The Book of Ominiue: Starborn (4 page)

‘What about?’

‘What does it matter? It is but a dream, nothing more.’

Kíe gave one of his rare frowns. ‘I am still interested.’

Shayne did not want to hear about some Casadanian superstition, so to satisfy the lionman he decided to reply with as little as possible. ‘It was about a man, who had light coming out of his eyes — it was just a dream.’ Shayne grabbed the pack that he had ended up using as a pillow and made his way to the robotic pack mule to retrieve his breakfast. Kíe stood there considering him with half a smile. Two nearby lionmen also watched him, astonishment upon theirs.

The company set out again for the sixth day. Their progress improved as they moved away from the mountains. The ancient road slowly opened up, warding off the trees and foliage. The rare places where it was broken, smaller paths were forged by animals wading between the undergrowth, aiding their trek. Occasionally they came across the foundations of settlements long abandoned, but other than that everything appeared the same. Shayne found himself pondering the emptiness of the forest, a prime location to inhabit yet all shunned it. He believed the lionmen when they said no man,
[3]
lion or human would go into the forest. Some of the Earthmen found this a contradiction after all they were here now, but Shayne understood. When the natives saw the stars appear one night, followed by large objects gliding down over the following weeks, it was only reasonable to assume that their dragon-gods had returned to them. For weeks the ships landed and launched, to and from the colonyships. For weeks they must have wondered at this. Finally, they took the initiative to seek out the legends of history. A mere abandoned forest would seem trivial compared to the belief that their gods had returned.

The disappointment of not finding any gods was great, but the curiosity at watching the strange sky people eventually drew them into the open. Their disappointment was forgotten on the second day of contact when they met Shayne Forrester; the Strange Sky Ta’Orian outsider who resembled a saviour prophesied to come. They called him the
Afrada ala Hama
[4]
and always bowed slightly in his presence.

The Earthmen had mixed feelings when natives worshiped their arrival: cargo-cultism is what they called it. In the short term it was useful, but if something happened that caused the natives to doubt them it could very easily turn ugly. When native worship was inevitable they would move around it carefully until the
Gateway
was completed. The military were trained for such events, but this situation was different. They did not worship the Earthmen as a whole, but one Earthman: and the worst choice at that.

By lunchtime the road had become broad and was only disturbed by tree roots pushing the earth underneath. They stopped for a brief break before continuing on. It was then that Shayne realised that the lionmen were not as sturdy as he first thought. They were strong; incredibly strong, but they did not seem to possess the same the same level of endurance that humans had. Kíe as a sheltered scholar lagged behind, even amongst his armoured kin he looked the most encumbered; leaning heavily upon his walking staff. The warriors all used their long spears as walking aids; the three foot-soldiers were stooped over using the change in their centre-of-mass to encourage forward momentum. Their disadvantage was not noticeable beforehand; the terrain has been difficult on all and required time to navigate, allowing the lionmen to trudge along happily. This was a comforting thought, considering how imposing the lionmen were to look upon.

They had another rest in the afternoon, a break that was well received on both sides.  As they were sitting the Brigadier suggested the androids carry the lionmens equipment, revealing that he had also observed their deficiency.

Kushnalor Madan’rah came over as Shayne translated. ‘I believe we will be fine, Afra’hama,’ he said with some level of pride. ‘We came in with our provisions, we can walk out again.’

‘We Star Ta’Orians carry very little,’ Shayne replied. ‘We do not understand why you should make it hard for yourself. Let the
droids
carry your packs until we pass the borders of the Wayel-Éaa, then you can carry your burdens again.’ Madan’rah looked uncertain and wanted to say no so Shayne continued to try and persuade him, ‘If you and your warriors carried only the armour on your backs than that would be a burden still greater than ours.’

‘I am happy with that,’ Kíe announced. ‘It would make me feel much better if Dunkol’mire did not have to carry my share upon his back.’ Madan’rah still looked apprehensive but nodded in agreement. The lionmen put all their external equipment into a pile, while the androids organised a proportion that the machines would carry. After a brief argument between the machines and the captain the androids took away three quarters of the load to distribute between the two robots and the pack mule. The remaining gear was evenly split up and given to each of the lionmen, including Kíe who insisted that he should carry his share. In the end all the lionmen felt much lighter, except for Kíe who ended up regretting his stubbornness. Leaning heavily on his staff as he trudged on.

After hours of walking they finally stopped in another clearing. Charcoal remains of a campfire was clearly visible, left there from when the natives spent the first night in Wayel-Éaa a couple of months earlier. Madan’rah looked pleased. ‘This is good. Tomorrow afternoon we will be in Bohaníde.’ Spirits were high now, they knew they were nearly clear of the forest. The natives were much friendlier that night, exchanging some rare conversation and happily talking amongst themselves.

The night deepened and the light faded, leaving only the flickering light of the fire reflecting off Bohanese armour. The lionmen sat in one corner of the camp; a couple of soldiers were sharpening and oiling their swords, while the Earthmen casually talked amongst themselves. One of the lionman called out for Kíe to recite a legend of Ominiue and Anótole. It was a scholar’s primary duty to tech and entertain, which he did while at the Earthmen Colony, but avoided while they travelled through lands that brought the unnatural silence upon them. Kíe stood, a smile gapping from ear-to-ear and he began to speak. The other Earthmen listened through remotely linked earpieces connected to the androids’ translation matrix. Some of the magic of a storyteller was lost with the droids’ flat voices talking over Kíe’s baritone accent, but he still held the power of a speaker who easily immersed the listener.

Shayne was interested in their mythical figures. What he had learned in the time given was enough to spark his interest. Their histories were full of interesting characters, Anótole was one of their favourites; he was their most recent legendary figure and their last great one. The teachings that Kíe had shared with Shayne showed that others before him were far more interesting. Legends full of great heroes and villains. There was the
Ádin-Harnarder
, The Second High King of the Afradians, who fought wars for thousands of years, and was eventually taken prisoner by his enemies. He was tortured for a hundred years until his mind and soul was broken. They say for thousands of years afterwards he could be seen wandering the lands in a half-blind madness. There was also the first wizard who materialised out of nowhere and taught the ‘chosen’ the secrets of the universe. There was Lethagon the Great, another wizard who captured the DragonGod Ominiue, and trapped his soul in a sword, so that the beast would never die. Anótole was humble compared to some of these figures; even his friend and ally; the Afradian wizard called Marakite had a more distinguished history linked to the forest that they were currently travelling through: yet Anótole was the one they all loved.

‘Anótole like all of the DragonLords,’ Kíe began his narration, ‘who were chosen to ride the DragonGod Ominiue, is our hero of sacrifice, for the chosen ones are given eternal life, but they are destined to die in battle. The Lord of riders is only revealed in times of trial. Many years may pass and
oren
[5]
would still stand. Many lives of the children of the Kéaran may rise and fall and the chosen one will never have aged. One may have seen many battles, but the time would come, as all mortal creatures’ time must come, and therefore he must eventually die, paving the way for the next
DragonLord
to rise.’ Kíe’s gaze lingered on Shayne briefly. The scholar used his walking staff to draw vague images in the dirt. ‘That is the way of Ominiue, and that is the will of the
Lion Gods
who created him. Adarline, the sword of Ominiue is not lost, it is but waiting to be found, waiting for the call of the next bearer. Anótole’s spirit will live on in the next DragonLord.

‘Not much is known of this mighty Orian, for his greatest deeds were done with diplomacy and his sacrifice was over the great sea where none survived to tell the tale, neither friend nor foe. But some stories survive and one battle was fought here upon these lands. The corrupted empire from the southern continent sent ships and dragons to invade the coast of Dífrun, there they sought to create a stronghold to lay siege to the rest of our lands and to break the newly created oath of Kérith-Árim. They sent most of their corrupted dragon spawn; the dragons that were born into another life and did not follow the way of the Kéaran or practice the ancient Dragon-law that kept all life safe. The southern raiders could not see the dilemma they created. They refused the warnings and help offered. The armies of Dífrun came together under the banners of Kérith-Árim and the high house of
Ádin
for the first time in history. All united, north and south and there they marched and fought a cruel battle in Garathy.’ Kíe then went into a detailed account of one of the Dragonrider generals, who wrote the tale down, adding glory of flight into the story, with heroic battles in the sky where dragon and riders clashed in the air until the capture of the sea fort.

‘Finally after many bloody battles, the enemy was broken. Some were captured, both Ta’Orian and Dragon, but still many escaped, fleeing back to their cold desert homelands.

‘Anótole learned from those captured about the truth of the dragon corruption, seen with his own holy eyes the darkness that Dragon-kind can impose upon those and why the Dragons amongst them lived such strict and sometimes cruel lives. History is tainted with Dragon blood, he saw that they were far too dangerous and that they must always be guided to the right path. He saw that no matter how much they protected themselves, as long as there were dragons out in the wilds and in the hands of those who did not practice the Dragon law, then war would always follow. The only way to stop this was to either enforce the laws or to destroy every last dragon. So a final army was summoned and not just any soldiers, but the greatest: every mighty warrior and every dragon, except for the eldest. And upon the coast of Banadama all who could come were summoned to see them depart, knowing that they may never return.’

Kíe was silent for a moment, his eyes dreamily looking out into the nothingness, lost in thought before he began to sing. His lionish voice was beautiful as it rang through the trees, blending with the sound of the trees rustling high up in the canopy. Two of the warriors, pulled out flute like instruments and began to play; one rang with a low resonances and the other in the middle range, creating a haunting tune. After a couple of verses, the other lionmen began to stomp in time and their voices joined the scholars in a sad and slow rhythm; their harmonies lifting into the night so that even the trees seemed to be listening. 

‘Upon the coast of the southern seas

stands a great lord, fallen to his knees.

Man and Lion, and the sacred kin,

all there to watch them leave.

From the seas at Banadama,

the races watch from afar.

Why are the wizards down cast?

Did the Dragons leave to the very last?

As the light falls to the earth

the Markeeian lord surrenders all.

Their kin fading into the night

as they forsake our hidden plight.

The surrounding world has grown quiet,

for she mourns the Dragons flight.

Beyond the horizon to the edge of night,

a thousand men grieve the final fight.

Our Lord rides upon the elder of beasts,

his eyes shine brighter than the sun,

his sword is drawn calling all,

rider and Dragon soon to be gone.

Beyond the horizon out to the sea,

Dragon-kind have gone where did they flee?

Their watery graves forever unseen.’

The song softly drew to an end and the haunting melody faded, leaving the camp silent. No one dared to speak as Kíe seated himself and joined the silence. After some time they began to stir but even then their movements were slow and dream-like. When anyone spoke their voices were hushed, as if the presence of the song still lingered, and they were afraid to disturb it.

Hanniver came to Shayne and asked in a hushed voice, ‘Can you tell the lionman for me that I would like to hear more of their music?’ The Brigadier was an Englishman, but his accent carried a faint hint of German, revealing the nation of his birth. Shayne looked at Christov Hanniver but the empty gaze of the Starborn forced him to turn away. He did not intend to make the Brigadier nervous, but his expressionless and silent interrogation was only ever received with unease.  Shayne conveyed the message. The Journeyman was delighted in the military man’s interest. Kíe did not possess the wary nature of the other lionmen, he was more open and happily joined the Earthmen if given the chance. The two left Shayne sitting there and talked long into the night, by the morning they were good friends.