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Authors: Julian May

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Fantasy, #High Tech

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BOOK: The Nonborn King
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"We know that some of the aliens, if not all of them, are-what the humans term 'masterclass'," said Condateyr. "Otherwise they would not have been able to kill the Tanu overlords. Lord Moranet and Lady Senevar were highly skilled in both coercion and redaction."

Nodonn Battlemaster opened his mind and shared his stately train of thought with the others: Certain of these aliens have awesome metapsychic powers greater than our own. However, they did not use them to the fullest potential against Bormol's Hunt, but relied instead upon a physical weapon. Additionally, they chose to flee our forces, rather than taking a stand. Some of the aliens show evidence of being weakened. Hurt. These human metapsychics, the elite of their race, have been driven to the extreme of Exile, a course officially forbidden to them. Ergo, they can only be outlaws from the Galactic Milieu. But that is a contradiction in terms! All metapsychics of the future world partake of a mental fellowship called Unity. There can be no outcasts. No rebels.

"None that we know about, Battlemaster," said Gomnol aloud. "But Tanu knowledge of the Elder Earth comes perforce from human time-travelers. And what did normal humans, even latents like myself, really know what the metapsychic faction and the inner workings of the Galactic Concilium?" His smile had a wry twist as he touched the golden torc behind the blue-glass gorget of his armor. "We had to come here, to the Pliocene, to find the true kinship of shared thought, the exercise of godlike powers. Thanks to you Tanu."

· The sun-flood that was Nodonn's mind illumined dark cysts of malice deep within the human coercer's heart; but Apollo's face was serene, as always.

"Your gratitude to us is noted. Adopted Brother. Now demonstrate it tangibly! You arc capable, as we are not, of asking these alien invaders who they are and what they want. You will use the human mode of farspeech that we Tanu cannot perceive."

Gomnol's guilty spurt of fear brought insouciant reassurance from the Battlemaster. "Oh, yes, Eusebio Gomez-Nolan. We know about it. A harmless bit of schoolboy secrecy to bolster the pride of you human gold-torcs. But now it can be useful. Mindspeak to these invading Lowlives, Second Coercer. And be sure that you tell me truthfully what response they make."

Gomnol's glowing blue form seemed to toner, his face went ashen within the fantastic helmet, and the cigar fell from his mouth. The metapsychic grip of the Battlemaster, compounded of ali five mental faculties focused in precise neural assault, closed upon him for the briefest instant. It was the most frightful pain that Gomnol had ever experienced. It was replaced at once by lingering pleasure.

Nodonn waited patiently until the human recovered his cqui PROLOGUE ?

librium. Then he repeated, "Mindspeak, Second Coercer-"

Gomnol slowly exhaled. His own mental screens were up now to mask his discomfiture, his hatred. "You - -. and the Craftsmaster must stand by. In case the invaders react aggressively. That photon cannon could, "

Old Aluteyn said, "Nodonn and I can act in concert and put up a tough little shield. As long as we know what to expect. we can shelter the lot of us. Get on with your job, son."

Gomnol's confidence rapidly restored itself. He nodded gravely, struck a pose, and reached out with all of his coercive power. His thought-pattern was now indecipherable to the Tanu;

but they were hilly aware of its superlative technique, the gentle insinuating flow through the force-field, the abrupt concentration into a tidal thrust, and the irresistible impact of the Second Coercer's mind upon that weary-alert pattern of cold consciousness lurking inside the mirrored sphere. Gomnol spoke and the hidden watcher was constrained to answer.

Leyr's bitter commentary on the performance of his subordinate crackled on the Tanu intimate mode;

Just look at that pushy little runt's operation. Brothers! Only len years since we gave him gold, and already his powers of coercion nearly rival my own! How long will he be content to be Second, eh?

The others kept their minds shuttered. It was an uncomfortable question.

After a time, Gomnol withdrew his mind from the hemisphere and spoke to the others with great effort. "He says.. his people only want to be let alone. They'll leave Europe, because of the Tanu hegemony. They'll go to North America. Never return."

"Tana be thanked!" Bonnol growled. "And speed the day."

But Gomnol made urgent protest. "You don't understand. This whole group.. -all of them arc masterclass operants! There's been some kind of failed metapsychic coup d'etat in my world, six million years in the future. This group is what's left of the losers- But they nearly won! This small group of human rebels almost overcome the metapsychic magnates of all six races of the Galactic Milieu! -.. They're in terrible shape now, but they'll recover- And when they do, if we could ally them to us, "

"The aliens must be destroyed." Nodonn's thought and voice were storm-loud. "But think of the advantage of an aliiance' The Firvulag, "

"Any advantages would accrue to humanity. Second Coercer' These operant humans do not wear the golden torc They can never be part of our fellowship "

"Of course you're right, Battlemaster'" Leyr exclaimed He threw Gomnol a monitory thought "You get a gnp on yourself, Number Two "

Aluteyn Craftsmaster's mind-tone was withering "Dammit, son, why should these operant humans join with us when they're probably capable of taking over the whole Many-Cot ored Land, given a little rest and recuperation?"

"And another photon cannon or two put into operation," muttered Bormol

"If we all act in metapsychic concert, our wil! can prevail," Gomnol insisted "There are thousands of us gold-lores and only a handful of operant invaders Some of them are dying The others are devastated by failure and world-toss They'd jump at an offer of friendship, I tell you'"

The Battlemaster said repressively, "I have farspoken the King He concurs with my decision "

In a last effort, Gomnol sent a plea arrowing to Nodonn on the intimate mode

Think Battlemaster think' Unique opportunity' Leadennvaders is magnateConcilium MarcRemiIIard Whole fanulyRenullard operated highestlevel HumanPoiityMiIieu' Marc/ recovered + others potential KEY HostNontusvel ambitions vs Firvulag

No

I saw Marc traumatizedvulnerable Others muchweaker Acting metaconcertcoercion Host + Me easily

No

Marc is JonRemillardbrother' And Jon =· Jack the Bodi less" Marc nearly match for brother I remember Milieupolicking

No

Moonlight glistened on the sweat droplets trickling down Gomnol's face From the dark forest came a faint whickering sound and the thud of clawed feet The armored chaliko mounts of the party came trotting forward at Leyr's telepathic command Nodonn vaulted into his saddle, kindling his own faerie aura of rose and gold about the beast's jeweled caparisons

"I have also farspoken my Host-brothers," Nodonn said, looking down on Gomnol "Hual Greatheart and Mitheyn, Lord of Sasaran, will coordinate a Grand Quest Hual will bring the Sword of Sharn down from Goriah, and I will wield it against this Lowlife crew Milheyn will come north from Sasaran with a land force strong in psychokinesis, creativity, and coercion We will allow the invaders to move westward into the Valley of Donaar Somewhere in the Grotto Wilderness, at a place of our choosing, we will annihilate them "

"As Tana wills," said Gomnol in resignation After wiping his face with a white handkerchief, he reached for a fresh cigar, mounted his own chaliko, and rode away with the others

Three days later, near a nver that would one day be called the Dordogne, a massed body of Tanu chivalry swept down upon the crawling tram of twenty-second-century vehicles, but since the operant humans, even in their weakened state, far surpassed the exotics in the faculty of farsensing, the Tanu attempt at ambush was unsuccessful Sophisticated equipment, initially unfamiliar to the fleeing metapsychic rebels and clumsily stowed to boot, was now arrayed competently Solar powerpacks were fully charged, small arms and personal forcescreens were at the ready, and the photon cannon was emplaced for tactical advantage

Four hundred and nineteen Tanu knights, including the Lord of Sasaran and Hual Greatheart, were slain in the ensuing conflict Twice that number of exotics, virtually the entire roster of survivors, fell wounded

Nodonn Battlemaster saw his Flying Hum decimated and his favonte chaliko blasted out from under him in midair He narrowly missed dropping the precious Sword of Sharn into the Donaar River, and lost not only his Apolloman dignity but his temper as well

Leyr Lord Coercer forfeited an arm, half a leg, and the left lobe of his liver He had to spend eight months recuperating in Skin, during which time his subaltern, the human Sebi Gomnol, consolidated his own position and resolved to challenge his fading superior in the next year's Manifestation of Powers

The invading operants made their way to the Atlantic Coast. There they linked their modular ATVs to form boats, whistled up a fair psychokinetic wind, and vanished into the sunset

After a two-month hiatus, the lime-gate resumed normal operations

Heeding the Battlemaster's counsel, Thagdal, High King of ihe Many-Colored Land, decreed that the entire alien invasion debacle had never happened

And for the next twenty-seven years, the Tanu kingdom in exile prospered until the Gibraltar Gale was opened and the Empty Sea filled

THE GREAT RAVEN OVERFLEW THE DESOLATION OF MURIAH.

She had to travel far from her mountain these days in her searches, since the near coasts of Spain and shrinking Aven were nearly picked clean of booty, the bodies buried ever more deeply in silt beneath the rising Mediterranean. She had scavenged the easily accessible golden torcs months ago, and found the great treasure. The pickings were now all the more precious for their rarity Muriah, below her, had its ruin softened by a spreading verdurous shroud. After nearly four months of the rainy season, the former Tanu capital of the Many-Colored Land seemed to have surrendered to rampant Pliocene vegetation. Tendrils and runners and shoots from ornamental shrubs, unrestrained now that most of the little rama gardeners had perished, smothered the courtyards, the grand stairways, and the filigreed walls of white marble. Fresh growth even probed open doors and windows and clambered onto the roofs, thrusting the red and blue tiles awry. Trees sent out erratic withes from their splintered trunks. Spores and seeds, washed or blown into the crevices of pavement and masonry, sprouted in ghoulish abandon.

The sweeping esplanades, the sporting arena, the Square of Commerce, the mansions, and all the proud structures built by the Tanu and their clever human slaves were being inexorably pushed and pried apart. Fungi, mosses, and vulgar flowering weeds loosened the once gleaming courses of alabaster and the dulled mosaics- The colonnade of King Thagdal's palace had its heavy pillars unseated by the irresistible growth of little brown mushrooms. Unlit silver torcheres along the deserted boulevards were tarnished black by sea mist. The facades of the five metapsycnic guild-halls had their heraldic colors defaced by dark splotches of mildew. Even the lofty glass spires, their faerie lights dark forever, were encrusted with dried salt and scabby lichen.

Circling, the raven concentrated her search along the northern perimeter of the ruined city. The entire docks area was now submerged. Sullen waves lapped halfway up the escarpment below the Coercer Guild Headquarters. Skylights in one section of the huge structure had been smashed and the torc factory inside held no treasure now. The raven had seen to it.

Her farsensing eye bored deep, seeing through water and rock into me submarine caves that once had been high and dry above saline Hals rimming the Catalan Gulf. Months ago when Muriah city was alive, she had hidden in one of those caves with her doomed friends. There the trickster had come, robbing her! (But she had seen to that matter as well.)

And sooner or later she would see to the other unfinished business, for she was a creature methodical in her unsanity, this bird that glided in a gray March sky over a gray new sea, endlessly searching.

She scanned cavern after cavern where flotsam lay piled, cast up by the Flood's first cataclysmic surge and later entombed as the waters rose. Some of the caves still had air in their upper chambers. It was in one of these that she at last perceived the telltale density-signature of precious metal.

Gold.

Her harsh joy-cry echoed from the Aven cliffs. She plummeted, coming out of the dive just above the leaden water, and poised motionless with great ebony wings outspread. Then a small woman with a cloud of fair hair appeared in place of the raven; a woman dressed in a cuirass, greaves, and gauntlets of gleaming black. Felice laughed out loud and was abruptly naked, pale as salt-rime except for her wide dark eyes.

She pierced the water as cleanly as an arrow of flesh. A single torpedotike movement took her through the sea-tunnel and into the cave. Shining like a wan bluish corposant, she walked over the water to a narrow ledge where the body lay. She laughed again at the sight of the dead enemy, until she realized that the dingy glass armor was not amethyst, as her deceiving blue light made it seem, but ruby-red. Redactor Guild red.

"No!" she shrieked, dropping to her knees beside the corpse of the Tanu knight. His jaw hung slack and his wrinkled eyelids were closed. He wore no helmet. Lank fair hair still clung to his half-exposed skull. His golden torc was befouled in adipocere from the decomposing head and neck.

"Oh, no," she wept. "Not yet."

She scratched away the moldy matter hiding the breastplate's heraldic motif, gasping and whimpering until the design was fully visible. It was a stylized tree laden with jeweled fruits, not the transfixed caput mortuum of Culluket the Interrogator.

Peal after peal of laughter rang in the dank cave. What a fool she was. Of course it wasn't him.

Felice jumped to her feet, grasped the hinged gorget plates of the ruby armor, and ripped them from place. They fell to the rock floor with a loud chiming sound. And then the severed head fell, for she pulled away the torc so violently that the vertebrae were disarticulated.

BOOK: The Nonborn King
2.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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