Gods of Green Mountain (40 page)

"Es-Trall believes that all life forms are constantly changing and evolving, striving always toward the ultimate perfection, which, he also says will never be reached in all probability because everything else is also changing, creating new requirements that demand new and different adaptations. So it is, mankind is forever crossing over a stream, stepping from stone to stone, striving always to reach the other side where perfection lies. Those who will not step forward and change fall off into the stream, and are washed away in the river of time and are forgotten.

"But the changes are too slight in ten generations to even be noticed, except for now and then when a 'stone' is placed out of order in the proper succession of things. And that is why I am different, and Dray-Gon is somewhat different, and my great-grandfather, Far-Awn was different. We are heraldings of the future generations to come. Someday, Es-Trall reasons, all the peoples of El Dorraine will be changed into what I am now or what Dray-Gon is now, or what Far-Awn was, for there are many roads and stones to reach the other side.

"There are many people who aren't happy with his theory. It quakes their egos to think they have not gained the other side of the stream, and there is need in them for improvement. Also, they are, as I am, disquieted by the enormity of striving always for an unreachable quest."

The God stood very quiet, regarding her, as if deeply pondering.

Dray-Gon spoke then. "There are differences in our princess of which she has not spoken, for sometimes she can be a little modest." Here he threw Sharita a teasing look. "There are other things about her that are different besides her beautiful coloring: she has a more defined strength of character. For instance, our princess was the only one of us able to resist the depressions of the 'dim-despairs,' and it was she who woke us all up and saved our lives."

"Who is this wise man of yours?--this most profound, ponderous thinker?" questioned the God. "I would like to meet and talk with him, for I am very impressed with his theory."

"No one knows, Lord God, just who he is," answered Sharita. "He showed up one day, and spoke in private to my father...and my father gave him a tower in the palace as his very own to use as his laboratory. His pinnacle is directly across from mine, and I see him from a distance, and he is so very, very old, he could never make the journey here, though he has said to my father that he would die happy if he could."

"That is too bad," said the God, "for I might die happy myself to talk with such a wise man."

The nineteen young men mounted their horshets, and the princess was already atop hers.

Already the God was lonely, missing them before their departure. "Stay a moment longer," he pleaded, "and tell me, princess, how it feels to be a 'stepping stone' pointing the way to the future."

Sharita looked his way, feeling his need to have them stay, though he had not asked this of them, and she smiled, wishing he could come out from behind the glass and she could really see and touch him. "I used to think it was a very lonely point of isolation and difference, so I kept mostly to my own rooms, so people would not look on me, and comment on my strangeness. Now I have changed my mind. There are goals that can be reached, and happiness that can be enjoyed, even with the rushing waters of time and change all around."

No one there doubted at all what she meant, when she looked at Dray-Gon, who rode next to her.

"Good-bye, Lord God," they all called out, as the God helped them out of his high, tall home, and lifted them over the Scarlet Mountains, so they would not this time have to travel through the grave of his friend, the copilot.

Weeks later, they reached the six waiting wagons, and reality was waiting there too. Reality that Sharita would have to face up to: Her wagon was covered with dried blood from Mark-Kan's body.

"We must leave it so," Dray-Gon said gravely. "It is evidence that the judges will have to see." And here he turned and gripped Sharita's shoulders, and delved deep in her eyes with his. "And when we reach home, you will not say one word about your involvement in Mark-Kan's death. I will say I fought with him in an argument over you--and Mark-Kan was accidentally killed." He turned then and looked back at the other men, who stood and listened. "Who here will tell the truth--will you, or will you not stand behind me and protect the princess?"

"We all will!" they cried out in unison. "We will not have the princess given over to the wildlands and the outlaws who live there!"

"So be it!" declared Dray-Gon.

"No! I won't have it that way," Sharita cried, "if you tell that version of Mark-Kan's death, they will banish
you
to the wildlands."

He laughed shortly. "Sharita, much better it be I out there than you."

"No," she said just as firmly grave as he. "I will tell the truth, exactly as it happened, and if I am banished, I will make my way, if possible, back to where the God lives, and stay with him."

Again Dray-Gon laughed, short and hard, and utterly cynical and bitter. "Fool girl! Alone you could never make it! The outlaws would gain news of your banishment, and be waiting for you beyond the walls. They would fall on you like a pack of warfars. You will keep your mouth shut, and let me have this my way!"

"And then you will be killed, for they hate you now, Dray-Gon, for using the laser beams and causing the avalanche that killed so many of them."

"I will survive. I will find a way to live without you."

Sharita gave him a long, hard look. "So, perhaps that is the way you would choose to live: the savage, wild life of a barbarian, an outlaw. Perhaps you will be their leader, and perhaps you will take the girl Ray-Mon with you!"

His eyes turned hard. "Perhaps I will! At least she won't quibble and argue with me for the rest of my life--the way you would!"

"That is what you want, isn't it?" Sharita spat out. "A milksop who always agrees with you, and says, yes, yes, yes, Lord and master! I am your slave!"

"At least she won't be a spoiled, pampered, royal brat, with an ugly, sharp tongue!"

"Now wait a minute," said Arth-Rin as the two who had been billing and cooing just a few minutes ago squared off for a real fight. "You are both going at this from the wrong direction. When we are back in the palace, we will tell all in the council room, that Mark-Kan was riding his horshet on one of the black crater rims, when his mount slipped and they both fell over to their deaths." His pleasant, round face broke into a pleased smile, satisfied with the way he had solved everyone's problems. He looked at the other men gathered around. "Isn't that the way Mark-Kan died?"

The men agreed, yes, it was a terrible thing to see Mark-Kan fall to his death.

Pale-faced and grim, Sharita faced them all. "And you will all be telling lies!"

"Lie or not, that will be our story," stated Dray-Gon, glaring hard at her. "And who will know the difference?"

She whispered then, "The God will. I told him I was directly responsible for Mark-Kan's death."

The men stared at her, thoroughly shocked.

"Oh, Sharita, how could you be so foolish?" cried out Dray-Gon. "You know the God has requested for another delegation to visit him! And they will learn the truth of Mark-Kan's death!"

When Dray-Gon reached to take her in his arms, Sharita backed off, rage on her face. "I have stood here and listened to all you men have said--and not once have a one of you mentioned the unfairness of that rule that would banish me to the wildlands! I accidentally killed a man who was trying to rape me, and then turn me over to outlaws who would brutally assault me, and then hold me for ransom! Has any one of you mentioned that? No! Why? Because I am only a woman! Even though I am a princess, of royal blood, I am supposed to submit to any man who forcefully tries to take me, rather than kill him to protect myself! There comes a time when old laws are outdated--and that time is here! Ninety-nine percent of my life I have been locked away in a high tower, so no man could get to me, and when I was out of that tower, I was followed about by guards, to see I was protected! I have been a prisoner all my life, so that men can walk around and do as they want, with any woman they want, if they are of that kind of lustful nature! So when we are in that council room, I will tell the truth before all, and if I am banished--so be it! At least I will have struck my blow for the freedom of all women!"

"Sharita, you will lie!" stormed Dray-Gon, his face dark with passion.

"Dray-Gon, I will tell the truth!"

"It is an old, old law, one of our most ancient ones. You cannot take a life, whatever the cause, and Mark-Kan was without a weapon to threaten your life. No one will see it your way," Dray-Gon concluded grimly.

Very quietly, Sharita queried, "Do you see it my way?"

He stood looking at her, his thoughts racing. He had never questioned that law, just accepted it. If women were used against their will from time to time, it was a black mark against the man, but nothing could equal the sin of taking another's life. And it was commonly believed by most of the men that in the depths of their secret hearts, most women wanted to be taken brutally, especially those of the common variety--though he realized with a delicately bred girl of Sharita's heritage, it might be different. He chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, regarding her pale face, and beautiful eyes that glared at him, as if thinking he had taken many a woman against her will, and laughed when he reported his conquests to his friends.

"How many women have you raped, Dray-Gon?" she asked, confirming his speculations.

"None! I have never needed to. The idea of taking a woman by force has never appealed to me."

The princess spun about and scanned her eyes over each and every man there. "We have come a long way together, and traveled on an equal basis, and most of you have treated me very respectfully, and only one has made furtive, sneaky advances to me while I was asleep. And which one of you that was, I don't know. I suspect you treated me as well as you did because I am royal, and each of you have requested my hand in marriage, and attacking me would spoil your chances of my acceptance, for my father will choose for my husband only a man of my choice. We have agreed on that a long time ago; unlike other fathers, he will not marry me off just for political reasons to a man I detest. I choose this time to thank you for your respect, and your control over lusts that you would let loose on some other, lesser woman than myself. But when I am banished, exiled out to the wildlands, I will be stripped of royalty and royal protection. I will be as any other woman, at the mercy of any man who is ruthless enough to take her. Think about that--and how you would feel to be a woman so vulnerable--if you can." Here she broke, and sobbed before she turned and ran, and hid herself in Dray-Gon's wagon, which had been turned over to her.

She left behind her a group of silent and very reflective young men.

The Return

E
very day in the morning, in the afternoon, and just before the last sun downing, the king stood on his daughter's high terrace and looked out over the hills and valleys. He looked to the rounded dome of the Green Mountain. So long they had been gone--an eternity. In his sometimes despairing thoughts he could picture all of them lying somewhere, brown, dry, dead--or else rooted into the ground in the death-seeking way of old.

"Oh, Gods of the Mountain," he prayed, "keep them safe! Let them all return home alive and well!" He didn't speak special prayers for the one he loved most, for that wouldn't be suitably impartial.

He liked it best up here, in her rooms, where he could feel her presence, and sniff the elusive flowering scent that still clung to her belongings. From his busy schedule he took time to feed her little birds, and clean their cages, just as he cared for her other small pets--not trusting servants to give them the loving care he would, the kind of care they were accustomed to. But for him, as kind as he was, the animals were not lavish with their responding warmth and love--not as they were with her. Sharita's pets all drooped a little, missing her, just as he did.

All of El Dorraine, Upper and Lower, was tired of waiting. "Where are our sons?" they cried out in force before his palace. "You sent them out on an impossible quest! An unreasonable journey! They will never return! How much better if we had forgotten and forgiven the horror of Bari-Bar! How we have sacrificed our best young people--and for no purpose! Your majesty, how could you have such bad judgment!"

"Ah, but it is difficult," Ras-Far complained to Es-Trall when he paid him his daily visit, "to know when right is wrong, and when wrong is right!"

Es-Trall paid no heed. He was busy, as always, peering through his telescope, noting down this or that, occupying every second of his days with something he considered of momentous importance.

"Tell me, Es-Trall, what do the stars say? Tell me when they will return." For that was all Ras-Far was really interested in.

Then Es-Trall would clasp his gnarled hands together, in his own private expression for a subject so to his liking--the topic of stars--and their meaning. An overwhelming explanation of the complexities of the juxtapositions of this star, upon that of another star, would begin, and there were at least two dozen interpretations, enough to set the king's head awhirl.

Truly, it was said, if one threw a splinter to Es-Trall, he would throw back a tree! And just you try and find that splinter again!

"They are on their way back. The stars say so," said Es-Trall, seeing the king's impatience. "They have been to the Green Mountain and are coming home. That is all I can say."

"Are they alive--everyone?" asked the king fearfully.

Es-Trall grew very pensive, screwing his prune-wrinkled face into a small tight ball. "The stars say one is dead...one human, two animals."

"Oh, dear Gods!--is the human male or female?"

"The stars don't speak so minutely--male or female is of no difference to them."

"Hah!" Ras-Far slammed down his hand hard on the table piled high with rolled-up charts of the heavenly bodies. "You are no good to me whatsoever, Es-Trall, if you cannot read the charts more accurately! Look again--see if one of the dead is female!"