Deathliners

Warriors of Transcendence, Part 51
 
All was silent in the great hall of Obliterators Peak. Torches cast a dim light upon the room. Around the table sat seven men. They appeared as simple soldiers from the Base Level; their clothes were devoid of splendor, their faces almost expressionless and their movements slow and heavy. But the passion expressed in their eyes could not be concealed behind their simple façade. It was clear that their identity was disguised and that they trusted no one, not even each other. After some very tense moments, one of them broke the silence.
 
“In order to understand the reasons for this meeting,” he said, “we must review the past.  As we all know, the great Ohn Mountains are situated on the eastern side of the Land of the Southern Cliffs. In ancient times, four rivers emerged from the lower range, flowing through the entire Kingdom of the Ancient Progeny, the Land of the Northern Forests and beyond.”
 
His words carried the listeners off to a different time, and they settled into their seats comfortably.
 
“Khivia, our great master,”- at the mention of this name, the men arose, and bowed down to the ground on all fours. When they returned to their seats, he continued speaking: “Acknowledge his wisdom, for he can affect the thoughts of all the inhabitants of the land through the waters. He proclaimed the source of his influence in a mighty stone house atop the Ohn Mountains, from whence he whispered his thoughts. All throughout the land, men drank of Khivia’s waters, drinking his thought and thereby thinking his thoughts. This led to their surrender and subjugation to the Emperors of the Towered City. Today, as a result of the actions performed by the Master of Transcendence, the rivers flow below the ground and not on its surface, but this has not prevented our Master Khivia from prevailing. The mighty cities in the south collapsed one by one, and the Towered City was built from the multitude of precious raw materials we seized. In order to nourish the Towered City and provide for all its inhabitants, Khivia drilled a passageway to a deep gas well, using it to light his fire. The water, carrying his thoughts, ensures his influence over the inhabitants of the earth, and the eternal fire in the heart of the mountain provides sustenance for us and our City.”
 
The men sat stone -faced, concealing their emotions.
 
The speaker continued: “However, since the Master of Transcendence proclaimed war against our ancient Father, the Ohn Mountains have been obscured by a heavy cloud covering, and Khivia’s footsteps have been lost. But the fire ignited in the heart of the mountain nourishes the flame at the top of the Towered City, and the connecting path between them is completely hidden, known only to us.”
 
He was silent for a moment, and then admitted reluctantly: “Though it is written in the ancient scrolls that at the edge of the Tunnels of Time, dug by the Ancient Progeny, there is a gate leading to the mountain core, that gate is eternally sealed.”
 
“So,” one of the men interrupted impatiently” have we gathered here to review ancient history?”
 
The speaker looked at him patronizingly and continued: “Since the outer wall collapsed, we have become more apprehensive about the Master of Transcendence. It is clear that the aggressive defense of the Northern Forest villages must be attributed to the support the Master of Transcendence. We do not have enough information about their methods of defense and retaliation, but the results of their techniques of warfare are quite clear; thousands of our men have been destroyed by them.”
 
His voice grew louder as he added, angrily: “Our men have met defeat not only close to home, but even in the valley of the Lowlands and near the City walls! Although there is no reason to assume that the Master of Transcendence will find the key to the mountain core, or discover the secret fire in the mountain, it is time to stop pretending our victory is ensured We have been busying ourselves with childish attempts at conquering the northern lands, and I have the feeling that what is transpiring there is nothing but a trick of distraction. We must protect the path to the flame in the Ohn Mountain. It is dangerous to pretend that it is impenetrable. And, furthermore, we must discuss the Legend of the Wings.”
 
This was going too far! The men arose from their seats, tossed their simple capes aside, revealing royal, glorious garb underneath. The seven Emperors called out to the speaker, insulted by his words:
 
“What are you talking about?”
 
“Why even mention such a senseless mockery?”
 
“It sounds as though you believe all of this!”
 
Only when the Emperor of the Crescent Level stretched his arm out toward the center of the room and a thin blue flame emerged from it dancing through the air, did the noise die down.
 
“My friends,” he hissed, “we have not gathered here to argue. It seems that you do not comprehend the enormous power of the Master of Transcendence.  If we miscalculate his enormous capabilities and the strength of his damnable army, we shall be lost. I want to show you something.”
 
The Emperors were unimpressed by his decisiveness and authority. They still felt strong and empowered, capable of great conquests.
 
The Emperor directed the thin light that had emerged from his hand towards the dark wall, thereby illuminating the entire room.  A vision appeared: Enormous scorpions surrounded a lone man in the White Desert. He drew a circle around himself in the sand, causing the scorpions to retreat.
 
“Here you see one of their warriors in a preliminary training session,” said the Emperor with contempt. “We lack knowledge about their abilities and the source of their strength. But if this is a sample of their early accomplishments, we must assume that their potential is unfathomable.”
 
“It is all vanity and emptiness,” uttered another Emperor. “Khivia’s whispers continue flowing beneath the ground at this very moment, filling the minds of all who thirst for water in the Land of White Fire with thoughts of surrender.”
 
All of the Emperors agreed. As long as the core of Ohn Mountain was protected, there was no need to fear the powers of the Warriors of Transcendence.
 
“The Obliterators are more than competent to handle all problems that may arise,” added the Earth Emperor. “Three days ago, they left for battle with a big surprise for the Master of Transcendence.”
 
“There are some things that you do not yet know,” said the Crescent Emperor. He opened the door of the room and whispered to the warrior standing guard outside. Returning to the room, he left the door open and a tall, erect man entered the hall; his eyes were dark like his hair, which cascaded down his neck. A white band adorned his forehead, its color the same as his skin. His rugged, colorful cloak concealed his entire body, deeming it impossible to ascertain whether or not he carried a weapon. The man was unimpressed by the metallic-colored cloaks of the Emperors’, by the flames on the fringes of their garb, by the sharp glances they sent his way.
 
He approached their table with utter confidence, waved his hand in blessing and said: “I am Ukhma, thousandth leader of the Deathliners. I was summoned to this meeting by the Crescent Emperor to discuss with you issues of utmost importance to us all. But before we begin, I must inform you of alarming information I have gathered during my journey: Your ten Obliterators have been annihilated. They were defeated by the hands of a single Warrior of Transcendence, in the cave in which he hid.”
 
The mask-like faces of the Emperors instantly contorted as their eyes filled with shocked disbelief. But quickly they regained their self- control, intent on hiding the deep disappointment, humiliation and anger they felt on hearing this strange nomad’s horrendous report.
 
…This is what the Emperors knew about the tribes of the wild nomads: The water from the river, carrying Khivia’s thoughts, reached the north as well. In certain places, the rivers deviated into small pools.  Day after day, year after year, the water in the pools became concentrated with thoughts. Even their color changes from a light blue to a deep bluish-black and those who approach the waters sense their intense presence. Both the villagers and the inhabitants of the Towered City consider this phenomenon a dangerous threat. They built high stone walls around these pools, and kept their distance from them. However, a few lone tribes regard the pools as sacred. Not only are they unafraid of them, but they dig under the stone walls and drink of the black waters during long ceremonies. These are the Deathliners.
 
Those traveling from the Land of the North relate that the Deathliners are the strongest and most powerful of local tribes. They are nomadic, living in tents, and deliberately moving from place to place. The Tower dwellers, who esteem stone walls, weapons and homes, look down on the lifestyle of the Deathliners.   These nomads stayed far away from the Towered City, living completely independent lives, throughout history. The inhabitants of the north supply the Deathliners with clothing and tools, as well as slaves and maidservants, all in exchange for the ironic promise of peaceful relations and cooperation in defense against their enemies, although the only enemies, until now, were the Deathliners themselves.
 
Ukhma began to speak confidently, as though his sources were clear to him beyond all doubt.
 
“Your prisons are unusually crowded and the number of semi-Obliterated Ones is increasing, more than ever.”
 
The Emperors became extremely agitated and held their swords at the ready. This man had divulged information that was new to them.
 
The man continued: “The collapse of the outer wall and the increased number of Warriors of Transcendence in the Land of the Northern Forests has not been favorable to the reputation of the Warriors of the Towered City. The fear of the Legend of the Wings invading all levels of the Tower does not bode well.  This threat will affect all of you. Your situation is very grim.
 
I shall not deceive you. We have not joined forces with you out of love for the Towered City. We have also lost men. They were either captured or annihilated by troops of the Master of Transcendence.   Until now, we have never needed your feeble help.”
 
Ukhma continued: “Khivia’s creatures that drink of his waters in the Land of the North are his creations, and his strength pulsates within them. And you- you feed off of memories or of diluted waters, which contain only fragments of thoughts. Even the best of your Obliterators, the essences of the Shadows, were unable to resist us.”
 
The Emperors glanced at each other, insulted, mortified. Was it possible that this lowly tribe had such immense strength?  Did Ukhma speak the truth? He stopped talking as if he could read their minds, shifted his colorful cloak aside and removed a small square, silvery box from his cape. It held dark bluish-black waters. He approached the table and trickled a few drops into a large stone bowl.
 
“Taste!” he commanded.
 
The Emperors reluctantly dipped their fingers into the black liquid in the stone bowl, and tasted. Their faces became distorted by the awful, bitter taste, but immediately an immense inner fire was ignited in them, causing the flames etched upon their cloaks to heat up. They felt as though Khivia himself was pouring rivers of fire into them.
 
“We have been drinking from these waters for centuries,” smiled the Deathliner when the men regained their senses. “This is not about red heifers, with which you fatten up your slaves,” he said with contempt, “or about the purple drinks that paralyze the brain. Even the blue liquid, which was granted to you alone, is nothing but a poor imitation of the real thing. We”, he continued, pointing to the black waters proudly, “we, ourselves, are the thoughts of Khivia.”
“I am willing to pay for it!” the Venus Emperor suddenly cut off the Deathliner’s speech. He hurriedly produced ten golden coins from his cloak, laid them on the table and waited for the man’s reaction. His offer was very generous. The other Emperors followed the proposal with interest, but Ukhma just glanced at the golden coins, as though they were grains of sand, bursting into loud and raucous laughter.
 
“Money?!” he exclaimed in amazement. “You think you can buy black water with money? Our most exalted scribes described to us the love the Descendents of the Emperors have for money, but I never imagined you would attempt to desecrate the sacred black waters with such an offer!”
 
The Venus Emperor gathered his golden coins from the table and slunk back into his seat. Ukhma seemed content with the humiliation he had caused and continued provoking the men: “Do you not wonder why you are barren? Do you truly think that your decision to become immortal was correct? Don’t you ever think that the stars you worship are actually enslaving you?”
 
His speech intensified and burst forth exuberantly, without clarity, as though an inner madness was compelling him to speak these words.
 
“Do you think that the drums shall overcome the base that supports them, that the stringed instruments shall smother the chest of those they face, that the woodwinds shall seal the mouths of those that blow into them? You should know that just a few melodies played by the Master of Transcendence crumbled your outer walls to fine dust. Your command over your melodies is very far from perfect, and you have never received any form of weapon to protect you from the reality of the Legend of the Wings. When the time comes….”   He began to stutter, as though he had uttered words that were not to be spoken, and he stopped speaking.
 
The Emperors raised their eyes as they sat in the deep silence of the great hall. Their own humiliation, as bad as it was, paled in contrast to the disgrace of the sacred principles of Khivia. The first to speak was the Solar Emperor. He approached Ukhma very closely, and as he carefully formed each word said: “Do your ears hear what your mouth speaks?”
 
The Deathliner stood up proudly and spoke confidently: “You need to know that occasionally, the parts responsible for Khivia’s strengths in the inner system lose control slightly.”
 
The Emperors were baffled.
 
Ukhma continued speaking, as arrogantly and egotistically as before, as if he had not faltered and lost his clarity.
 
“If we so desired, we could conquer the Towered City and destroy it for our amusement, needlessly, without reason”, he said with a gleam in his eyes, like a murderer who enjoys slaughtering others for the sake of killing.
 
“You wouldn’t survive a single day. But what would we do with such a great pile of rocks? Our northern winds, our tall mountains and our gushing rivers are enough for us in our Land. But unfortunately, only you know the exact location of the entrance to Ohn Mountain. For that reason we have come to offer you a chance to cooperate with us.  We cherish our freedom above all and shall maintain our independence.  You shall carry on waging the war, and do all that you can to deter the enemy from the source of our strength at Ohn Mountain, while we shall protect the entrance to the Mountain, preventing an invasion. Understand that if anyone even touches the fire there, we shall all collapse instantaneously.”
 
“I don’t understand!” exclaimed one of the Emperors, in response to Ukhma’s word, ignoring his offer to work together. “Are you trying to say that you believe in the so- called tale of the ‘Legend of the Wings’?”
 
Ukhma smiled mockingly. “On the one hand, you don’t believe in the Legend,” he began slowly “and on the other hand, you are so afraid of it, that the mere mention of it is utterly forbidden! The reason for this obvious contradiction of yours is that in the depths of your hearts, you know that it is the truth, but you are not willing to admit it even to yourselves. The clumsy City you built in the Lowlands is so dear to your hearts, that you cannot bear the thought of its imminent destruction.”
 
Frozen faces stared at the speaker; no one made eye contact. The Deathliner continued to speak his words confidently: “And so, my friends, the great wave shall come, but even prior to this, no bricks in the Land of the White Fire shall remain intact.”
 
His face became distorted as he mentioned the name they gave their land. The White Emperor arose and approached Ukhma. No one had ever dared to address the Emperors this way before! Although he himself had summoned the Deathliner to the Tower, he was shocked and dismayed by of his words.
 
“Tell me, son of the Deathliners,” the Emperor began, “do your ears hear what your mouth speaks? If you accept the words of that Legend, and believe in them,” he said to the Emperors as well, “then you too shall be lost in the….in the…” he had difficulty uttering the words, “in the waters that have no end…”
 
Ukhma took several steps back, distancing himself from the furious Emperor. He gathered the silver box containing the black waters, as though desiring to gain strength from it, and said: “You don’t believe, and you care only about your own world, while we believe and don’t care. The end is near,” he declared,  “but until the end comes, we will ensure that no man in the Land of the Ancient Progeny shall rest or feel secure. We shall make use of our remaining time playing with fire and blood.”
 
The White Emperor did not give up. He approached the man. Both held onto their hidden swords, under their cloaks.
 
“Does it not seem unnecessary to you, in your plan of fire and blood, to seek the Master of Transcendence or protect Ohn Mountain? For either way, according to you, the great wave will arrive and destroy everything, and the deserving humans shall grow wings and be saved. So what, in truth, is the meaning of your battle?”
 
Ukhma’s eyes shone, as though someone had touched his deepest secret.
 
“As long as Khivia’s thoughts flow from the heart of Ohn Mountain into the waters of the land, none of those who drink of the waters shall grow wings. The spirits of those who drink from the waters shall fall, and they will no longer believe that they can be saved by ascending above the wave. As the number of people drinking from Master Khivia’s waters grows, and as time passes, weakness shall spread through the hearts of men. Even if they grow wings as mighty as the wings of an eagle, they will lack the strength to rise up and fly when the wave eventually arrives.”
 
He smiled a victorious smile.
 
“So that is what we are fighting for. We fight so that along with our people, everyone else shall be lost, and no one shall remain alive after us. We shall protect the opening of Ohn Mountain and ensure that until the final moment Khivia’s thoughts shall oppose the winged men. Afterwards, it will be too late…”  
 
To be continued.
 

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