Hi all, chapter 9 is here. I can't believe it is this far forward. Just two more to go and then this part of the story comes to an end. Chapter Ten should be out next weekend, although don't hold me to that! Any comments or thoughts, email me: mandijerri@gmail.com.
Enjoy - M
The Gift of the Second Prime: Chapter 9 - The Ashes of Tivia
Why do you sleep? To be ready for the battle. And why do you wake? To escape from the demons. So why should you fight? To defend the life human.
The First Decision taken from the Golden March by the Warrior General Ghen
What do you desire? Life. The life of a man. And is that life human? It is the life lived. All of Galaxia is my life.
Life taken from Human or Human Est by Veria Daesa Loren
The First Prime: body and soul, the human composed, within the spinning fury of Galaxia.
The second prime: the human extant: body, sentience, soul.
The Third Prime: the races of Galaxia: Human, Mnemorian, Grandiash, Sheventa and Irinisha.
The Fourth Prime: the points of the Wheel of Life: Wandering, Existence, Sufferance, Persecution, Endeavour, Enlightenment and Glory.
The Fifth Prime: Balance. Birth and death. Male and female. Fire and Water. Sound and Silence. Love and hate. And then fate, which sits alone at the fulcrum of this prime. Fate holds its balance within itself.
The Sixth Prime: Fear. In the First Time, there were twelve kingdoms of humanity. Twelve realms that stretched across the western galaxy. Together they created the thirteenth. For them a kingdom of unity called the Great Allegiance. But, ultimately, this alliance gave rise to fear. The thirteenth became one. One empire, one humanity, one hegemony.
The Seventh Prime: Order. Seventeen stars swirl around the maelstrom that is Galaxia, the heart of our galaxy. Seventeen points of power through which Galaxia reaches out to everything else in the galaxy.
And the seventh prime brings us back to the Wheel. To life human. To life Galaxial.
The Order of the Primes taken from Words to Wise by the Warrior General Chandrah.
Once a great philosopher stated that there were only four noble truths: the truth of suffering; the truth of the cause of suffering; the truth of the end of suffering; and the truth of the path that leads to the end of suffering.
In his time suffering was the base level of human existence and his words led many to rise above their condition and achieve enlightenment by ending suffering through a greater understanding of the life human.
Now, I would argue, that these truths no longer hold sway. Here I sit several millennia away from this great philosopher on a planet whose sun cannot even be seen from the skies of his world.
Here there is a different set of truths, truths I call the Irrefutable Truths.
I exist. I learn. I serve. I teach.
The Irrefutable Truths taken from the book of the same name written by Ansha Gasto Melandra.
Everything casts shadows; things that are great and wondrous to behold cast shadows of despair and decrepitude - while things that are dull and tainted cast shadows of former might or future glory.
Becoming Change taken from the Triple Condimium by the Prince of Princes Sharla Alfin Seeram
It was not our rhetoric that would define us. Words served only to bind our hearts and souls together. No, our cause, the reason we existed, that was defined by our enemies; they were the ones who gave us direction and purpose.
Part One of the Flight taken from Soo Delonj: Preparing for Tomorrow written by the Gift of the Lost Clan
Every game has a set number of moves. The fool forgets to calculate the moves and adapt his game accordingly. Only the wise-man, the Human-Ascendant, knows not only how many moves needs to be played, but also when the game must end.
Human Ascendant Taken from La Vetch du Warrior by the Master Warrior Fedash
I love you with my life. And my life is your love.
The desire of you is the desire of me. My desire is to be yours, to be part of you.
And your vision is my dream; of lust and late night love. Your speech is my music; the verve to my life. Your touch is my cloth; the finest doush. Your scent is my aroma; it wraps about me like a fragrant wind. Your taste is the flavour of my soul; I am tasteless without you.
Sensual Love taken from Amor du Vee by the Gift of the Painted Mountain
We wait. And yes, we fight and maybe die. But Gifts will not, not ever will they kill Another Gift or Warrior this night. Within their hearts our crusade's truth instil. For we are Onj, we all are Onj, we all Are God. Human, cah'doe, warrior strong. We are primal. And to them will befall the fate of the second prime and for long will our vict'ry be sung, be told. And far.
We wait Taken from La Fol du Onj author unknown
Everyone can see the tactics I have used to create this Second Realm; but what none will see is the strategy out of which this victory evolved.
Tactics and Strategy Taken from The Golden March by the Warrior General Ghen
"This a time of great flux." The Gift of the Lost Clan began. "We stand on the precipice. Do we step off or do we turn back? Will hands appear to guide our descent into tomorrow, or will we plunge into the obscurity of history?"
It was sat on a hastily assembled platform that rose maybe fifty centimetres from the ground. To its left was the Gift of the Lost Boy and to its right the Gift of the Lost Warrior. In front of them, arranged in seventeen great arcs, were the assembled Gifts of the concert. Fifty-nine Gifts in each arc. One thousand and three in all, one thousand and seven when the Gifts of the Second Prime and the Gift of the Rocky Road were included in their number.
Two short of One thousand and nine, the hundred and seventy-ninth prime, and the prime, Lost Clan knew, that would make their numbers complete. In Gracian Numerology, that ruled so much of the lives of the Gifts, the one hundred and seventy-ninth prime was one of the most important numbers in the whole system (it was based on the first thousand primes).
When you added together the three digits of 179, you had 17, the Prime of Galaxia herself. And Galaxia, being outside the rule of the Primes, has the number 8 at her heart. And, even though it was not prime itself, the number 8 is the single most important number in Gracian Numerology.
"For a thousand years," Lost Clan continued, shaking these superfluous thoughts out of its head. "We have been confined to this planet. No longer. Like a child being born we will have to force ourselves out into the light of destiny. It will not be an easy journey. Many more will die before we leave this planet. Humans, Warriors and Gifts."
They were settled into a courtyard in front of the Palay du Justice in the coastal town of Innia in the Province of the Eastern Marches, just under a thousand kilometres east of Troubian itself. The sound of training Warriors drifted across the roof of the Palay from the courtyard they were using this morning. A comforting sound, a sound of strength and solidity. Of companionship and determination. Of sex.
"Behind us stretches the Jada Soo, the longest road on Tare du Maretch." Lost Clan said, pushing thoughts of Sadath back down, down into its own sex. "From Innia in the Eastern Marches you can walk the entire planet to Heryan in the Western Marches. From Innia you approach Troubian from the east, from Heryan you approach Troubian from the west. Troubian is at the heart of the Second Realm, as Tivia was before it and Ontwa before that. And it is towards Troubian we must now face."
Again Lost Clan paused, this time to look out over their audience. There were Gifts here who were here simply because being here was better than the alternative. There were Gifts here who served the alternative. Around some here the taste of the Sidians swirled strongly, around others less so. Treachery was always a close companion of integrity. The General Ghen had realised this and had used the enemies within his camp to ultimately defeat the enemies without.
The Second Prime would be no different.
"Tomorrow." Lost Clan continued, "Tomorrow we set sail for Troubian, for the Palace of Sunsets. We need to regain the calm at the centre of this storm that rages around us. We need to go home. Go now, our Warriors will finish their training soon. Go to them, be with them. Be ready to move with the rising of the sun."
The three Gifts at the front of the audience stood and bowed to the assembled Gifts, then disappeared as three spires of light appeared and claimed them.
"And you are certain they will attack tonight?" Lost Warrior asked as they appeared a few moments later in the villa they were using as a base.
It was cooler here in the hills than it was down on the coast.
"Definitely certain." Lost Clan smiled as they walked along a shaded cloister. "There will be an attack here as well."
"So why not move now?" Lost Boy asked as they passed into a room at the end of the cloister and settled into some chairs that looked back out into the neat garden at the centre of the villa. "We could set sail for Troubian this afternoon. Or better still jump into a drone and be there tonight!"
"Deception is key here." Lost Warrior said. "You have been listening, have you not?" It smiled, accepting a tall glass of cold water from a tie.
"Yes, but I don't like all this... all this scurrying around! Let's just get to the Palace of Sunsets, we can organise a better response from there."
"Because the Sidians, and anyone else who would stand against us, need to think that we have the same tools as they do." Lost Warrior added. "Yes, we have the concert, but they must not know its true strength. Let them think it is nothing more than a conjoined mind; powerful, but limited in what it can achieve."
"I guess it's the inaction." Lost Boy sighed. "Back before all this, when I was frustrated, I would take to the Tense Road, expend some energy that way. Now..."
"Now you have your Warrior." Lost Clan laughed. "And he will be here soon."
"True. Let me take him first, jen? I need this."
"As do we all." Lost Warrior laughed, "But yes." It added. "You can go first."
"Thank you." Lost Boy smiled, bouncing around in the chair. "Can't we just whisk them here now?"
"No." Lost Clan smiled. "We have to restrain ourselves, you know that. If it became general knowledge that our Warriors can form a concert of their own, our enemies would become even more powerful and prepare Galaxia alone knows what to attack us with."
"Jen." Lost Boy sighed.
"Stop it!" Lost Warrior laughed, reaching over and knocking Lost Boy on the head with its tail. "It's half an hour, that's all! Surely you can wait that long for your lust?"
"The bezzie has me now!" Lost Boy complained, squirming in its seat.
"Then bezzie will just have to wait. Like the rest of us." Lost Clan smiled as it stood up. "Come on, there is work to be done. Perhaps ordering the words of our journey will help you wile away the time?"
"You expect me to write, in this condition?" Lost Boy complained as it dragged itself out of the chair. "You will be the death of me, you know that, jen? Death by boredom and a lack of sponge. That's what they'll sing about me in the future!"
"So dramatic!" Lost Warrior laughed, wrapping its tail around its friend. "Come on, let's get a head start on that epitaph!"
"Hey, thanks!" Lost Boy smiled.
"Hi." Lost Warrior said as it stirred into wakefulness. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was." Chedda replied, turning to face his Gift. "But I needed the toilet, and then just stopped here."
He was stood in the window of their suite, looking out over the rolling hills down to Innia and the dark sea beyond. The doors to the small balcony were open and the vaporous curtains wafted past him in the light breeze. The night was warm, but dark.
All the moons apart from lonely and tired Estria, were gone from the sky and, at this time of the night, Estria herself was nothing more than a deep red smudge sailing slowly just above the horizon.
Lost Warrior slipped out of the bed and wrapped its tail around the Warrior.
"Your skin is cold." It whispered, nuzzling the Warrior's ear.
He slipped his arm around the Gift's waist.
"I am fine." He whispered back, pulling the Gift into a kiss.
Below them, on the edge of the city, a silent ball of light burst into the sky, followed a moment later by the sound of a distant explosion. A second later another explosion, nearer to the centre of the city and the Palay Regarlya, where the local Prince held her winter court.
"It's begun, then." Lost Warrior sighed, holding onto Chedda as they both looked out over the city.
There was a noise overhead about a kilometre from them. Seconds later and the flash and sound of an explosion rattled the villa.
"That was close." Chedda said as he pulled the Gift back into the room and began fumbling around for clothes.
The lights came up and they both dressed quickly and in silence. The sounds of another explosion came through the window, and there was a taste of burning on the breeze that rippled through the open window.
They left the room with Chedda still pulling his boots on. Sadath met them in the hall.
"I was coming to get you both." He said, turning and leading the way back down the stairs to the foyer below.
The others were there, including the four ties that served them.
"Good." Lost Clan said as Sadath, Chedda and Lost Warrior joined them. "We are all ready?"
"Yes." Lost Boy said.
"Yes." Lost Warrior added.
"Then let's go." Lost Clan said.
With the three Gifts at the front in a line and the three Warriors at the rear, the small group left the villa and stepped into the night. It was still warm, but the air was silent. The bombing appeared to have stopped.
Through the trees that lined the ridge on the edge of the hill the villa occupied, they could see the glows of fires from Innia itself. And, when the breeze came at them from this direction, it also brought with it the smell of the fires and, occasionally, the sounds of fighting.
"It would appear all the major cities along the coast of the Eastern Marches are under attack." Lost Clan thought into their minds.
"Damn. And here was me thinking we were special!" Lost Boy laughed wryly. "There is still time." Lost Clan whispered.
The cart they were intending to use was parked in a garage set off to one side of the house. The path they were on now wend its way across the garden to a door in the side of this building. Even before they reached it, the building erupted in an explosion.
Instantly Lost Clan pulled them into a concert which shielded the group from the debris that began to rain down on them.
"Jax!" Lost Boy complained as it ducked to avoid a burning piece of cart that landed in some bushes to its left. "You could have warned us!"
"It needed to look like we weren't expecting it." Lost Clan said as the concert collapsed. "Soldiers, back by the house!" It added and the three Warriors peeled away from the group and disappeared into the gloom behind them.
"And now?" Lost Boy asked.
"We have a cart waiting at the rear of the villa. This way." It added, leading the way back to the safety of the wall of the Villa.
They followed this quietly. Across the front of the Villa, then down the side and finally along the back. Of their Warriors there was no sound or sight. The garden was quiet, too quiet at times.
"Quickly." Lost Warrior said as they found the cart.
The ties began loading the supplies into the back, before they slipped into the relative safety of the cart themselves.
"And it's not rigged?" Lost Boy asked.
"It is safe." Lost Clan said as the Warriors appeared from out of the shadows.
"The place is clear." Sadath told them as the three Warriors settled into the front of the cart.
The Gifts got in the back and a moment later the machine slipped silently out of the Villa grounds.
"Why can't we just take ourselves to the port?" Lost Boy asked. "To have the power of the concert and then not to use it, I don't understand!"
"Every time we form a concert, every Gift on the planet is aware of it. they may not know where it is, but they can feel it." Lost Clan explained. "I don't want any of those Gifts to have the opportunity to train on our concerts. It has a distinct signature, it would not take too much effort to learn how to track it."
"So we lay low and use it rarely and randomly." Lost Warrior added. "Happy?"
"Always." Lost Boy smiled. "We know what's happening in the city?"
"The attacks were mostly against military positions." Lost Clan said as it opened its eyes and looked at them. "One incendiary hit a compound we were using, but no- one was hurt. The attack, like the one on the Villa, was expected."
"So is General Dezyem attacking us specifically or just the Eastern Marches?" Lost Boy asked.
"He is attacking the Eastern Marches." Lost Clan replied. "The Sidians though, they are using the attack here as a cover. There are no reports of soldiers in any of the other cities on the coast, just here."
"Oh good." Lost Boy sighed. "I had thought we weren't important or something. How many more soldiers do you think?"
"Not many." Chedda said from the front of the cart. "There were four back at the Villa, all the reports from the city say there are only about another twenty."
"And these blocking the road in front of us." Sadath added as the cart began to slow.
"You want them?" Lost Clan asked Lost Boy.
"You mean we can?" It asked.
"Of course." Lost Clan said as it pulled the three of them into a concert.
They reached out and felt the minds of the five soldiers standing now across the road and shining their searchlights onto the approaching cart.
"I don't want them dead." Lost Boy thought.
"Then what?" Lost Warrior asked as they wrapped the concert around the men, lifting them off the ground and into the air as the cart sailed by beneath them.
"Here!" Lost Boy said.
The soldiers vanished.
"Nice." Lost Clan said as they settled their consciousness back into their bodies.
"Although it might be prudent to advise the Professor he has some house guests in one of his holding satellites."
"Later." Lost Boy smiled. "Let them sweat for a while first."
"Will there be others?" Lost Warrior asked.
"No." Lost Clan said. "Not on this road anyway. There will be some in the port and possibly on a ship out in the harbour.
"Great. What about the other Gifts?"
"They are also on the move." Lost Clan said. "Sunrise is in an hour, they are boarding the ships even as we speak."
"Well let's hope they wait for us." Lost Clan laughed. "The last thing we need is to be left stranded in this city!"
"What?" Selah smiled as the Gift pulled him up the stairs.
They were onboard the merchant vessel La Garair, the Warrior.
Aptly named.
This morning they had sailed from Innia, led by Chedda and the Gift of the Lost Warrior aboard the Royal Clipper Sunseeker. It had cleared the way for them all, for the Gift of the Lost Clan and the Warrior Sadath in the Container Vessel Pelagic Master and the Gifts and Warriors who supported them.
Three ships, a thousand and six Gifts and a thousand and six Warriors, fleeing across the isthmus to Troubian. Behind them the Province of the Eastern Marches, still free of the General Dezyem, but for how long? In a decisive move, the General had already added the Provinces of Logan, Epijana and Helias to his number. Five Provinces now took their lead from him while the remaining twelve looked to the Prince of Princes, but for how much longer?
And before them, Troubian. Home of the Prince of Princes, but also of the Palace of Sunsets. The spiritual home of all Warriors, of all Gifts. What would the two palaces make of this fleet of Warriors and Gifts rushing across the Sea of Troubian? Would they be welcomed as brothers, or treated as invaders?
Too many questions, none of which could be answered now. Until they reached Troubian tomorrow evening there was nothing they could do about any of it. And for now the Gift of the Lost Boy had a more pressing need.
"I have secured us a room." The Gift whispered as it danced up the stairs, its tail flicking around Selah's head and chest.
"How long?" Selah smiled, quickening his step.
"At least until sunset." The Gift smiled, its lyrical voice wrapping around the Warrior and pulling him faster up the stairs. "Is that enough time?"
"I would like longer." Selah replied, coming level with the Gift.
He put his hand in the small of the creature's back and propelled it forward. For its part the Gift wrapped its tail around the Warrior's waist, slipping its talon down the back of his trousers, wriggling it down to the secret place it loved the most.
"Which floor?" Selah asked, reaching back and helping the tail find its mark.
He gasped as the tip pushed against him. Gasped again, and then sighed, as it began working its way into and out of him.
"This one." The Gift whispered, pulling the Warrior out of the stairwell and then straight into a stateroom.
A large stateroom.
"Wow!" Selah smiled as the door closed behind them. "What did you have to pay for this?"
"Later." The Gift whispered, hands helping him open trousers.
Its mouth pushed into Selah's and they stumbled across the room, Selah still in his boots with his trousers around his knees. The Gift still half strapped into its harness, its tail now wrapped up around its Warrior's legs, still pushing into his man, his love.
Selah wrapped his strong arms around his Gift and rolled it onto the bed. Boots were kicked off behind him as he pulled himself up and over the Gift, kissing, licking, slipping down the creature's chest, freeing its Quill and Nectaria from their restraints and then taking these into his mouth as well.
The Gift sighed as the last of its harness fell to the floor. Its tail rubbed against the Warrior's belly, ran along the ridges of muscle, and all the while its end was pushing against him until, with a final thrust it entered him.
"I need you!" Selah whispered, pulling himself back up the Gifts body, revelling in the feel of the cool tox as it filled him and his sex with energy.
Not that he needed much help, his own Quill was pressed hard against his belly now, and the Gift squirmed beneath him, revelling in the feel of this organ of pleasure as it rolled across its own belly. It reached down and began massaging the Quill.
"You want some?" Selah whispered, pulling the Gift into another kiss and then slipping slowly back down its body, warm tongue seeking out nipples, chest, Quill, Nectaria... Prostatae...
"Soon... ah... soon." The Gift whispered, one hand now playing with the Warrior's hair, while the other urged him on with his ministrations.
Selah smiled. They had made love yesterday afternoon, but that seemed like a lifetime away. Every time he made love to the Gift it was like the first, and he revelled in that.
He ran his tongue around the base of the Nectaria and then pushed it against the Prostatae. Lost Boy laughed as his Warrior pushed his tongue into it.
"Yes!" It whispered, as the feelings of love and urgency began to climb through its body.
And then, with a final kiss, the Warrior pulled back, lips and tongue brushing across the Gifts body as he brought his Quill up to the Prostatae. It was slick and, on the first push, slid inside.
They both gasped then as the Gift began pumping his Warrior with his tail in alternate time to the Warrior as he pumped his Quill into and out of his Gift.
The Gift ran its hands along the Warrior's back, feeling the sweat that was beginning to appear there, passing fingers into its own mouth so it could taste the salt of its love, its lover. It wrapped its legs around the Warrior's waist and with each thrust urged him on and on.
"Give me your sex!" He whispered, tongue running across the Warrior's forehead.
And the Warrior exploded into him, pulling the Gift tightly against his body.
"I love you" Selah whispered, pulling his Gift into a deep kiss.
When it was finished the Gift was lost to the ecstasy. Selah pulled it closer to him, felt its warmth echo his own. He kicked the trousers off his feet where they had bunched, then pulled the Gift into him. Stroking its beautiful head, he wrapped himself around it as he slipped into a sleep of his own.
Troubian the city lies on the south coast of Troubian the island.
The island is a row of three ancient, long extinct, volcanoes and the land around is rocky and mountainous in the extreme. Deep tree-lined ravines reach out down the flanks of the volcanoes and into the sea, like the tentacles of a mythical sea beast. Razor sharp precipices cut into the sky threatening to rip the very fabric of space and time itself.
Huge caves, like open maws, dot the cliffs and suck in the sea. And the birds! Native wildlife was scarce on Tare du Maretch even before humanity reached out to claim this rocky, metal-rich world. What wildlife there was had not taken to the skies. No, these birds were engineered by humanity, based on patterns that evolved on the One World itself.
Now, a thousand years after colonisation, where there were maybe 200 million humans on the planet, the numbers of birds was more than triple that, and Troubian island was home to the largest colonies of the main seabirds in this part of the planet.
The seas around here were rich in food, and the birds had congregated here in their millions. Whole cliffs were stained yellow by the feathers of the nesting Oxyn Tern. Clouds of brown and mottled pink would suddenly leap to the air as the nervous Laxyn suddenly took to flight at some perceived threat or other.
Occasionally the cliffs would give way to sheltered coves and beaches. Carved out by rivers and waterfalls, these places were rare havens and each of them housed some small colony of humanity or other. Inland the island was too steep to terrace and farm, so humanity clung to the coast, carving great steps up the side of the wider ravines, growing the crops and supporting the animals needed, in turn, to support the small communities themselves.
Troubian, though, was not like that. It did not nestle precariously on the edge of this space, squeezed by the sea and the impenetrable mountains. No, Troubian owned this place and its ownership was clear for all to see.
Once a great cave had covered the area that Troubian now occupied. A cave formed of magma and water. As the hot-spot that fed the volcanoes of the island slipped away to the north and west, so the cave fell to the elements. Shaped then by water, wind and waves, it grew into a large space, possibly the largest cave on the whole island.
And then, just over a thousand years before humanity came to the planet, it had collapsed into itself. An eruption of rock, plants and dust on an island that had once erupted fire and magma high into the skies. When the dust settled, erosion took over once more.
Like a funnel, a wide plain spreads away from the sea, a river carved a route through this space and the open plain became a vast delta, then a swamp. the river itself carved its own entrance into the plain in the north-west corner and then, slowly, the plain began to dry out. So much so that when humanity finally landed on this planet, they chose this wide and broad savannah, sheltered by the surrounding cliffs, as their first base.
In the millennia since then, the settlement became a town, became a city, became a metropolis, became home to almost twenty-million people. The whole plain is now one vast city. It steps up half way through the plain to the area known as Palace Heights. Here is government. The Palace of Sunsets and the Palace of Sunrises elegantly adorn this high ground along with the two great Assemblies; the Assembly of the Elected and the Assembly of the Free.
The most expensive of the Anka, the residential districts, are located in the hills above and around these centres of government and then, fifty years ago, Troubian completed its mastery of not just this island, but the whole planet. The Pilon du Cozmoes, called now simply Shamil, after its architect, was built on a ridge above the palaces.
This huge structure actually floats above the building that contains it. Huge tethers, reaching out over fifty kilometres, hold it in place. It looks like a huge telescope as each section is narrower than the one below it. It is actually impossible to see the top of the Pilon from the ground, although you can see the first of six platforms that stretch along its 100km length.
That such a thing as this is buoyant is almost beyond belief. Yet the technology to create such a thing was proposed millennia ago. Space shafts such as this one, along with tether systems, elevators and skyhooks are what sets aside the more advanced human societies from their less-developed peers.
The people of Tare du Maretch are proud indeed of their Pilon, and its construction has revolutionised life on the planet. Now materials and people, trade and money, can be inserted into orbit in eight hours from journey's start and brought down to the planet from platforms placed at intervals along the great tower in similar times.
Shamil, though, despite its height, does not dominate the city beneath it. Troubian is large enough, vibrant enough, to take this structure and add it to the other wonders it contains. Troubian is the capital of this planet and nothing, not even a 100km long space tower is going to diminish that authority.
By sea, you approach the city from the south. A series of rocky outcrops, some as large as six or seven stories high, march out into the sea like silent sentinels. A few of these are tether points for the cables that hold Shamil in place, but it is difficult to see the cables as they are strong, light and extremely thin. Only the large metal hooks on the side of the islands points to their presence at all.
These outcrops of rock and the reefs that surround them mean the only way into the city by sea is along a narrow trench in the sea bed. A crack in the crust of the planet that reaches down almost two and a half thousand metres into the depths of the ocean. The single sea approach also means that the city has ample warning of anyone attempting to approach the city from the sea.
The flotilla of Warriors and Gifts was only half a day out from Troubian when two great ships sailed out to meet them from the city. These were the palatial ships, belonging to the two palaces and used by the Prince of Princes and, less often, by the Master Warrior, to entertain visiting dignitaries.
The Master Warrior and the Prince of Princes were not aboard, but their staff were. The Gift of the Lost Clan crossed over to one of these ships, La Vessoe Palay Coushay du Solay, to negotiate for the Second Prime. An hour later and all the Warriors and Gifts crossed over onto the two ships.
They would arrive in Troubian, not a conquerors, not as the Law, but as pilgrims, supplicants on the Wheel of Life returning home to the Palace of Sunsets and the Silver March that would take place in two months time.
It was fit.
It was right.
The Palaces Dock was located in Sirrin bay in the east of the city. A dock reserved solely for the two Palaces. It was also secure and the Gift of the Lost Clan stood at the head of the Second Prime as they came off the ships onto the dock.
"What is the plan?" The Gift of the Lost Boy asked as it came and stood next to the Lost Clan.
"Do we wait for the Master Warrior?" The Gift of the Lost Warrior asked as it came and stood on the other side of Lost Clan.
"No." The Lost Clan said. "We are the Second Prime. We were created to rescue this city, to rescue all of humanity. We will wait for no-one."
It held its arms up, and without a word the rest of the Gifts and their Warriors gathered behind them. Sixteen rows, eight Warriors and eight Gifts in each and, at the front, the seventeenth row, the Second Prime and its Warriors. When everyone was assembled, the Lost Clan stepped forward and pushed at the ornate and locked gates that separated this dock from the city, that held them back from their goal. It fell open.
In front of them the Jada Tramell, the coast road that ran along the front of the city. Beyond that, bordered on each side by a silent lapping Sortha, was the Palace Causeway, a park that stretched straight from the dock to the steps that led up to the two Palaces themselves.
Just over eleven kilometres and a two hour march lay before them, but this march would define them as the Second Prime and, by the time it was over, the whole of Troubian would know who they were.
The Second Prime stepped forward and, as one, and in silence, sixteen rows of Gifts and Warriors followed suit.
They stepped onto the Jada and around them it stopped.
Traffic on the Jada was controlled by the Flow, a vast intelligence now housed in the base of the Shamil. It was the same system that controlled the automated drones that flew into the north of the city and the Crawlers that worked their way up and down inside the Pilon.
It never stopped, never needed to stop, day or night.
Now, all over the city the Jada came to a standstill. Carts carrying containers into and out of the city, coaches full of commuters or tourists, personal transports, all slowed and then stopped as the Second Prime marched across the Jada Tramell. Those carts on the Tramell that contained people, opened up as the occupants stood to see this spectacle.
Calls were made, to friends, to family, to the authorities.
The second Prime gave them no heed and in moments were across the road and into the Park of the Palaces, a small pleasant park that had been gifted to the people of Troubian by the current Prince of Princes when she acceded her mother sixty years ago. As the last Gift and Warrior stepped off the Jada, so the carts began to hum back into life. Many of their former occupants jumped and scrabbled back inside, but many others did not. Instead they joined the back of this march through their city.
Began to follow the Second Prime.
A path runs directly through the middle of the Palace Causeway for its full length and it was onto this that the Second Prime stepped as it marched through the area known as the Bone Museum.
When settlers had first come here, huge mounds of semi-petrified bones had been found, the remains of the small creatures that had been crushed when the cave that had once covered this place collapsed.
The bones had been collected and now formed weird and wonderful caricatures of creatures that had never existed. Artists had turned this place into a museum where the bones of dragons could be seen, where you could walk through the skeleton of the Gorgon, or marvel as a flock of skeletal Phoenix took to the air from within a petrified fire.
Now bones were donated to the museum and the collection always grew. Citizens would donate their own bones here, usually with the plans for the creature they wished to become in death, and so the museum and its surrounding sculpture garden grew more and more intricate.
They were not here to admire the sculptures though and, as they passed into the grounds of the bone museum, so the Gift of the Lost Clan pulled them all into a concert.
"I thought we had to resist doing this." Lost Boy said as the power of the concert filled it with power and energy.
"We are in Troubian." The Lost Clan said. "I want everyone to know we are in Troubian."
"Nice." Lost Boy smiled as the concert enveloped him. Gave power to legs and, soon, voice to words.
"And we march." The combined voices of the Warriors and their Gifts intoned.
"Towards the birth of our nation."
"And we march." They continued. "Into the arms of our foes."
These were the opening words of the Golden March, the battle song the Warrior Ghen had written to take his victorious troops into battle at the end of the long march, when the war had been won and the Second Realm had been formed. they had marched the length of the second Realm then, from the Province of Tyler in the west to Logan in the east. From Delaware and Michigan Pass in the north to the Angel Peninsula in the south.
Today Tare du Maretch was the Second Realm and the Second Realm was Tare du Maretch. Too far for any one Warrior or Gift to march now, but the song, and its message, was clear. As relevant today as it had been four hundred years ago, and this was not lost on the gathering host of humanity that followed in their wake.
"And we fought, and we died. We laughed, we cried."
"And we march, across plain and hill. And we march along river and stream."
Around them the sculptures of bone gave way and then stopped at the feet of a giant five headed dragon (skeletal of course). It pointed the way to the Heron Amphitheatre. A large natural bowl that had been enhanced and augmented so that now it could seat up to five hundred people. This was a place of impromptu concerts and plays. Anyone could perform here, and anyone could watch.
The path, instead of winding around the amphitheatre, arched over it like the lid of a giant eye. Onto this golden bridge, the Second Prime stepped as the song they were singing came to its end.
"And now our fears become our dreams. Our hopes turn into plans."
And we march to forge this realm, from the strength of hands and the power of hearts."
In silence they crossed the bridge, stepping off into the grounds of the Heron Palace. A king, from before the time of the Second Realm, had built this place as his home here in his capital. It was he that had first named the city Tivia, before that it had been called Ontwa, a corruption of the word for funnel in Motlomme.
He was long dead now, and his palace was a gallery to the art of history. A beautiful building with two vaulted entrances that led into a central courtyard. One faced the amphitheatre and it was through this that the Second Prime came now. The second exited on the opposite side of the courtyard into some gardens that led down to the Heron Bridge, a narrow bridge that led across the Sortha Milo onto the Jada du General.
"There will be police on the Heron Bridge." Lost Clan thought to them. "I can feel them in front of us."
"What should we do?" Lost Boy asked.
"Remember Innia?" Lost Clan thought.
"Yes. You want us to send them to one of the Professor's satellites?"
"No." Lost Clan smiled. "Just lift them into the air until we have all passed under them, including the people that follow us. I will stop the Jada again so we can cross safely."
"Jen."
They stepped back into the sunshine through the second arch. The gardens here were small, and they could clearly see the police that waited for them at the entrance to the Heron Bridge and along its length. A crowd of people had gathered as well, some on foot, but many more on small oyue, small three of four people boats that were used to skate around the Sortha and the larger craft that carried trade along them.
The leader of the police team stepped forward as the Second Prime approached. The Gift of the Lost Prime raised its arms in the air and in moments all the Police were spinning and tumbling above them as they fought the invisible force that held them aloft.
There were cheers from many of the people watching as the Second Prime began to cross the bridge, then gasps as once again all the Jada in the city came to a slow and stately halt. Also once more, people climbed out of their transports and gazed on the spectacle of the floating police and the marching Warriors and Gifts. Never had many of them even seen this many Warriors and Gifts in one place, of one accord. This had to be important. And so more joined the march following the Gifts along the Causeway.
On the other side of the Jada du General is a small theatre complex called simply Tayahrt du low, Theatre on the Water. Two theatres, one on either side of the path, look out onto their respective Sortha. One, the Tayahrt Marronet specialised in puppetry. From the ornate shadow puppets, the Waya Gulith to complex and intricate animatronics. The other, the Tayahrt Dons was devoted to music and dance, from more traditional folk dancing through to modern ballet.
A show had just finished in the Tayahrt Marronet, and the audience spilled out of the theatre into the throng that was following the marching Warriors and Gifts, and just in time to see the police settled down once more onto the Heron Bridge. The police began to come up behind the crowds, but it was clear now that word was spreading, it would be all they could do to contain them, let alone disperse them.
As the last police officer stepped off the Jada, so the vehicles hummed back into life, although many of them were now empty of their occupants.
At the front of the line, the Gift of the Lost Clan stepped off the island that housed the two theatres onto the Coron Bridge. This bridge emptied into the botanical gardens and, for a while, the scents of exotic flowers, plants and fruits joined the march as they passed through the centre of the gardens.
Beyond the Gardens, the Kingdom Banqueting Hall. This was the official hall for the Government Offices. Here dignitaries would eat, dine and thrash out the order of government. The path curved here to the left as it wrapped around the Hall. The Hall itself had access to small jetties in the Sortha Hensa on their right. These in turn allowed people to access the hall by oyue and larger boats from the government buildings on the other side of the Sortha.
On this side, the path came right up to the edge of the Sortha Hansa, and many people, following the march from the waters of the Sortha, began calling for the Warriors and Gifts to sing again.
With a signal from the Gift of the Lost Clan, the marchers obliged, once more striking up the Golden March.
"And we march towards the birth of our nation."
"And we march into the arms of our foes."
"And we march over their bodies and through their streets."
"We march victorious. We march strong."
Beyond the banqueting hall the Hall of the Holoj. Once this tall and narrow tower had been the tallest building in Tivia. Those days were long gone now, but the clock at the top of the tower, the Holoj, was still the main clock in Troubian, and the one against which all others were set.
The song finished as they passed the stone tower and the clock at its top chimed the hour as they moved under it, into the gardens that led to the Victory Arch.
This great structure had been ordered by the Warrior General Ghen to celebrate the end of the Golden March and the creation of the Second Realm. It was a large marble arch, a gate that was ornately decorated. The faces of the five generals looked back down from the top of the arch along the Palace Causeway out to sea.
On the other side, facing up to the Two Palaces, were the faces of the nine muses:
Kahla'opay, muse of poetry
Klioh, muse of history
Erah'to muse of love and lust
Etuhr'pah, muse of music
Melpominee, muse of tragic drama
Polheem-ni'ah, muse of sacred music
Terpsay'koree, muse of dance and magic
Thahlu, muse of laugher and humour
Urah-ni'ah, muse of the stars and the future
The Warrior Ghen had tied his victory into the support of the muses and, even though they were born as Gods to an ancient civilisation lost in the history of the One World, the muses had become unofficial Gods of Tare du Maretch. Each of them watched over a different element of the Wheel of Life, and each of them would guide a lost soul to ultimate nee-an'ah, or enlightenment.
There were police and, also, soldiers, blocking their way beneath the Victory Arch and the Victory Bridge beyond. The message was clear, the Second Prime was not an invading force, it did not need to march in victory beneath the triumph of the General Ghen.
The Gift of the Lost Clan and the concert it controlled, had other ideas, though.
In a moment there were flashes of energy among the police and soldiers. Their weapons were gone, transported to somewhere else. With them gone, the concert lifted them as it had the police before. Over the marchers they sailed, landing on the ground at the back of the throng following the marchers, back before the Coron Bridge.
And so, through the Victory Arch they flowed, and then over the Victory Bridge.
Each Prince of Princes since The Warrior Ghen, had their face carved onto the stone arch of this bridge. Eleven faces stared stoically down at them as they crossed the bridge. Eleven faces waiting to hear what this March meant for Troubian, for the whole of the Second Realm.
Beyond the Victory Bridge the Jada Habana, again at a standstill, and beyond this, a square carved back into the cliff that separated Lower Troubian from Palace Heights. The great Plaza of the Freemen. This wide open space was a rallying point for political gatherings, demonstrations and other happier gatherings of the populace.
At the back of the Plaza the Thousand Stairs of Freedom rose up the cliff to a great iron gate. The gate led into the Two Palaces and, even from here, the Walls of the Palace of Sunsets could be seen rising red above the cliff on the left while the white walls of the Palace of Sunrises rose on the right.
There were not a thousand stairs here, but 500. The tradition was to walk to the top, touch the gate of the Palaces then walk back to the Plaza below, a thousand steps to freedom.
The Gift of the Lost Clan took the other Warriors and Gifts half way up the steps before it turned and faced the gathering crowd below. The Warriors and Gifts ranged behind the Second Prime in seventeen rows. All were silent and slowly this silence spread into the crowd of humanity filling the Plaza.
"There is an enemy at our gates." Lost Clan whispered, and its voice was taken to the ears of everyone who stood in the Plaza, and those gathering in the gardens at the top of the stairs.
"An enemy that would sweep away centuries of order and replace it with the violence of the Kings. A violence that this Plaza, was built to remember. We are free."
The words echoed around the Plaza now, whipped up by the wind and the murmuring from the people below.
"We will always be free and we will not, not ever, bow to the will of a single king, a single ruler again. We demand the balance of the Two Palaces. The Balance of Prince and Regent, Warrior and Gift, Man and Woman."
Again a pause, and the Gifts behind the Lost Clan began to hum an ancient song, a rousing song, a song whose words stirred the heart to battle.
"There is a would-be King in the east and he has cast his eyes on Troubian and all she protects and defends. We will not allow this King to lay claim to this city, to claim your freedom. We are the Second Prime and we are the Protectors of the Second Realm, of Troubian."
The singing stopped and cheers began to rise from the people below. The Gift of the Lost Clan looked across the crowd before it spoke again and, after this gathering, many there would say it was as if the Gift were looking directly at them, speaking directly to them, as if there was no-one else in the Plaza.
"Epijana, Logan and Helias have now fallen to this tyrant and the East Marches battles him even as we speak. What will become of those now enslaved to the aims of this King we do not know. What we do know is that their struggle is still our struggle. We have fought with them and, now, we will fight for them. They will be free again, and we will return to them all of their freedoms.
"The Battle for the Eastern Provinces is almost over. Soon it will be time to fight for the western provinces, to fight for Troubian. For he who sits atop the hill of the Palaces rules this planet. And soon, this King, this Dezyem, will turn the might of his fury onto us."
Again the Gift paused, and again the audience waited, each hoping to be seen by this strange creature whose words threatened terror, but offered salvation at the same time.
"Dezyem, I will not call him General, for he is not worthy of that name. The Tyrant Dezyem then, knows that he will have to defeat us here on this island, in this city else he will lose everything. If we can resist him, as I know we can, then that victory and the balance and truth behind the Two Palaces will carry us forward to glories we cannot even begin to imagine.
"If we fail, however, if we are not steadfast in our defiance of this monster, then all of Tare du Maretch will sink into a despair, into a new age of darkness, from which we may never emerge.
"There is an enemy at our gates.
"His ships threaten our skies and our ports. Just as the Glorious General Ghen took from Tivia its ashes to build mighty Troubian and the Second Realm. So Dezyem will burn this city and use its ashes to feed the desires of his fetid mind.
"This Plaza is dedicated to freedom. This city stands on the back of that freedom. And we here, all of us here, we will defend that freedom until there is no breath left in any of us!"
A blaze filled the square, when it was gone, so was the assembled group of Warriors and Gifts. People huddled into small groups, others hurried home. One thing was clear to all. The world had been changed today.
And war was coming again to Troubian.
"You come here unannounced! You rile the people, stir them up! What right do you have to do this? By whose authority?" The Prince of Princes banged the table as she spoke.
She had been pacing the length of the room, glaring across the table at the Master Warrior and the others that sat there. Her own people, including the Regent, sat on her side of the table. She had a seat at one end, larger than the rest and symbolically joining both Palaces together at the head of the table.
"We come from the east." The Gift of the Lost Clan said, holding up its hand to silence everyone else on its side of the table. "We have tasted this war. We have seen the terror that is sweeping the lands of the eastern provinces. And yet still the Two Palaces remain silent. Your people need, demand, information."
"Pretty words and rousing music will not defend this city!" The Prince of Princes spat. "And what right have you... you a... a mere Gift! What right have you to lecture me on the moires of politics? I am the Prince of Princes and this..." She said standing behind a man seated at the table and gripping the back of his chair, knuckles white with anger, "Is the elected Regent of the people!"
"Perhaps it is time you were lectured." The Gift of the Lost Clan replied. "You sit here within this Palace, you do not speak to your people, yet they know what is happening. What fate intends to bring to them."
"War will not come here." The Prince of Princes laughed, returning to her chair and grabbing a glass of water.
She did not sit.
"Tell that to the people of Innia." The Gift sighed. "Three days ago they were going about their business, now their city is in flames and they flee into the countryside. The Eastern Marches are falling and your inaction here has allowed it to happen."
"Do not!" The Prince of Princes shouted, smashing the glass as she threw it onto the table. "Do not tell me what I should be doing! You are not an advisor of mine. You lead a rebellion of Warriors into this city. You have no right to parley at this table!"
"I believe in the Second Realm as much as you, as much as any at this table." The Gift answered, staring straight into her eyes. "By the power of those who follow me, the fleet of the mining consortia above us was disabled. The Warrior Hadrian was defeated and his dominion returned to you. We, at least, fight the enemies of the Second Realm. All that has come out of Troubian since this conflict began has been ambassadors offering treaties to those who would destroy us."
"Aargh!" The Prince of Princes cried, falling into her chair and putting a cut finger to her mouth.
A tie rushed over with a med-kit, but she brushed him away.
"I do not want to fight the Palace of Sunsets." The Prince of Princes began.
"I..." The Gift of the Lost Clan began, but she waved it into silence.
"But if I have to, I will." She added. "You speak the words of freedom. Offer the hope of a secure future, but I can see something else in your eyes. There is a flame there that will not go out until perhaps all humanity bows to you."
"I am human." The Gift of the Lost Clan said. "We are all human. Yes, I have dreams and plans beyond Tare du Maretch, but this is the planet of my birth and the planet of my genesis. And I will fight anything that threatens the Second Realm. Anything."
"Then at least we can agree on this." The Prince of Prince sighed, holding her hand out.
The tie hurried over and began tending the cut.
"We will have to appear united now." She continued. "The Two Palaces must be seen to stand together. I will organise a meeting for tomorrow night. We will face the people united, Prince and Regent, Warriors and Gifts. You agree?"
"Yes." The Gift of the Lost Clan replied for them all, denying even the Master Warrior a chance to reply. "Where would you meet, there are not that many spaces large enough to hold so many people in the city."
"We will meet at the Jrael Memorial." The Prince of Princes replied. "It can hold nearly six thousand people. With cameras there the rest of the city and the Second Realm will see us as well."
"It is a fitting place." The Gift of the Lost Clan replied. "We will meet before this to discuss tactics?"
"Indeed. I will come to the Palace of Sunsets tomorrow with the Regent. Between us we will work out the strategy we need to hold onto the hearts of our people."
"And also how to contain Dezyem." The Gift of the Lost Clan said.
"Of course, but first the people, then this upstart General." She paused, looked around the table, then sighed. "Thank you all, you are dismissed."
She stood and let her tie lead her by her cut hand out of the room. When she was gone the rest of the room rose as well.
"Master Warrior." The Gift of the Lost Clan said, indicating that the Master Warrior and the Gift of the Troubled Waters should lead the way out of the room.
"At least you still accord us the dignity of our office." Troubled Waters thought as it passed the Gift of the Lost Clan.
There was venom behind its thoughts.
"You miscounted the number of moves in this game." The Gift of the Lost Clan said as it fell into position behind them with Sadath at his left. "I have out manoeuvred you because you failed to understand when this particular game was meant to end."
"Do not quote the words of the Master Warrior at me!" Troubled Waters thought back. "I helped him write them!"
"Then understand them!" Lost Clan ordered, and the anger behind its words made the Gift of the Troubled Waters stumble. "They are not a litany to help you sleep at night or fall into a meditation. They help us focus on the battle ahead!"
The Master Warrior helped his Gift to its feet, glancing back to the Gift of the Lost Clan as he did so.
There were tears in his eyes.