The Sigian Bracelet Read online

  The law of change… the threats hid in small changes, too small to trigger a reaction. For hundreds of years, the temples made some invisible steps; they planted myths—like the one of the red clothes. They sowed them and waited patiently to reap the benefits. After all, when did the story of the sacred garments emerge? No matter how hard he squeezed his prodigious archivist memory, he couldn’t remember any reference older than four hundred years. Baila XIV ruled on the “Meaning of Colors” during the Sixth Council of Mordavia. He sowed a seed, knowing all too well that a day would come when a whole army would be stopped by a simple color! Who knew what other things they had planted? No wonder the Shindam was annihilated so easily. The only remarkable thing was that it took them so long to do it. They wanted to be sure about the victory, and Tadeo offered them the perfect gift for that.

  Everything revolved around Arghail and the secret base. If Baila could convince the Antyrans that the Shindam was guilty of “supreme heresy,” the war would end before it even began. Surely the acronte Regisulben would like to stop the tarjis from entering the buildings of the training base. Unfortunately, after the prophet’s incendiary speeches, all the Antyrans trained their eyes on the holograms of the collapsed tunnels. Baila XXI himself was holding his speeches perched in a large air-jet floating nearby.

  The Shindam still controlled several holofluxes from other cities. But although the Antyrans expected a response from the council, they were quiet. What further proof was needed to convince everyone they were indeed guilty?

  Inside the security base, the underground fires started to die, starved of oxygen. Here and there, waves of soot and black smoke still burst from large cracks opened in the plastoceramic tiles paving the yard, resembling the fumaroles of a volcano about to erupt.

  There was a great bustle in the courtyard, which was filled with the twisted debris of the buildings destroyed by the shock wave. The initiates were carrying pieces of debris, mangled bodies, and bits of equipment while the magneto-bulldozers were clearing a path to what seemed to be a secondary fire exit.

  Gill’s hearts skipped a couple of beats when he recognized the door: Baila’s agents found a way that could lead them to the Sigian skeleton crushed under the rock! He was now happy he had the precaution to take the bracelet—a few broken bones wouldn’t provide eloquent proof on the holofluxes, especially if most of the skeleton was turned into powder by the weight of the rock fallen on it…

  The red air-jet carrying Baila XXI “the Great”32 drifted over the heads of the tarjis gathered around the secret base. When it stopped, the prophet rushed triumphantly onto the floating platform, his face radiating joy and certainty, the likes of which the tarjis had never seen before.

  “My sons, I bring you the news you are all waiting for,” the prophet shouted through the holophone. “Our fighters have found the children of Arghail in the underground base!”

  The tarjis roared so loudly they forced him to interrupt his speech.

  “Soon, they’ll bring them to the surface. You have to be prepared,” Baila warned them.

  Instinctively, the tarjis looked anxiously at one another to see if they were ready for the Battle of the World-Ending. They knew that as soon as the initiates brought the children of Arghail under the starlight, the corruption would touch anyone who saw them, and if they proved too weak to oppose it, they’d become slaves of the evil god for eternity.

  “But before you see your enemy, I have to put you to a test,” Baila said, sighing. “Zhan left us the symbol of darkness for safekeeping. My children! I hid the heavy burden from your eyes to protect you, but from now on, I can do it no more. You may thank the Shindam for this!” he screamed.

  And then, without delay, he jerked his hands up to raise a large flexi-display over his head: it was a black star with three curved rays—identical to the one painted on Gill’s bracelet. Crying out in horror, hundreds of thousands of Antyrans dropped to the ground, bowing their heads in the dust to shield their eyes. And so did the ones watching the holofluxes from the comfort of their domes. The corrupting power of the symbol was equally strong, regardless of the distance.

  “Don’t hide,” shouted Baila. “It’s your burden, and you have to face it!”

  They slowly raised their terrified eyes to look at the frightening symbol, whispering Zhan’s name to protect them from the terrible ordeal.

  How could they find them so fast? thought Gill, stunned by the news. It defied any trace of logic.

  The prophet touched his ear, listening to a hidden microphone.

  “Our sons found the chariot of Arghail,” he said, laughing and in good spirits. “They also found fourteen abominations and six bracelets tainted by the touch of darkness.”

  “Six bracelets?” exclaimed Gill, confused.

  And then he understood. Tadeo said he found six bracelets… and one was on Gill’s arm. The prophet had no way of finding all of them! When he realized the truth, he burst into convulsive laughter until he ran out of air.

  Once he regained his breath, he exclaimed, “What a stinky lie! He didn’t find anything!”

  “How can you be sure about that?” Alala asked, surprised. “You know something no one else does, to say such things?”

  “I was there!”

  “You told me the blast got you at the surface,” she said, frowning. “At least now will you tell me what really happened?”

  In the next instant, he felt his head spikes ruffle, and his mood sank. “You know something no one else does?” she had asked. Well, he knew that Regis was intoxicated by the biggest lie in history, and along with him, the whole Antyran population. Baila had nothing, nothing at all! The bracelet on Tadeo’s arm exploded, not something else. The whole bunker caved in, and no one would get inside for many months. And no artifact had escaped destruction, except the one on his arm.

  Maybe the prophet would “forge” some evidence—after all, it wouldn’t be too hard for his initiates to print a couple of plastoceramic fakes and bring them to the surface as proof of “Arghail’s tools,” but they wouldn’t pass a simple tomographic scan.

  “I have to return to Alixxor and find the acronte!” he told Alala.

  “What?” she exclaimed, stunned. “That’s… you’re going to get yourself killed! Why do you have to do it?”

  “You see, I’m the only one who knows the truth. I have to warn Regis!”

  “But what if Baila is right? What if they found what he says? Maybe the artifacts were in a different place than you think, maybe—”

  “He’s lying! But he’s lying for the last time!” He slammed his fist into his palm, as if crushing an invisible licant.

  “Don’t go! I’m afraid for your life,” she said, kneading her hands, helpless, while brown droplets gushed out of her temples. “I have no one left.”

  “Alala, look, I’ll be back in no time.”

  “Please wait for a few more hours. What if the tarjis bring out the artifacts? I’m sure everything will get sorted out,” she said softly and took his left arm, tenderly nesting her body next to his. “You really don’t care about me?”

  Could it be that she likes me? the exciting thought burst into his kyi, ruining his last traces of inner peace. And it wasn’t like he didn’t care about her… on the contrary! He felt more and more he could trust her. For the first time, he saw her as vulnerable, completely changed from her usual coldness. He felt lost in her deep eyes, deeper than the blue Orizabia Ocean, and became convinced that together they would overcome any problem.

  Everything was happening so fast…

  “Alala, I lied to you,” he finally admitted. “The blast caught me underground, and nothing survived but me. Nothing! Do you think the tarjis found the six bracelets? Well, there is only one left, and it’s right here!” he said, rolling up his right sleeve and showing her the Sigian artifact.

  Alala left his arm and jerked back, frightened, as if his touch suddenly electrocuted her.

  “What’s… that?” she babbled
.

  He turned to the door and ran out of the room.

  “Nothing will happen to me, I promise,” he said, trying to comfort her while jumping to the stairs, hurrying to get his magneto-jet keycard and a warm tunic from the scented shelf where he left them.

  As he stormed the stairs to leave the building, he heard Alala’s voice: “Gill, come here for a moment.”

  He stepped into the room and found her near the holotheater, typing something on its transparent console.

  “Let’s talk when I’m back, all right?” he replied in a hurry.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said, her face beaming with happiness.

  His eyes widened, surprised that she didn’t get the enormity of the stakes. Time was of the essence if he really hoped to change something!

  “Don’t go—someone wants to talk to you!” Alala insisted.

  “Alala, I really—”

  In that moment, Baila’s hologram appeared in the holotheater. It couldn’t be a live transmission; the prophet was hovering in an air-jet above the Shindam’s base. Why would Alala show him a recording just now? He was about to ask for an explanation when he saw the little green light flashing. In that moment, a silent scream roared in his kyi: it wasn’t a holoflux but a direct call—from none other than the prophet!

  “Alala, what have you done? You… are… you betrayed us!” he managed to splutter before the sky fell on him, crushing his helpless shell. His knees melted, and he had to prop up against the wall to keep standing on his feet.

  He finally saw the deadly trap he fell into, but it was far too late to do anything. During the madness of their escape from Alixxor, the rush to save the bracelet blinded his Guk-smell. Ikkla33 didn’t help him a bit, if only because it never crossed his tail to invoke it on Alala. The Antyran female was a spy of the temples. She brought him here to “mate” with him and steal his secrets! But she didn’t even have to bother. Like a fool, like a beginner seduced from the first touch, he made her task easy by showing her the artifact. Now he knew how the hologram of Tadeo had landed in Baila’s claws, along with all the details of the discovery. That’s why she was late this morning! She was busy relaying a copy of Tadeo’s report to the domes. The end of the Shindam’s Council, along with all the madness outside, was her masterpiece!

  I’m so dead! he thought. I’m going to end up in one of their catacombs… my poor, rotting bones scattered in the dust. Of course, after they pluck out all the details!

  How naïve he was to believe he could fight Baila and escape alive!

  “My dear son, how happy I am to finally meet you! Alala told me about you,” the prophet exclaimed jovially, opening his arms as if he wanted to hug him.

  He was speaking with the tone of a father greeting his son who had returned from an expedition to the icy end of the world. Gill didn’t say anything, too shocked by what was happening, but he found enough strength to raise his head and briefly look into Baila’s eyes.

  He addressed me with “My dear son.” Is he mocking me, or does he indeed have no intention of ending my life? Maybe he needs my collaboration, Gill thought, hanging desperately on the last possibility—his only chance of survival, at least for a few more miserable days.

  “Our daughter brought us the wonderful news; we were waiting for an eternity!” continued Baila. “And for me, eternity really means a lot,” he smiled, waving his recessive gills. “I know, I know,” he said, raising his hand to stop the words on Gill’s lips. “You’re a bit upset; I can smell it on your face. Our methods haven’t been the most sincere.”

  The prophet made a sign to invite him to sit in the double nest in front of the holotheater, but Gill wasn’t sure he could walk to the middle of the room without falling. He decided to cling to the wall and try to hide the uncontrollable shaking of his body.

  Only then did he notice that the prophet was talking from inside a massive underground granite hall. Shouldn’t he be in the air-jet near the training base? There’s probably a hologram in that jet, he realized. That would fit well with Baila’s paranoia. After all, he wasn’t going to expose himself in a flying tin at the mercy of the Shindam’s orbital lasers—not that they would find someone brave enough to press a button…

  “We need your help against the Shindam. If Arghail wins, he won’t conquer only Antyra, but he’ll invade the holy nest of the gods up in the sky!”

  “Mighty Baila, I see that… you do very well without me. The council ran away; you took control. Why do you need my help?” He barely mumbled the words. It was a stupid question that most likely jeopardized his already minuscule chance of survival, but he had to ask it.

  “Gill, don’t be modest. Alala told me about the bracelet, so you don’t have to hide it anymore. I know everything. I speak to you because I need it. I must have it.”

  Even though he wasn’t sure if Baila really intended to spare his life or if he was just biding time until his agents reached the dome—if they were not already there, since the “recreation dome” must have been one of their hideouts—Gill knew he had no choice but to obey. Appeasing Baila could keep him alive, although he would blame himself for the rest of his life for betraying the Sigians. At least he’d be alive to be able to feel bad about it. After all, he should consider himself incredibly lucky that Baila bothered to address him in person, which was an honor that few Antyrans dreamed of, especially the archivists.

  He would have liked to have the tail to ask for guarantees, to negotiate conditions, but he wasn’t that kind of Antyran, and it didn’t seem a particularly smart idea to annoy the prophet with petty talk. Therefore, he tried to pull the bracelet off his arm. Still uncertain if he would be able to hand it over, he wanted to test his reactions to find out if he was coward enough to do it. Come on, you idiot, give it faster! his cells screamed from the top of their membranes. We want to live!

  But his left arm hung motionless along his body, as if it was made of neutronium. He tried again, somewhat more determined that the first time. Still nothing. His own limbs didn’t listen to his preservation instinct, which for the first—and probably the last—time in his life proved too weak to save his tail. He sighed, partly relieved and partly terrified, realizing that he just signed his death warrant. The Sigians won. He wouldn’t betray them that easily, even if his life would be forfeit.

  Strangely, now that he passed the test, he didn’t feel so afraid anymore. His whole body numbed, falling into a kind of trance. You can’t give a whole world like a bowl of siclides, a worried voice whispered in his kyi, a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

  He had the feeling he was looking at himself from the outside, as if someone much braver took control of his kyi, as if the Sigian god was still living inside, begging him to fight for their lost civilization.

  Of course, he knew he was alone—the god vanished when Alala burst into his room. But he didn’t leave altogether: the Sigian left the mark of despair imprinted in his kyi, and Gill realized he’d never escape of it. Never, no matter how many days he had to live.

  So instead of gratefully accepting the prophet’s request, he surprised himself by speaking with a suicidal courage he never dreamed of being capable of.

  “Sorry, but the bracelet is not for taking.”

  “Are you mad?” Alala shouted, appalled. “Do you realize that—”

  Baila made a sign to silence her.

  “Allow me one more word because Antyra’s fate depends on your decision!” he barked with a glimpse of fury in his eyes, quickly hidden under a fake smile.

  Gill hesitated for a moment, undecided if he should run away or listen what the prophet had to say.

  “We’re not going to harm you,” continued Baila.

  Gill threw an incredulous look at him.

  “That’s the truth, Gill. Not because we don’t want to. Let’s skip the veiled words and skillful smell-talk: we can’t afford to touch you. We need your help more than anything, to avoid losing another bracelet—maybe the last one!”
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  “You lost another bracelet?” he exclaimed, stunned by the revelation.

  “Yes,” the prophet admitted angrily, clenching his fists. “It was the most unfortunate accident. We were so close, and then we lost everything. But today, after hundreds of years, I’m finally hopeful—”

  “This is all very interesting,” he said, cutting into the prophet’s speech without bothering to hide his hostility, “but no matter how much I enjoy our little conversation, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  “I’m going to tell you the biggest secret of the gods! Why do you think they locked the Antyrans inside the firewall? As a punishment for their mortal sins, as it was written in the dogma? No, Gill, the truth is that Arghail’s children took shelter on Antyra, and Zhan had to raise the wall to keep them trapped. For one thousand two hundred and fifty years, the gods left us as hostages, imprisoned by flames, along with their greatest enemy!”

  Too bad the tarjis can’t hear you; they’d rip you to pieces for such a blasphemy, he thought bitterly. But Baila’s revelation was every bit as extraordinary as the other things found that day; Gill thought he was the only one who knew the story of the Sigians, yet Baila knew it as well! Or rather, a small part of it. The prophet obviously had no idea who the Sigians were and what fate they had suffered. He even dared to call them “Arghail’s children”—an evilness he couldn’t fathom after touching the kyi of the bracelet bearer.

  “Let’s say I believe you,” he said instead, smiling bitterly. “Still, that doesn’t change anything.”

  “Yes, it does, Gill. You see, my son, I don’t want the bracelet; I have no use for it. But the gods demand it. They need it. You have to give it to them!” he ordered, thrusting his claws at him like a hungry guval.

  Gill shuddered, as if Baila’s immaterial hologram was somehow able to materialize in the room and grab his bracelet.

  “I see what’s on your kyi, my child,” continued Baila with an unctuous voice. “You work for the Shindam, and you think its salvation lies in your hands. But be realistic! Ulben is lost, and you’re wasting your time on his tail!”