Princess of Amathar (9 page)

"It seems amazing to me that there is no one here keeping an eye on this place," I said.

"Indeed," replied the Amatharian. "This is an important find. I am sure that my people will wish to have this chamber under Amatharian control."

"I think that the Ancient Orlons must have found this place long ago. That is the message in the little room," observed Malagor.

"They may have found it, but they did not create it. This is definitely far beyond any technology that they possessed."

"Then who did create it," I wondered, all the while continuing to press points on the geometric shapes. I put my palm once again up to one of the shapes, this time the dodecahedron, but this time no image appeared on the wall. Instead a section of the wall disappeared, creating a doorway to a small anteroom. This room appeared to be a smaller version of the room we were in, with similar walls and similar lighting, but with two exceptions--there were no large geometric shapes on the floor, and on the wall there was a black panel with a frame around it, opposite the doorway. The framed panel looked very much like a window.

I stepped into the room followed by my two friends. Crossing the small chamber, I pressed my face up against the black panel, but could discern nothing beyond the glass, if it was glass. I was about to ask if Malagor or Norar Remontar had any idea as to the purpose of the room, when the opening behind us disappeared, sealing us in. A fraction of a second later, I felt my stomach shoot upwards, as though I were standing in an incredibly fast elevator going down. There was no vibration, nor any other sensation of movement, but I knew that this must be what this was--a highly advanced and very fast elevator.

"Ummph," said Malagor, as the air returned to his lungs.

"We are going down...fast," said Norar Remontar.

"Yes," said the furry fellow, "but where are we going down to?"

"That is a good question," replied the knight. "We are taught as children that Ecos is a great sphere, artificially constructed uncounted ages ago by a race known only as the Elder Gods. I don't think there has been conclusive proof on the subject, but it was always my impression that the shell of the world was relatively thin."

"It can't be too thin," I offered, “because this down-going room is still going down, and going down fast." The Amatharian term for elevator was ‘down going room’. Evidently the concept was not used enough by them to warrant a shorter appellation. The three of us stood quietly waiting and waiting. It then occurred to me that not only must the elevator still be in motion, but that for us to feel the sensation that we still felt in the pits of our stomachs, the elevator must still be accelerating. I enlightened my friends to this fact, and they looked glumly back at me. I suspect the event had more of an impact upon them, since for me it was really just a big elevator ride, while for the two of them it was more akin to a religious experience. The looks on their faces were the looks of men taking a speedy elevator to hell. We waited in the down-going room for what seemed to me to be a good hour before feeling the effects of slowing down. We felt ourselves being pulled gently toward the floor, some parts like our stomachs, more so than others. At last we felt like we had stopped, though I was uncertain enough not to voice my opinion on the subject. Suddenly the pane of the window, for such it proved to be, became transparent, and the view which the three of us were witness to made us all gasp for breath. We were outside the shell of the planet Ecos. The elevator had gone outward from the interior of the artificial planet and out to the tip of a tower on the outside surface. Looking out of the window, it was as if a great metal plain that stretched as far as the eye could see was lying upon our heads, and below us were the vast empty reaches of space. We stood looking breathlessly out the window for several minutes before it occurred to any of us to examine the outer surface of the planet. That it was an artificial creation, was more than evident. The outside looked like a construction project or a giant modern art sculpture. There were metal shapes and bars sticking in all directions. There were many different types of projections which looked like towers or buildings or bridges, but whose actual purposes were impossible to determine.

Suddenly all three of us began to talk, our words coming like water through a floodgate. We directed each other's attention from one feature to another, marveled at the apparent feats of construction, and waxed philosophical about the whole idea of constructing a world which completely surrounded a sun. Just as we slowed down our explosive dissertations to catch a collective breath and to absorb what the others had said, the window went opaque and we felt the elevator move upward, back into Ecos. We rode upwards silently, each almost mourning the loss of the magnificent vision to which we had been privileged. Once again the elevator seemed to accelerate to a certain point, where it began to decelerate and at last to stop. Then the doorway appeared and we stepped out. The room we stepped out into was not the same as the one from which we had entered though. The elevator had brought us to a different room entirely.

Chapter Eleven: Out of the Darkness

Malagor, Norar Remontar, and I stepped out of the elevator and into a room lit just like the one from which we had left. This room had no geometric video controller in it however, and it was triangular in shape, with the elevator opening in the middle of one of three equal sides, and an open doorway on the wall to our left.

"This is peculiar," said Norar Remontar.

I nodded my head at the understatement.

"I would be willing to bet that this elevator, these rooms, the lighting, and the controls for the video images, are all artifacts of the Elder Gods, or whomever it was that created Ecos.

"I am inclined to agree," said Norar Remontar.

We looked around this new room for several moments, but found nothing of interest. Finally Malagor voiced the opinion that we really had no other alternative but to head down the hallway and see where it led us. I was toying with the idea of suggesting that we try our luck one more time in the mysterious elevator, but I decided that Malagor was probably right. It was time to continue on our way. That is just what we did.

The dark hallway beckoned us like a gaping maw, but I tried not to think of it that way. It really doesn’t take too long to adjust to continual daylight. I think it would be much harder to adjust to continual darkness. Norar Remontar turned on his small flashlight; I unsheathed my sword, and the three of us with a quiet look between us, started down the long hallway. This time it continued straight for what must have been five miles before opening into any type of room what so ever. At last it did though, and as soon as we stepped into the room, I knew we were in for trouble.

A sudden wave of stench assaulted my nostrils. It was the smell of several dozen bodies which had not seen a bath in a long time, mixed with the smell of bodily waste accumulated over a period of several generations. I wasn't the only one to smell it. Malagor immediately began coughing and gagging, to the extent that I feared he would pass out. A look of disgust crossed Norar Remontar’s face, but otherwise he remained characteristically stoic.

Malagor had just regained his composure, when a horde of creatures burst screaming toward us from the dark. There were a score or more of the short, bipedal, four armed rat-like creatures, and they attacked using stone axes and razor sharp teeth. Screaming like banshees, the Kartags literally fell upon us. I skewered the first creature to reach me on the end of my sword, turned, and threw my shoulder into the next one, sending it flying backwards into its fellows. At that moment the entire room was lit up by the incredible brightness of the Amatharian sword unsheathed. It sizzled and sparked as Norar Remontar used it to cut through the bodies of three of the Kartags. At almost the same moment, Malagor let loose with a burst of light rifle fire which cut a nice round smoking hole in the chest of another rat. This display of destruction was all that was necessary to convince most of the beasts to retreat. I quickly lopped off the head of one who apparently was having difficulty making that decision. The screaming inhabitants of the tunnels ran away into the darkness and it became once again like a tomb. The light from Norar Remontar's sword dimmed until it gave no light at all. I sheathed my own weapon, and followed the pale circle of artificial light as the Amatharian continued on his, and our way. I felt Malagor take up a position behind me.

The stench was just as bad now that the Kartags had gone, as it had been when they had been present, and we soon found out why. Continuing on through the room, the size of which, like the previous giant room, was indeterminable, we stumbled upon the camp of the filthy creatures. It consisted of nothing but a pile of filthy furs, most with pieces of reeking meat hanging upon them. Scattered between the filthy animal skins were chips of stone, obviously flaked from hand made tools, and here and there, piles of feces. I had been willing to give the Kartags the benefit of the doubt up until that point, thinking perhaps they were only attacking us because we were invading their territory--that perhaps they were simply misunderstood. I could not imagine any intelligent creature though, fouling its own campsite, when there were uncounted stretches of tunnels from which to choose a suitable spot for a commode. The room turned out to be relatively small, at least in Orlonian terms. When we had gone about a hundred feet past the Kartags' home, and about two hundred feet beyond the scene of the short battle with them, we found another passageway continuing on into the darkness. Being more interested than ever to get out of the infernal underground, we trudged on.

The darkness was oppressive. But it occurred to me that I was luckiest of the three of us. I had spent nearly half my life living in darkness. After all, it happened every single day on my home world. Even though I was inclined to sleep through the night on most occasions, I was not unwilling to go out after dark to a movie or a restaurant. My friends on the other hand, had lived all their lives in a world where the sun never set, the moon never rose, and darkness never covered the land. I began to wonder if Amatharians or Malagor even made a habit of closing the window shutters or pulling the drapes so that the inside of their bedrooms were darkened for their sleep times, but I declined to satisfy my curiosity at the time.

The smooth hallway in relatively short order became a rough-cut stone corridor. Before I had time to contemplate the importance of this, the passageway ended with a stairway rising up beyond the reach of Norar Remontar’s hand beacon. I thought that this was a promising development and said so, but Malagor was determined to put a negative slant on just about everything, and replied that this was probably just another way for us to reach our imminent demise. Without any comment of his own, Norar Remontar began the ascension. We had little choice but to follow him, not that we had any desire to do otherwise. There were exactly five hundred and fifty steps on that stairway. I know because I counted them to keep my mind off my growling stomach. The last step ended where the passage was blocked by a great boulder.

"I don't believe this can be moved," said Norar Remontar.

"You forget," replied Malagor. "We have with us the strongest fellow in Ecos--Alexander the Strong." Quite frankly, I had forgotten my gravity enhanced strength, but when I put my shoulder to the great stone, with my friends beside me adding to the effort, the blockage was quickly moved, causing daylight to stream into the passage from above. We stepped out of the opening to once again find ourselves on the inner surface of the artificial planet Ecos. After waiting a moment or two for our eyes to readjust to the eternal brightness of the sun, we surveyed our surroundings. We stood on the side of a hill, with high mountains behind us, and a long slope down toward a great plain before us. At that moment, the three of us looked up into the sky to see a small aircraft. I immediately recognized its design as similar to those I had seen leaving the deck of the Amatharian battleship. I waved my arms above my head, but Malagor executed even quicker thinking, and fired his light rifle into the air. The craft circled us for a moment, and then descended. Once on the ground, I could see the vehicle was a transport--designed not for combat, but for moving men and supplies. It was shaped a lot like a 1952

Chevy, at least on the front, with a rounded snout. The back half of the craft was designed much more like a bus than anything else, squared off with several somewhat square windows. It had landing pads below rather than wheels, and it landed vertically, without the need of any runway. When it had come to a stop about fifty feet from us, a man-sized hatch opened in the side, and two Amatharians stepped out, each pointing a light pistol in our general direction. They walked cautiously toward us. They both wore the clothing of warriors, black bodysuits covered by white tabards. The first had the crest of a flaming sun held by a hand. The other had a crest of a flaming sun raining down rays of light.

"Bentar Hissendar!" shouted Norar Remontar, when the two had closed to a few yards. "What are you doing here?"

"Norar Remontar?" cried the Amatharian, with a startled look on his face that turned a moment later to a look of joy. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be dead!"

"I am alive." The knight stated the obvious. "And what is more, my sister is alive too." Bentar Hissendar's face lit up even brighter.

"The Princess is alive! There will be rejoicing in the streets of Amathar."

"No rejoicing." Norar Remontar looked glumly at his friend. "She was captured by the Zoasians. I will return to Amathar and take up a fleet to rescue her."

"The Zoasians do not usually take prisoners," Bentar Hissendar said. "Do you think they know who she is?"

"Who are these two?" interrupted the other Amatharian, who was still pointing his weapon at us. Norar Remontar introduced us with a flourish, gesturing first to me, and then to Malagor.