The Blood-Rage (3) "No, not once," replied Second-dagger with some force. "Or if they did, I couldn't have seen it, for his back was to me during the ride here." "They didn't move," Patra confirmed. "Strange," Gravestone mused. "That could indicate his condition has improved since you met him. Do you agree?" Patra guessed that he really expected no answer from their daughter. The young one still had much to learn about mind-ways. Gravestone squatted on his heels, his powerful arms resting on his knees, and spoke to Second-dagger again. "Let your mu- lynx go. It's time we ate and you told me the complete story of your meeting with this--" he looked down and pointed at the prone man, "--this thing." He then looked up at Patra, the gladness of being near her again quickly shining in his eyes, telling her, as always, that he had missed her as she had missed him. Ah, I love him so, she thought. He smiled and said, "You too." Patra dismounted, dragging the deer carcass down with her, and stood beside the others to complete the human circle around the mindless one. Both she and her daughter then cleared their minds and concentrated on the thought: Free. The two mu-lynxes sprang away and were soon gone from sight. CHAPTER 3 Agon is a closed society because alien genes are a bane to survival. Only pure warrior genes can reproduce the heart-of-sharp-steel. -From the lok's discussion on the Second Law- With the evening meal over and her part of the tale told, Second-dagger stood and stretched her arms toward the sky, holding her head back so her long hair fell free. She then looked anti-spinward and noted that Agon's two suns had just set below the horizon. The sky was bright with their afterglow. She still had the front of her diode-cloth unzipped, and the soft breeze felt good on her skin. Soon, though, she would have to close the garment, for in this time of the cycle the temperature always dropped fast when the suns set. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Gravestone's attention returning to her, and she looked down at his squatting form; he was licking the grease from his fingers. He brokenly remarked between smacks, "You had an unusual meeting with the mindless one, daughter. As you've just told it, it was strange in many ways. For instance, I wonder why the grass around him was dead? What could have killed it?" He shrugged. "There are many unknowns here that we need to think through. Does anyone want to venture a theory as to how he lost his memory?" His gaze searched out both women. Second-dagger dropped her arms and gave him her full attention. "Perhaps he received a blow to the head so hard it caused internal damage?" "Yes, that thought also occurred to me," he said and threw a bone into the fire, causing a shower of sparks to leap upwards. "But when I inspected his head, there were no cuts or bruises." "A disease, then, perhaps a virus?" suggested Patra, as she picked her teeth with her dagger. "That's a possibility," Gravestone acknowledged. "Although it would have to be a new one not heretofore known. For in all my studies with the lok, there was never a mention of anything even remotely capable of causing a complete mind-wipe. However, to be on the sure side, we could allow a healer to analyze his blood for something new." Second-dagger grimaced and spat onto the ground before saying, "I hope we don't have to do that. Those ghouls make my skin crawl." Of all the social classes on Agon, she hated the healers the most. Even their name was a misnomer. She shuddered. "I don't like them either," Patra concurred and then asked of her weapon's-mate, "But if you do use a healer and if no new virus is found, how would you stop the unclean one from extracting the usual payment?" "I'd let our daughter kill the healer." Second-dagger smiled viciously at that and nodded. "I would like such a chore. In my option, it should be the fate of all those slave-lovers and cowards." Gods, she thought, I'd love to carve one of them up into little pieces. I bet they scream while they die. She watched Gravestone alternate his attention between his weapon's-complement and herself. Finally he asked of them both, "What else?" Her mother looked hard into his bland eyes and said in a low voice, "His mind could have been taken by a telepath." "The . . . Wists?" he asked hesitantly. Second-dagger caught the strange look that passed between them and thought: There's an old secret here. I've seen those particular searching glances before. What's going on here? "Yes," Patra answered sharply. "The mind-takers of Wist, those mental vampires. Curse the black-haired bitches. It makes me nervous just to think about them. If genocide was moral, I would support the Star Wanderers in killing them all." Gravestone turned pale, looked down at his hands, and whispered, "No, I don't want to ever discuss it. It couldn't be. I don't even want to consider it." "Why not?" Patra returned quickly. "They're almost impossible to kill. You've told me so yourself, many times." "No, NO!" he blurted out and looked up. "None of them could live long on Agon. Like all aliens who come to our planet, they would have been killed at once." He shook his head in short, savage bursts. "Nothing alien can exist on Agon. The Third Law forbids it." Her mother spoke in an accusing tone, "You mustn't lie to yourself. You decrease your chances for survival when you do. And when you lie to others, you become the fool. The latter is not like you. At least admit to the possibility. Remember the hunt?" Gravestone continued to shake his head, apparently choosing not to answer. What hunt? Second-dagger wondered. Her attention then flashed back-and-forth between them, finally stopping on her mother. "Why do you badger him? I agree. Nothing alien has ever lived for long upon our sacred planet." Patra looked away, remaining silent also, her face suddenly tight with strain. Not understanding this evasion from them both, Second-dagger fielded another suggestion. "What about some factor outside of Agon, like the Nons?" Gravestone stopped shaking his head and looked up. "Very improbable. Their war with the Star Wanderers is on the other side of the galaxy. But, I suppose, it's possible they could have sent a scout-ship to probe this area." The thought of an off-worlder setting foot on Agon made the blood-rage flash through Second-dagger's mind. She moaned from the pain of it and closed her eyes. Yet through the red fog, she heard her mother add, "That suggestion does have merit. They could have come here because they know that Agon furnishes the most formidable warriors in the galaxy, particularly for the mercenary ranks of the Star Wanderers. Since the Nons are at war with those arrogant bastards, this would give the Nons more than enough reason to seek us out." Obviously second thinking, Gravestone pointed out, "In light of the existence of just one so inflicted,"--he gestured toward the stranger—"that makes little sense. It seems to me, if the Nons wished to kill us and knew where we were, they would simply just destroy our planet, not tamper with the mind of one of its warriors. No, I don't believe it. We're still grasping at smoke." Second-dagger watched him rub his eyes and then reach behind to adjust his sword so he could sit cross-legged. "No," he said again, "we don't have enough information yet. So the mystery remains. In fact,"--and he snickered at this point--"it seems to grow as we analyze it. But we must still try to uncover this abomination, for we've a sworn duty to Agon to root out weakness. What could take the mind of a sword of Agon?" He smashed his fist into the ground, raising dust. "What?" he repeated. Second-dagger looked down at her father and mother, the two most important people in her life, and was suddenly aware that her fists were clenched and aching. She loved her parents; but, even so, they sometimes caused a black fury to rise in her mind, a fury so powerful that she could almost kill them from it. Sometimes it took so much energy to control that anger that she wished to just let it go, to let it build until she went berserk. Then the God of battle could sort out the results. That wish was, she knew, the result of the blood-rage, that affliction that ended up killing them all. But even with the knowledge of the source of her irrationally, that didn't diminish it. She shuddered and, trying to relax, stroked the hilt of her dagger. Her heart was suddenly heavy, and the beautiful spring day gone, shattered, for the far-reaching implications of this stranger had just dawned on her. And with the realization, a cold hand clutched her heart. She said with heat, "So . . . you're not going to kill this man tonight. With our margin of survival always low from one of Agon's cycles to the next, you now want to lower it even more by taking on a dangerous burden centered on this man. You could all die because of it." Gravestone seemed to notice that she had not included herself in the act of dying. He replied, "To die has never been a problem for a real warrior. As you know, to live in honorable service to Agon is the real challenge. So think. Where do we start in the search of this mystery's solution? What clues do we have? So far it seems to me that there's nothing except the stranger himself. And if he meets the void now, what then? I think that at this point we must try to make him into a rational person again, because, at some future time, we must talk to him." Patra nodded and added, "I agree, but isn't the collective wisdom of many usually better than that of a few. With that in mind, wouldn't it be wiser to inform the council of this man and his condition so that they can make a search for anyone else who might have information about him? There's a chance that someone here on Agon may have taken his mind--although I find it hard to believe that a true Agonian would let another live who was so badly damaged as this one seems to be." Gravestone said, "I also find that hard to believe. And if true, the rational would be guilty of violating the Second Law and thus would probably not come forward now. But your other point about collective wisdom is well taken. My only reservations about it is that if we tell the council, soon everyone on Agon will know of him and his cursed weakness. Then there will be hell to pay, for too many warriors will try to kill him even though--and if--the council orders restraint. So, let's wait until the stranger recovers enough to at least help in the defense of himself, because I don't wish to fight alone half of Agon just to save a man whom we'll later kill ourselves anyway." Through clenched teeth, Second-dagger spat, "Then you admit all this risk could be in vain?" Damn them. I want the man's blood now! I want to hear his screams now. "Nothing in this life is without risk," Gravestone answered sharply. "And if the desired goal is great, so, too, will be the greatness of the risk. Why do you suddenly crave quiescence when adventure is the essence of life? That isn't like you, you who would rather fight than eat." She turned her back to him and said into the gloom of the fast approaching evening, "I don't like this stranger that looks at nothing. I don't like this situation that he's forcing upon us. He's evil. I can feel it." I felt it when I first saw him. "He's like a newborn child, and they aren't evil. I think you really feel your uneasiness of the unknown." She spun to face him, hands tight in angry fists. "Weakness is evil. And if I have concerns, it's for you, for her." She pointed toward her mother-teacher. "I understand, daughter. But have concerns for him instead. He's going to become rational again, even if we have to open up his brain, tear out his soul, remodel it, and shove it back in." But she was compelled to press the issue, hoping for a way out. "So what if he does become rational again? How will that give us clues as to what really happened? He can't remember what isn't there, can he?" Gravestone rubbed the wide ridge of the scar where it passed over his shoulder--it always hurt there, she knew--and sat thinking. Finally he said, "There's much unknown about how the subconscious works. Perhaps when he's able to analyze his own inner-being again, we'll get a glimpse of a clue, a look at that mental block, or anything else that we could use to piece together some kind of a theory. I don't think we have any other choice. I can't think of any other options open to us. As disgusting as this will be for us, we still need to protect him; feed him information; guide him through what will be, essentially, a second childhood; pick his deepest memories when he becomes a talking rational again; and then . . . kill him." Second-dagger noticed Patra nodding in apparent agreement as her mother made the warning, "Still, our daughter's right in one point, my second-love. There is great danger for us in this man. If others of Agon find you harboring weakness, they'll assume you weak in turn and try to take your blood as well as the stranger's. Weakness is like fresh blood; it always draws the jackals." "Ha," Gravestone snorted and cut the air with his hand. "To try and to do are different things. For years now, our weapon's- clan has approached fighting zenith. We're so close even now that it would take a small army to stand before our skill. Then, too, many of the warriors of Agon are reasonable people who'll listen to our defense of him. I have no doubt that once our course is explained to those who may discover him in the future, most will agree with our thinking and give us some form of aid. Remember, the First Law demands that the preservation of our planet and its warriors be the first pledge of all. In that light, what took this man's mind could be a danger to us all. I'm sure the majority will see that." "But even with that aside," Second-dagger interjected, "you have set a very difficult, if not impossible, task before us. How will we teach a corpse anything? He's an imbecile, a dead-living idiot!" Gravestone appeared to think for a moment and then looked down at the stranger and said, "Maybe not. Let's test him. Watch." He leaned forward and shouted, "Hi-ee!" and then hit the stranger in the face with his fist. The mindless one's head snapped to the far side of the blow and remained there. His eyes were wide, as if surprised. Patra cupped the stranger's face and pushed his head back until the pain-filled eyes again stared upward. "Hi-ee!" Gravestone shouted and hit the stranger again. Patra again returned the stranger's head upright. At that point, Second-dagger saw a small trickle of blood run out of his mouth and down his cheek. She licked her lips. "Hi-ee!" Gravestone shouted once more and struck a third time. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "Did you both see that?" Second-dagger answered excitedly, "His eyes moved in your direction when you shouted, just before the blow struck." Will he show his pain next? she wondered. "I saw the same," Patra confirmed calmly as she straightened the stranger's head again. Gravestone looked at his weapon's-complement and said, "You try it." Patra nodded, then shouted, "Hi-ee!" and her fist struck. The crack of the impact was loud. This time Second-dagger bent over and gently turned the stranger's face upward. His eyes were looking sideways at her mother. "Amazing," Second-dagger whispered. She snatched her hand away from his face; it suddenly seemed too hot to touch. She stood then to hide her nervousness. He's still an animal, just an animal, brainless and stupid. But, somehow, that thought didn't bring much reassurance. She tightly clenched her fists, as she pictured in her mind dropping once again to her knees and smashing his face until it turned to jelly, until his eyes looked only at her. Gravestone grunted and placed his chin in his palm, the elbow of the same arm propped on his knee. "The stranger learns fast. My guess had been that he wouldn't have responded before ten blows." Patra said, "His association of the shouts, the direction from which they came, and the blows would indicate he has a good mental-correlation matrix, especially with so little other experiences present in his otherwise blank mind. Babies don't respond that fast." She smiled at her mate, obviously pleased with his experiment. "You were right," she added. "His mind may be blank but it's not damaged." Second-dagger saw her father look up at her. He said, "It doesn't follow that because he has no mind, he's an idiot. All rationals must have information in order to think, even you, daughter." She blushed but he continued, "When I mind-probed him, the uncomfortable feeling was like drifting into an empty, bottomless well. But somewhere within that matrix, I sensed a form of intelligence, of structure. It was like a tiny, lone star in a vast sky of nothing. So . . . I think he can be trained. It won't be easy . . . but possible." "The difficulty of our task will be compounded by time," Patra pointed out. "We've so little of it left because, as you know, we've just entered the season of Fleeing-Winter, the time for renewal and rest. As you also know, in about ninety turns of Agon, the season will be that of The-Long-Day-Before-Summer, that time in which Agon sifts out its weak by turning into a desert. He must be ready by then or perish in the heat-death from the alternate energies of Friosan and Ardent." "True," Gravestone agreed. "So, we must begin now to teach him the ways of Agon. To wait for more information from other sources could be disastrous; it may never come from council or elsewhere. As a matter of fact, to delay for any reason would prove foolish, for no one can live through The-Long-Day ignorant. One must know the dangers that Agon hides beneath its shifting sands." "The lok will help with all of that?" Second-dagger asked. Damn that device and all other machines of comfort. They make us weak. "I believe we won't beat the deadline to The-Long-Day without it. But to use the mind-teach device for information input other than scientific and linguistic, we'll need a better teacher than me, a teacher who can tune the instrument to the frequencies of our history and culture. This is because, unfortunately, we won't have the time--as your mother-teacher has just pointed out--where we can indulge in the luxury of tradition. You know, that tradition where the teachings are normally done from father to son or mother to daughter. So . . . I'll put my lok on him tonight, and tomorrow we'll search for a teacher." Still looking worried, her mother asked, "Must we seek outside help, outside the council, that is? I still have concerns there will be those who won't understand." "Patra, you know that in order to get the maximum effectiveness from the lok, we'll need to find an exceptional teacher." Patra sighed in apparent resignation and asked, "I sense you have already picked someone. Who do you have in mind?" "The greatest teacher I know is Rasp." Second-dagger noticed that he seemed to paused to let that sink in, and the silence that followed lasted many seconds and noticeably increased the tension in the air. Still, she reacted first. "Ha! That one," she scoffed and tossed back her mass of hair to make it all fall behind. "The last time I saw that half-crazy bastard, he said he was too old to live through another of the eight seasons of Agon, remember? Remember when he threatened he was going to feed himself to a desert-spider because he felt he couldn't be rational anymore? That way--or so he claimed--he could obey the Second Law's decree that all the weak must die. A noble gesture, but empty. If he had truly felt he was weak and had any real honor, he would have thrown himself on his sword orbits ago. It's the latter that takes real courage." Since early childhood, she had hated this old warrior. Yet, she admitted to herself, it wasn't an isolated hatred; she had hated almost all of the warriors, both male and female, that she had met throughout life. Gravestone laughed, then said, "He's been saying much the same for the last five orbits, yet he still lives. Remember, he's conquered the blood-rage for over a hundred orbits. One doesn't get that old without great discipline. Also remember, he went lonely over fifty orbits ago. Not many alone rationals have survived Agon that long. He's a unique man." "Where's he now?" Patra queried. "Anti-poleward from here but not far." "You are sure he still lives?" Second-dagger probed. "Yes. I rode a mu-lynx not more then ten turns ago that still had some of his imprints." "Damn," Second-dagger stated, disappointed. "You must know him very well. For me, at least, imprints aren't that easy to recognize, especially after that length of time." "Rasp rides a mu-lynx hard; it remembered." He then waved his hand to dismiss further questions, apparently feeling that their course was clear and that his daggers should recognize this fact by now. He's always like that, Second-dagger thought, impatient with us . . . especially with me. Yet in all fairness, she admitted to herself that patience was not one of her virtues either. Slapping his leg like he had come to a decision, he said, "It's time to act. A sword won't cut until it's swung. We'll start our search for him tomorrow." He then paused, as if to see if there would be any objections. Second-dagger followed her mother's lead and remained silent. He grunted in satisfaction and stood in one fluid motion. He then bent down and grabbed the mindless one's left hand. As he dragged the man toward one of the small domes, he looked back over his shoulder at her. "It grows cold. I'll put him in your cupola for the night and fit him with my lok. We start tonight in teaching him our language." Second-dagger spread her arms in a gesture of aggravation and shot back, "Ah-h-h-h. I won't sleep in the same cupola with a non-rational. Don't ask me to." She then told herself: He'll make too many demands of me someday. To accept the tyranny of taking orders all my life is not my definition of being an adult and free. I must start making my own choices, even if they are so wrong as to bring about my early end. To not direct my own life is to admit to being a slave or knowing that the decisions of other's are more intelligent than mine, a practice of children. AND I'M NOT A CHILD ANY MORE! "Second-dagger!" admonished her mother--and Second-dagger winced from the sharp tone of it. "You again forget your age. Act it. You'll wear the gold waist-chain of an adult tomorrow." Second-dagger bowed her head and cursed the cruelty of life and her own inability to control her tongue. She felt her red hair fall forward to hide her face. From behind this veil, she knew her voice was muffled as she whispered, "Forgive me. I'm having trouble making the quick transition to adulthood." She looked up to see a sad smile form at the corner of her father's mouth; he had stopped to turn that disapproving look of his toward her. He said, "Daughter, after tomorrow, you'll never find anything easy again." Then, in a louder voice, "I shouldn't have to remind you that you must use your own lok for night- learning. Moreover, if the cold keeps you awake, you know the imprints won't be as deep. Just because you're almost an adult doesn't mean you don't need new knowledge now more than ever. A blade that isn't sharpened grows dull." "All right," she conceded. "But if I were head of our clan--" "But you aren't," he interrupted. "I am. You don't have the wisdom yet to lead a legendary clan whose greatness goes back two thousand orbits. You diminish our present greatness by even wishing to do so." "I don't wish anything of the sort," she said, hurt. "With my adulthood recognized, more than ever my real desire is to add to this greatness by being the third member of our triad to go to zenith." "I hope that's really so, for it's my desire also. It's been four centuries since the last Kalt clan had three at zenith; and we've all agreed it can happen again, now, this orbit, if you can reach the mental discipline necessary. But your high emotion and lack of control gives me new doubts." "I'm sorry. I am trying, but for some reason this stranger makes chaos of my harmony. And I don't understand why. I need more time." "Is this the cause of your surliness and anger since your return?" Second-dagger stood her ground, looking directly at her father while she answered, "Yes." Damn you, yes. She mentally-winced as his own sudden anger made the veins in his forehead protrude. He growled at her, "While you're a child, irrationality can be excused. But after tomorrow, no more. There's a responsibility that goes with the gold chain of adulthood. Everything that you do then will reflect upon the honor of your mother-teacher, the clan-name, and myself. You'll have to enter into another world, a higher plain of conduct. What's the common experience of all Agonians?" Second-dagger shocked herself with the ferocity of her own reply, "To cause the death of our children!" Gravestone dropped the mindless one's hand, walked to her, and grabbed her hair. He then pulled her head back, forcing her blazing eyes to look up into his. He snarled, "In that, at least, you speak the truth. You will suffer; you will know pain beyond your imagination. The pain will be of the mind, the heart, the spirit, and the soul. Not until after you kill your first child because it's tainted with weakness will you fully know the extent of what I'm saying. Then you may even seek your own death because the burden will be too great, just as your mother-teacher tried to do when she had to kill our first-born." She heard her mother gasp, and a picture of the older woman's face, white with horror, flashed into her mind. Second-dagger started to tremble and felt the tears well up in her eyes, so great was her anguish. But a dagger doesn't weep. "My twin sister!" she cried. "Yes," Gravestone answered, his voice brutal. "She was born blind!" "Weakness!" "Yes, YES!" she screamed and tried to break free, but her father's grip was too strong. He held her a few heartbeats longer and then thrust her backwards. She fell and landed in a sprawl, but her eyes never lost their lock with his.
Go to part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44
Copyright © 1992 L Clayton Bennett |