The Blood-Rage (38) "Do you love us so little that you'd tear out our hearts just because you can't accept that you participated in a universal madness as old as your history? You've merely done what millions before you did. You did it because you thought it was right at the time. That's all any of us can ever do: that which we think is right at the time. If the future proves us wrong, we mustn't blame ourselves for making judgments and taking actions derived from faulty information. If you now truly believe that killing your first-born was wrong, live and help me change the laws of Agon. Don't make kill you. I'd rather kill myself." She was silent for a long time. Finally she said, "Put your sword's point to my neck." He lifted the sword with his left hand and reversed it until the sharp tip touched the soft skin of her neck. He then reached up with his right hand and closed it upon his left, gripping the handle with what seemed to be all his strength. He implored to her in the same gentle tone, "Don't do this. Don't break our hearts. There's no return from the void." "That's why I desire it, my son," she whispered. "But death is not the awful thing you think it is. Can't you hear the refrains of my own? It sings to me with a gentleness that matches your own." "Yes, my teacher," he whispered back. "But the words to that song are very sad. It's breaking my heart." He then closed his eyes and tilted back his head. He got a look on his face then that made Sulamith worry he had decided to join Patra and Gravestone in dying. His grip on the sword became so tight that she heard his knuckles crack, and sweat rolled down his torso. Sulamith was sure that never had such a large group of warriors ever observed such an emotional event. They lived each heartbeat now, linked together by the ritual and the death-wish that they all shared to some degree. To Sulamith, the moment had a terrible sadness almost beyond belief. And her concern for Darkcian was paralyzing; she had stopped breathing. Patra said in a whisper, "I have loved you, my son." Suddenly, the old one, Keen, screamed, a sharp piercing sound that knifed through Sulamith's soul and jerked every eye to him. She immediately realized he had just made his final decision. He pulled his sword and threw it into the air. It arced overhead, end over end, and fell to the earth handle first in the middle of the human circle. His timing was perfect as he leaped into the air, arms out stretched, and struck the sword's point before it toppled to the ground. His body crashed into the blade, sliding down the sharp steel, and coming to rest at the hilt. Sulamith observed that the impalement was classic, the work of a master. And the silence that followed seemed to last forever. Even the thunder seemed to fade into the distance. "This is too much to bear," Erendria whispered after a long silence. "It's madness!" Darkcian shouted. He took his blade away from Patra's neck and grabbed her hair, pulling his teacher's head up to look at him. "Madness!" he shouted again, this time into her face. "Yes," Patra said and smiled weakly. "We're all a little mad." She blinked her eyes rapidly. "I'm all right now. I guess I just needed to see peace foolishly sought. Keen furnished that." "You'll not seek the void?" her student asked hesitantly. "Not today," she whispered and then looked sideways at Gravestone. As one coming back from the brink of death, Gravestone looked as though he could hardly believe his eyes. "Bless that old man and his rage," he said, voice trembling. Silence then ruled for almost a minute, a wonderfully long minute to Sulamith. She released the breath she had been holding; it was like expelling fear. "Clear the center of the circle," Shara ordered. "We've yet to judge the accused. There's no need to make a big thing of Keen. He just needed to die, that's all." Those words seemed to break the spell, and the clan of Kalt slowly walked back to their sitting places. Sulamith could see that Gravestone's grip on his mate's hand was so tight it was painful to the older woman. Yet Sulamith was sure Patra would have cursed him if he had let go. Sulamith tensed again as Shara started to glare at one after another of those around the circle, stopping when her gaze reach herself. The old crone snapped, "I'll allow you to live, even though you have killed from behind without formal challenge. For the one you dispatched also didn't give formal challenge and, even worst, violated first the sacred rules of this council by instigating violence when her pledge was to do otherwise." Shara looked again at the still surprised faces around the circle, and the fires of indignation flared suddenly in her eyes. "What's happening to the traditions of our social order? Are we no longer rationals? Have we become animals or lower? Should we now crawl on our bellies like insects? Where is the discipline of our race? "The emotional content of this meeting has been intense beyond any we've ever known. But this is no excuse! I won't tolerate this breach of rationality another time. At the next act of violence started within this sacred circle, I'll leave this council and toss my dagger. I can no longer live with the shame that my sister and brother warriors are making me suffer this turn by their disregard of being human and their lack of inner strength. You've let the blood-rage dominate your spirit and reason. Shame." The quiet that followed her words was like an affirmation of their guilt. Darkcian waited a while before saying softly, "It is to this curse of Agon that I can offer hope, if you'll listen." "What are you saying, fool?" Shara asked. "The blood-rage has no cure. We are all doomed by it." "I don't believe that. But first, let me inform all here of a danger beyond the blood-rage. Isn't it true that the blood-rage has grown over the years since you have been practicing the genocide of the weak? Isn't it true that the warriors of Agon are dying at an ever younger age?" "How did you know that?" she whispered. Sulamith watched as a nervous movement rippled around the circle of sitting warriors as they tried to shift to a more comfortable position on the ground, yet not succeeding. She perceived that their discomfort was not physical. "Through the lok, I studied the birth and death statistics of Agon spanning the last ten thousand orbits." "Damn you. This isn't common knowledge," Shara revealed. "Although known by the thinkers for thousands of orbits, it hasn't been brought to the attention of our warriors because of the fear that mass suicides would develop due to depression. The cause is unknown--" "No," a big man interrupted from across Shara. Sulamith saw that the man had no sword and, therefore, was obviously a thinker. "No," he repeated. "The cause is known. It's a dominant gene carried by all Agonians, including ourselves." Shara was looking at her hands clasped in her lap. "I didn't want them to know," she murmured. "That's a mistake," Darkcian interjected. "You can't expect rationals to act like adults unless you treat them as such. This is a racial problem of monumental consequence. No less than the long range survival of your people is at stake." She looked at him angrily. "There is no solution!" she shouted. "Why burden our people with an insolvable problem?" "All problems remain insolvable if no one knows of them!" he shouted back. "I've a solution to this one." The two thinkers leaned forward. One of them said, "I would risk anything to have you speak of it." Sulamith noticed that the rest of the group was too stunned to speak. Darkcian rose and walked to the middle of the circle of council members, stepping over a body that lay in his path. "You won't like my solution," he warned. "But you should hear it for the truth that it'll reveal--although truth is not always something that I have observed Agonians seem to want. Nevertheless, here it is. "When a dominant gene becomes a danger to procreation, it has to be modified by a corrective gene from outside the genetic pool of the afflicted." "What are you implying, fool?" Erendria asked. Sulamith snarled, "He's implying that alien breeding will cure our problem. It's as plain as the stupid look on your face." NO!" Erendria shouted, jumping to her feet. "No aliens are allowed on Agon." "That unwise law is what got your race into this predicament in the first place," Darkcian said. His eyes were like two hard, purple gems. "Breed with an alien?" a sword asked behind the memory-lost one. "Unthinkable!" Darkcian turned and looked at the warrior. "It's time the unthinkable was thought. Your race's survival depends on it." Sulamith looked around at the circle of faces; not one had a look of compromise on it. Oh, God of life, she thought. This chance will never come again for them. Their stupidity and stubbornness must be overcome. Gravestone also rose to his feet. "It's time we grew up as a race. My adopted son is right. Think of this thing that's new; think of this thing that's different. The salvation of our future children is at stake. Can't you all see that?" Patra rose next. "I've chosen life over my despair. You here can choose life over fear. What is the value of strength if it kills us in the end? Better to be less strong physically and more strong mentally if one causes us to die and the other causes us to live. It's a choice of rationality." "It narrows down to that," Darkcian agreed. "Are you people a rational race or not? As you look back on your lives, it's going to be with regret for your mistakes that will make for your redemption. Otherwise, whoever of you that feels proud of your mistakes will forever remain despicable for your lack of insight and inability to learn, with time, what is truly right or wrong. When are you going to learn that improvement in character is the only redeeming quality to aging. All else is digression and, eventually, death without meaning." Another long, poignant silence fell over the group. Shara stood with the rest. "From the looks on the faces of our members, a choice isn't ready to be formed yet. It's an idea that must be considered carefully. I suggest that we break this meeting, send the Kalts away, and then we can judge the accused and his ideas." She scanned the faces. "What say you?" While some of the members were still too stunned to move, most who did gave nods in the affirmative. "So be it," Shara announced. She turned to Gravestone. "Go. We'll call your family back when a decision has been reached." The storm broke then; and to Sulamith, it was like some angry being who wanted to shout out its frustration. CHAPTER 40 Confusion occurs when two related facts don't agree. The clarification, therefore, must come from realizing that one of the facts must be wrong . . . or that both are. -From the Thoughts of Night Mist- Darkcian, along with Gravestone and Patra, sat around the small cooking fire, warming their evening meal. The memory-lost one noticed that Erendria stood apart from them but within earshot. Obviously she wished to be alone. Now and then, a warrior would walk by; but he or she always gave the Kalt's campsite a wide berth upon recognizing who they were. "They avoid us like we're unclean," Patra commented. Gravestone said, "They saw from a distance that seven warriors died during a council meeting. They know that's almost unheard of and avoid that which they don't understand." "And fear," the older woman added. "Yes, that, too," Gravestone agreed. The two fell silent then, and Darkcian sensed they wanted to look at him but were embarrassed to do so, as if ashamed that they had failed him. The time dragged, and the tension increased. Finally Patra murmured, "Time has become our enemy, second-love. With each hour that passes, the danger to our student grows." "I know," Gravestone returned. "The council's been in judgment for six hours now. I'm growing worried." "These last few hours have seemed like years," Patra said. She looked at her mate with the softest of gazes and added, "That old woman, Shara, is a shrewd one. Nothing gets past her. In her own way she's very dangerous." "Cold as ice, that one. I used to prize that attitude. No more." "Will you accept a negative verdict?" she asked suddenly. Her lips were trembling. "Agon is in my blood, and I must believe in at least one absolute. That absolute is that the majority of Agon is always correct. It's the anchor of my life." A quick thought passed Darkcian's mind: Why do Agonians need a stable foundation for their philosophy? This planet teaches change, a flux, and an anchorless existence. Is this desire for permanence their counter to chaos, their way of finding balance? Patra asked, "You'll abide by their decision no mater what?" "Yes. I must. It's unthinkable to resist the will of the majority." "Not I. He's my son. I'll die with him if necessary." Gravestone looked at her sadly. "Then I'll die beside you. My life ends with yours." She reached out and touched his right hand. He didn't jerk it away. Darkcian, watching this interplay, said, "You're both insane." Gravestone laughed without humor. "Of course. We're Agonians." Darkcian thought: They admit to their wrongness yet refuse to change. Finally he asked, "What if they ask one of you to do the killing?" Patra looked at her weapon's-complement and said, "You couldn't kill him now." "I could for the laws of Agon," her mate answered. "No, you couldn't," she said again, her voice firm. "And you? Could you refuse?" Gravestone countered. "Once, long ago, you killed one of your own. You did it for the laws of Agon." Pain crossed her face, but she still looked straight into his eyes. "Our child was just born, too young to even bow her head to the earth. Yet I still killed her. Afterwards I had wanted to die." She stopped talking for a long time. "I could never do such a thing again, especially now that I know it was wrong. I've lost my faith in the Second Law. What other laws of Agon are false?" Darkcian detected panic in her voice. Gravestone said sharply, "Don't think along those lines; madness lies there." "You ask me not to think. I now believe that's been one of our problems all along. We haven't thought enough or questioned enough. We do kill too easily, like that time when you killed the Wist female even though you didn't want to?" "I had no choice in the matter. She ordered me to kill her. One can't resist the command of a Wist." Darkcian noticed Erendria turn toward them as she heard that. The younger woman walked up to them and stated, "That wasn't the way I heard it." From his squatting position, Gravestone looked up at her and said, "The time has come for no more lies. The Wist prime knew she couldn't defeat all of Agon, so she ordered me to kill her when the others of the hunt got too close." He hung his head and added, "It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. She could weave love into my mind until I was so confused with the mystery of the patterns I'd accept any illusion as reality. Like all of her kind, she was a witch." "Love?" Erendria questioned. "Love or lust. With her I could never differentiate between the two. That was part of her strange power, that ability to confuse." Patra interjected, "The long term effects of that lust may yet be your undoing." He turned toward her and said, "And yours, too." A tear slowly rolled down her cheek. "Of course," she replied in a low voice. "We're linked, you and I." "That isn't what I meant." "I know," she sighed. "What are you both talking about," Erendria demanded. Patra gazed up at her daughter. "You should hope we never have to tell you." "Agon damn you both," the young woman cursed. "When are you going to set me free from your ambiguous statements." Gravestone looked at his daughter sadly. "You've been asking that question since your adult-becoming ceremony. When are you going to realize it isn't us who sets you free, but yourself? You're free when you feel you are free, when you can stand on your own two feet and say, 'I don't need anyone'." "Like you?" the young woman sneered. "Not I, not now. From the time I met our mother-teacher, I've always needed her. Unlike you, I don't want to be free any more. However, before that time, I did stand alone and free, and I wanted it that way." Erendria snorted and turn away, walking quickly to put distance between her and that which she didn't understand. She left sad parents behind. Darkcian interrupted his teachers' melancholy mood. "They come for us," he said softly. Gravestone and Patra rose and turned in the direction of his gaze. Carla, the spokeswoman, was approaching. She appeared to be in no hurry. As she stopped in front of the Kalts, she said slowly, "Come. They've reached judgment." "What is it?" Patra asked tensely. "The council leader, Shara, will give it. Come." She turned and started back from where she came.
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