Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2014 - Spring - Nature's Wrath Entry
The Storm Singer - 1. Chapter 1
Past several small, dying suns and a glorious wasteland of broken stars, the tiny planet of Gadet orbited around three miniature suns. Gadet itself was no bigger than most moons, and the entire planet’s population was less than some major cities on other worlds. But the Gadetans didn’t allow their small size to keep them down. A quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and sometimes acerbic people, they made the most of what they had and weren’t afraid to offer a sarcastic turn of phrase if the teasing about their tiny planet went too far.
Half the planet was covered in silvery waters somewhat like the element mercury. The rest of the planet was divided between mountains, forest, and plains. Travel on the planet was done mostly by airship or watership. The Gadetans had no taste for space exploration. Nor did they have any desire to make war or subjugate other cultures. They were quite content to stay home, mining their mountains for the rich, thick veins of purple cacese that marbled Gadet like a fancy cake. Those not involved with mining the precious metal farmed the silver waters of their oceans for caruni, a rare and highly prized organic gemstone found nowhere else in the multiverse.
The people of Gadet lived contentedly in homes designed and built from cacese and stone. Despite the planet’s very small population, they weren’t completely self-sufficient. Gadet didn’t have many factories for manufacturing. Beings from other planets traveled from all across the multiverse to buy, sell, and trade with the Gadetans. As the values of cacese and caruni soared, the planet grew wealthy and the Gadetans prospered.
Wildly unpredictable, weather patterns on Gadet shifted willy-nilly, often at a moment’s notice. Storms of all sorts had always been a problem. From simple rain and thunderstorms that caused minor flooding to magnificent lightning storms that filled the lavender skies with jagged bolts of crackling color, Gadet was ever breaking records for the longest or most destructive storm. The planet had such a wide variety of storms, the Governor’s Council instituted a storm warning system with a series of alarms. This allowed the Gadetans to prepare for whatever approached. The system worked very well.
Until one day when it did not.
Alarms sounded as the storm warning system activated. Different warnings shrieked all at the same time in a cacophony of danger. It made no sense. The Gadetans waited for the scientists to issue a retraction. Surely there couldn’t be a thunderstorm and a cyclone and a lightning storm all stacked, approaching, and upon them… and all within the space of seconds! Nothing like that had ever happened on Gadet. The people gazed nervously at the wild and restless skies, sure that the storm warning system had merely malfunctioned. An event of this magnitude was impossible.
But then the storms came, one after another. Rain pounded the ground as thunder ripped the sky to shreds. The atmosphere sounded like it was breaking apart. While the Gadetans scrambled to secure their waterships and seal up the mines, the hurricane made landfall. Wind and water gusted with such strength debris transformed into lethal weapons, tumbling in every direction. Lightning flashed, turning the planet into one great electrified fence. Over it all a great howling rent the air as the three storms met and clashed like neighbors in some terrific squabble, battling for ownership of the planet.
Days and then weeks went by and the storms showed no sign of stopping. Water poured into the cacese mines, destroying valuable equipment, undermining main supports and finally flooding the mines. Soil weakened from the incessant rains became thick, gooey mud that slithered in waves across the ground. Mudslides buried homes, businesses, and in several horrifying instances, people. Structures crumbled under the onslaught of wind and water, the continued pounding of their combined forces more than some buildings could withstand. Despite the best efforts of the Council Protectorate, Gadetans died fleeing nature’s wrath. And the storms continued unabated, with no apparent end in sight.
The terrified Gadetans pled with the Governor’s Council to do something. The planet was being annihilated by weather. They couldn’t dig out long enough to tend their dead, much less return the cacese mines to working order. The Governor’s Council, a group of older Gadetans whose primary purpose was keeping the price of the planet’s two main exports as high as possible, got trapped in the Governor’s Hall when the flooding began. They hadn’t come up with a single idea that would solve the planet’s dire dilemma.
“What we need is a better warning system!”
But the storm warning system that had already failed them was no longer working at all. The scientists who created it weren’t sure why the new weather patterns were so drastically different from the older ones on which they’d established the first system, but they couldn’t argue with the facts. The storms currently plaguing Gadet were stronger, fiercer, and didn’t adhere to the same laws of weather prediction.
“We’ll seed the clouds! Send up airships with cargo holds, seed the clouds with silver iodide, and reduce the winds that way!”
But the storms had destroyed more than seventy-five percent of the planet’s airstrips and halved the number of suitable airships. All of the remaining airships were evacuating Gadetans stranded by the storms.
“We shall have to appeal to the greater multiverse community!” the Governor announced.
Just then the air over one of the few surviving airstrips waivered with a strange iridescence and resolved into a jet-black starship. Round like a saucer, it did not resemble any of the planetary vehicles with which the Gadetans were familiar. The rain did not touch it, as if some force field prevented the water from ever reaching the surface of the craft. The Gadetans stared at the starship in wonder and the Governor’s Council gazed at each other warily.
An area on the starship’s hull shimmered and vanished, creating a door. A tall, powerfully built figure with long, lustrous white hair that streamed over his shoulders, down his back and past his waist gazed out at the storm-ravaged landscape of Gadet. He was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, but it was a stark, harsh beauty of the sort reserved for a stalking arctic wolf or an avalanche; a dangerous, violent sort of beauty. With two silent companions at his back, he boarded an old-style hover disk that had been retro-fitted somehow to bear the additional weight. All three wore satiny black shinobi kimonos with traditional split-toed tabi boots. They appeared warlike and fearsome, as if they approached to infiltrate the Governor’s Hall, not offer any sort of aid or diplomacy. They flew through the storm as if it wasn’t happening and landed before the doors of the Governor’s Hall as untouched by the rain as their starship.
“Who are you?” one elder asked.
“How were you able to fly in those storms?” another exclaimed.
“If we paid you, would you evacuate people off the planet?” the Governor’s advisor asked.
Suddenly all the Council members shouted questions at once. The tall figure held up one hand for silence and amazingly, received it.
“My name is Narkykos and I’m a storm singer. I’ve freed other planets from the Razing Storms. Word of Gadet’s plight reached me and I’ve come to help.”
The Gadetans cheered, though their voices were mostly lost under a bombilation of thunder that echoed for over a minute before a new torrent of rain issued forth from the clouds. Before the Council could ask any further questions, Narkykos answered the one that was utmost in their minds.
“For one hundred souls, I’ll rid you of your storms.”
The Governor knew down to the very last soul exactly how many prisoners the Disciplinary Center currently held. After all, once Gadetans were sent for discipline the planet had to pay to feed and house them, and that grew costly. The Governor’s mind worked feverishly despite the current crisis. This Narkykos must actually be some sort of space pirate to want people. The Governor normally wouldn’t approve of Gadet associating or doing business with such a character, but desperate times and all. They could easily spare Narkykos however many Gadetans he needed, so long as he made the storms go away! The Governor stepped forward.
“A hundred souls! We’ll give you a thousand souls if you succeed!”
Narkykos gazed around at the assembled Gadetans. Many cringed away from his odd sloe-eyed stare, but Pagil, son of the Governor, met the stranger’s gaze with an unflinching stare of his own. As the two males eyed each other some unspoken bond passed between them. Pagil swore he saw a tongue of flame like dragon’s fire light the storm singer’s eyes. At that moment, Pagil’s heart yearned for nothing more than to take his place by Narkykos’s side. When next Narkykos spoke, Pagil was certain the tall, imposing storm singer spoke directly to him.
“By the rising of your third sun tomorrow, all storms will have ceased.”
The first and tiniest of Gadet’s three suns had just cleared the horizon when Narkykos emerged from his raven-hued starship the following day. A procession over six hundred strong followed behind him, all garbed in the same jet-black shinobi kimonos. Each member of his crew carried an immense gray seashell with a pearly concave interior nearly identical to Gadet’s lavender skies. As the second sun made its way up and over the horizon, the procession from within Narkykos’s starship, armed with the odd gray shells and riding hover disks that protected them from the storms, quickly encircled the miniscule planet. They remained far above the roiling storm clouds, the hover disks allowing them to breathe and create the audio-net necessary for what Narkykos intended to do.
As one the crew whirled inward, damson surfaces of the shells facing each other. Drawing on the starship’s power source, the shells activated. Energy arced from shell to shell, creating a circle and then shooting beams of pure light into the center where Narkykos calmly stood, ready and waiting. The power infused him, and he released it back through the same lines to his crew. They moved in perfect harmony, slowly turning outward, the colossal gray shells held aloft.
The most ethereal, haunting melody wafted from the shells, curling out and swirling down into the clouds. The eerie, exquisite notes were so pure and true, Pagil, who heard the breath-taking song, didn’t realize until he listened for several minutes that the wistful, beseeching lament was being sung by a voice. Then he knew with utter clarity whose voice carried on the winds, calmed the rains, settled the boiling oceans, and gentled the seething cyclones as if they were nothing more than recalcitrant children in need of a loving and attentive parent.
Narkykos.
When the third sun crept over the edge of Gadet, rose-colored light spread over a planet in ruins. But for the first time in more than ten weeks, the devastation wasn’t viewed through the misty sheen of rain. The storms had ceased. As the Gadetans wept and celebrated, their scientists ran calculations to verify this wasn’t merely a lull.
Narkykos was used to such things, and allowed the planet’s people time to verify the eradication of the irregular storm patterns as well as additional time to handle their dead. But Pagil overheard murmurings among the Governor’s Council and grew concerned.
“Why should we pay him?” the Governor asked. “Such a service is owed to any planet plagued by the elements.”
“Mayhap he will accept some small trinket,” a Council member said.
“We could give him a key to the planet!” the Governor suggested.
The Council thought this a grand idea, but Pagil begged his father not to renege on the original agreement.
“Do not dishonor us, Father. This male saved us all. He’s due whatever he asked.”
“Don’t be foolish, Pagil. We have a duty to protect our people from foreigners and space pirates!”
“Father, please…”
“The Council has decided.”
When Narkykos, once again flanked by his two silent companions, flew via hover disk to the Governor’s Hall, he received a hero’s welcome. Narkykos stood, face impassive, as the Governor of Gadet gave a brief but moving speech naming him as the planet’s savior. The Council came forward and dutifully presented him with the key to the planet, which he accepted, handing it over to his companions. Then Narkykos turned to the Governor.
“And now on to payment. I’ve been most patient, and Gadet promised me a thousand souls.”
“A thousand souls! Never! Outrageous!” Exclamations from the Council were almost drowned out by the Governor himself, who blustered that they were being taken advantage of quite horribly.
“Far be it for me to ever take advantage of a planet in need.”
Pagil shuddered at Narkykos’s tone of voice. This was horrendous. He warned his father not to do this and now the worst, sickest feeling seized his gut. Something awful was going to happen. Pagil knew it. Narkykos spared him the briefest glance before turning all his attention back to the Governor.
“I’ll simply get on with choosing the hundred souls that were my original fee for freeing your planet of the storms.” Narkykos cleared his throat with a sound strangely like a cat’s purr. “Please assemble all your citizenry between the ages of sixteen and thirty so I may begin.”
“The storms are all gone now. You said so yourself. And what do you mean choose? Gadetans are not beasts for you to select among. You can have ten people from the long term list at the Disciplinary Center, and you’d best be grateful or you’ll not even get them!”
Barely suppressing his fury, Narkykos snatched the recently bestowed and utterly useless key from his companion and hurled it to the ground where it stuck deep, the tip buried in mud that was still very fresh. He stepped up onto the hover disk and whirled to face the Governor.
“You will regret this decision. You have condemned your planet to death.”
A shiver of fear ran through the Councilors. But the Governor was unfazed as Narkykos and his companions shimmered and vanished. “I’ve rescued Gadet and it cost us nothing!” he proclaimed. Pagil stared at his father in horror. He had to do something. He had to try to save them. Before it was too late and all was lost, he had to try. Pagil sprinted for Narkykos’s starship, praying he arrived in time.
Pagil reached the starship just as the second sun sank below the horizon. He had no idea how to go about gaining entry or even announcing his presence, but apparently they could see him. An area on the hull disappeared and once again created a door, though it was in a completely different location than the last door that opened in the starship’s hull. After only a moment’s fascinated hesitation, Pagil hopped onto the hover disk that zoomed down to collect him and was delivered into the impressive starship.
The interior of the ship was many times larger than its exterior. Pagil stared about in awe, his mouth open in wonder. A gentle touch to his shoulder brought his fists up and his head around. Narkykos stood beside him. No longer clad in the black warlike garb he’d worn on Gadet, in his home environs he wore a luxuriant robe that reached the floor but left his powerful chest bare. And oh goodness… Pagil swallowed hard. It was a very impressive chest.
“Why have you come?” Narkykos tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and inhaled as if he was able to taste the scents emanating from the out-of-breath male. Abruptly his dark, oddly slanted eyes grew even darker and that fire Pagil was sure he saw earlier roared to life again. Narkykos’s head straightened as he gazed at Pagil. “You wish to mate.”
“No!” Pagil shook his head a bit frantically.
Narkykos’s lush mouth closed in a secret smile. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his robe. “Not true.”
“Forgive me. And forgive my father.” Pagil bent his head, his cheeks burning as his body shook with never before kindled desire. He’d come to see Narkykos for a reason, damn it, and would not be swayed from his goal. “He’s arrogant and proud, but he wants the best for our planet.”
“Again, not true.”
“He doesn’t understand the consequences of his actions.”
“Also not true.”
“Please don’t let Gadet be destroyed.” Tears gathered in Pagil’s eyes but he blinked them away. “You wanted souls. Take me. I know I’m only one male, but I’m young. I’m strong and I’m smart. I’ll do anything you ask of me and I’ll work hard. I won’t disappoint you.”
Narkykos gazed at him for what felt like an eternity. Finally he reached out and wiped a thumb under Pagil’s left eye, coming away with one golden tear. He raised it up between them.
“All true.”
And with that he brought the tear to his lips and licked it away. Pagil held his breath as Narkykos bent forward and brushed his mouth, moistened with Pagil’s own tears, over Pagil’s lips and sealed the bond between them.
“I accept your offer. Be easy, my mate, for I shall allow no harm to come to you.”
The panic in Pagil’s chest loosened. At a gesture, Narkykos’s two companions came forward and escorted Pagil further into the starship to get him settled.
That night without the storms to keep them awake, the Gadetans slept like stones. Once again Narkykos and his crew encircled the planet, the gray shells held aloft. But this time he sang no songs of calming, settling or gentling among the lavender skies. Narkykos’s voice, enhanced one thousand fold as it poured along the pulsing net of energy his crew created, surpassed the winds and the rain.
What had once been a haunting melody morphed into a morose, almost bellicose chant. The deep, hard notes penetrated far into the earth, under the layers of rock to where the blood of the planet flowed sluggish and hot. Reaching a mighty crescendo, Narkykos bellowed his song down into the very center of Gadet. The sky glowed with green luminescence and the silvery waters took on a scarlet tint. The chant awakened giants who had long slumbered beneath the oceans and mountains, coaxing them to rise.
Narkykos and his crew returned to their starship.
By the rising of the third sun, it was quite apparent to the Gadetans that something was very wrong.
They clustered around the jet-black starship, banging and hammering on its hull with their useless mining tools. Those who couldn’t find anything slammed their bare hands against the alien vehicle. The Gadetans had no more luck touching the starship than the rain water had; both water and flesh bounced harmlessly off the force field surrounding the black metal.
The saucer-like craft rose several meters above the airstrip and hovered over the ground.
A window abruptly appeared stretching across the front of the starship. Narkykos was revealed dressed in a golden robe with his white hair billowing over his shoulders. Individuals from planets all over the multiverse stood in rows around him. To a one they looked young, healthy, and powerful. Narkykos’s voice rang out over the frightened and rioting Gadetans.
“I offered you the chance to save yourselves. I would’ve taken one hundred of the best and brightest. One hundred to recolonize and work the land when the Razing Storms ended. But you’ve chosen the path of greed. So be it. As Gadet was originally selected for the Razing Storms so it will continue on its natural course towards obliteration.”
As Narkykos’s words died away, the first major earthquake struck and knocked everyone still standing to their knees. The Gadetans went crazy. They nearly tore each other apart as they tried to climb over one another attempting to get to the starship. The Governor knelt open-mouthed, unable to reconcile what he heard and further unable to believe his eyes. His son, Pagil, stood arm-in-arm with Narkykos! When an angry mob of Gadetans grabbed him, the Governor didn’t even fight back. Narkykos stared directly at the Governor as he spoke, his voice trailing on the winds like some eerie chorus of birdsong.
“I am the wind, the water, the soil, and the sun. I am the great Force in whose name all things are done and undone. I am the chaos that brings death and the logic of life’s choice. I am everything, and I am nothing, for I am Nature’s Voice. ”
The black starship glimmered and vanished, leaving Gadet to its Fate.
- 17
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2014 - Spring - Nature's Wrath Entry
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