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Aara's Quest

I wish I could stop here and rest for a while, sit and recall the good people I’ve known and the faraway places I’ve been, but there isn’t time. The fearsome Shint Dragoons are on King’s Road and they mean to carry out their orders to slay me. It is unfortunate that so many will have to die today, but I cannot flee every time the fool king remembers me. I’ve done the powerful Shint King no harm, and all I ask is time to rest in peace in my lonely cottage before I am called again. Their captain will be out in front of the long column, I am sure, so I will single him out and kill him first, then hope that the rest of the company disperses and leaves me alone. I could simply sit on the gravel road in their path and let them expend their weapons and strength on me, then get up and laugh at them, but that’s not my way. I am not a target to be used for archery practice. They who take up arms against me must face a terrible penalty. How else might the fools learn to leave me in peace?

It is not my intention to do harm to anyone in this land of my fathers, where the vineyards are plentiful and the tall trees slowly wave in the steady breeze. I only seek to rest where there is no power greater than my own, and this is as far back as I am able to go, “three-hundred-years” to where it began. Of course in real time I have never left this little parcel of land. The King’s loyal dragoons don’t know that I’ve been gone from here many times and returned in less time than it takes a red breasted robin to blink its eye. The king continues to dispatch his dragoon companies to collect me for his gallows. Never mind that I’ve already been there. Their killing devices, while terrifying to flesh and blood, held no consequence for me. The heavy hoofs of the warhorses are thundering down my narrow lane now. I can hear the sounds of the hoofs, and the clanking of armor and metallic weapons reverberating between the tall blossoming trees lining the lane. I can even hear the harsh voices of the lieutenants and sergeants barking orders to the rank and file, the many who are needlessly about to enter the black chasm of death. If only they would turn and leave my farm, they might live to fight a real enemy, and their children might look upon them again. I could leave and come back in another time, but this is my home, and they shan’t drive me from it, even if I have to slay them all.

The captain rode a fine horse, tall and proud, with white and gray in its mane, and red streamers attached to its leather harness. The steed had a heavy bronze faceplate to protect it, which had clearly caused its powerful neck muscles to strengthen even more. The captain wore a red tunic with a polished-silver breastplate displaying the fearsome Shint coat-of-arms. His silver battle helmet was adorned with red streamers trailing from its peak. The only weapons he carried were the decorative dagger, and his long sword, the hilt of which was inlaid with gold and silver. It was a showpiece, far too costly for a mere Dragoon Captain to own. It was intended to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies, me among them, but this captain was different. He didn’t have the manner of one who had participated in the disemboweling of enemy soldiers in battle, or spent countless hours in the saddle under the hot sun, weighted down with his armor. The rest of the company appeared to have been bloodied at some time, including one sergeant whom I had spared during a previous attack. I decided that this sergeant would be the second one to die today; they must know that they cannot conduct this kind of malicious encroachment with impunity.

I decided to meet them on the rutted lane well away from the cottage, so to keep the flowing blood away from my home. Raising my arms over my head I tried to warn them away, but at the urging of their boisterous sergeants they came on, seemingly determined to ride into the black chasm. They were riding in three platoons abreast in close order, not a good array for battle, but all they saw was one 6-foot-tall peasant in their path.

“Halt there, Captain,” I shouted when he came close.

The strength of my voice startled them, and their mounts. It wasn’t my desire to scare them, though, but to reason with them.

“Captain, what do you want of me?” I asked.

“I have orders to kill you, Peasant, and I shall do that.”

“You are very well spoken, and display finer accouterments than your fellows who have perished on this lane. May I inquire as to your wealth before the blood letting begins?”

“I am the prince, of course. My father, the king of this land, thinks I should spend some time in the officer ranks. Why would an ignorant peasant be inquiring about such things?” he asked haughtily.

“Then I’d better ask more, Arrogant Young Prince,” I said contemptuously. “Does your fool father know that you have been charged to kill me?”

Looking back through the ranks I could see the familiar sergeant grinning, and he seemed to be nodding to me. I also deduced that he and some of his squad were prepared to flee as soon as the first blow was struck, a wise squad leader.

“Yes, Prince, I reason that he does know you are here; you are here in the dragoon captain’s stead. The lights in my windows have been like the stings of the bees to him. He sent you here, did he not, Prince?”

“Is that the concern of a dead peasant?”

The foolish prince drew his sword to strike me. “Wait, Prince,” I commanded. “The king sent you here to be killed. He knows that the captain is always the first to lose his head. Think about it, are you really in such a hurry to be relieved of your head?” I realized that it might be to my advantage to keep this young fool alive, but then why, I asked myself? I could decapitate this entire company of souls in a matter of seconds, so why should I waste time on royal intrigue?

“Prince, I’ll not engage in any further debates now, the talking is finished. If you and your men do not leave my parcel, I will begin the killing. I will only leave enough of them alive to pick up the parts of the dead. You will be the first to die, and if you look up quickly, you may be alive long enough to see your headless body slip from the saddle.”

The sergeant was having trouble holding his mount steady; it too wanted to flee the mayhem, or so it seemed. Actually, it was clear that the sergeant was ready to ride back the way he had come, but was trying to hide the fact.

I slowly drew my sword, which was longer and broader than those issued to the dragoons, and of course it was unbreakable, and sharp enough to slice through dry oak. Looking up at the expensively mounted Prince of Shint, I approached, ready to begin my heinous task.

“About!” the prince shouted to his frightened lieutenants.

“About!” they repeated in turn.

At that the entire company turned about and retreated toward the castle. The prince looked back at me, and raising his polished visor displayed an unexpected look of understanding. I wondered, momentarily, what he would encounter when the king learned that he had not completed his murderous duty. But I told myself that was not my concern.

I turned and slowly strolled back to the cottage. Then reaching into my pocket for the remote control, I hit the button opening a pathway through the force field and walked through. No one could follow, and I knew that the oracles would probably have a new quest for me to undertake. They provided me with the abilities and equipment to create an idyllic place to spend my down time. It wasn’t their fault that I had chosen to tolerate the ignorance that was rampant during the period of my birth. I could live and rest on any planet I chose, and in any time period, but not a time before my birth, which was three-hundred-years now. I was looking forward to retirement in the place of my childhood, so I did not want to completely change everything. Ending the miserable lives of a few dragoons periodically didn’t really change anything. The system would still be in place when I was ready to eliminate the king and retire on his golden throne, which would be soon. Three-hundred-years was enough of war fighting. As I suspected, though, the oracles had one more venture for me.

I could hardly turn down one more challenge. They had plucked me out of my little cottage one day, “three centuries” ago, and offered to extend my life by hundreds of years. They even gave me a new body, a beautiful one, resistant to every harmful thing known to man. I’ve always had one small problem with that; it was their term, “known to man”, but the seemingly benevolent Oracles were not men as normal people would define them.

The great sound, “boom—whoosh”, always prepared me for the exhilarating race through time and space. If there was no other benefit to being a Celestial Outrider, it was this experience of traversing the galaxies at many thousands of times the speed of light, to The Great Hall of the Council. Planet bound souls need slow machines of their own invention to traverse the eons and light-years in real time, taking the passage of many generations to reach even their nearest neighbor. We are the Celestial Outriders, and require no such contrivances.

The Council of Celestial Oracles has no mass, but is pure intellectual energy. They are shrouded in course cloth to give them form. The council needs us to carry out its directives in the form of quests assigned to us as individuals, or in some cases, groups of Outriders. To that end, they have granted us powers and abilities far beyond that of normal beings, which also extends our life spans by hundreds of years. Outriders are not immortal, and the council has the power to strike down any who use their power for evil. The oracles are not Gods, and are not to be worshipped; they interpret and organize the will of a much greater energy, known only to them. The oracles reside in The Great Hall of the Council, a palace of black granite accessible only to those summoned by the council. No one knows how many oracles there are, for they have never been seen. Only their course shrouds are visible behind the great granite bar, and their numbers are never constant.

We arrive as we were summoned, and fly through the black gate into the palace. I say “black” as if it was a color, but this is not color, or the lack of it. They are deep dark panels that one can walk or fly right into if unfamiliar with their locations. To look into these shimmering curtains is to look into the distant past, or into an uncertain future. Nothing is recorded, it is visible to those granted the power to see. There are illustrations honoring the deeds of the many thousands of outriders throughout antiquity, which stretches farther back than any mere human might fathom.

Outriders have employed many guises. Some presented themselves as super humans, or super heroes. Some even wore fanciful costumes appropriate to impress the subjects of a particular quest. Some outriders have disappeared into black holes, which are like the black chasm of death. Some are missing in the massive super nova, and only the oracles know their fate, but we are not told what we do not need to know. To go before the council is an awesome experience, but not a fearsome one. We are not subservient, but know what our functions are.

“Skuller, how have things been with you?” I asked another arriving outrider. When I saw him arrive I knew there must be a major challenge for us both. We had collaborated before.

“I am well, Araa—you are still very beautiful, and that voice of yours, it still has that breathless, impatient quality,” Skuller said politely. “You’ve brought your broadsword, are we going to use the blades this time?”

“I had it when the call came, the dragoons again.”

“Why don’t you just destroy that realm and have the planet to yourself—what a nuisance it must be?”

“I’m saving it for my fantasy,” I replied honestly. “I want to be a warrior queen, and have a longsuffering king in my bed to carry out my every whim.”

“May I be your king?”

“Only if you have a kingdom to give me—but the last time I checked you were a short order cook on some little planet in the tail of the Grampiax Galaxy. My sights are set high, Dear Skuller.” We both laughed, but I felt a certain sadness for him.

“Aye, you’re a hard woman to please,” he replied trying to laugh at the rejection.

I knew that he was showing his gentlemanly side and taking the rejection in stride, but he had been smitten with me for some time. I loved him like a brother in arms, and he knew that. We had fought and played together, and had many laughs, but it was not romance.

“Shall we go before the oracles together?” I asked, getting myself into a serious mood.

“Yes, I think we may as well, but you should leave your mighty sword out here, as a matter of respect.”

“Of course,” I said, releasing my ornate buckle.

I was wearing my brown leather breeches from home, and a light tan shirt of Chamois skin, with crossed straps separating my breasts. I preferred high boots of soft tan leather, almost to my knees. Outriders quickly learned that modesty is for fools. I dressed to make the most effective use of the assets the council had granted me when I was but eighteen years of age. Now that I am eighteen plus three centuries, nothing has changed except my mental maturity, a welcome addition.

“Araa.”

“Yes, Oracle, I am here with Skuller.”

“Araa and Skuller, we are glad you are here.”

“You brought us here,” I replied somewhat impatiently. “It was an exciting trip, faster than usual, I believe.”

The council chamber was large, like a theater, but the oracles were in the balcony, forcing us to look up. All we could see were four green shrouds that appeared to be covering four heads, but we knew there were no heads under them. The walls in the chamber were shimmering black, almost like vertical pools of water. The light was dim and indirect, and we could not see the source of it. There was a faint odor of fine incense wafting under our noses.

“Araa, we are glad you are impatient, for this is a crucial threat. It will decide the fates of many galaxies, and there is not time for teaching. You will reason as you proceed. You have served well the last three centuries, and you are due to stand down, but we need you once more. We need you both. Araa, you left your swift sword outside; bring it before us please.”

The oracle’s voice was stronger than usual, and seemed to betray a bit of desperation. Retrieving my sword I couldn’t help wondering what could possibly have shaken an oracle for the first time in my memory.

“Araa,” he said loudly, “hold up your blade high.”

As I hoisted my long double-edged blade skyward, a bolt of hot red light shot from the oracle’s shroud and struck the steel. It clapped loudly, like lightning striking a tree. My sword became hot in my hand, and threatened to wrench loose, but I held tight. It turned bright red and glowed for a full minute while Skuller and I stood in awe.

“Skuller,” the Oracle called out, “where is your weapon?”

“Oracle, I was in the kitchen on Elo—I have no weapon with me,” he replied. “May I get one from the hall of honor, one that has already been bloodied in battle?”

“Bring one quickly, the enemy you will meet is stronger than any before. Your weapon must be tempered with our fire, or Baal will ignore it.”

Having tempered Skuller’s borrowed sword, the oracle briefly explained my final quest: “Baal, the evil one, has been chained in the bowels of a small planet for eons—he is our opposite, he is powerful and will undo all the good that all the Celestial Outriders have done throughout the universe. The unwise inhabitants of this planet have loosened his chains. You cannot kill him, for he is forever, but you must recapture him and secure him for all time. You may call out when you need transport, but for no other reason. Go now!”

“But Orac…?”

It was green all around, and it was raining a mighty downpour. I looked for Skuller and found him standing next to a green-blanketed boulder looking up into the branches of the trees. Skuller was taller than me by two inches, and I hoped we would be of comparable size with the natives. Skuller still wore his white trousers with cooking grease on them, and a white short sleeve shirt with pencils in his pockets. He didn’t have a scabbard for his borrowed sword. We both knew there was something very urgent about this threat. In all my trips, I had never been sent unprepared before.

“Skuller,” I called through the sheets of water. “We must first find you a scabbard—you look too anxious with your sword always ready.”

“Wait, I will fashion one,” he replied.

A thunderous flashing bolt shot from a nearby treetop and slammed Skuller full in the chest, knocking him to the wet soggy ground. I instantly went vertical, straight up into the nearest high tree.

Another bolt struck the ground where I had been. I hesitated, looking around waiting to see what Skuller’s next move would be. He didn’t move—a ruse, I concluded; he was playing dead to draw our attacker into the open. As I orbited just above the treetops I realized that our attacker must be Baal, who had slipped his chains. The oracles had been right, not that we ever had reason to doubt them. Skuller was up and walking, but there was something different about him. He was hunched over, and picking his steps carefully.

“Skuller,” I called from my lofty vantage point.

He waved an arm, so I knew he heard me, but he didn’t reply. He was continuing the ruse, drawing the “fiend” out where I could see him, but I couldn’t slay him. I needed a plan to capture him, but I didn’t even know what he looked like, or how to secure him. I telescoped my vision and looked at Skuller more closely. I never realized he could act so well, he really did look injured, like a Shint Dragoon waiting to fall from my blow. A million questions raced through my mind; chief among them, how were we detected at the instant we landed? It would never be answered. Skuller sat in the mud and leaned against a small tree. He couldn’t possibly be injured, I told myself. He’s a Celestial Outrider.

I hovered, studying everything I could sense, but there was no sign of danger. What had the oracle said? “Our opposite.” The Oracles were good; I had never had instructions to do evil, only good. Sometimes the circumstances I found myself in were so complex that the line was too blurred to define. But clearly the oracles were good, but they had no mass, just pure energy. Did they mean the opposite of good, or the opposite of no mass? Using all my sensing ability, I detected no sign of another presence, so I concluded that this terrible thing also lacked mass. He would possess great energy, though, and would be shrewd. Worst of all, he would be able to project his energy all around this little planet. He would kill everything on it, feeding from it. I knew the principal, “mass equals energy,” very basic. The great predator would grow, and project himself to other planets and solar systems and galaxies, consuming mass and gaining power as he went. The oracle knew that, but also knew that he had already begun feeding and had to be stopped without delay. The most worrisome thing of all this was the oracle’s power to grant Skuller and I our unique powers and immunities. Did their opposite have the power to revoke the powers they had granted? If so, not only were Skuller and I about to die, but also the entire universe was in eventual danger. Of course, I knew that the wise oracles would layer a defense with other outriders on other worlds. We were only the first line of defense, and we were expendable.

My theory, quickly formulated would have to be tested. The only way was to talk to Skuller and see if he had indeed lost his armor. Skuller wasn’t feinting injury. Shrewdly, Baal was letting him live to draw me in. So he wasn’t “all powerful”, or he’d have disabled me already. He needed me to make a fatal mistake, so he waited.

I hovered and moved about above the trees for two hours, watching Skuller, who appeared to be suffering mightily. I was consuming my own energy at an alarming rate. Flying was very useful in some situations, but it required much energy to sustain. I would have to settle somewhere soon.

Finally I detected movement on a narrow road winding through the trees. Why would Baal be on a road? Obviously he wasn’t. It had to be natives moving along the road in a vehicle. Certainly Baal would also see it. Watching carefully from my high place in the sky, I finally noticed an energy field moving slowly just above the treetops. It was nothing solid, but was more like a moving hot air mass as big as a cloud. I realized that it was searching for fuel; mass to consume that would increase its energy.

I was instantly on the ground gathering Skuller up in my arms. I flew him low among the trees down into a deep valley to hide him.

“What was that?” Skuller asked, clearly dazed. “It seemed to suck all the energy from me—I’m weak. My powers are gone—what will it do to the natives of this world?”

“You must rest here,” I said. “I will kill it.”

“You can’t kill it—the oracle….”

“The oracle tempered our swords for a reason—a reason that he didn’t create the time to explain. Feel my sword, Skuller; it is vibrating, how can that be?”

“The fire, Araa, the fire that the oracle imparted to it, to temper it. Think, Araa, what does it mean?”

The rain continued to pound down around us. I wondered about the natives on the road—did the fiend kill them already for the minute bit of energy it could suck from them? Was I failing already, failing to protect the weak?

“Oracle,” I shouted into the rain, “what enemy is this?” but there was only the sound of the unrelenting rainfall.

I had never summoned the oracle during a quest before, but I had never seen an outrider lose his strength before. We certainly cannot fight this evil with mere flesh and blood. We are like insects next to its immeasurable need.

My broadsword was fairly singing to me, so I drew it and held it in my hand. It wanted to do its terrible duty. I could feel it, but I didn’t understand it. I had seen a great many things that I didn’t understand, so that was not at issue. To do battle with Baal and lose, would be to lose the first line of defense, an unacceptable result. The blade had something to say. It became hot to the touch, and it glowed and vibrated in my hand.

“Go,” Skuller said, “let it speak to Baal—use it to smite the fiend. It is why the oracle tempered them. Take mine, too. I’ve had a long life and this is not a bad place to die.”

“You will not die, my old friend,” I said, taking his sword in my left hand. “Stay hidden until my return.”

I was immediately above the trees, again looking for the sign that I thought I might recognize, but he was not hard to find this time. He was hovering, like a giant invisible storm cloud over the valley where the native vehicle was. He knew that I would have to seek him out, and he was waiting to feed on my great strength. I wondered why he didn’t move on the planet’s population centers. Was he perhaps still too weak from his long confinement? If so, I must attack before he strengthens himself. In the blink of an eye I was standing on his invisible energy field. I violently slashed into him with my great blade!

The lightning bolt burst forth from the blade and struck into the heart of the fiend. The recoil sent me reeling backward up into the storm clouds. I was amazed and renewed. I took aim, and dove into the thing again, unleashing both swords. The lightning flashes lit up the whole mountain range. The fiend lurched and groaned like some dying maelstrom. Bolts shot from it like snaking fingers, felling large trees like sticks. Finally, the power of the swords began to abate, and the once terrifying thing became still, and shriveled into a smaller shape.

“Secure” him, the oracle had commanded, but how?

As the rain clouds dissipated and the stars began to show through, a moon came into view. It was clear that this moon had no atmosphere or life. What better place to confine the evil that needs to consume life to grow?

“Oracle!” I shouted, “Oracle! This planet teems with new life. It cannot withstand the evil—Baal must be transported to its orbiting moon and imprisoned there. He is docile now—you can move him.”

Instantly, the thing called “Baal” was gone.

I returned to Skuller’s hiding place to find him lifeless. He was the first outrider to ever die fulfilling his charge. As I waited to leave this planet at the oracle’s pleasure, a second, and then a third moon came into view overhead. Such a beautiful planet, I thought.

Without warning the oracles called us back. I was shortly standing in the great hall with the brave Skuller’s body in my arms. Weakness was not seemly in the presence of the oracles, so I stood tall.

“You are strong, Araa,” the oracle said. “You may stand down now. Do not weep for Skuller; he will live on here with us. Go now—retain your powers and use them for good.”

Stepping outside I could still hear the pounding of the hoofs and the clatter of lances and shields receding in the distance. I went down to the barn and quickly saddled my golden stallion, Chieftain. I still had Skuller’s sword with me, so I left it in the cottage knowing that the oracles would soon reclaim it and put it back in its place of honor in The Great Hall. In due course, I would return to The Great Hall to honor my friend, Skuller, and officiate at a grand ceremony to mark the courageous end of his brief two centuries. I mounted Chieftain and rode after the dragoons, making sure my shirt was not closed too tightly. I had very beautiful breasts that men coveted. After all, I had just retired, but I retired knowing that the Oracles could recall me with an unannounced transport across the bottomless black chasm. For now, though, I had to overtake my heavily armed would-be assassins.

Chieftain galloped smartly across the field and through the wood—he loved to gallop through the green grass with the wind in his face. The wind blew my long black hair straight out behind me, whipping it about like a cape. Chieftain easily made the jump over the stone fence onto the King’s Road, placing me in the path of this company for the second time in a day. The powerful animal didn’t want to rest, but reared back on his hind legs and walked me about, pawing at the breeze with his forelegs. He snorted loudly, clearing his flared nostrils of the barn dust and pollen.

“Prince,” I shouted boldly, “are you handsome under your battle gear? I have a proposition for you.”

The company halted as the prince’s dragoons dropped their mouths open, seemingly to admit the buzzing honeybees. The prince raised his visor and looked upon me with the awe that I had learned to expect, and much to my surprise he was indeed a handsome prince.

“Your name is Araa, and what a beauty you are, Araa, but I am about to face the wrath of my ill-tempered father. He is not a compassionate king. What more can you want?”

“We have things to discuss, Handsome Prince; ride with me while your minions rest their mounts and rub their behinds,” I said, letting my shirt fall open.

We went back toward the woods at a walk. “Dear Prince, would you like to become king today?” He made no secret of his instant fondness for my exposed chest. “Your father, who has no compassion, sent you to your death today, but I spared you. I think you understood that, did you not?”

“I know of the fates of the previous expeditions to your cottage, Araa. Thank you for my head, but now the king will take it.”

“He will only have it if you surrender it. Let us dismount here among the Willows and become better acquainted. You really should get to know your “queen” better….”

I drew my great glistening sword and felt the fire still waiting within. Then I threw it hard into a nearby Willow Trunk, where it penetrated deeply into the hardwood and remained horizontal.

“Come, My young King, let us sit under the protection of my blade and write a new name for our kingdom. I promise you, it shall last longer than your long life, but no longer than mine. Sit and tell me, what think you of the name, Atlantis?”

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