Gods of Opar (v1.0), page 4
The street kept winding up and up, and soon they were so high that he could look down on the Inner City. He could see the moated and walled citadel in the northeast corner, the rocky hill on top of which were the palaces, the temples, and the main government buildings. Beyond was the great tower, a ziggurat now five hundred feet tall, its base covering half a mile. Dust hung around it, dust stirred up by thousands of men and oxen laboring there.
The street began to descend again, and they were crossing the Road of Kho, the wide stone-block-paved highway that meandered from the wall of the Inner City up the steep side of the volcano. Above them, glittering white, was the tomb of the hero Gahete, the first man to land on this island, almost eighteen hundred years ago. Up beyond it was the plateau on which was the great temple of Kho and the sacred oak grove. But he could not see them.
They passed through another wealthy residential area, crossed a bridge over a canal, and then, coming onto a broad field, saw the coliseum. Hadon’s heart beat even faster than when he had seen the beautiful blond girl. Inside the high circular granite walls his fate waited for him. But he would not see its inside today. He was marched into the barracks reserved for the youths and assigned a bed and a closet. He was glad to remove the hot bronze armor and to take a shower.
4
A month passed before the contestants were received by the king and his daughter, the high priestess. In the meantime, the youths spent the daylight hours training and the evenings talking or shooting dice. Everyone trained by himself; there were no practice matches among them; but they carefully watched each other, making evaluations. Hadon had been mildly shocked to discover that there were three youths taller than he, two of whom were much more thickly muscled. The third, Wiqa of Qaarquth, was the man who might beat him in the 440-yard dash and the two-mile run. He wouldn’t know until the day the races came, of course. But Wiqa was fast, very fast. He also seemed to be a swift swimmer, though Taro thought that he could beat him. Hadon didn’t believe this, but he did not say so. Taro, who had always been so jolly in Opar and on the voyage, had become glum. It was evident that he regretted now having entered, and it was too late to back out. There was no law forbidding him, but he would be thought a coward if he did, and he could never return to the city of Opar.
Hadon had his own moments of doubt and gloom. It was one thing to be the tallest and the swiftest in Opar, but here he was, a rube actually, up against the pick of the mighty empire. He could not quit, though he could manage to disqualify himself during the field and track events. If a man did not pick up enough points from these, before the dangerous events, he would be eliminated. And doubtless others before him, losing heart, had done just that. He hoped that Taro would do this. He could not. When he was in a contest, he had to do everything he could to win. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he deliberately lost. And suicide, unless committed under honorable circumstances, assured one the most miserable of existences in the empire of dread Sisisken. Whereas if he died fighting bravely during the Games, he would be buried as a hero, and his pylon would rise along the Road of Kho.
He kept his doubts to himself. When he wrote long letters to his family in Opar, he tried to convey the idea that he was sure of becoming the victor. By the time the mail had been delivered—if it were, since the ship bearing it might be intercepted by pirates or sunk in a storm—he would long since have been buried or become the husband of Awineth and the new king of kings of Khokarsa. That is, he would be if Awineth accepted him, because she had the right to reject anyone who did not please her. And it was possible that Awineth might marry her father. Rumor had it that Minruth had wooed her but that she had said no. Minruth would not wish to give up the throne, and he had precedent for his suit. Three kings of Khokarsa had married their sisters or daughters to retain the crown.
Meanwhile, whatever happened elsewhere, Hadon had to consider the immediate goal. Wiqa was a threat in the races. Gobhu, a mulatto of a family that had been free for a hundred years, was a threat in the broad and high jumps, and he seemed to be very fast in the hundred-yard dash. There were at least three men who seemed destined to win in the wrestling. Hewako, he thought, would finally prevail, though a bull of a man from Dythbeth, Woheken, was immensely strong and very quick. Hadon watched the youths wrestling with professionals. They all seemed to be very impressed by Hewako and Woheken.
Hadon wondered what the numatenu with whom he worked out, using wooden swords, thought of him.
They always beat him, though never by more than four points, and he thought that they respected him. The only contestants who seemed to be as skillful as he were Taro and Wiqa. The sword fight was the most important, because it was to the death. But, as his father had said, the man with the most killer’s drive would probably be the winner. And all the youths were untested; none had ever killed a man in a sword fight.
Hadon made his evaluations of his competitors and was not overly worried for a while. Then, one day, it struck him that some might be deliberately holding back so they could surprise their opponents. And he had trouble getting to sleep because of worrying about it.
The day came when they were to be presented at court. They rose at dawn, bathed, sacrificed, and ate. Clad in full armor, they marched behind a band to the Road of Kho and over its ancient marble blocks to the city. Again they passed through cheering crowds. They halted before the fifty-foot-wide moat and the hundred-foot-high walls that ringed the base of the acropolis of the Inner City. They marched across the oaken drawbridge, the massive bronze gates at the other end opening as they did so.
Beyond was the steep granite hill of the citadel, a truncated cone two hundred feet high and over a half-mile in diameter. Around its perimeter was a wall of massive granite blocks fifty feet high. The heroes walked up the steep marble staircase lined with diorite and basalt statues of the r’ok’oga* and waited at its top for their elders to catch their breath. Then they passed through a twenty-foot-broad and forty-foot-high gateway. Above this were two carved fish-eagles in profile, a massive diamond set in the eye socket of each.
*Probably a now extinct giant reptile, the dragonlike sirrush depicted on the Ishtar Gate of
ancient Babylonia. In Hadons time they could be found in the jungles along the southern sea.
They walked down the wide straight Boulevard of Khukly, the heron goddess, past crowds of government officials and workers. They halted once more, this time before the thousand-year-old palace of the rulers of the empire of Khokarsa. This was, next to the Tower of Kho and Resu, the largest building in the world. It was nine-sided, built of red-veined white marble, and capped by a dome plated with gold, the base of which was inset with patterns of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. They walked up the nine wide steps, each dedicated to a primary aspect of Kho, and came to a portico. Each of its colonnades was carved in the stiff style of the ancients; each was a representation of a beast, plant, or hero of the nine-year Great Cycle: a fish-eagle, a hippopotamus, a green parrot, the hero Gahete, a sea-otter, a horned fish, a honeybee, a millet plant, and the hero Wenqath.
Hadon was awed by all this. By the time he had marched into the central room, where royalty sat and the great men and women stood, he felt very small and humble.
The bronze trumpets blared, bullroarers throomed, and their escort grounded the butts of their spears with a crash.
The herald cried out, “Behold, priestess of Kho and of her daughter, the moon, the heroes of the Great Games! Behold, king of kings of the empire Khokarsa and of the two great seas, the heroes of the Great Games!” And he finished by three times reciting the passage that must end all official greetings in this palace. “And remember that death comes to all!”
Awineth sat on an oaken throne on whose high back was perched a chained fish-eagle. The throne was unadorned, though the woman it held was adornment enough. Her hair was long and jet black, her features were striking and bold, her eyes were large and dark gray, her skin was white as milk, her breasts were full and shapely, and the legs were slim and rounded. Certainly she left nothing to be desired physically, though her hips might have been a little broader. It was said, however, that she had a hellish temper.
Her throne was a half-step higher than the king’s, a superiority which Minruth was supposed to resent very much. His throne was, in contrast with hers, a splendor of gold and diamonds and emeralds, its back topped by a diorite carving of Resu, the Flaming God, as a crowned eagle of the mountains. Minruth was a man of medium height, but he had broad shoulders and a big paunch. His features were much like his daughter’s, except that his nose was larger and slightly curved. Fat now hid the muscles that had enabled him to win the Great Games thirty-eight years before. Still, he did not look as old as most men of fifty-six. He did, however, look unhappy. His thick dark eyebrows, so much like his daughter’s, were bent in a scowl.
Near him, a huge black lion, chained, lay on the marble dais and blinked sleepy green eyes.
Awineth spoke in a strong but pleasant voice. “Greetings, heroes! I have watched you unseen and have listened to your trainers. You are all men of pleasing physique, though I’m not too sure about the quickness of wits or of speech of some of you. I would not want to bear children to a man of dull mentality, so let us hope that none among you who fit that description becomes the victor. I would not marry such a man! However, it is seldom that a slow-wit wins, so I am not troubled much by thoughts of having to reject the victor.”
She made a sign, and the herald thumped the butt of his staff and cried, “Does the king of kings, the father of the high priestess, wish to speak?”
Minruth spoke in a harsh, rumbling voice. “Yes. I have seldom seen such a sorry bunch of heroes. Now, when I fought in the Great Games, I was pitted against men!
I am sorry that my daughter must have such a bad lot to choose from. If, that is, she does so choose.”
Hadon’s face burned with shame.
Awineth laughed and said, “It is always thus—the good old days, the good old days, when giants walked among us. Well, there is one among you who specially pleases me, and I have prayed to Kho that She give him the victory.”
“Is it I?” Hadon thought, and his heart leaped.
Awineth arose and said, “Dismiss them.”
Hadon was startled. He had thought that there would be more to it than this, a banquet perhaps, during which he might get to talk to Awineth. But no. They were to be herded out after their long walk, marched back hot and thirsty to the barracks.
Hewako, behind Hadon, muttered, “If I ever get my hands on that beautiful bitch, she’ll not be so arrogant.”
Taro, beside Hewako, said, “She’d probably rather marry a gorilla. Didn’t you hear what she said about the lamebrains among us?”
“And you, Taro, I’ll break your back,” Hewako said.
“Silence, there!” the herald said in a low voice. Hewako shut up, the band began playing again, and they started the march back. As they emerged from the palace, they saw that the wind had shifted, and clouds of dust from the works around the great tower were powdering everything. Hadon thought that it must take an army just to keep the palace clean. Also, the odor from the thousands of workers and beasts, and the clamor, must be disturbing to the palace occupants when the wind blew their way. But they would not be the only ones unhappy about the Great Tower. The expense of building it was a heavy burden to the taxpayer, and diseases often broke out among the workers. Minruth would do better to stop its construction and to spend money on destroying the pirate city of Mikawuru and humbling the arrogant Kethnans. But it was said that he was mad and that he was intent on finishing the tower in his lifetime. Now, if he, Hadon, became king of kings, he would slow down the work on it, enough to relieve the tax burden but not enough to anger Kho and Resu. Then he would devote money and energy to proper matters.
That was the last the youths saw of Awineth and Minruth until the first day of the Games. But they heard rumors of events in the Inner City. The most exciting was that a man, the sole survivor of an expedition across the savannas and mountains to the far north, had returned. And had brought word that he had seen, actually seen, Sahhindar, the Gray-Eyed God!
This was electrifying news. Sahhindar, god of plants, of bronze, and of time, had long been exiled by his mother, Kho. The priestesses said that he had incurred Her wrath when he taught the first men to domesticate plants and animals and to make bronze. She had planned to do that Herself when the proper time came, but the Gray-Eyed God had disobeyed Her and showed men too soon how they might become better than the beasts. And so She had thrust him from the land, and She had taken away his ability to travel through time, to go back and forth between past, present, and future. Sahhindar, thereafter, was doomed to keep pace with time as all but Kho Herself must. And he was doomed to wander the jungle and the savannas outside the borders of Khokarsa, on the edge of the world itself.
Yet here was a man, Hinokly, who claimed that he had met the god, had talked to him, and had been told that someday he might come back to Khokarsa. Could it be true? Or was it some wild tale?
“I know the deities walk among us,” Taro said to Hadon. “But do you know anyone besides the oracular priestesses who have ever seen a god or goddess? Have you ever seen one?”
“Only in my dreams,” Hadon said.
“If this is true,” Taro said, “it might mean that Kho has forgiven Sahhindar. Or it might mean that he is coming back despite her ban. In which case, Khokarsa will suffer from the wrath of Kho. It is always the mortals who get hurt most when the deities quarrel among themselves.”
“Perhaps Hinokly is a liar?” Hadon said.
“No sane man would dare make such a lie. Kho would strike him down.”
“Then he may be insane. It is said that he suffered terribly in the Wild Lands.”
Wiqa said, “I will deny it if you quote me. But I’ve heard that the priests of Resu would welcome the return of Sahhindar. They say that he would ally himself with his great brother, Resu, and chain up Kho until She acknowledged that they were master. And I’ve heard it said that Minruth would be pleased if Sahhindar returned. He would then remain king, force his daughter to marry him, and he would raise the status of men.”
Hadon and Taro turned pale. Hadon said, in a low voice while he glanced around, “Don’t repeat such things, Wiqa! Do you want to be castrated and then thrown to the pigs?”
He stared suspiciously at Wiqa. “Or are you one of those who think Resu should be paramount?”
“Not I!” Wiqa said. “But it’s no secret that Minruth believes that Resu should be chief and master. And it has been said that he has been heard to say, while talking with the priests of Resu, that he who controls the army and navy is the true master of Khokarsa. Spears are to be feared as much as, if not more than, the wrath of Kho, according to him.”
“It is said that Minruth drinks much and talks boldly when in his cups,” Hadon said.
“Minruth is a descendant of the Klemsaasa, who seized the throne and did away with the custom of sacrificing the king after he had ruled nine years,” Wiqa said. “If one custom can be changed, so can another.”
“I’m a descendant of the Klemsaasa, as you are,” Hadon said. “But I abhor the idea of blaspheming against Kho. If She becomes offended, then we may have another Great Plague. Or She may speak with fire and lava and earthquakes and destroy this ungrateful land. It is said that Wimimwi, Minruth’s wife, prophesied just such a thing if the priests of Resu did not abandon their efforts to make Resu chief of creation.”
“Here comes Hewako!” Taro said. “For the sake of Kho, lets drop this kind of talk. If he should report us, he would be rid of three of his chief competitors.”
“I’ve said nothing to be ashamed of,” Hadon said.
“Yes, but by the time the priestesses determined that, the Games would be over.”
It was Wiqa’s turn to become pale. It had suddenly occurred to him that Hadon and Taro could eliminate him if they reported his words.
“Don’t worry,” Hadon said. “Getting you into trouble would not be honorable. Besides, you only passed on rumors and hearsay. But Hewako would report you.”
And then the first moon day of the month of Adeneth, goddess of sexual passion, in the Year of Gahete the Hero arrived. On this day the crowds streamed out to the coliseum, which could hold 150,000. At the ninth hour of the day, the high priestess and the king arrived and took their seats under the canopy. The gates were closed, the trumpets flourished, the drums beat, the bullroarers throomed, and the heroes marched out to hail Minruth and Awineth and to pour out libations to Resu and Kho. The herald announced the first event, and the Games had begun.
There were three champions from each of the thirty queendoms of the empires. The first event was the hundred-yard dash. Deciding the winner from ninety contestants was a lengthy procedure. There was room abreast for nine men on the quarter-mile track that circled inside the coliseum. The contestants from three cities, Opar, Khokarsa, and Wethna, ran the first race. Hadon, atremble to go, crouched, clad in only a doeskin loincloth, waiting for the yellow linen cloth to strike the ground. The crowd fell hushed as the trumpets blared, the starter gave the directions, the cloth fell, and all nine hurled themselves down the track. However, a clang of gongs summoned them back before they had gone a few paces. A man from Wethna had made a false start.
On the second fall of the cloth, they started true. Hadon was happy at the end, because he had passed the finishing post first. Taro was second, a man from Khokarsa third, and Hewako, surprisingly, the fourth. Though squat and massive, he could pump his short legs like a hippopotamus’, which can run swiftly indeed for short distances.
