Indomitus Oriens (The Fovean Chronicles) (11 page)

He looked around the room, then at her, and didn’t try to hide the disgust on his face.
The silver-on-sliver eyes only made it more obvious. He whistled something and those men who had dragged her in here entered after him. They looked around the room once, one said something that she couldn’t understand, and both left. The older man crunched over to her and pushed her shoulders back onto the table.

She inhaled but controlled herself.
Just get through it, she thought. Just let it go.

He touched her.
She bit her lip to keep from crying. He looked in her mouth. She made fists of her hands, the nails sinking into her palms. He took some of her hair and peeled off one of her press-on nails. She thought it might be over, that she had survived it, when he looked at the bottoms of her feet, but then he moved to push her robe open. She wore nothing under her robe.

She smacked his hands away and leapt off of the table.
He whistled something and he pointed to its surface, but she hugged the front of her robe and shook her head.

No way.
No way in hell.

He whistled loudly and the two armored men reentered.

Her eyes widened. She didn’t know what she expected, but she didn’t think it would be armed guards—not for this sort of examination.

The older Uman-Chi shoved her brusquely toward the table and she slapped him.
The surprised look might have been gratifying, but she didn’t get to enjoy it long. The three men approached her, all frowning, reaching for her arms.

She kicked at them and they grabbed her ankles, but not before she caught one of the goons in the thigh with her heel.
She clawed at them and they grabbed her wrists, their skin collecting under her fingernails. She bit and they bled, and as a last resort she spat at them.

             
“Get away from me,” she demanded, feeling stupid and scared and angry all at the same time, because she knew they couldn’t understand her and she knew they would do it anyway if they could.

They tossed her onto the table and they flipped her onto her stomach.
She screamed her lungs out as the old man did the inspection that he wanted to do. She swore at them, she threatened them, but their hands felt strong as steel on her wrists and ankles. She had never felt as helpless or as violated. The old man ignored her and did what he wanted. When he finished they pushed her back to the table like they might have done to an animal.

She leapt from the table and out the door in a shot, naked as the day she was born, crashing right into Angron as she fled.

“Stop!” he commanded her.

To her own surprise, she obeyed him.

“They will do you no harm,” he told her.

“Little late for that, asshole,” she informed him.
“Your old man already got his jollies and his two goons helped him out.”

She stood there, naked, her skin wet, out of breath, half-turned to face him or to run, whichever she needed.

She could still feel that bastard’s fingers.

“If you are offended, then I apologize on behalf of the nation of Trenbon,” Angron said.
“You must understand—”

“Where’s Bill?” she interrupted him.

The King didn’t hide his shock at being spoken to so commonly.

“Well?” she demanded.

The old man came out of the room, crunching through the broken glass, her robe in his hand. The two goons followed him.

Angron whistled to him, to the two goons, and then left without another glance at
her. The old man threw her the robe.

* * *

Bill waited for half an hour before Melissa returned to him, and then she flew into his arms.

He just held her.
When she had cried herself out, she sat up next to him on the table. She didn’t talk to him, just pressed her cheek to his upper arm. She finally managed a weak smile at a few stupid jokes.

Bill wanted to ask her what had happened, but he could guess.

* * *

Outpost IX had already been ancient when the Uman-Chi occupied it, designed by the Cheyak before the Blast. It had rooms for everything imaginable, and the King took one of these to meet with his advisors.

Angron sat in a windowless
chamber, at the head of a wooden table, under a glass orb enchanted by him to provide them with light.

To his left sat D’gattis and Avek.
To his right, Aniquen and Chaheff, and at the other end of the table, Taffer Roo, who had examined these new-comers.

“They are Men,” Roo said.
“Although they are larger than any Men I have ever seen, and longer-lived. The male is fifty. The female is twenty-four. They have white metal implants in their teeth, but they have all of them. The male has hair like a mule, and could probably still pull like one.

“They are aggressive.
The male had to be restrained when we took the female. He made her pose for him when she undressed, so we can assume they are mated. The female lacks the hymen human females lose with intercourse.”

“Spare us,” D’gattis said.

“My apologies,” Roo said.
“Their bones are heavy. The old one is probably still a match to wrestle any of our Uman guard. The female destroyed a laboratory and required two Uman to hold her while I examined her.”

“I think we all have one question,” Chaheff said.
“Are these the Conqueror’s people?”

“I cannot tell that,” Roo said.
“I can say they look more like him than Men that we know.”

“They know words that he knows,” Angron said.
All eyes were immediately on him. “I know now that Rancor means ‘Anger’, Mordetur ‘Death’ and Lupus ‘Wolf’.”

“And thus, Wolf Soldiers,” Chaheff said.

“It is too large a coincidence,” Angron said. “They claim to be from Earth, but they think Earth is not a god. In fact, they believe in one God.”

“One?” D’gattis scoffed.

“Barbaric,” Avek said.

“Indeed,” Angron said.
“The one they claim has sent them here sounds suspiciously like Steel, the Savior.”

“Could Steel leave
Fovea?” Avek asked.

“Steel is
born
of
the god Earth,” Angron said, “and hence does not leave Fovea. Could Steel fetch Men from the lands of the Conqueror? I think so.”

“This could be where War went to fetch
His instrument,” Avek said.

“If Lupus is War’s
instrument,” Taffer Roo said, “and Lupus is not of Fovea, then War is not bound by the Rule of the Gods.”

“War could speak to him directly,” Angron said.
“And War could affect him.”

“And then any god could affect these two,” D’gattis said, “if they have not already.”

They all sat quiet for several minutes in contemplation. Finally, Avek spoke.

“I should like to hear Glynn’s song again,” he said.

“It is too dangerous to sing,” Chaheff said. “We might reopen the whorl.”

“I think that this is exactly what we should do,” Taffer Roo said.
“And if possible, send these back.”

“I agree,” Aniquen said.
“One Lupus changed our whole way of living. Three could reap even more havoc.”

“Or two could counter the one,” Angron said.

“Or six could conquer the one,” D’gattis said. “And we have either one or two of them now.”

Again, they sat quiet.
              “Find a noble young and old,” Avek said. “Our Glynn, young by our standards, old by those of Men and Uman.”

“Clearly,” Angron said.
“The others are a mystery to me, however. I have tried to divine them.”

“Can we assume that these two shall lead us to the rest?” D’gattis asked.

“Can we assume that Lupus is the One?” Avek asked.

“I think we must,” Taffer Roo said. “And if that is true, then Fovea is on the brink of a bloody, painful war.”

“A war that it is already too late to win,” Angron said, “quite possibly because of my own decision to wait.”

“In that case,” Aniquen said, “and I am loathe to state this, but the best thing we can do is tell the Emperor everything we know, and ally ourselves with him.”

Again, they all sat quiet. Avek and D’gattis looked at each other, then at Angron.

“Speak, both of you,” Angron said.

“I know Lupus better than any Uman-Chi,” D’gattis said. “Perhaps as well as anyone living. I know his methods, his thoughts, and his mind.

“I think that, with the resources of Eldador and the years he has had to control them, Lupus the Conqueror probably already has an army that could march on Trenbon and overwhelm it.

“I know the woman Shela, and I believe that together we could defeat her, if we knew she was coming.
However, Lupus will ensure that, as before, we have no idea when she is coming, and that before we can match the Bitch of Eldador, she will have destroyed most of us.

“And I know that, with Trenbon under his control, there will be no stopping Eldador from controlling Tren Bay, and the combined armies of Fovea will fall to him.
Even if we were to march against him now, Sea Wolves using his Eldadorian Fire will defeat our navy as they have before, isolate us here and neutralize Trenbon, so he can pluck us at his leisure.”

“I think that the expense of managing a completely conquered nation would be overwhelming for Eldador or for any other nation,” Chaheff commented.

Angron shook his head. “I should have brought a Merchant here for this conference,” he said. “And if I did, he would tell you Eldador is a juggernaut producing gold. Taxing less, they make more, a science that still baffles our shrewdest counters. Eldador produces more grain than she can eat, more iron than she can smelt, more ships than she can sail and more warriors to man them than people the Silent Isle.”

“And let us not forget, when he invaded,” D’gattis added, “that our own Scitai subjects helped him.
This was an act we have been unable to punish—in fact have rewarded, in that we sold to them disputed plains which they now farm.”

They were quiet again, then Angron
turned to Avek.

He looked at the table, collecting his thoughts.
He knew what he wanted to say, and what he had to say, and what his King needed to hear. In the end, he sidestepped it all and spoke from his heart.

“You know I was a Wolf Soldier,” he said.
“I believe I am Heir in part because of that. It is my place in life to know the Emperor’s mind, and I do.”

He thought for a moment, looked right into his King’s eyes and said, “Your Majesty, I cannot lie to you.
Our supremacy on Fovea is ended. We were too dependent on our walls, our magic and our influence with the High Council. Lupus has answers for it all.

“Give him the strangers, tell him what we know.
If the gods wished for us to act, they planned poorly for our success by their own admission. The best we can hope for now is to survive until the next prophesy.”

They were quiet together.
Twelve years is the blink of an eye to an Uman-Chi, and in that time they had reverted from the virtual rulers of their known world, to the vassals of Men, a race barely more than animals.

“Better to suffer the fate of the Cheyak,” Aniquen said.

“No,” Angron said. “For them, there is no hope. For us, there is much. Remember every person here will outlive the Conqueror. There is nothing to say his successor shall be anything like him. We who live our lives by centuries, not months, can bend the knee for a decade.

“
In humility, let us find strength. And as tame as sheep, let us summon the Wolf.”

* * *

In her personal chambers, Glynn knelt in prayer, in humble thanks to the All-Father, and to the Taker and the Giver, who looked out for her and who protected her in this trial.

In her heart, she knew who had touched her.
It was the god-mother. She simply knew it, as one knows yellow is not red or sugar tastes sweet, she knew she had sung Eveave’s words.

Right now Uman-Chi males, like Angron and Aniquen and D’gattis, debated the meaning of her song.
She had worshipped them just a day before, but they seemed smaller to her now. They remained her people, however she didn’t worship them. Gods had spoken through her, and these males were not they.

It became difficult to clear her thoughts, so many were they.
She poured them like fish into a stream, and this time the great white one she had nourished did not come to devour them. The fish swam around her in the stream, but the current didn’t sweep them away.

Had she become dependent on it?
Perhaps.

She saw the fish for what they symbolized. One represented the thought of the newcomers, another the truth of the song.
She saw the worry she hadn’t been invited to the meeting of the King’s advisors, and several regarding her new brother.