I am using a chapter of the second novella of my Rabbithole Trilogy as a short story renamed: WHERE LEGENDS ARISE Charles Logan Richardson The reddish hue of its sun and the proliferation of sulfur vapors in its atmosphere magnify the reddish effect of iron oxide that is prevalent in the soil of this world. The smell and the image are reminiscent of Victorian visions of Hell. The world is a paradox of nature. On most worlds, the carnivores are sustained by herds of docile herbivores. However, the sulfuric atmosphere and diminished capacity of this planet’s sun is not conducive to photosynthesis and plant life is scant at best. The eventual menu of carnivore eating carnivore led over the millennia to constant imbalances in the food chain. Were it not for the periodic importation of domestics as food sources, life on the planet Zorn would be unsustainable and this came about by a most fortuitous accident. Fortuitous, that is, for the carnivores. The dominant species here is not technologically advanced, but nevertheless, is intelligent, highly competitive and violently aggressive. This world has not, however, always been in its present state of affairs. It was once a hospitable world of vegetation laden land mass and fertile blue oceans. That ended over ten million years before the present and the dominant species almost succumbed to extinction before the discovery of this most unusual phenomenon. While digging for cave dwelling Grubby Runners, an old Dangor, failing in health and unable to assist in normal foraging, happened to tire and choose a most fortuitous, or inopportune, depending on one’s viewpoint, resting spot. As he sat and nibbled on dried Ferder, he was stunned by the sudden appearance of an apparition. The wall opposite where he was sitting suddenly began to shimmer. Without considering the consequences of his actions, he threw his left arm in front of his eyes and with his right claw, threw the partially eaten shrivel of Ferder at that thing his mind could not comprehend but his fear could envision. It disappeared into the pulsing opening. Screeching in terror, the Dangor ran, flailing its scaly appendages as though trying to ward off a swarm of bees, out of the cave and through the ruddy, sandy soil of the plain until he reached a foraging camp. He was taken to the nearest Royal Nest where an angry captain, after nearly beating the old one to death, gathered his troops and made the old one take them back to the place he had gone mad. The old one was nearly dead from constant lashes of the captain’s claws, spurred by anger at being disturbed from midday snore, when they finally reached the cave. The captain went into a rage when the old one refused to re-enter so he used his fore claw to decapitate the pitiful piece of tough meat. One of his lieutenants then became enraged because they knew their men would have to eat such tough and stringy a spoil because no source of nourishment was allowed, by law, to go to waste. The captain slapped the lieutenant with the backside of his hand, drawing blood and a humble apology from the subordinate. Cursing, the captain then stormed into the cave to find the strange apparition and quell this stupidity once and for all. Two of his soldiers were carrying the old one’s body to keep it from spoiling in the heat outside. When the captain came upon the strange shimmering occurrence he became so enraged by his inability to comprehend its existence, he ordered the two soldiers to throw the old one’s body at the shimmering substance. The body disappeared as it touched the mass. The captain then ordered one of the soldiers to jump at the apparition to recover their meal. Without hesitation, knowing that if he disobeyed he would be killed where he stood, he leaped at or into whatever the wall had become. He instantly disappeared. The captain and his soldiers stared for a moment on the edge of panic when suddenly the doomed soldier stepped back through the shimmering wall holding a squirming pointed nose creature. Before he could stop them half his soldiers were jumping into the wall and coming back with squirming meals of their own. The lieutenant came back with two, handing one to his captain. When the soldiers and their officers had made several trips and gorged themselves, the troop headed back to the nest and a messenger was sent to inform the Imperial Commander of their good fortune and heroic conquest of the eatables of warm and tasty blood. The opening into fertile hunting grounds was a bonanza for the world and harvesting parties were constantly passing back and forth foraging for warm-blooded food. Most of the animals they encountered were small and their numbers soon became scarce. When they ventured further from the doorway and the cave in which it existed on the other side, they found a frozen world impenetrable for cold-blooded Dangors. The opening stayed in place for sixty years before, one day as a harvesting party approached, it simply and without fanfare, turned once again into impenetrable stone. Fortunately in the sixty year span, some enterprising Dangor came upon the brilliant idea of breeding the small mammals as a continuing source of food. The Dangor population was now assured a constant food supply. The doorway was rediscovered at roughly fifteen hundred-year intervals. Rediscovered because the only long-term memory of the event in Zorn society, lacking a written language, was oral tradition and most Dangors could only count to the numbers of talons on their appendages. About nine centuries before the present, when the doorway opened, the foraging party went to the mouth of the cave and found that the climate had warmed enough for them to look further for what were now called Squirms. They found larger warm bloods and some were so large they had to cut them up to get them back through the doorway. Lacking metal tools, however, they had to leave too much behind. It was then decided to include feeding Dangor mothers in the foraging parties. They would eat their fill and then return to regurgitate it for their younglings. Some of the mid-sized warm bloods were brought back for breeding and another new food supply was added. About seventy-five hundred years before the present, they brought back the most remarkable food source to date. These warm bloods were covered with removable skin, walked on two long appendages while able to grasp stones with their two smaller upper appendages. They were large enough to be an entire meal for most Dangors and even one course of a seven-course dinner for the ancient Fardents and their prodigious bulk. These warm bloods also made varying sounds with their mouths. The new food source could talk. Fardents were the final stage of Dangor development on Zorn. They transformed from normal sized Dangors at the age of one hundred years, should they be privileged to live so long and not become food. Fardents were the rulers and royalty of Zorn society since only certain bloodlines of Dangors lived to become Fardents. The average Fardent lived only about ten Zorn years and only about two percent of Dangors were of the ruling bloodline. Competition was fierce but stable and led to a very tyrannical leadership. When a Fardent died, immense in bulk and the size of twelve or more Dangers, it shrank to a ball of fluff, the size of which could easily be carried by two Dangers. The burial of Fardents was a state occasion and they were interred in a cave halfway up the Mountain of Holy Odor. No one was ever present in the Holy Cave except at the burial ceremony. Forty-five hundred years before the present time of this tale, the gateway, or we should say gateways because a second gateway was discovered that led into a vast desert, opened and the foraging parties went forth to replenish the stock. What they found were Domestics, as tradition had dubbed them, were now in the process of making their own palaces and hovels in the open desert. The gatherings were now more productive but also much more dangerous. Many Dangors did not return to the Land of Zorn alive but instead as additional food. For the first time, the foraging parties now became organized around full military units for protection. In the fortieth year of this opening, Dangors in the final days before morphing into Fardents, called Centurs, were brought through the gateway and allowed to morph in the Garden of Plenty, as the new world on the other side of the gate had been named. They wrought horrific destruction in the Garden and struck unimaginable fear into the hearts of the Domestics. When the gateway closed the harvest had been plentiful and the loss of nearly a dozen Fardents was mourned because they could not make it back to be interred in the Holy Cave. The ones that had already morphed to Fluff or whose morph could be retrieved were, however, returned to Zorn and properly interred. When the Season of Harvest returned fifteen hundred years before the present day, the Generals of Zorn were astonished at what stupid food stock Domestics could accomplish. They assailed the Dangor soldiers with detachable appendages of finely sharpened steel, hard thrown shafts with steel points and towers for throwing flaming boulders that challenged even the most ferocious Fardents and nearly equaled the Fardent’s flame throwing ability. The sixty years of Harvest was still plentiful but the Dangor casualties were enormous, so enormous that the Fardents were the major combatants against the Domestics of the Garden, not the Dangors. The only Domestics that ever saw Dangors were those still alive after a raid and they usually became warm food for transport back to Zorn for breeding. A few, however, survived and one at least one occasion, nearly a dozen escaped from captivity on Zorn to return to the Garden through the second gateway and disappeared into the desert. ArAr dreaded having to confront TakTak, the Emperor’s Closet Chancellor. He had lost nearly a pound of real flesh the last time he had born ill tidings to the evil, rotting old wonder. TakTak was the only voice the Emperor would tolerate and the old bastard had plenty to fear himself. Furries were in the land, invading as always from the Holy Cave. Furies were abroad; nasty, hairy little Furries; meowy, whiney little Furries. Stinky, hateful little Furries who would not, in their vile existence, leaves decent serpents alone. As did all Dangors, ArAr believed that these creepy little beasties, from who knew where, would creep into the nests of decent reptiles and suck the life out of helpless little egglings and younglings. It was time once again for the Holy Makers to scream for a Mighty Gorming to rally all Dangors to purge the land of Zorn of these miserable little creatures. “Oh,” he thought aloud, “He will be oh so angry, Oh my, Oh my. He will eat part of my flesh, maybe all my flesh, in his glorious anger. Oh my, Oh my.” ArAr was working himself into a frenzy as he approached the inner sanctum of the all Great and Glorious Power. He rounded a corner in the Tunnel of Enlightenment and saw the bulky old serpent hulking before a large window looking out over the beautiful desolation. Old though he might be, TakTak was not dead yet and his hearing was still superb. He heard the slinky little slimeling as it rounded the corner and he quickly spread himself out in all his huge bulk and, with rows of sharp teeth displayed like an armory of swords, prepared to receive the little worm. “Your stench betrays your approach, filthy slime. What is important enough for you to offend my person with your putrid presence?” The Closet Chancellor, having spread himself to the ceiling, was brushing the walls of the large chamber as he spoke. ArAr lowered himself to the floor, sliding on his stomach with arms and legs spread away so he seemed to be a lifeless spread of quivering, melting goo. He dared not look directly at the Chancellor because he knew the mighty serpent’s aura would surely cause him to turn into filthy water. He spoke with words that screeched in a high tone and shook as though they had substance and could be seen more than heard. “Oh mighty and most beautiful of serpents who should not be bothered with worms like me and should never be subjected to offensive news, I am unworthy of your presence and will surely be eaten were not my flesh so rotten, hear me. With the power of your magnificent intellect, only you can protect all reptiles in this time of great sorrow.” “You may speak but be swift for your words and filthy presence offends me greatly. Speak so I may send you from my glorious presence for fear I may forget how putrid your flesh tasted the last time you offended my sensibilities.” “They have returned most luminous one, the furry little nasties are back as the Great Wisdom has predicted and will soon be sucking the life from our egglings and spoiling the stomachs of even slim like myself.” “WHAT!” The violence with which the Chancellor roared sent steam and stink raging over and past ArAr as he lay prostrate on the floor and shook the entire palace. A roar of displeasure at the noise was even heard from the far chamber of the Emperor himself. “You dare upset me like this. Do you know how much of my beautiful buttocks will be nourishing the Emperor’s entrails when I tell him of your gross incompetence, worm? Summon the Holy Orders to my presence immediately, and then bring yourself back to me for your proper just dessert.” “Yes your Magnificence. Have mercy, Oh Great One, I will offend you no longer with my presence.” With that ArAr slithered away as fast as his fear could move him, leaving the Chancellor to consider this news and tremble at the thought of now having to tell the Emperor. General Hark towered over the guards at the entrance to the massive fortress. He stood at least half a foot above the common soldier’s average height of six feet. All soldiers were first life beings, that period from first birth to about one hundred years. Few first lifers, however, would rise to the rank of general before the tender age of say, eighty. General Hark was a mere forty-three and he had been a general for over five years. It had been rumored that he could possibly be a Chamberlain someday or, dare we imagine, even Emperor? After all, the present Cabinet Chamberlain was from the same clan and was only about three years into his second life stage. General Hark would be turning one hundred about the time the old fart was due to Fluff and already there were rumors that there were parts of the Emperor’s person constantly being found around the palace. How long would they last? Both the Chamberlain and the Emperor were of such awesome presence that the spindly biped Domestics around the Fortress of Supreme and Glorious Power would keel over in awe of their splendid presence. General Hark was standing before the guards who were, even though everyone on Zorn knew who the general was, trying to convince one another to be the one to announce him before the Chamberlain without an appointment. Finally, in a hissing screech, General Hark opened his right upper appendage; releasing saber-like claws in the faces of the guards, and burst pass all of them leaving more than one near lethal gash in his wake. As he stomped his way up the circling stairway to the Chamberlain’s den, he could smell the foul odor that signified the presence of a second-lifer. As he neared the top of the stairs he had to step over the bones of Domestics, remarking to himself that the Chamberlain left precious little for the slimy little Ferders to eat as they went about their duties. One was dragging the remains of a forearm across the steps in an attempt to nudge it over the side of the tower and down to his fellows in the dungeon below. “He was probably one of the best of the Chamberlain’s staff,” thought the general as he went out of his way to snare the Ferder with the claws of his right foot and squeeze it till it burst sending blood splattering against the wall. Smiling as wickedly as he knew how, the general flipped the little carcass into the air and, using his upper left appendage like a bat, sent it flying through one of the stairwell’s openings and into an adjacent window of the citadel. He could hear the belch as some low class servant probably swallowed it whole. Feeling very proud of himself, General Hark announced his own arrival at the top of the stairs with a loud and odoriferous passage of flatulence. His answer was a roar and odor that made his eyes water. He had to give it to the old fart, “He’s still the best.” As soon as he came into the presence of the Chamberlain, the general bowed low, placing his forehead on the stone floor in respect for his superior. “You are late, General, you were supposed to be here this morning.” The Chamberlain grinned wickedly, “Have we taken action to secure the nests against the nasties?” “The Holy Speakers have roused the serpents. The faithful will take matters into their own claws.” The general hesitated for a moment and said, “If the Nasties have returned, by tradition it means that the gateways to the Garden are also open, however, the gateway into the desert is not to be found. As it was also, by tradition, to have been located in the Cave of Nerrot, it may be lost to us because of the cave-in during the Great Shaking of twenty years past. I ask for orders to lead a force to the Cave of Nerrot to find the gateway and harvest fresh Domestics for our larder using the other existing gateway. These excuses for food we now have are so inbreed that they are tedious to raise and worse to eat. I await you Supreme Pleasure most Honorable Serpent.” General Hark was approaching the gateway with his troops when he almost ran into a deranged Dangor. “What is your matter worm?” He had little tolerance for stupid grubbers. “It’s open, oh mighty general, it’s open and a Domestic came through it and flamed my most sorry excuse for a mate. It just pointed at her and fire came from his appendage, sire. Oh my, oh my what shall we do?” General Hark backhanded the old filth and marched into the cave followed rather unenthusiastically by his troops. When he arrived at the gate, there was no one in sight. But the area within the opening shimmered as had been foretold. Hark motioned for one of his junior officers to go through the opening and report back. The man stood for a moment in front of the portal then jumped through. He was gone for a matter of seconds when he leaped back through and landed at the general’s feet. That is not quite correct. His body, less his head, landed at the general’s feet. Hark knelt to examine the neck where the officer’s head had once been attached. There was no blood because the neck had been cauterized where the head had been. The officer’s head had been burned off. The general had eight Centurs waiting outside the cave ready to be transported into the Garden of Plenty and they had only an hour or so before they morphed into Fardents. Once they had morphed, they would be too large to be able to traverse the gateway. He had to make a decision now. This was his career, his world’s survival for the next fifteen hundred years was at stake and there was really no other decision to make. They were going through. They simply poured through the gate into slicing beams of light and the smell of burning flesh. They overwhelmed the domestics on the other side leaving the chamber piled with charring Dangor flesh. Two domestics were captured and the Dangors and their general found themselves in a manmade cave. They gathered the Centurs and escorted them outside onto a flat stone covered area. The stones were not a natural thing but had been placed there by intelligent Domestics. These lowly Domestics were powerful builders. The Centurs were lined up on the flat stone area forty feet apart. There were not any other Domestics around to utilize; the two captured ones were for the Emperor, so General Hark ordered twelve common soldiers to stand around each Centur in a close huddle. These would supply the matter needed for a Centur to morph into a Fardent. All that mass had to come from somewhere. Eight lines of twelve soldiers were formed, one in front of each Centur. As the general and his captains watched the eight Centurs began to glow and in eight simultaneous bursts of energy, the morphs took place. Lined up on the field of stones were eight huge Fardents. Eight lines of soldiers, each commanded by a lieutenant, marched forward and climbed onto the backs of the Fardents. General Hark turned to one of his three captains and said, “Captain Fo, you are in charge of the captives,” pointing to the two former stellarnauts turned archeologists, Roger and Lonar, standing there staring in horror at the assemblage on the plaza as they transmitted this nightmare to everyone on Earth glued to their vids. “Take them to the Emperor. Captain Hoi, you will take Battalion Two and head East in search of food and breeders. Captain Las, you will head north with Battalion Three. I will be in charge of Command Unit and head west. You have your far voices on so keep in touch with me at all times. The Season of Harvest is upon us. Great and Glorious is the Emperor and out Holy Land of Zorn.” With that each commander joined his gargoyle troops and as the two Domestics slowly went insane they watched as ninety-six gargoyles sat astride eight massive, fire breathing dragons that rose on immense scaly wings into the thin mountain air above Machu Picchu and spread out on an unsuspecting Earth population soon to be enveloped in an ancient vision of Hell.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Aug 2014 16:40:59 +0000
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