The Valley of Despair Page 9

Peenemünde,” Erik said, “nor am I an anthropologist, being but a simple fighting man – but, one with a brain. The world that orbits Deneb is different from ours, with even time advancing differently there. They have undoubtedly evolved along differing lines than we have on Earth. As to their tongue, apparently they developed a language that never left this geographical locale and so nothing remains on Earth of it today – a language they took with them to the stars, if my theory is correct. From comparing their writings I’d guess their language is identical today to that which they spoke eons ago, when they yet dwelt on the Earth.”

  08: In the Throne Room

  The conversation in which he and the girl discussed the possible origins of those of Deneb became permanently fixed in the man’s mind.

  As he labored in the mines the following days he had the recurring thought that if the gray people were made aware of the idea that their roots lie on Earth, an idea they’d possibly never contemplated, they might forego the enslaving of members of their own ancestral line and reconsider the relationship between the peoples of their world and this.

  For of such he felt to be true – that these were without a doubt descendants of the people who built this city; that they left in the dawn of time only to return some two thousand years ago, and then only to enslave the people they found here – people who were perhaps remnants of their own antecedents. From that time hence they had lured folk from the outside world here and enslaved them, sending many of them on to Deneb to labor there.

  Thoughts along those lines were running rampant through his mind as they drove him and the others across the square after a grueling day in the mines. Before they could exit the busy bazaar down a small side street that led in the direction of their cells he called out to his jailers. At the sound of his voice the guards stopped the men and began making their way toward Erik.

  Argos, in line directly ahead of Erik, looked back over one shoulder at this friend. His expression was worried. “Erik!” he hissed, his voice low. “Do not do this!”

  Erik glanced from his friend to the approaching guards. “I have to, Argos. This could mean freedom for all of us. But we’ll never know if I don’t try.”

  The guards stopped before Erik, their faces wearing a heavy scowl. “What would you slave?”

  “I would like to speak with Garmakalok. I made a discovery in the mines he’ll wish to hear about.”

  Garmakalok was their leader, he who ruled from the throne of supremacy, the position from which their most high sat in solitary authority over the city, a position of governorship whom none dared gainsay ought. At first they were reluctant, wishing only to return the slaves to their pens that they might seek entertainment among their women and their food stalls. But Erik was persistent and, although reluctantly, they agreed to take him to the majordomo who would decide if he spoke with the governor or not.

  “I will tell you this, slave. And you prevail not to prick Garmakalok’s interest, or if you do prevail to bring to Garmakalok the slightest frown of displeasure, then yours shall be a scourging such as history has not seen the like of,” growled one. “Take him to the palace.”

  With that he was separated from the others, the jailer who responded to the order hauling him by his neck chains in the direction of the inner sanctum where sat the palace. Helpless to do otherwise Argos could only watch as his friend was led away.

  Arriving at the throne room Erik was taken to the majordomo of the palace, Lafalldor, the same as he who oversaw the instruction of new captives in the Denebian tongue, and the same who had accosted him in Peenemünde’s quarters. The guards relayed Erik’s claim to know something of value the governor would wish to hear. Lafalldor stared at Erik a long time before he spoke.

  “What is it you wish to tell Garmakalok?” The Denebian’s unflinching stare was cold and penetrating.

  “It is for his ears alone.” Erik stared back. He felt his words must be heard by the highest power in the land. If he told Lafalldor and then was dismissed by the majordomo his words might never reach the ear of Garmakalok.

  “We shall see.” Turning to Erik’s escort, he said, “You are dismissed. I will take him before Garmakalok myself. Another shall return him to his cell.”

  When they entered the throne room the women of the court, female beasts such as Garmakalok himself, were seen to be laving and fawning upon Garmakalok who was a bestial, debased monster who undertook to enjoy in their entirety the fruits of his exalted position of governor of this, to him, far flung world orbiting a far flung star.

  Slaving in subjugation to Garmakalok’s sycophants were men and women of Erik’s race who served these ‘ladies in waiting’, the slaves of slaves as it were. Among them he saw Peenemünde, who blanched when she saw her friend being brought before the debased administrator of the long dead city. Her lips parted in fear, the girl made her way toward the throne that she might overhear what was said.

  “Why for, Lafalldor, if thou wouldst vouchsafe me to ask, hast this quarry slave been dragged hence? Seest thou not I am engaged?” Garmakalok growled. The Denebian’s face wore a heavy scowl.

  Lafalldor bowed before the governor. “Yes, O Garmakalok – and yet the crime be perpetrated, not by I, yet by this slave who claims he has knowledge of somewhat thou shalt surely wish to know. I informed him he placed himself in grave peril in interrupting your overseeing of your duties to Deneb, my governor.”

  Garmakalok waved a limp-wristed hand, a signal for Lafalldor to desist and say no more. “Well, slave, what is it you wish to inform me of, and do be quick about it.”

  Then did Erik attempt, in his yet-halting speech of these people, to tell the story as he fathomed it, but not mentioning Peenemünde so as to not risk bringing Garmakalok’s displeasure down upon her head in case ought went amiss. When he started speaking the girl’s face froze in fear for he had not warned her he intended to seek audience with the governor regarding his discovery in the mine shaft.

  He told Garmakalok of his finding of the hieroglyphs upon the door of hammered bronzium in the tunnelings below the city, and of how they were nearly identical as those used by Garmakalok’s people today. He spoke of how he believed the original inhabitants migrated to the distant world to which the gateway led, and how he believed they had been accidentally stranded there by the eruption of the volcano in whose innards the portal on Deneb had been discovered, after traveling betwixt the worlds out of curiosity.

  “Garmakalok, I ask only that you consider that we might be more akin than anyone previously knew or guessed,” he said. “The possibility exists our races spawned from the same seas – the seas of Earth. There is no need for us to be enemies when in the beginning we were fruit of the same tree—“

  Before Erik could finish his impassioned speech the governor stood to his full height upon the throne, on his face a graven mask of anger. Seeing the response of his ruler Lafalldor savagely jerked Erik’s neck chain, causing the pilot to cease any further importations.

  “You dare accuse us of being the descendants of slaves? What you suggest is blasphemy!” hissed Garmakalok. Fuming, he stabbed a finger at the gray man holding Erik’s neck chains. “Lafalldor – you dare bring this desecrator, this defiler before my throne?”

  “Garmakalok, I beg of you, clemency! The slave didst avow it had news of import that should reach thy honorable ears! I only knew if it spoke truth and I had not brought him before you I had committed a horrible error for which I must then atone. The slave refused to tell me what it wished to tell you, so the blame falls wholly upon the head of the slave!” a cringing Lafalldor professed.

  For added emphasis the majordomo applied a kick to the now prostrate Earthman who had been pulled off his feet by the savage yanks on his neck chains. The kick acted as a catalyst, propelling Garmakalok down the steps of the throne, high malice in his eyes.

  His wind knocked completely out of him by Lafalldor’ s cowardly blow, Erik found himself beset now by both
the majordomo and the governor, the latter having descended the steps of his throne at sight of the prostrate man for all the world like some debased beast who could not resist striking a helpless victim. Each gray-back seemed to vie with the other as to who might land the most brutal blow upon the man’s defenseless body.

  When Erik essayed to rise Lafalldor jerked him roughly off balance by his chain while Garmakalok, who was now joined by the equally degraded women of his hareem, attacked and kicked him viciously from every side. At last, with foam specking his lips from his efforts, Garmakalok called a halt.

  “Nay – stop! Instead, let him be dragged into the courtyard! I wish a public flagellation of the man as a lesson to all.”

  The Denebian women were reluctant to cease, having become rabid in their exertions. Yet when an escort was called to drag the man hence they had no choice but to desist. Aided to stand by two Denebians, one on his either side, Erik was taken from the throne room, at this point nearly unconscious from the attack.

  Denebian warriors were sent to every corner of the city to usher the slaves to the square that they might witness the punishment. Shortly, Garmakalok ascended a pedestal from which he might look down upon his unfortunate subjects, his chest yet heaving from the physical exertion of