Toward Silence
==============(c)2002 The Grey Knight
Dorasastan gazed up at the colossal stone forms with trepidation. The twin statues marked the
entrance to the Valley of Darkness, where no Swaparaman was permitted to travel without a special
pass. Dorasastan carried no such pass, nor would the Frutmaka government have granted him one for
this purpose. The small rebel force had all drawn kumjka stalks to decide who would undertake the
dangerous mission; Dorasastan had drawn the one with the flower. He knew it was unlikely that he
would survive, but Tanandanam had insisted that they could not proceed with their plans until they
knew what the Valley contained.
As he approached the ridge at the top of a steep slope, he crouched down and allowed one of his twin
heads to poke up. He whispered into one of the simplistic radios they had cobbled together.
"This is Dorasastan. I have passed the sentinel stones, and have reached the ridge. I can't see
anything yet, the mist is really thick down there."
The reply came swiftly. "Good work so far. You'll need to get closer; report in as often as
possible, and keep a head watching for guards."
Dorasastan acknowledged the instructions and proceeded to climb down the shallow ridge. The thick
green mist was almost a tangible thing here, swirling around his body like a liquid. So quickly did
it cover him that soon Dorasastan found he could not even see one head with the other. He was thus
understandably surprised when the mist started to thin out again. He bent his left head to the
microphone again.
"The mist thins out after about twenty rushes." he spoke into the small handset.
Suddenly, his other head spotted something lurking in front; he switched off the radio and crouched
behind a clump of plants nearby. As he peered through the thick stalks, he breathed a sigh of
relief. The form ahead was only a fungal outcropping, not the Frutmaka guard he had at first
thought. While he calmed himself, he wondered what he would do when he *did* meet the inevitable
guards. Shaking both heads, he stood up and set off downhill again, putting all concerns aside. The
fog was much clearer now, and he could see some enormous fungal towers ahead; as he moved forward,
he realised that the highest tower must stretch almost as high as the valley ridge, making it easily
the largest structure he had ever seen. His right head started a nervous clicking noise, and was
promptly shushed by his left one.
He radioed in the sighting and moved forward again. The fungal growth was getting thicker now, and
that worried him. The thick brown stuff could conceal a whole army of the fungoid Frutmaka, and he
wouldn't know until he was right on top of them.
Not that it would take an army to stop him; the Swaparaman slaves had no access to weapons, and
hadn't been able to build any either. One or two guards could easily capture or kill the intruder;
perhaps they would use simply use their telekinetic powers to drop boulders on him, like the way
Dorasastan had squashed blooki beetles as a youth. That was if he was lucky; if he was unlucky, they
would capture him for a more inventive death.
Looking down at his feet, he saw that the mist at ground level was now a bright red; wondering what
this signified, he approached the edge of the fungal cover near the base of the first tower. He
could now see that the five outer towers formed a circle about the central tallest one. Gazing up at
the top of the enormous structure, he let out an involuntary gasp; there, in the thick upper mists,
he could see where five truly gargantuan arches stretched across from the edges of the valley to
meet in the centre. They were even taller than the central tower, whose peak almost touched the
underside of the arches. Dorasastan was now becoming extremely panicky, and his hands and voice
shook as he reported what he could see.
He fell silent as he realised there was a Frutmaka guard not three rushes away. Inwardly cursing his
distraction, he hid behind a nearby blob of fungus. He hoped the guard would be unable to see his
distinctive yellow skin amongst the red mist. So preoccupied was he with watching the guard, he
almost failed to notice a group of Frutmaka in the centre of the circle of towers; as he focussed
the gaze of his right head on them, he was startled to see that several of them wore red cloaks. The
cloaks marked out their wearers as Prelates; high dignitaries in the religious order which ruled the
planet. Suddenly, the air seemed to imperceptibly twist, and Dorasastan watched with growing horror
as another Frutmaka teleported itself into the centre of the circle; all the others, even the
Prelates, waved their feeder tentacles in homage to the black-cloaked figure. Dorasastan had to
force himself to remain, and not turn and run; he would surely be noticed if he did so, and he *had*
to figure out what was going on.
The black-robed figure was none other than the High Prelate of Graveesha, the undisputed ruler of
the entire planet Chukob. The ancient creature was evil beyond compare, and Dorasastan found it
unbearable to be even this close to the thing. He suddenly remembered his duties, and whispered into
the radio handset even as the Prelates began a low chant. Fascinated, he kept speaking into the
radio and failed to notice that he was no longer whispering. He was surprised when the chant ceased
for no apparent reason, and he too fell silent. He tried to turn off the radio, but found that for
some reason he could not move his hands; when he tried to look down at them, he discovered he could
not move his heads. The air in front of him twisted, and the High Prelate's centuries-old body
appeared there.
Held in the foul creature's telekinetic grip, Dorasastan tried to scream, but failed.
--==oOo==--
Tanandanam held the earpiece against his left head with one hand, waiting for the next report from
Dorasastan; the Swaparaman had penetrated deep into the Valley, and confirmed Tanandanam's deepest
fears. The Frutmaka had built their Dark Tower; the five "arches" Dorasastan had seen were only the
supporting legs of the fungal device. The towers below, for all their bulk, served only to channel
the Frutmaka's evil powers in the proper way. Once the ritual was complete and the Dark Tower
blossomed, the Frutmaka would be able to draw on its power to fortify their bodies, enabling them to
leave the marshes and swamplands which were their natural habitat. A single Frutmaka could not live
for more than a few days outside of these humid environments, but their teleportation ability had
more than compensated in the battles which had raged all those centuries ago. The Swaparamans had
lost, quite definitively, and now they were little more than slaves.
The big worry for Tanandanam was that, once the Dark Tower was complete, the Frutmaka would no
longer need the Swaparamans to do their dirty work, and would simply exterminate the lot of them.
His fears were not unfounded; the High Prelate made no secret of his hatred of the slaves, and he
regularly sacrificed a couple to Graveesha as "an example to the rest". Tanandanam hated the old
Frutmaka back, just as badly.
Suddenly, the earphones came alive with static; Tanandanam strained to hear Dorasastan's voice
through it.
"I assume I am talking to the leader of this pitiful band of rebels? Rest assured, Tanandanam,
that this spy of yours will suffer the perfect death. Your timing is exquisite; he will make an
excellent sacrifice to begin the forthcoming Festival of Lengthening Days! I shall send him to
Graveesha personally."
Tanandanam knew better than to say anything; the Frutmaka were probably monitoring for radio signals
now, and would doubtless be able to track down the rebel hideout that way. He kept silent until the
radio crackled again.
"So? I had expected you to plead for the life of your comrade; but no matter. I shall see to it
that you both die in Graveesha's embrace, either way."
Tanandanam deactivated the radio set completely, and sat dejectedly with a head in each hand. The
Festival of Lengthening Days was only days away, and unless he was mistaken, the High Prelate
intended to have the Dark Tower bloom that same day. The rebels would have to move quickly if they
intended to bring their plans to fruition before then.
--==oOo==--
The Prelate of the Southern Marshes finally dared approach the High Prelate. Before he could form
any words however, the black-cloaked figure crushed the primitive radio with its mind.
"Prelate! You will take this... slave to the Tower of Waning Light at once. Return immediately,
for your prescence is required if we are to complete the incantation today."
This was a task for one of the Frutmaka guards standing all around; it was far below the dignity of
one who had attained the rank of Prelate. The Prelate was offended, and said so. The High Prelate's
talons twitched in irritation.
"You wish to share his fate? Then who am I to argue; guard, take them both away!" screamed the
stooped fungal dictator.
The other Prelates watched silently; the incantation could not be completed without all five of
them, but no-one dared question the theocrat. The High Prelate teleported back to the centre of the
circle as the guards removed the two prisoners.
"You may think me insane, but remember how Graveesha is angered by disloyalty. A new Prelate of
the Southern Marshes shall be appointed immediately, and the Dark Tower *will* be ready for the
Festival!"
The High Prelate disappeared in a swirl of dust and fog, leaving the other Prelates to discuss the
fate of their erstwhile colleague.
--==oOo==--
The Tower of Waning Light was the most heavily protected prison on the planet. It was constructed
from solid stone, with no doors or windows; the only way out was via teleportation. Dozens of
Frutmaka gaolers kept their telekinetic powers focussed on the Tower, keeping it suspended high over
a deep ravine. Dorasastan paced around the tiny gold-plated cell constantly, while the ex-Prelate
watched him coldly.
"Your pointless motion disgusts me." it announced at last.
Dorasastan stopped pacing, and dashed over to attack the Frutmaka; it mentally deflected his fist at
the last minute.
"Why don't you just shut up? We're both going to die anyway!" shouted Dorasastan as he flailed at
the air.
"I am happy to finally meet Graveesha in person. You should spend your last days in still and
silent contemplation, then perhaps the Eater will be merciful and consume you quickly."
Dorasastan wheezed his contempt. "Graveesha be damned! I'm not going to spend any time thinking
about some bloody great hole with aspirations of godhood!"
The Frutmaka hissed at the blasphemy; Graveesha would judge the ugly slave harshly for his words. He
was about to say something to that effect when Dorasastan suddenly changed the subject.
"Hey, I have a question; how come you don't just teleport out of here? And take me while you're at
it!" he asked.
"How foolish! The Tower of Waning Light is suspended by constant teleportation; I cannot use my
powers to that extent as long as the Tower is in transit." snapped the Frutmaka.
"...and if they *did* stop holding us, we'd crash into the ravine and be killed anyway." finished
Dorasastan.
He slumped down into a corner for a short while until one of his heads jerked up again.
"But hang on, you used your abilities just now, when you stopped me hitting you." he said
querulously.
"I still have the full powers of a Prelate of Graveesha; I can perform small actions even within
the Tower." it explained.
"Do you suppose..." wondered Dorasastan, "...if they let go of the Tower, you would be quick
enough to teleport us both out?"
"It is well within my abilities, but there is no reason why the guards should do so. And there is
likewise no reason why I should aid the escape of a convicted slave." came the pointed reply.
Dorasastan closed his breathing slits in a smile. "If we escape, you're still going to be hunted.
Only the rebel forces would dare shelter you, and then only if I am there to talk to them"
The fungoid creature considered this. Certainly he was spiritually ready to meet with the Eater of
All Things, but he did have regrets. He had always wanted to make High Prelate, and now a careless
comment had thrown all that away. This slave was offering him a chance to change all that; but what
if it was all lies?
"How do I know you and your rebels will not simply kill me on sight?" it demanded.
"It would hardly be in our best interests." replied Dorasastan. "With the aid of your telekinetic
powers we could cripple the High Prelate's forces. Leaving the way open for you to take his
place, of course."
"As High Prelate, I would certainly be in a position to reward those who helped me. By making you
free citizens, perhaps?"
"We still need to distract the guards enough, somehow." cautioned Dorasastan.
"I have ruled all the Southern Marshes for seventeen years. I do not think a few gaolers will pose
any great hindrance."
So saying, it exerted all its force to remove one of the golden plates covering the walls of their
cell. Carefully, it began to mould the top of the plate into letter-shapes.
"What is your leader's name?"
--==oOo==--
The guards of the Tower of Waning Light had to focus all their attention to the task of sustaining
its unnatural position. They did not notice a tiny golden object materialising outside the walls and
begin to fall.
"It's outside the teleportation field." reported the Frutmaka prisoner, "Now I can send it over a
long range."
"To the crossroads on the Stricken Way, like we discussed." reminded the Swaparaman.
The Prelate did not give a verbal response, but the gold plate disappeared moments before reaching
the ravine bottom.
--==oOo==--
Tanandanam read the message again. It was miraculous news; if this Prelate turned out to be on the
level, they could pull off an even bigger victory than they had hoped for. Summoning all the most
elite warriors in the rebel army, Tanandanam outlined the new addition to their plans.
--==oOo==--
Dorasastan was getting nervous. The Festival of Lengthening Days would begin in a few hours, and the
rebels still had not produced the hoped-for distraction. He wondered if they had even gotten the
message; he wouldn't know one way or the other until the time came. His cellmate was also starting
to panic, although appearing calm. While the Prelate had earlier been content to join with Graveesha
for eternity, the escape plan had nurtured a seed of hope; it found it could not bear the thought of
coming this close and dying anyway.
Their reverie was broken by the muffled sound of an explosion from outside; the rebels! Dorasastan
gave a whoop of joy, while the Prelate merely quivered. It was probing all around with its mind,
searching for a momentary lapse of concentration in the guards. Tiny flickers came and went, but
none big enough to fit through.
Outside, the rebel forces set off another set of charges and waited eagerly. Tanandanam was leading
the group, and had personally briefed them all on the situation. Surveying the landscape, he spotted
a group of rocks which sparked an idea.
"String up a few bombs down by those boulders there; if we can make them fall, the Frutmaka below
will have to teleport out of the way. That might be just enough to let the prisoners escape."
The guerillas rushed to carry out the Swaparaman leader's instructions. A short while later, they
were rewarded by the sound of falling stone and the inrush of air which signified a teleportation
event. As the gaolers rematerialised near the Swaparamans, they were set upon with rocks, staffs and
anything else which came to hand. The rebels' attacks usually consisted of strategic explosions, and
they rarely had a chance to fight first-hand. The unsuspecting Frutmaka had no time to defend
themselves, and didn't stand a chance. Before long, a few piles of battered fungus were all that
marred the area.
Just then, the air shimmered nearby and a pair of shapes appeared; one Swaparaman, one Frutmaka.
Even though they had been told what to expect, the warriors still had to check themselves when the
creature materialised.
"Dorasastan! I hope you are well." began Tanandanam. "And the Prelate; on behalf of the rebels I,
Tanandanam, thank you for rescuing our friend. I think..."
But no-one found out what Tanandanam thought, because suddenly everyone found themselves frozen in a
tight mental grasp. Tanandanam's gaze was still fixed on the Prelate; had it all been an elaborate
trap?
The air was wrenched apart once more as an eerie black-wreathed figure appeared. The High Prelate
faced Tanandanam first of all.
"So, Tanandanam, we meet at last. You have been quite an irritant to the Prelature of late. Now,
you will make an excellent addition to this particularly special Festival!"
The creature had released its grip on Tanandanam's mouth-slits slightly, enough to permit speech.
"Let the others go; they are not of interest to you." came the plea.
The High Prelate gave a guttural sound which Tanandanam took as a laugh. "Why should I do that,
when I have you all anyway? No no, we shall need as many sacrifices as possible today!"
As it began to transport them all to some far location, for a second the thing's concentration was
less than absolute; in an instant, the former Prelate seized its chance. The gap was not large
enough to fit its own bulk through, but the smallest Swaparaman in the group would just fit through.
That happened to be Tanandanam, and when the group arrived at the High Prelate's chosen destination,
it was without the rebel leader.
--==oOo==--
Although they had hours to wait, it seemed like no time at all until they were assembled at the end
of the stone road known as the Silent Path. Enormous statues of previous High Prelates flanked it on
both sides, carved from sandstone and decorated with gold. At the other end of the long road stood a
rectangular ziggurat with a flat platform on top; the Silent Altar of Graveesha.
The hardened guerillas wept then; after all their years of fighting, they were to be killed mere
hours away from achieving their goal. Frutmaka guards telekinetically prodded them into marching
down the Path. High above, a small bright star could be seen; this was Aneas, Giver of Life. Beside
it hovered the glowing disk of matter which was doomed to spiral down into the black heart of
Graveesha, Eater of All Things. Atop the Altar stood the equally black-hearted High Prelate of
Graveesha, swathed in fine robes and ready to make the grand sacrifice.
Each step down the Silent Path seemed to force Dorasastan's heart further into his tail-boot. After
all their accomplishments, it seemed the forces of Graveesha were going to win after all. It would
take a miracle, he thought, to save us now. He glanced upward again and did a comic double take; a
crude patchwork craft was descending right on top of them!
The High Prelate gave a screech as it too realised what was happening. Suddenly realising its
mistake, the creature made a great show of mentally grappling with the fusion-driven vessel as more
arrived. But the old Prelate of the Southern Marshes was not fooled, and cried out.
"Blasphemy! The High Prelate profanes the Silent Altar with noise!"
The crowds of Frutmaka all around began muttering. In their religion, this was the most terrible
crime imaginable; the Silent Altar was the most sacred object in the entire world, and no noise of
any kind could be permitted on it. Under pressure from two directions, a few more involuntary sounds
escaped from the High Prelate; this only served to enrage the crowd even more.
Meanwhile, the Swaparaman shuttles had managed to land beside the Path, knocking over some of the
colossal statues in the process. The former sacrificial victims swarmed aboard quickly, where
Tanandanam greeted as many as possible. Outside, the other Prelates had ascended the stairs of the
Silent Altar, and were holding the High Prelate in their telekinetic grip.
"Eater! Eater!" bayed the crowd, calling for the Prelates to sacrifice the blasphemer.
Summoning all its powers, the High Prelate tore away from its captors and warped onto one of the
shuttles. Once all the crew had been teleported outside, the craft began to take off.
"Why doesn't he just *teleport* away?" wondered Dorasastan aloud. "For that matter, why doesn't
someone just grasp the shuttle?"
"They're fusion-powered." said the ex-Prelate, as if that explained everything. "All the other
Frutmaka could probably overpower even a High Prelate, but a fusion drive is just too powerful
to manipulate that way. A perfect escape."
Watching its flight direction, Dorasastan suddenly realised what the High Prelate was doing; it was
taking the shuttle over to the Valley of Darkness, there to complete the incantation and make itself
even more powerful. He turned to say as much, but the Frutmaka rebel had disappeared.
In the confusion, Tanandanam had managed to get all the nearby Swaparamans on board the remaining
vessels. As they lifted off, Dorasastan pointed over to where the stolen craft was wobbling towards
the Valley. A huge puff-ball could be seen above the Valley's mists; the Dark Tower was about to
bloom.
"There it goes." he said, morosely.
"Didn't you notice?" Tanandanam queried, turning one head to look at him. "Your Prelate warped on
board just before the thing took off."
Dorasastan watched the vehicle with new eyes. As the two Frutmaka wrestled for control, it dipped
and weaved all over the sky, before finally plummeting toward the Valley of Darkness. A mighty
explosion lit up the sky for a brief while, then faded.
"Rest in peace, friend." whispered Dorasastan, so that no-one could hear.
--==oOo==--
Tanandanam was deep in conversation with the other rebel elders, discussing matters of Frutmaka
politics. Who would become High Prelate now? Would they be sympathetic to the Swaparamans plight?
"It's bound to be the Prelate of the Deep Cleft," decided Tanandanam eventually, "and it hates us
just as much as the last one, maybe more."
"What should we do, then?" asked one of the elders.
The tiny shuttles had reached the edge of Chukob's atmosphere and had rendezvoused with a few other
similar craft, along with one larger ship. Tanandanam gazed at the stars for a while before
answering.
"We can't go back now, even to help the other slaves. We've rescued everyone we could, and I think
it's time we found... a new home."
Dorasastan asked the obvious question. "Where?"
"Out there, somewhere." was Tanandanam's reply, accompanied by a sweeping gesture towards the
front window.
As the ragtag fleet moved in to clamp onto the surface of the large, crude starship, Tanandanam
settled into the command chair of what would soon be the bridge section and watched the stars,
mesmerized. Beneath Chukob's thick, foggy atmosphere, the stars were practically invisible except on
rare occaisons; but now the Swaparaman leader could see millions of tiny jewels lighting up the
heavens.
The final shuttle locked into place, and the cobbled-together starship continued at a slow crawl
towards the edge of the system. Tanandanam stood for one last look at their homeworld and the sun.
And one other thing, thought Tanandanam, watching the hot disc of gas which marked the position of
the Eater who had dominated all of their lives.
"Graveesha looks so small from up here." she said.
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