Chapter 4: “Court of the High Priestess”
Valkarr shook his head for consciousness control, but he couldn’t move. He was thinking the loud rushing sound must be wind. His ears popped and he suppressed a yawn, remembering what had happened the last time. There were eerie echoes, like laughter, beginning to mingle with the roar.
Ears popping again, there was a high fidelity to the wind, which became crowd murmurs, which turned to whispers, then to a hurriedly diminished expectant hush.
He blinked and felt his eyelids break free, as from a heavy gathering of sleep. He determined his shell was now dormant in its covering of his every inch. Though his eyes were covered, the slime had crystallized somewhat, and he could almost see through it. He knew he was standing upright, and imagined that he must look like a strange statue.
He was beginning to see better, and his eyes became drawn to the bright colors and elaborate dress before him. Then he saw the Adorned, the “Holybody,” he presumed, seated on a throne of gold at the end of a long aisle in which he was placed center of spectacle. It was a large chamber. The size of a small cathedral, the room was filled rank and file with soldiers, and the walls were lined with more.
There were many colors.
The arresting silence was broken by the woman’s laugh.
“So, you? You, Journeyman?” Silky, almost sultry, the strikingly feminine delivery had an edge that hinted seductive sarcasm, “Why do you deny me the wonders you have shown your faithful servants?” Everyone broke out laughing; rather rudely, he thought.
The woman was beautiful. Beyond beautiful, she exuded a sensuality that was clearly on display for her subjects. Her tone was playful as she continued, “Oh, I think I hear you now,” she was mocking. “You say these are not your faithful servants and that it would please you for them to die!” The woman laughed. Her court laughed.
Continuing to blink, his peripheral vision improved enough that, to each of his sides, he saw men kneeling. They were, or had been, his guides. They were in chains, bowed and afraid.
The High Priestess left her throne and descended the long, richly carpeted steps. Soldiers at the ends of each step clicked their heels as she strutted down. At the base of the platform she raised a hand, snapped her fingers, and the lieutenants were dragged forward.
The Journeyman’s visibility was almost normal, and he found himself concerned for Corlman and Sildarn, and getting angry, as their loyalty to him now threatened them. He wanted to speak. He began taking slow deep breaths, seeking any movement at all.
“What’s that, Journeyman?” There was a wickedness to this woman, but Valkarr thought she looked awful comely. “Which one did you wish to see die first?”
The Journeyman was genuinely alarmed as the woman casually unsheathed a very long sword worn by one of the guards that had pulled his guides. She swung it threateningly, daringly missing and further terrifying the two lieutenants.
All Valkarr wanted or expected was that he would clear his throat. He tried and, indeed, produced a sound. Some, doubting, looked to the statue when it first rumbled.
The Holybody was between his friends now, slinging the blade as if to take both heads in a single swing. “Still,” she playfully approached the Journeyman with the sword, “it is a nice statue, yes? For plastic!” She swung the sword high over her head and brought it down hard with both hands onto the Journeyman’s left shoulder.
He felt nothing from it. She started to laugh, but was annoyed when the “plastic” didn’t yield back the sword.
He was just clearing his throat, not even expecting to be heard, when his trusty armor once again decided to go neon. This time he didn’t mind at all. As before, the only way he could tell was from the reflections off those watching. There was a look of enchantment in the eyes of the High Priestess as she stared, wide eyed, at the glowing statue, which no one knew to be slime.
At first she kept trying to pull the sword, then she let go and backed away. There was no mistaking the audibility accompanying this display. The Journeyman continued his steady, concentrated breathing, and again cleared his throat.
Panic and fear swept through the crowd. There was still no give to the armor garment, but it was pulsating in rapid, very brilliant strobes that sent tickling shocks through Valkarr from his feet upward.
There was a synchronized low hum associated with the pulsing. The color cycles being repeated were increasingly brilliant and again there was the tickle, the irresistible desire to stretch, but he couldn’t move. When he did move it was a simple motion, as he slightly moved his arms away from his sides.
The chamber was dazzled by the lights from the lifelike statue as Valkarr stretched. The glow extended, and the tickling became an itch. The light began leveling to soft, and now he could see quite well. He became aware of the blade penetrating the coat on his left shoulder as the armor gave. With his right hand he reached and took the sword by its hilt.
Slowly, he withdrew the sword, raising it high as if in salute. As he did so, the coating momentarily locked again, then began to crackle in a rapid crystallization. Its many tiny facets glistened brightly and seemed to pulverize, turning to a micro-fine powder and falling away. Valkarr was spotlessly clean, powder dry—a living, breathing man, where a statue had stood, gird only in his cut-away EVA suit.
There were waves of expectation stirring through those gathered. Listening, Valkarr smiled as he saw the prayerfully thankful faces of his initial hosts, who were freed with a gesture from the rapidly back-stepping High Priestess.
As the Journeyman began walking toward the two, he thought it amusing that of all those gathered, these were now the less frightened.
Handing Corlman the sword, he bowed to the High Priestess, “You are wise to be skeptical, Your Worship…”
The High Priestess faintly smiled, “I am the Holybody. Holybody for all, as all cannot serve.”
“Your Holybody,” he liked that. Any of his Helpers could handle this, he thought. His speech became more powerful with each word as he deliberately proceeded, “I have come to you by way of your sea that is not water, and lives of itself.”
Wildfires of gossip spread through the crowd. He placed hands on each of his guides’ shoulders, as if giving blessing, then he went on forward, unthreateningly, dropping submissively to his knees several paces before the base of the steps, where the woman was now.
“It is because of these faithful that I have come to you, to be of service, if I may. From the rockrat have I learned the fierceness of your struggle…”
“Then,” the woman seemed to have trouble for a moment before smiling gingerly, “you are as they say, a Journeyman?”
“A Journeyman of the Combine Brotherhood, this I am, but I am man first. Man, and man only; not slime, nor of Dacooma.”
She regained her primping poise and pronounced, “We shall see about all of this. These matters may be too easily distorted by the masses. Come, Journeyman, let us to my Honorman chamber.”
Valkarr rose, and looked to Corlman and Sildarn. The High Priestess acknowledged, “They shall be well rewarded, for theirs has been a great service.”
Winking, she added, “We have much to talk about, Journeyman.”
He liked the way she was smiling.
<- Chapter 3
Ears popping again, there was a high fidelity to the wind, which became crowd murmurs, which turned to whispers, then to a hurriedly diminished expectant hush.
He blinked and felt his eyelids break free, as from a heavy gathering of sleep. He determined his shell was now dormant in its covering of his every inch. Though his eyes were covered, the slime had crystallized somewhat, and he could almost see through it. He knew he was standing upright, and imagined that he must look like a strange statue.
He was beginning to see better, and his eyes became drawn to the bright colors and elaborate dress before him. Then he saw the Adorned, the “Holybody,” he presumed, seated on a throne of gold at the end of a long aisle in which he was placed center of spectacle. It was a large chamber. The size of a small cathedral, the room was filled rank and file with soldiers, and the walls were lined with more.
There were many colors.
The arresting silence was broken by the woman’s laugh.
“So, you? You, Journeyman?” Silky, almost sultry, the strikingly feminine delivery had an edge that hinted seductive sarcasm, “Why do you deny me the wonders you have shown your faithful servants?” Everyone broke out laughing; rather rudely, he thought.
The woman was beautiful. Beyond beautiful, she exuded a sensuality that was clearly on display for her subjects. Her tone was playful as she continued, “Oh, I think I hear you now,” she was mocking. “You say these are not your faithful servants and that it would please you for them to die!” The woman laughed. Her court laughed.
Continuing to blink, his peripheral vision improved enough that, to each of his sides, he saw men kneeling. They were, or had been, his guides. They were in chains, bowed and afraid.
The High Priestess left her throne and descended the long, richly carpeted steps. Soldiers at the ends of each step clicked their heels as she strutted down. At the base of the platform she raised a hand, snapped her fingers, and the lieutenants were dragged forward.
The Journeyman’s visibility was almost normal, and he found himself concerned for Corlman and Sildarn, and getting angry, as their loyalty to him now threatened them. He wanted to speak. He began taking slow deep breaths, seeking any movement at all.
“What’s that, Journeyman?” There was a wickedness to this woman, but Valkarr thought she looked awful comely. “Which one did you wish to see die first?”
The Journeyman was genuinely alarmed as the woman casually unsheathed a very long sword worn by one of the guards that had pulled his guides. She swung it threateningly, daringly missing and further terrifying the two lieutenants.
All Valkarr wanted or expected was that he would clear his throat. He tried and, indeed, produced a sound. Some, doubting, looked to the statue when it first rumbled.
The Holybody was between his friends now, slinging the blade as if to take both heads in a single swing. “Still,” she playfully approached the Journeyman with the sword, “it is a nice statue, yes? For plastic!” She swung the sword high over her head and brought it down hard with both hands onto the Journeyman’s left shoulder.
He felt nothing from it. She started to laugh, but was annoyed when the “plastic” didn’t yield back the sword.
He was just clearing his throat, not even expecting to be heard, when his trusty armor once again decided to go neon. This time he didn’t mind at all. As before, the only way he could tell was from the reflections off those watching. There was a look of enchantment in the eyes of the High Priestess as she stared, wide eyed, at the glowing statue, which no one knew to be slime.
At first she kept trying to pull the sword, then she let go and backed away. There was no mistaking the audibility accompanying this display. The Journeyman continued his steady, concentrated breathing, and again cleared his throat.
Panic and fear swept through the crowd. There was still no give to the armor garment, but it was pulsating in rapid, very brilliant strobes that sent tickling shocks through Valkarr from his feet upward.
There was a synchronized low hum associated with the pulsing. The color cycles being repeated were increasingly brilliant and again there was the tickle, the irresistible desire to stretch, but he couldn’t move. When he did move it was a simple motion, as he slightly moved his arms away from his sides.
The chamber was dazzled by the lights from the lifelike statue as Valkarr stretched. The glow extended, and the tickling became an itch. The light began leveling to soft, and now he could see quite well. He became aware of the blade penetrating the coat on his left shoulder as the armor gave. With his right hand he reached and took the sword by its hilt.
Slowly, he withdrew the sword, raising it high as if in salute. As he did so, the coating momentarily locked again, then began to crackle in a rapid crystallization. Its many tiny facets glistened brightly and seemed to pulverize, turning to a micro-fine powder and falling away. Valkarr was spotlessly clean, powder dry—a living, breathing man, where a statue had stood, gird only in his cut-away EVA suit.
There were waves of expectation stirring through those gathered. Listening, Valkarr smiled as he saw the prayerfully thankful faces of his initial hosts, who were freed with a gesture from the rapidly back-stepping High Priestess.
As the Journeyman began walking toward the two, he thought it amusing that of all those gathered, these were now the less frightened.
Handing Corlman the sword, he bowed to the High Priestess, “You are wise to be skeptical, Your Worship…”
The High Priestess faintly smiled, “I am the Holybody. Holybody for all, as all cannot serve.”
“Your Holybody,” he liked that. Any of his Helpers could handle this, he thought. His speech became more powerful with each word as he deliberately proceeded, “I have come to you by way of your sea that is not water, and lives of itself.”
Wildfires of gossip spread through the crowd. He placed hands on each of his guides’ shoulders, as if giving blessing, then he went on forward, unthreateningly, dropping submissively to his knees several paces before the base of the steps, where the woman was now.
“It is because of these faithful that I have come to you, to be of service, if I may. From the rockrat have I learned the fierceness of your struggle…”
“Then,” the woman seemed to have trouble for a moment before smiling gingerly, “you are as they say, a Journeyman?”
“A Journeyman of the Combine Brotherhood, this I am, but I am man first. Man, and man only; not slime, nor of Dacooma.”
She regained her primping poise and pronounced, “We shall see about all of this. These matters may be too easily distorted by the masses. Come, Journeyman, let us to my Honorman chamber.”
Valkarr rose, and looked to Corlman and Sildarn. The High Priestess acknowledged, “They shall be well rewarded, for theirs has been a great service.”
Winking, she added, “We have much to talk about, Journeyman.”
He liked the way she was smiling.
<- Chapter 3
