opponent. Kek totally ignored Jordan as he concentrated on Keleb. Jordan drew his force weapon, when he was able to move again, and fired it at Kek. The blast had no effect and didn’t even cause Kek to lose concentration for a second. Jordan realized then, that he was wearing a personal force screen, but the Tymorean blades would still be dangerous.
Keleb had lulled Kek into a pattern of movement and he suddenly lunged with greater speed. The blade pierced the force screen, which was really only proof against force weapons. Kek screamed in agony and continued to writhe as Keleb let his power flow along the force saturated blade like an electric current. Kek stopped moving and Keleb with drew his blade. He sensed that Kek was not dead, only unconscious.
“Jordan, take Vila and return to Pyr!” Jonko instructed.
All through the fight the Ciri Prince had watched impassively, even when Jordan carrying Vila, disappeared from sight.
“You will come with us!” Jonko spoke carefully.
The Ciri Prince did not answer. Jonko repeated his instruction. This time the Ciri Prince began to approach them but made no threatening move. Neither Jonko nor Keleb were prepared for the type of attack that came.
Into their minds came the memory of agony, so sudden, so intense that they did not have time to build a defence against it. Keleb succumbed first, made more susceptible by his empathy. It seemed to him that he was receiving the pain of a thousand tortured victims at once. His weapons fell from his hands and he dropped to the floor curled up as tightly as his armour would permit.
Jonko fought it, realizing that it was an unexpected form of attack. His defences had always been physical and he stumbled towards the Ciri Prince, intending to fight with his weapons or hand to hand.
He had his sword out and was having to draw on more and more power to overcome the attack that was slowing his movements. He wasn’t aware when the Ciri Prince moved forward and took his other weapons to examine carefully. Jonko felt the concussion of power when the Ciri Prince tried to take his sword. The creature certainly felt the jolt even through his armour and force screen. It would have killed a lesser Ciriot. With the touch of the Ciriot on the sword, some of Jonko’s power dissipated and the agony in his mind returned. He fought to stay upright as the Ciri Prince walked across the cell like room to a table on the far side that contained a control board. On one screen was the summons to the control room; he glanced at the message and moved a switch. The gravity in the room suddenly became three times Tymorean normal and Jonko collapsed to the floor, conscious but incapacitated. The Ciri Prince walked from the room as if the gravity hadn’t changed.
The Ciri Prince didn’t actually smile, but indulged in the equivalent rush of satisfaction at the ease with which he had overcome the intruders. These vaunted Tymoreans were powerful, worthy victims for entertaining tortures, but no match for Ciri Princes.
In the main control room, three Ciri Princes stared malevolently at the intruders and waited for the fourth to arrive. Llaimos confirmed when Jordan and Vila reached his ship. Kryslie knew where the fourth Ciri Prince had been and knew that Jonko and Keleb were still there. She spared a moment to check their condition. From their minds, Kryslie knew how they had been overcome and warned her brothers.
When the fourth Ciri Prince walked into the control room, they were prepared for the combined mental attack.
Llaimos knew the theory of shielding his mind, but he’d had neither the need nor the time to practice. He had not had the intense training That President Reslic had given his siblings. In the initial moments, Tymos and Kryslie had shielded his mind, giving him time to erect mental barriers, but none of his struggle was betrayed to the observers.
“Save your energy,” Llaimos advised the Ciri Princes, in a voice that was calm and unruffled. No one could have guessed that mere moments before he had needed all his innate stubbornness to block his mind. “You cannot affect us that way. We came to talk -to ask you why you came to this world.”
The tense posture of the Ciri Princes relaxed subtly – as if they felt they had won some victory.
“Talk is the weapon of cowards and weaklings,” one Prince taunted.
Another demanded, “Where have you hidden your treasures?”
“What treasure do you seek?” Tymos asked casually. “Gold? Jewels? Precious metals?”
“For a start!” the same Prince agreed sharply.
“Scattered all over the world,” Tymos said truthfully. “Our people share the world’s wealth, no one place holds it all. You are welcome to go and find it – no one will stop you.”
“Where are all the people?” a second Prince asked.
“The common people are in the cities,” Kryslie answered truthfully. “Safe!”
“You lie! The cities are all deserted, or dead. There are no signs of life in any of them,” the third of the Princes claimed. “The weaklings from Aerdna told us how they had breached your cities and how they were placing traps in each to kill the people.”
“Then why have you not looted all the cities?” Tymos asked mildly. “Three Tymoreans, aided only by those weak Aeronites, defeated the garrisons you sent to some of those cities.”
It was a contentions point, judging by the nervous moments that rustled the scarlet robes over the armour. However, the Princes were not going to admit to that point. Instead, the fourth Prince, that last to arrive, claimed, “Our scouting groups have reported the weaknesses of each city. We will kill any Tymoreans or Aeronites that we find in them.”
Kryslie moved her arm in a sweeping arc across the range of her vision. “What none of you here realise, is that every one of our cities is sealed. If you think our defences were formidable before, now they are impenetrable. You are welcome to waste time and resources trying -we don’t need to go and stop you.”
The attention of the Ciri Princes concentrated on her. She was obviously a female, and guessed that they thought she would be the weakest of the three intruders. The onset of their combined mental attack was sudden, but Kryslie was prepared for it. It was never strong enough to threaten her mental shields. She saw from the glitter in their eyes and the rigid posture, that they were aware they had failed.
Llaimos distracted them by saying, “You will find no Tymoreans to torture, and the Aeronites, except for a few formidable specimens, have retreated into space and are safe on the far side of the planetary barrier.”
“What planetary barrier?” the three Princes demanded. This was news to them and the fourth strode over to the nearest console and clicked orders.
Confirmation of such a protective shield around the planet angered the Prince; made him realise that the Tymoreans had tricked and outmanoeuvred him. “Remove it!” He translated the clicks into Tymorean.
“Why?” Tymos asked innocently. “If you are as powerful as you think you are – the barriers around the cities and the planet will be no problem for you. Besides, the shields were the work of our Elders. We are merely children.”
“Where are your cowardly Elders?” The Ciri Prince came to stare at him from three feet away. He had discovered that he could not come any closer.
Tymos shook his head as if disappointed in their intelligence. “Surely you don’t expect us to tell you that! But, before you can truly claim victory over us, you will have to figure it out, or expect a counter attack at any time, out of no where.”
Kryslie added her own provocative remarks, ensuring that the attention of all four Princes focussed on her and her twin. Meanwhile, Llaimos used the moment to take over the mind of one of the nearby low rank Ciriot, and caused it to perform a series of tasks.