Copyright 1997 All rights reserved worldwide.
CHAPTER ONE
The morning sun played through the forest, the beams seeming almost tangible, slicing through the gloom to render the numerous shadowed areas even darker. Although it was a cloudless day, the forest floor was largely shadowed, protected from the light by the incredibly dense profusion of growth above.
The trees which formed the forest were giants, often reaching heights in excess of four hundred feet, and the branches, which began to spread outward from their trunks at a height of fifteen or twenty feet, grew with increasing density as they reached upward and outward, so that a veritable roof was formed high above the ground.
Beneath these mammoth trees a great many other types of vegetation proliferated, competing for space and light. Smaller trees, bushes, ferns, and grasping vines were among the species which sought to survive in the dank, moist environment beneath the gigantic trees. Many of these were stunted, but some of the vines twisted and climbed for hundreds of feet, seeking the light above, thus forming a natural network of pathways for creatures which inhabited the trees.
The earth was covered with a spongy turf, resilient and moist, which seemed to survive solely because of the rich mineral nutrients in the soil, and from the abundant rainfall, which fed the thirsty jungle.
Fern-like plants and myriad fungi also prospered in these shadowed depths, many towering several feet into the air.
Few flowering plants grew in the forest, but the varying shades of green which colored the tropical plant life provided an enchanting sight.
The strange beauty which marked the Aantorian forest went unnoticed, however, by the man who silently trod its depths. Softly he stepped upon the mossy grass, and as his eyes peered through the vegetation the splendor of its greens faded, for he sought other sights this day.
Atal Throom was searching for prey, and his piercing green eyes hungered for the sight of a victim. Every sense alive, he tried to forget the ache in his belly, and the fatigue which plagued his body.
Even more, he tried to forget the plight of the woman and small child who awaited his return, hungry and defenseless. He knew that success here within the forest depended upon total concentration, so he pushed these troubled thoughts from his consciousness.
He had learned much these past few months. Though never having hunted in his young life, he had recently found himself alone in the forest, with his mate and child, fleeing from a relentless enemy. His will to survive had precipitated a drastic learning experience, and thus far Atal Throom had acquitted himself admirably. He had survived, and had provided for his mate, Lyna, and his two year old son, Tarak.
He had been aided in this endeavor by a physique which measured by any standards was superb. Atal Throom was well over six feet tall, broad of shoulder, with a deep chest and muscles which seemed to glide over the structure of his large frame. His life had not been hard, but he had always possessed a great fondness for physical pursuits, and for a civilized man had been in exceptional condition.
The few months which had elapsed since he had fled into the forest had hardened his body and toned his muscles, so that at present he was in splendid physical condition, although somewhat leaner than he desired.
His handsome face, peering through the shadows, betrayed no hint of what his thoughts might be. The features were strong and impassive, and the only sign of life one might discern by studying his face lay in the eyes, which were of bright green, and seemed to flash as they caught the scattered rays of the sun, glinting beneath a shock of tawny hair.
Atal Throom was twenty-six years old, and until recently had never known hunger, nor hardship, nor fear. He had lived luxuriously in the coastal city of Kalnor, a prosperous and powerful city on this world known by its inhabitants as Aantor. Atal Throom had been a Tark, a position of high nobility, and had always enjoyed a life of luxury and wealth. His father, Arak Throom, had also been a Tark, as had each of a long line of ancestors of the House of Throom, which was a great and highly prosperous House in the City of Kalnor.
The House of Throom, in fact, had been one of the most powerful of Houses, and its voice waxed persuasive in the affairs of government in Kalnor..
Atal Throom's thoughts drifted to his city, and to the sequence of events which had resulted in his present situation. Unlike many Aantorian cities, Kalnor had not been governed by a solitary ruler, or Tarkan, in whom rested supreme power. Kalnor's government had rather evolved into a system whereby the city was ruled by a council of Tarks. The number of Tarks was not static, but rather increased or decreased, depending upon additions to noble families, deaths, and admissions to or dismissals from the nobility of families or individuals for assorted reasons.
A large variety of Houses, and thus professions, were represented in the Council, and this had resulted in a government which had been responsive to the many needs of the citizens. Much ordinary governing had of course been delegated to a small but efficient bureaucratic system, under the supervision of the council.
The system had worked well, and freedom and prosperity had been enjoyed by the people of Kalnor for many years. At the age of twenty Atal Throom had become eligible for the title of Tark, and had accepted the honor and duties, although much of his time had been taken up with the management of the House business, for Throom was a merchant family, and controlled a fleet larger than any other in Kalnor, with the exception of the Kalnorian Fleet, the seagoing arm of the Kalnorian military.
Their interests were thus widespread, and much of Atal Throom's time had been spent overseeing the huge fleet, with all the logistical and other problems inherent in managing such a huge enterprise.
The Throom fleet had consisted of many types of ships, from small channel traders to huge warships and cargo carriers capable of extended voyages upon the Sea of Kal, the body of water upon the shores of which sat Kalnor. Thousands of men were employed by the House of Throom, as well as large numbers of slaves, and the House was a large and complex organization itself, the management of which had until recently occupied Atal Throom's life almost exclusively.
In a politically free climate, a number of differing philosophies will develop, each with its own adherents, and Kalnor was no exception. One popular philosophy had called for a return to a government controlled by a Tarkan.
The proponents of this philosophy mouthed nationalistic slogans, and found many supporters among the lower classes of the city, persons who envied the wealth and power of the noble Houses, and were promised a supposedly more equitable distribution of wealth if a Tarkanate was established.
One of the most popular and vocal of these proponents of a Tarkanate was a noble known as Malenot. A Tark and the member of a Warrior House, he held the military title of Rok, a commander of the Army of Kalnor.
For many years in Council meetings and in public speeches Malenot had been demanding a more centralized form of government, and he had increasingly taken his pleas to the streets. His supporters were still much in the minority, however, for the citizens of Kalnor loved their freedom, and had never known a conqueror, nor in their lifetimes a Tarkan.
Never had an enemy force entered Kalnor, for her army and navy were mighty, and her fortifications seemingly unconquerable. Kalnorians were strong, handsome people, and although they did not wish to live under military rule, they were formidable warriors, and nearly all men, and some women, were trained in warfare as a part of general education and socialization.
Similarly, their seamanship was exceptional, and no enemy fleet had ever threatened the harbors of Kalnor.
Malenot had planned long and well, however.
He had determined to seize power by any means, if it could not be done lawfully and with the support of the populace. Utilizing the powers of his military rank, he had over a period of time arranged for the bulk of Kalnor's land and sea forces to be occupied away from the city, during the period that the trading season was at its peak, and the large merchant fleets were upon the sea, far from Kalnor's harbor.
False reports had been circulated that Senta, a city to the northwest, was under attack and had requested immediate help from Kalnor, a longtime ally. The remaining forces of the city were thus further thinned, as men were dispatched to provide supposed military aid to neighboring Senta.
Protests had been lodged, and the Council had commanded the appearance of the Rok, who assured them that the city was indeed safe.
Malenot had explained that a temporary mercenary force had been retained, and had been installed throughout the city as protection against any possible invader.
Many in the council that day had been shocked, for the presence of so large a force of non-Kalnorian troops had never been permitted in the city, but Malenot had soothed them with his explanations, convincing a majority of those present that the mercenary force was completely loyal to Kalnor.
The House of Throom had not been in attendance that day, having been called away upon urgent business, which business had been initiated secretly by Malenot, who had anticipated that their absence would be necessary for the success of his plan.
Finally he struck, and was successful largely because of the Kalnorians' belief in the invincibility of their city. The mercenary army had completed its deployment, and had taken control of every strategic position in the city.
Loyal Kalnorian troops were displaced, and given ambiguous assignments outside the gates.
Majestic Kalnor, never conquered, lay with her gates open and controlled by mercenaries, whose numbers ever increased, while the armies of Kalnor remained far away from their home.
Such maneuvers ultimately came to the attention of the House of Throom and other Houses, and several leaders of these Houses had gathered and called upon Malenot, demanding an explanation, and a redeployment of forces. Arak Throom, Atal's father, had led this impressive delegation.
None of the delegation returned, however, for Malenot's time had come. Knowing that he would have to destroy the House of Throom, he had timed his coup to commence with his greatest enemy in his power. Arak Throom and the other members of the delegation were ambushed and slaughtered, and simultaneously Malenot's mercenary army, aided by Malenot's personal Kalnorian troops, had launched a violent assault upon selected, vital segments of the city.
Those in the Council who were opposed to Malenot had been murdered on the streets or butchered in their homes. The remaining forces of the city, unorganized and largely unarmed as a result of recent machinations of the usurper, were an additional target, and many were killed in their sleep.
Reinforcements for the mercenaries, who had lain hidden within the forest, now assailed the city, and were welcomed by their brethren, who controlled the gates.
Legions of mercenary forces simultaneously assaulted the Great Houses, determined to destroy the power of the Council and of the Tarks in one bloody stroke.
Malenot's timing had been flawless, but his objective had not yet been achieved. Those of the Houses who were not immediately destroyed fought back ferociously, and many loyal Kalnorians died defending their homes.
More importantly, Malenot had been unable to blockade the harbor. He had underestimated the resourcefulness of his adversaries, particularly Atal Throom.
Atal Throom had declined the invitation to accompany his father as part of the delegation sent to demand an accounting from the Rok, and his suspicions had caused him to turn his thoughts from his business, for once, and to the state of his city.
He had sent loyal men out in pursuit of information. Many had not returned, but from those who did he had learned of the defenselessness of Kalnor, and he had surmised much of the tradegy which was befalling his city.
Too late to save his father, he had gathered his family, and those present in his House, and had made his way toward the harbor. Shortly after he had left his House he had encountered fighting, and realized that he had escaped being trapped by only a few moments.
His retainers at his side, he fought tirelessly, moving relentlessly toward the harbor, with its system of channels, docks, warehouses, and other areas which formed the Port of Kalnor.
Others joined them as they fought, hardy men who had sailed and fought for many of the noble Houses.
When they reached the harbor they turned at bay, and made a stand against the increasing might of the mercenary army, and as they fought, they fled, for they understood that they would eventually be overwhelmed, and so fought to purchase time for their escape.
The city had been subdued, the Council killed or disbanded, and the Houses were being destroyed. The main mercenary force would now turn toward the harbor, to crush the resistance there, and complete its victory.
The bloody stand made that day near the harbor enabled thousands to escape to the sea, in hundreds of swift Kalnorian ships.
Atal had ordered the remnants of his fleet scattered, instructing his captains to find refuge where they might, and to warn any ships they might meet of what had taken place in Kalnor.
Atal Throom had been one of the last to escape, taking a small boat, and fleeing with his mate and son. Bitterly he had sailed from the bloody harbor, out onto glittering Kal, his figure bloodstained and weary, his green eyes flaming with hatred and lust for revenge for the enemy he fled.
Within days Malenot had consolidated his power, and had subdued the city. Proclaiming himself Tarkan, he had abolished the Council, and appointed friends and co-conspirators to positions of power and influence in the new government.
A period of terror had followed, in which thousands were killed, stripped of their property, and reduced to slavery. Death squads had roamed the city, hunting the nobility, and seeking out any who did not acclaim the new government.
Yet publicly, declarations of a new peace and prosperity were issued by the Tarkan, blaming the violence upon the Noble Houses, and promising a new, equal societal distribution of freedom and wealth. Malenot knew that he could not openly flaunt the democratic traditions of the city, acknowledge the truth of his bloody coup, and yet retain his power.
He needed some measure of public support, vocal if not numerous, and so carried out the vast majority of his murderous acts secretly.
His success, while treacherous, had resulted in a form of government common on Aantor, and many of the people of the city, ignorant of the true facts, grudgingly accepted his rule, at least temporarily. Others, less accepting, were often found to have disappeared soon thereafter.
Malenot had been, after all, a military hero of great fame, and the wide circulation of his propaganda had been calculated to win some measure of support from the common man.
After the initial assault, he had wisely kept the mercenaries in check, and had dispatched many to posts outside the city, ready for instant use, but not so visible to the populace. Others were loaded onto ships, to patrol the Sea of Kal for possible enemies. Most of the people were shocked and angered by the turn of events, but they were disorganized, and did not consider revolt as a realistic alternative when Malenot claimed the Tarkanate. Returning Kalnorian armies had found the city closed to them, and ruled by their former Rok. Promises of rewards and promotions, and an increased status for the military convinced many to declare their loyalty to Malenot, who had been their foremost military commander for years.
Many warriors deserted, however, suspicious of recent events, and determined to preserve their freedom until they had an opportunity to learn more about the present state of affairs.
These were not pursued, since their numbers were formidable, and Malenot had no desire to ask his armies to war upon their fellows at this stage of his victory.
These mass desertions had come as a surprise to the Tarkan, who had anticipated that nearly all military forces would flock to his banner. Without a commander, however, they were little threat to his ambitions, and he regarded the deserting troops as of little consequence.
Generally, his faith in the natural obedience and simplicity of political thought of the common Kalnorian citizen had been rewarded, and within weeks Kalnor was in the grip of his military regime, its army and navy firmly under the control of the Tarkan, and the remainder of its forces scattered widely over the lands and seas, fugitives, whether hunted or ignored..
Many of these events were unknown to Atal Throom as he stood within the forest, for he had fled after the battle at the shipyards, and had been pursued relentlessly since that first day of Malenot's treachery.
Armed with only a sword and longbow, he had been chased across the sea. Finally he had put into shore, and had fled into the dark forest at a point far south of Kalnor. Even into the forest the pursuit had continued, for many weeks, until finally, deep within the forest, it had dwindled, and then ceased altogether.
Whether his pursuers had given up, or had met with some misfortune, Atal Throom could only guess.
His trek had left him hopelessly lost, and his wife and son gaunt and shaken. Half-starved, they had enjoyed neither peace nor shelter, and had eaten far too infrequently during their seemingly endless ordeal..
He did not know if he would ever find his way out of the seemingly impenetrable forest, nor what action he might be able to take, should he be able to do so. Faced with this reality he had taken the course open to him. He had learned to hunt, as a savage hunts, for the survival of himself and of his family.
They had been fortunate in the first weeks, finding food left by more successful hunters, scavenging, eating fruit, and somehow escaping the many savage carnivores which roamed the forest. They had survived, however, and Atal Throom had turned his keen intelligence and the strength of his body to the problem of continued survival.
He had learned much during their flight, and thus far they had been able to survive.
For almost two months he had fed and defended his family, learning the ways of the forest. His mate and child, who had nearly perished during the arduous flight, had regained much of their health, and had begun to adapt to the rigors of jungle life.
The child rarely whimpered, even when forced to endure the fierce torrential rains, or the stinging of the innumerable insects. Sheltered as much as possible by Lyna, his mother, he looked out on his new world with wonder.
Lyna, with the resilience common to the House of her mate, endured the hardships with little comment. Her thoughts were ever upon the safety of the child, Tarak. She had borne the burdens of survival well, and Atal was immeasurably proud of her.
His fleeting thoughts of his mate and child disappeared instantly when he heard the sound of movement in the tangled jungle growth. His senses, sharpened by his recent life, had discerned a sound, and now he strained his ears, and flared his nostrils, in hopeful anticipation of a repetition of the sound.
Tensing his mighty frame, he carefully drew an arrow to his bow, and waited with a patience he had not possessed a few short months ago. Soon he heard the sound again, closer this time, and a moment later his quarry stepped into view from between two nearby trees.
It was a narg, and it stood silently, shifting its paws and testing the air with its long, cylindrical snout.
A formidable beast, the wild narg stood more than five feet tall at the shoulder, and was at least nine feet in length, from the tip of its broad head to the powerful, heavily muscled hindquarters.
The front legs were slightly longer than the rear legs, giving the beast a sloping profile. Its head was large, situated on a thick neck, and terminated in a massive set of jaws, where rows of razor teeth gleamed from between four curling tusks, each eight inches long. A tough, leathery hide of dark red covered the narg, from which bristles of short black hair emerged in mottled patches. Boar-like in general appearance, the legs of the narg were more catlike, with long, retractable claws. Red eyes peered balefully from beneath its bushy brows, trying to see that which its extremely acute sense of smell could detect.
This narg was about average for its kind, weighing perhaps half a ton, of which very little was wasted flesh. Known for its bad temper, the narg was usually avoided and respected as a savage beast.
The narg ordinarily subsisted on vegetation, but they had been known to attack and eat other animals, too, and were utterly fearless, lacking even that fear of men which is inherent in many wild creatures.
This was not precisely the type of quarry Atal Throom had anticipated encountering, and he searched quickly for a safe perch in the branches of a nearby tree, for the narg, due to its prodigious size, was a poor climber.
Spotting a limb about twenty feet distant, and away from the beast's path, he began to move slowly in the direction of safety. He had not taken three steps, however, when the narg, noticing the movement, wheeled and charged.
Quickly Atal let fly an arrow straight at the narg's breast, and without waiting to follow the flight of the arrow, he sped for the safety of the branch.
The narg was accelerating rapidly even as Atal launched his missile, and bellowed with rage and pain as the arrow buried itself in its chest.
The beast came on with frightening speed. Although fifty yards had separated man and narg, its attack was so rapid that Atal barely reached the tree ahead of the maddened narg, and leaped up into the comparative safety of the lower branches only inches ahead of the slashing muzzle.
The narg reared, lashing out with its claws in an attempt to slash and rend the puny creature which had wounded it.
Atal, however, had already retreated to a higher perch, and was preparing to launch yet another missile.
Again an arrow drove into the narg's body, and, raging with pain and frustration, the beast ripped at the tree, roaring and trying vainly to scrabble up into the branches of the tree. A wounded narg was one of the most feared of Aantorian beasts, for its tenacity and fearlessness were legendary. Such a creature, when attacked, inevitably fought to the death. Retreat was unknown to its kind, as was fear of nearly any beast.
Such characteristics naturally tended to make the narg a beast not often preyed upon. In this instance, however, they proved to be the beast's downfall.
Even wounded as it was, the narg would have survived, had it given up the futile assault on its prey, for its recuperative powers were great. Maddened with rage, however, it continued to rear and slash at the huge tree, while Atal Throom launched arrow after arrow down into the tough flesh.
After a time even the incredible tenacity of the narg began to falter. The great beast began to tremble, and a glaze coated its small red eyes. Finally, still moaning with hatred, it sank reluctantly to the turf, and a moment later lay lifeless beneath the tree.
Atal Swiftly descended to the ground, where he dressed and packed as much of the tough meat as he could carry. Each time he had hunted recently he had been forced to travel further from his camp, for in the past few weeks game had grown scarcer nearby.
As he made his way back toward the sheltered area where he had left his mate and son he decided that they would have to move to another area of the forest. His family was now strong enough for travel, and the time had arrived when they must think of trying to find a way out of the forest.
More than two long hours he traveled, his senses ever alert for danger. Atal had learned much since his forced entry into the forest, and knew that only those who dectected peril avoided it. Sweating heavily with the effort of carrying his burden, he finally approached his camp, a small meadow nestled protectively within a thorny grove of bushes, sheltered from above by the thickly spaced trees.
Even as he approached the meadow he sensed that something was wrong, for the usually peaceful stillness was broken by sounds of small animals growling and fighting. Dropping his burden, he raced into the small, tunnel-like opening which provided access through the bushes into the meadow, and passing through, he leaped out into the clearing.
The tragic sight which greeted him caused him to stop short, uttering a scream so grievous that the scavengers, small, rodent-like aaks, hurriedly left the partially devoured body of Lyna, and scurried off into the bushes.
She lay there, a bloody carcass, staring up into the trees with sightless eyes. An ebony arrow protruded from her chest, and her lifeless fingers lay curled next to Atal's gleaming sword, which lay on the mossy turf next to her body.
His son, Tarak, was nowhere to be seen. Atal called his name repeatedly, and searched the bushes frantically for some sign of the infant, but without success. He knew with terrible certainty that whatever or whomever had been responsible for the death of his beloved Lyna had killed or captured his son, for whatever purpose Atal did not care to speculate.
The arrow itself gave little clue to the identity of the attackers. Large and black, with green feathers, it could have belonged to anyone. Clearly, however, it was not Kalnorian. From the angle of entry into her body Atal surmised that it had been loosed from above, and carefully, expectantly, he scanned the murky gloom above, his rage rising within him, feeding upon hopeless frustration, his eyes glittering green slits of hate and loss. No enemy moved in the green vastness above, to challenge the solitary figure who stood so alone in the meadow below. The empty stillness of the great canopy seemed to mock him in his frustration.
Bitterly Atal Throom buried his mate, weeping and trying not to retch at the sight of his dear Lyna. This deed done, he sat silently for a long while, his head between his knees, his matted hair streaming down his neck. Finally he ate, more from necessity than hunger, and retrieving his weapons, he silently strode into the forest. He did not look back at the mound where his mate lay buried beneath the soft earth.
As he walked his mind was clouded by the enormity of his task. To search for the foe who had killed his mate and, presumably, his only child, without knowing the identity or location of that foe.
To find his way out of the forest, and to survive in a land where even his own city was his enemy, and to repay Malenot for the suffering which had been brought upon his family and his House. His face reflected little of the grief and bitterness he felt, but his eyes burned with a fierce determination as he disappeared into the blackness of the forest.
To Chapter Two