The Fathers, page 21
part #1 of Doragon Series
“Space is not empty. It is not one flat surface with one all governing time clock. Without Q-Space, as you call this mode of moving, your people would be limited to local travel destined to live in jailed pools of time. To travel in distance, one must also consider time. As far as our science is concerned with everything moving, and everything must move in some fashion, it will require time to do this. Harnessing energy in a form that produces sufficient quantities, we found a way to leave this space and time to arrive in another space and time. Before you think we can reverse time as in what has occurred somewhere else in space and time, we cannot. That is a foundation law; otherwise, someone in the space-time future will return and cause a single change creating an energy wave that will collapse the universe. So far you are understanding?”
Allen took a drink, looked at the glass. “The booze must be opening my brain. Keep going, Kaz. If me eyes roll into the back of my head, then you best stop.”
“The math is very complex, Allen. The calculations to predict with certainty a location in time and space are beyond the understanding of but a precious few. To protect the universe from the spread of hate, using the technology I personally saw to the demise of scientists. All records of the work wiped clean. The facility that housed the knowledge nothing more than particles in the solar wind. The secrets that sparked the discovery of ancient expertise also destroyed. I have covered my footprints in time and space. What I did not understand is that knowledge cannot be destroyed. Knowledge released energy that cannot be silenced.
“Before the destruction of the facility, I oversaw the construction of a ship, a traveling mind outfitted the technology. We could move from my galaxy to another. I achieved this under the stinking noses of the Fathers, at least I thought such. With this ship, I entered time and space with a destination.
“That destination is where ordered energy existed. Strong energy that could be harvested to counter the Fathers hate or, in the Fathers’ hands, give them unlimited power to spread their war into the universe. Some of the best minds in the Fathers Empire speculated this destination pointed to an origin source. Perhaps, in some avenues of philosophy, your people’s conception of a creator of sorts. Unfortunately, the ship malfunctioned, leaving me stranded here, in this galaxy with you.” Kazimir paused to take a drink of the vodka, not that he needed it, just wanted to give Allen a moment.
“And now some nut is chasing us.” Allen looked at his blue booted feet, wondering what trouble awaited. Looking back at Kazimir, eyes squinting from the effects of the drink, Allen’s mind ran around like a mouse looking for a way out.
“Yes, that is correct. I can tell by the look on your face that you wish many more questions. Rest for a while. Think on all I have told you, Allen. Sleep and clear your mind.”
Allen wanted to protest, but his body ached from top to feet. “Yeah, no kidding, mate. I know you are leaving a lot of stuff out. And I promise you one way or another, someday you are going to tell me more.” He then threw the nearly empty bottle several seats forward.
Allen slept hard. Dreams of dragons and arrows pierced his fitful rest. Somewhere in the timeless blood-red river, tangerine tinged clouds, blackened mountains, sulfur smoke burning eyes, he saw Erin sitting upon a fierce giant dragon with a hole in the middle of its armor chest. Erin had a sword in one hand and the dragon’s heart in the other. The giant dragon wings curved gracefully, gliding the massive creature to land at his blue booted feet. Two green dragon eyes with pulsing red pupils glared down with disgust. Dragon breath washed away the sulfur burn. Erin appeared beside him as if she were always there. His eyes went pitch black and wide, heart a taiko drum pounding, breath long forgotten. She spoke, soft petal red lips forming words carried by multicolored butterflies. “Do not fear, my father. My sister sends . . .”
He awoke to Kazimir shaking his arm. “We are at the final cool down. We have some time for questions,” Kazimir said, his white face somehow whiter. Allen wondered inside the fog of waking if the tall old man ever needed to shave.
Allen realized what Kazimir said. “Last cool down? How long I been asleep?”
“Ten standard hours, Allen.” Passing a cup of steaming coffee into the traveler’s sloppy hand, Kazimir smiled and lightly patted Allen on the shoulder. “Are you okay, Allen? You cried out in your sleep. You appear to have withdrawal muscle twitching.” The aroma of rich coffee filled the passenger area. Allen sipped at the thick flavor.
“Yea. Odd dreams. Goes with everything that is happening. Thanks for the coffee, mate. Bang on. Didn’t figure you for a coffee man.”
“I have extensive knowledge of your worlds.” Pointing at his shiny bald head, he added, “Please do not assume the knowledge overrides your experienced view of matters. Fear not to speak. Now, Allen, gather your thoughts and then present another question. We have ample time before the last transition to Ragnar.”
Allen placed the coffee on the pop-up table attached to the passenger seat, then struggled to his weak legs. “Gotta empty. Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Kazimir raised his eyebrow. “I doubt I can go anywhere, Allen. We are far from any livable planet.”
“Just an expression, Kaz.”
Twenty minutes later, with coffee cup in hand, and a somewhat heated and small bottle of cheap dark rum, Allen felt much better, despite being in the worst predicament he could recall. Kazimir sat in the opposite seat; hands lost somewhere inside the long full sleeves. His eyes partly closed, barely breathing.
“Did ya get some rest, mate, while old Al was cutting logs?”
Kazimir stirred, his eyes widening at the sight of the rum bottle. “Allen, you must soon consider curbing the alcohol injection. It is poison to a body. And yes, I rested. Sleep is something not required, but I do silence my mind as a form of recovering. Now, Allen, the next question of our agreement.” When Allen frowned, he added, “You assumed I did not understand the colloquium of cutting logs.”
As much as they felt gritty, Allen rolled red eyes. The gritty feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon. He rubbed his beard. Wondering for a moment if he could use the sonic shower customarily reserved for the few first class passengers. Seeing as how he and Kazimir were the only ones on board, they must be first class. His thoughts ended up with his daughter. Just like an inevitable dead end to a one-way path.
“I wish to make a change to our deal, Kaz.” Allen raised his hand, noticing it shook more than usual. “Wait, let me say. I’ll call me daughter. Yeah, I will. Right now as ya wish. But I reserve my next question for another time. Dunno when, Kaz. Just when I think it’s best. Ya never know with you, the story or where we end up at. Okay.”
Kazimir frowned slightly, then nodded yes. His hand reappeared from the depths of the sleeves to point to the cockpit. “You will need the assistance of the long-range communications panel. Everything is ready for you. I shall remain here to provide privacy. Speak with her for as long as you wish.”
Allen rose from his seat, his knees and back groaning. “What about someone like the chap back in Wayward noticing the signal?”
“Not to concern yourself. I have taken measures to ensure no one will locate our position.” Kazimir nodded his head towards the flight deck. Allen looked at his blue boots, then made his way forward, each step heavier than the last. His legs quivered. His hands went moist. The heart beat fast and hard. He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous. Scared, angry, even hurt, but not this nervous. Was it the dream stirring up his emotions, he wondered, or maybe she would just hang up? Utter rejection. Could not blame her, he thought.
The headset fit into his ear, the tiny mic automatically swiveled precisely where it needed to capture voice. A screen appeared on the holo co-pilot’s display, about the size of the holo magazine back in Wayward Shores, then flickered to life, blue and purple static bubbling. Allen jumped when the little screen turned black, then scrolled the inter-planet network connection info. Real-time communications worked well considering at least five relay routers made the connect dots.
The words “Ringing” scrolled. One, two, three, four, five, six. Allen let his breath out, which he had been holding since sitting. He looked for the disconnect, even though the deletion was right there in red letters, but it evaded capture. That’s when the word that carried a thousand memories appeared in bright blue on black. Connected, the screen blinked. Then the words Audio and Video Enabled.
A little burst of audio static, followed by a blur of colors like someone poured greens and reds in a bowl then mixed for scrambled eggs.
“Hello.” The voice of a girl, young and fresh, filled the little flight deck. Suddenly flowers appeared everywhere, and the sun turned the sky royal blue. Allen sat frozen, unable to get a breath, heart beating like a Japanese drum.
The world, the galaxy, the universe fell in on Allen Monroe Duncanson. There, somewhere in open space between the blazing stars on the run, before his old tired eyes, the lovely young face of his daughter came into focus. And she had a smile that lit the flight deck as if a star went nova.
“Dad?” Chocolate sweet her voice always was.
Almost instantly in another galaxy, the queen of the Freedom Worlds caught herself in a middle of words before the full assembly of Knights of the Kingdom. The entire assembly went silent. Her husband and general of her armies quickly moved to attend the Queen Princess. She stayed him with a gentle press of her silken gloved hand. A tear slipped its graceful way down her rosy cheek. The smile that beamed from ruby red lips filled the chambers as if a star burst into life somewhere in the frozen universe.
“Dad, is it you? Where are you? Why are you calling? Does Mother know?” And so the questions came in an avalanche. All he could do was sit and endure, slipping in a few words here and there.
Kazimir felt the wave of icy energy pass through the ship. He knew without a single lingering doubt the simple man Allen Monroe Duncanson and his daughter played a part in the story. Not just any fable told to little children to close the eyes for sleep. A tale that crawled its way to the inevitable war. Not of just star systems. A battle that would reach the depths of the Universe itself. A shudder shook Kazimir at the thought about where they all stood in this game of life and death. He knew then and there his time to make war again would come, this time for Love and not Hate.
Sometime later, Allen reappeared from the flight deck. His eyes were redder than blood. Kazimir knew the old traveler cried as a father; that was a clear fact someday to speak about. He wished he experienced these mysterious feelings, but he knew the wishes were lost with all the lives filled with love that he ended. Such was his penance as the Queen Princess told him. What he was not completely sure of was the true reason why the traveler shed tears. Time would answer.
Allen slumped into his chair. With a forced smile and hoarse voice, he said, “Let us get on with the story, shall ya, mate? Didn’t we leave off at some spaceship thing?”
Kazimir folded his hands into the sleeves, hoping to hide the ghostly blood stains. “Of course, Allen. We have time until we arrive in the Ragnar System. Our path forward will move quickly then, with little time to speak at length. We shall enjoy the story until then.”
Allen snuggled down. His heart hurt something fierce.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
King Vanguard summoned the Knights to the dungeon below the castle. Each man felt the pressure of hovering uncertainty, the smell of death thickening the air, the sounds of past thieves, beggars, murderers pleading for mercy still echoing around filthy tunnels and empty cells. When they came into a small stone walled room a body covered with a brown and yellow stained covering lay upon a narrow slab. Surrounding the room tools of a Master Torture lay in logical order, cleaned, waiting for the next victim. The Master Torture stood nearby just as a proud father waits to show off his achieving child. Baron Ungar hid a knowing smirk. He figured as much occurred. His safety was not a concern anyway. Killing him meant serious issues with his King, something Vanguard did not need now. The others pathetic knights were much more expendable.
Vanguard entered the chamber behind them, white cape flowing behind, heavy boots clipping the blood-stained cold stone floor. His booming voice filled the small space. “Look at what will occur if my crown is betrayed.” On that cue, Master Torturer pulled the white cover away.
One of the Knights gasped openly in horror. Another retched. The rest shuffled their boots, looking away quickly only to feel eyes of curiosity pull them back. Unger had seen worse.
“He stood well. Gave our Master Torturer a challenge, something he takes very personal. All men sooner or later will break. Sooner or later begging for mercy. I am a fair King. Gunnar’s loyal service secured his quick death immediately after he told me what I asked. A simple question, really. Where did the Princess go.”
Vanguard let the question poison the already polluted air. Not that he suspected any of them, especially Baron Ungar. He wanted to place the fear upon them. Vanguard nodded for the sheet to be placed back over the dead Gunnar. Ungar noticed how peaceful the ancient warrior looked. How his face seemed to smile. Ungar had to give the dead man respect, but only a little.
Vanguard’s voice yanked everyone to attention. “I wish for you, Baron Ungar of Family Kraus, to lead these fine Knights to find my daughter. You all will pursue this task until she is found. Once she is, and she will be, or your lives will find the Master Torturer eager to see who can outlast the late Gunnar’s record, she is to be brought here and placed at my feet.”
Bone-chilling silence. No one spoke or dared take a breath. Ungar spoke up, after clearing his tight throat, “In what direction, my King?”
Vanguard growled the words. “To the west, men. Ride the western Speedway. You will leave by Daystar’s rise tomorrow. Use this moonless night to assemble your command, then be on your way by Daystar’s rise. Ungar,” Vanguard turned to the pale-faced, dark-haired man with the silly stripe. He stared through Ungar as if seeing something far away, massive hands wringing as if covered with something sticky. Minutes passed. Ungar’s mind fought off memories of his father drunk with rage. How he hated the man. “Get this done quickly, Ungar. Then I will decide who gets the prize. The court steward will have the documents you will need. Go to the wine farm territory and dig until you find her. Our family has cousins there as well as others who do not have loyalty in their hearts. Do whatever is required. Pull a few teeth, break a few arms. Speak to that Lord Williamson in that town of insurrectionists. I suspect his hand somewhere in this. Understood?”
Ungar nodded, rather than risk his voice failing him.
Vanguard stormed off, leaving the Knights alone with a pleased Ungar, an unhappy Master Torturer, and the body of the Princess’ best friend. Ungar's mind was racing to make his plans work. He so wanted to kill the annoying little brat, but not yet. That would have to wait. At first, he rather enjoyed the little thing. Taking her in pleasure was his right. That feeling had worn thin. Dead seemed much more pleasing.
Baron Ungar wanted to get the troops on the way that evening, Dark Night or not, but other matters needed attention. They would stop at a few towns on the Speedway, but not until the town of Glenarm where Lord Williamson lounged his pampered ass in an enormous wine farm inside a miniature castle he built with his own bare hands, or so the pompous man boasted. That was where serious digging would occur. Ungar knew the fat little man from previous times. Once visiting King Helburt in the mountains, trying to sway support for separation from King Vanguard, and another when Ungar caught the fool bedding his sister. Lots of reasons to give the pompous ass trouble. Ungar hoped for resistance, just enough to warrant slitting the man’s throat. Not for the deflowered sister’s honor either. Just because he hated the man.
Before joining the others in the King’s stable to prepare for the Princess hunt, he stole away long enough to dispatch a messenger with a note, sealed with his imprint as Baron Ungar of Family Kraus, Commissioner and Ambassador at Large for King Helburt of Hugell, the Mountain King. The messenger's destination; the Lord Steward Arron Edwards of King Richard’s Court, Kingdom of Solan. The young messenger, barely of the manly age to ride a Seabra, could scarcely keep himself from thanking Ungar a hundred times for the opportunity to serve a Baron's request. And to go all the way to Solan; that was unheard of. Ungar knew the boy would carry the message between his big front teeth on broken legs if need be. One problem solved.
The four Knights and twenty guardsmen filled their packs with food and drink. Placed their swords and, just in case, dragon killers on the sides of their leather covered Seabras. The young men somehow found a large bottle of spring wine. One of the red-cheeked Knights thought it funny the bottle was from the very same wine farms they would invade with swords drawn in search of a lost maiden. Ungar showed his approval, slapped a few backs, looked as the wisest oldest should and let them enjoy the evening with the youth. Deep red wine soon fogged the eyes, missing Ungar slipping out the side passage of the King’s Stables. The guardsmen, as was the custom for enlisted, did not associate on a social level with Knights, but found themselves plenty to do in the local whore house.
With his heavy hood gently placed over black hair, long flowing army coat securely wrapped around him, he slipped into the gray back streets of the inner city, though the Old Town Bridge gate to the outer city. The royal guardsmen night watch at the gate nodded him through when they saw his papers. Several nice shards ensured the passing, and a subsequently much later return, which would not appear in the logs. He was going for a private tour of Lure’s outer city, he said with a wink. The four well trained heavily armed Royal Guardsmen winked back. The guards counseled the Baron to be mindful of the moonless night, that trouble sometimes lurked in the darkest night. He nodded his thanks, then quickly on.
Ungar never in his life visited a woman for hire. Something so low and unbecoming of a Knight in the King’s service. For all his faults, he had his principles. Now, as far as women went, he enjoyed the company of them and found being a gentleman always proved good for relations with the powerful men when their mates were charmed. Still, relations with any woman eluded, with the exception of an awkward teenage encounter that ended with payments to a powerful merchant having the King’s ear in hand. The memories that haunted in night sweats came from the beatings and constant buggery from his father and late brother. The brother mysteriously disappeared on a hunting trip in the foothills. Father died an agonized death from internal rotting that some suffered in old age. When the time came, he knew all the treacherous past memories had little to say. A child of his loins in time, but not before he ruled to gather all of wayward Doragon under his shadow.
