The Blood-Rage (5)
CHAPTER 5 No one will violate the sanctuary of another's 'cupola.' For those who do, death is the punishment. -The Fifth Law of Agon- The rays from Friosan and Ardent were bright now; and as Erendria sauntered down the hill with a new confidence, she noticed that there was almost no breeze. Also, a silence prevailed that was as vast as the land. The day-bats must have found something, she thought. She looked out over the seemingly endless plains, green now with the touch of first-light, and felt the magic that was Agon in awakening. Like a flower opening to the sun. Beautiful. Still excited, she headed for her cupola to get the stranger. The dome's round surface looked utterly black as it sucked at the light and heat from the heightening glow of the suns-rise. Passing through the energy-wall gave her body a slight tingle and a flash of cold, though not unpleasant. Once inside, the appearance of the concave wall took on a partially transparent effect, almost mirror-like, with the curved reflection of the mindless one shining down from above and the outside seen as a ghostly image. She knew the warmth here was caused by the one-way passage of energy from the outside to the inside and by the heat captured from the body of the mindless one. The latter function of the cupola was due to its ability to reflect almost all internal energy, the same principle as used by her diode-cloth. Looking down, she observed the stranger lying on his back; his eyes were still open and staring at her. She sat beside him cross-legged, untied his feet, removed the lok-band from around his forehead, and then tucked it into her pouch. She meant to leave him then but, instead, felt drawn by the gaze of his light- purple eyes. Becoming slightly mesmerized in their unusual depths, she bent over his expressionless face, her soft hair falling around his head like a red tent. Damn but he's beautiful, she brooded and moved to touch his face lightly with her finger tips. She shivered and moved her hand to trace a path through his hair, around his eyes, down his nose, to finally pause at his mouth. Her abdomen suddenly contracted and a strangely sweet feeling flowed through her stomach. She felt alarmed and puzzled as the sensation spread lower. He's just a thing, she said to herself. How can I get aroused by just a thing? She whispered to herself or him--she knew not which--a flood of questions: "What secrets do you know? How did you come to this? How? Why do I feel out of breath when I look at you?" Then the thought hit her: I could take him while he lies here, while he's helpless. Gods! Why does that appeal to me? Control. Maybe that's why. I would have complete control. I could do anything I wished to him, anything. She looked at his nakedness, and her heart raced. She dropped her hands to his chest and pressed down hard to feel the firm muscles beneath his skin. Without understanding why, she found herself kneading the muscles, digging her fingernails into them with ever increasing violence. She took her exploration lower. No, Don't look at me! I hate your eyes! her mind screamed silently. She moaned aloud, dropped her head, and sank her teeth into his neck. A strong desire filled her then that was primitive and sexual, calling to her to tear at his throat. React to me, damn you. Respond! She moaned again and released him, falling back onto the ground where she rolled her head from side to side while seeking a way through the whirlpool of her chaotic thoughts. She was frightened by the power of these new feelings and tried desperately to search for a way to get back under control. Why are my thigh muscles in spasm? she wondered in panic. Quickly, she moved her hands down between her legs and sought for the release that she had to have. Somehow, while doing this, it was terribly exciting to know that his eyes were watching her. By the time the roar in her head had abated, she was bathed in sweat, panting. "I shall kill you someday," she murmured quietly, ". . . someday," and covered her face with her hands, ashamed now by her confusion and by her need. She lay in that position until the ambient light had increased noticeably, then rolled over, rose, and walked unsteadily to the center of the cupola. Feeling mentally numb, she knelt there to gather her thoughts. I hate these new emotions. Hate them. In time some quietude returned, and she remembered that there were still chores to do. At that point, she reached out with a still shaking hand to a small, round cylinder sitting vertically on the ground; it was about three inches high and half that in diameter. She pressed a stud on top of the device, and the walls of the dome disappeared as the projected forcefield collapsed. Her body welcomed the inrush of cold. Reverently, she clipped the cupola to her weapon's-belt, well aware that this device and the diode-cloths were responsible for bringing humans out from under the tyranny of Agon's terrible heat and cold. Still, she again mused an old thought, I would trade both devices for harder, deadlier times. The smaller our population, the more my strengths would be recognized by others. Still on the hilltop, Gravestone and Patra sat side-by-side. "Well," Patra said, "its been done. And now Agon will test her strength as never before." He said, "You sound bitter. It's always been this way. Our culture is geared to finding the road to maximum strength. We've even shunned all but a few items of science in order to achieve a quicker path." "And it's always been cruel and without pity." This world is so heartless. Why do we love it so? Gravestone seemed surprised, questioning, "Of course cruel; strength comes from cruelty. But pity? That's an off-world term. We don't use it." "Nevertheless, I felt something like it for our daughter yesterday, unworthy though that may be. I admit it was a strange and foreign feeling. Maybe I'm slowing growing old." My God, I know I am, she thought quickly. And maybe that's why we all end up committing suicide. Because we cannot stand to die slowly. He looked at her closely. "Are you experiencing the blood- rage more often?" "Not that I can notice. But, as you know, it increases gradually, insidiously." "Yes. And because it has progressed a long ways in both of us already, we need to practice patience more, especially now because of the trials ahead." Patra eyed him sharply and asked, "The stranger?" She watched him lace his hands together and place them behind his head. He replied, "Yes. He'll force us to exercise great patience, for he'll probably do many things that we would normally take for inexcusable weakness. Therefore, we're going to have to be continually conscious of his mental state and make allowances for any mistakes, particularity as he gains information and starts to progress . . . in other words, becomes more human. If we don't, the desire to kill him will become unbearable, because--as you well know--we're conditioned to hate all forms of weakness." Patra had to move. She stood and started the combat exercises; this always helped settle her mind. While in motion, she asked, "You have no doubt, then, that he'll progress?" "Little. However, if that turns out to be the case, he dies; and we report the whole story to the council. Perhaps it should have been their problem from the first anyway. Hell, I don't know." "He's still going to be killed, whether he can learn or not, isn't this true? I mean . . . would you defy the Second Law?" He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Of course not. He's succumbed to a weakness, whatever its cause. That means that someday he must bow his head to the earth so that Agon can remain pure." He paused, apparently noticing the relief on her face, then put his hands over his eyes, trying--she guessed--to rub the tiredness away. He finally added, "Naturally, Erendria--", he paused again to chuckle, "--I still have to think before I call her that. It's so new." He chuckled again, then continued, "She'll be the one who he must kneel before. The duty and honor of the execution goes to the one who first spoke to him." As she proceeded to the sixth form of the exercise, Patra felt her body get slippery with sweat and noticed that the outside of her diode-cloth had turned silver as it tried to dissipate her body heat. She unzipped the garment further and, keeping her breathing regular, said, "If we train him correctly, he'll welcome extinction when his responsibility to Agon is over." I wonder if we are the only race that teaches our children how to die rather than how to live? "True," Gravestone agreed and joined her in the kata. They fell silent until each had completed the 729 movements of the ver. As practiced by billions throughout Agon's warrior history, the exercise had once again helped to clear her mind. When finished, she watched as Gravestone readjusted his sword so that it crossed his back, the hilt just protruding above his right shoulder. She then knelt with him, sitting on her legs, hands on her thighs, palms downward, and closed her eyes. The search for inner-harmony came quickly to her. She then reviewed each movement that she had just done of the ver. This was an analysis for minute imperfections, a lifelong search for improvement. It was motivated by a desire for the ultimate performance before the blood-rage conquered her mind and took her into the void. Patra felt that she had finished the ancient process first. She opened her eyes and let her mind drift away, heightening all of her six senses. She could feel the mental presence of five mu-lynxes that were very distant and the gentle essence of Erendria and Gravestone. Slowly she expanded out further until she barely felt . . . what? Some other strange presence? What's this? she wondered, trying to identify the source. She concentrated long; but it was too faint, too different to grasp; and she almost gave up. Just then she sensed that Gravestone had opened his eyes. She continued to sit unmoving while he, too, expanded his mind. He seemed to stare straight ahead for a while and then said, "Something calls." "I, too, hear it but from where?" It's alien. I can feel it. Yet she knew that was ridiculous. Nothing alien can exist on Agon. I must be more tired than I thought. "The stranger?" "No, I don't see how that could be possible. Besides, even if it was possible, he still exists like a machine without instructions, that is except for the ones of involuntary body functions and whatever words and concepts the lok fed into his mind last night. He cannot yet have an identity or core of personality. Even if he did, you know that we can't detect the clear thoughts of another adult rational. Also, this other thing appears far, far away. It has to be something else, perhaps an anomaly in some mu-lynx who has gone insane." "It's very dim and . . . ah, now it's gone." "Yes, gone," Patra confirmed and closed her mind, thinking: I didn't like the strangeness of that mental touch. What are you hiding, Agon? She stood slowly and searched for her daughter. She saw the young one almost immediately, down the hill. Erendria was leading the mindless one around in a circle, her hand in his. A frown creased Patra's forehead, and she wondered: What's she up to? "Look," Patra said to her weapon's-complement. Gravestone stood and followed her gaze. Taking in the scene in that calm way of his, he said, "His body functions are more intact than I had thought. We'll test him again today to see if more of his limits and capabilities can be determined. We'll have to be clever in doing it though, for it will be some time yet before the lok teaches him to understand our language and, I'd guess, to speak it in return." Patra nodded, then had another thought. "You need to give him a pair of your shorts. He shouldn't remain naked." Gravestone agreed and bent to his leather pouch, selecting the standard garment of a sword of Agon, the hide of an ice- tiger, furry inside and leather-soft outside. He held it out to Patra and said, "Give this to Erendria and tell her to put it on him. The sight should be amusing." He grinned. Patra took the shorts but didn't share his amusement, saying, "She's an adult. It would be unfortunate if she began to desire him." That thought suddenly made her very uncomfortable. She pitied the first man that coupled with her daughter. Erendria would grind him up. Her desire and rage would be awful and destructive. Gravestone suddenly lost his smile and started down the hill, taking large, angry steps. Patra sampled the morning again by deeply filling her lungs with the cold air that was still moist with dew and smelling of wet grass. She looked up to see a few high clouds tracing their gossamer path in the spinward sky. The rays from Friosan and Ardent made them look like red serpents. As she left the hill, she thought that it was an angry-looking dawn. She approached her daughter and asked, "Experimenting?" Erendria nodded, and when she replied her voice had a trace of irritation in it. "As you can see, he seems to have gained some of the involuntary physical functions such as walking. He'll also sit in any position I put him in. For that matter, he's very easily manipulated into any posture. Oddly enough when walking, his coordination is superb; he never stumbles or loses his balance." Simultaneously, she stopped walking, pulled gently on the stranger's hand, and said, "Stop." He did. Patra said, "The lok seems to be working its magic. He understands a few words this morning." She studied him some more and then added, "This is encouraging, daughter. He won't be as much of a burden as we had first thought." She noticed the teeth marks on the side of his throat and the faint pink lines of his knife wounds. But she decided not to comment on either. Instead, she held out her hand and said, "Here, he's been naked long enough, put these on him." Erendria nodded and took the shorts. Patra turned to walk away but stopped after a few steps and, without turning, stated, "You seem calmer this morning. Being an adult agrees with you." She sensed Erendria looking at her backside. And when the younger woman spoke, the tone of that voice further told Patra that her own nonchalance hid nothing from her daughter. Her young one said quietly, "Yes, I'm an adult now. And I'll conquer the blood-emotions and live a long life." Patra continued on without replying but wondered what expression was on her daughter's face. Gravestone waited until the stranger had been clothed before deciding to approach Erendria. He noticed that she had taken the stranger's hand again and, even while they stood still, didn't release it. She likes to touch him. Why? He's subhuman and un-clean. But he really knew that he dreaded her awakening desire. If only they could stop time and keep her as a child. He stopped beside them, got control of his thoughts, and asked, "Suns-rise to you daughter. What was your lok-lesson about last night?" "Tensor calculus," she answered evenly, meeting his gaze, seeming to know this wasn't his real interest. She always hated his probing. "Mathematics is your favorite subject, is it not?" "One of them, along with physics." "Male subjects, a thinker's pursuit," he taunted. Where's your rage this morning, daughter? Erendria obviously saw the challenge. He could tell she wanted no argument this special morning, but her expression said, "so be it." He thought: The rage is too strong in her blood. He tried to hold back the next thought, but it squeezed past his will to torture him. She'll never live to be old like us. Although it appeared to take considerable effort, she replied to him coolly, "Then why does the council not create a purely female channel so that we may lok-learn only female subjects such as killing babies?" Ah, daughter, he thought, that cuts, and admitted to himself that he probably deserved the wound. He decided to ignore her counter and said, "To what use will you put the mathematics and physics?" "To the same use of all knowledge, survival. And further- more, someday I wish to go off-world." There, she has finally said it, he thought. Aloud he mused, "You haven't expressed that wish before. The daggers of Agon don't often have that desire. To leave the planet for the strange ways of the rationals that inhabit the rest of the galaxy is unusual. The aliens have weaknesses that are almost beyond belief. It's disgusting." "Then why do the swords of Agon go?" "You know why: to bring back the raw materials and technology needed to build the cupolas and loks and supply our five cities. To remain civilized without these materials and outside support, we'd be tempted to rape Agon for them and thus violate the Fourth Law." She stamped her foot. "Yes, yes, I've heard all that before. You evade the intent of my question. What's the rationale behind the notion that only the males should do this? And want to do it?" "Off-worlders consider most females to be inferior. This, of course, causes the death of many an alien foolish enough to voice such an opinion in the presence of one of our daggers. Nevertheless, the opinion exists, voiced or not. One of the results of such prejudice is that a male Agonian can bring home one hundred times more wealth than a female." She seemed to be well aware that he didn't answer the second part of her question, and she prompted, "And the want of it?" "Ah, yes. I suppose for the usual reasons: curiosity, adventure, experience." She nodded her head up and down. "I find those enticing as well. Why don't you see that? As to the other, equal knowledge is a great leverage for respect." "I hear truth in what you say. However, the aliens' most advanced science is very difficult, perhaps too difficult even for our thinkers; and I know a few thinkers. Most of them don't fully understand the deeper science of the Star Wanderers." Erendria persisted. "An Agonian can learn anything if the desire is great enough." "That's an old cliché, and I don't believe it is necessarily true. There are limitations to what the minds of some races can grasp. Minds, like the material they are constructed from, are finite. In other words, there are limits." "Are you admitting that an Agonian is inferior to some off- worlders? Do you dare?" Her voice was cold. "What I dare is not to succumb to silly pride. Don't ignore that we live near the edge of the galaxy where the stars are relatively young compared with those near the center. The science that comes from the central region is over two billion galactic-years old. In contrast, we didn't come out of the dark ages until twenty-five thousand orbits ago. Evolution-wise then, in the area of mental powers, some off-worlders are superior to us. We can't compete mentally with minds that are able to comprehend easily how, for example, the Paradox Drive works. Perhaps a billion orbits from now, we'll be able to compete, who knows? But there's no need to feel any shame because of that; these others just have a long head start on us, a billion-year head start. "Yet, take heart. We can view this problem of inferiority from a different angle. Let's take the mind-killers of Wist for another example. We have some telepathic powers with mu-lynxes, but this is nothing compared to what the Wist's possess. The mind-killers can read the minds of others and destroy most living things with just a thought. This we can't do. But does this make us inferior to the Wist? I suppose that depends on what is meant by inferior. "Always our power and worth to the galaxy has been in our unconquerable will, fighting spirit, and willingness to die. There are no finer warriors in the galaxy, and the off-worlders know it. At the present time, only in this sense are we not inferior to the Wists and to those who come from the galactic center, the Star Wanderers." Erendria said, "I won't agree to this . . . this intellectual and mental inferiority. I can and will learn their science. I will catch up. I won't accept limits." She appeared to be really angry now. Beginning to feel it was hopeless to argue with her, he shrugged and replied, "That may be your path. But keep in mind that inferiority and its antithesis, superiority, should be considered in the context of the total capabilities of a rational, not in a single characteristic or two. Be proud and satisfied that you can kill better than them all. "And if you do go off-world someday, don't stay away from Agon too long. The ease of survival out there will eventually destroy your combat zenith, that finely honed ability to respond in an optimum manner to any threat. I've seen a few of Agon's warriors who did stay off-planet too long; they died soon after returning home. The quickness of the predators was too much for their relaxed reflexes. Civilization always weakens a warrior because being away from home world is like taking opium." Erendria looked away, her contempt for his opinions evident in the pout of her lower lip. Gravestone snorted his displeasure, suddenly wishing to end this line of talk. He looked at the mindless one and found the other was staring back, his eyes no longer blank. Gravestone commented on it. "His eyes aren't dead any more. Have you noticed?" Erendria also turned her attention and said, "Yes, his mind becomes more active each hour." "Then this is good news. He'll learn faster than we first thought." Then he paused, thinking. "Still, until he can operate on his own, I'm making you responsible for him during the initial phases of his training." "Curse of weakness!" she spat. "Why is it I who must herd him around like a simple prairie-hog? In the past, you and mother-teacher have kept me isolated from males. Why the change? Why now?" "Because you haven't proven to your mother-teacher and me that you can think clearly and thus share in the planning. You only show us that you can rage. That's why you'll take the more simple tasks. Besides," he grinned falsely, looking at their clasped hands, "I think you secretly enjoy it." He turned and walked off a short distance, chuckling aloud for effect but inside his mind he wanted to hack the stranger apart and beat her for her obtuseness.
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Copyright © 1992 L Clayton Bennett |