anny b. howard
CASTLE CITY MANIFEST

If ignorance is bliss, give 'em hell.
_ccm vog 04

local settlement date 35,992

Where ignorance rules, fight it with intelligence.

King Namor Zujahrah

24 back to the ocean


In the next village there was official priest patrol. It was much like the last village. The land belonged to the priests as did any wealth and the rest of the village was dirty, smelly and impoverished. But the brew was again good. As was the soup. The priests were locked in their own jail under the authority of the royal family. Land rights were revoked. Reclaimed by the royal family. Namor explained how the village was to be rebuilt. He explained about sustainable agriculture and industry for trade. He promised that the royal family would return with books. If a local government could prove itself to meet the royal family's guidelines, there would be no taxes and no mediation.

In the next town there was a barricade of armed patrol priests across the river waiting for the fighter of the Havatara games and the King of the new laws. Both were not welcome. The patrol priests fired enough burning arrows that the visitors were forced to dive into the river.

"Why the bleeding beast don't they just give up their pathetic fighting and invite us in to listen to your protocol."

"Because, you beautiful beast, they have everything that there is to have here even if it is mostly illusion. And we are taking it away. With no compromise."

"Yes, Drave King, I am aware of this. But still I am tired of their resistance."

"Without resistance we would not need to become stronger and wiser."

Barbaralba pushed Namor out of the way of an incoming arrow.

"You take the others up the bank and let the arrows fly. I'm going to swim by them and put together an army. Don't shoot when you see the river swell in front of them."

Namor knew better than to argue. Even if she took an arrow in the back. He watched her strip then disappear under water with her knife strapped to her leg.

Namor explained to the others what was happening and counted out the timing on the shots so all six arrows would fly at once. With the moon behind a cloud, he could not see Barbaralba but he could see the slight swelling of the water behind her movement.

He counted shots until he saw the water moving just before a patrol priest. He knew Barbaralba would need air. He also knew she would kill a priest for shock value. Namor counted and watched Barbaralba bust out of the water, put her knife around a priest's neck and fall back in the water with the priest to disappear again. The three priests who had seen the nearly naked creature slaughter a priest ran screaming holy curses. Shoal had opened its gates.

Barbaralba's little surprise caused enough confusion that Namor and the rest of them could disappear into a nearby wood lot. From there, they saw the rest of the confused priest patrol running away. A few priests had fallen at the river. The rest of the priests were obviously headed to their house of God for refuge.

Namor and the other five followed the panicking priests. The priests were already far enough ahead that it was pointless to shoot arrows at them.

By the time they found the house of God, Barbaralba had surrounded the estate with a growing army. The building was a stone temple. On the temple walls hung several prisoners. Naked and broken from torture. From above them, priests poured burning animal fat. The screams reminded Namor of the burning beast.

"Your terror rule ends today."

The priests did not hear Namor's scream but many others did. They threw stones at the priest standing high up behind their walls. Barbaralba organized the building of a battering ram. A tall tree was cut down, the branches hacked off, then a second and a third. The rebelling army ran with their battering rams at the walls. The priests threw fat and knives and a few prisoners but their defense was too little against those who wanted the temple torn down.

"Your monster God is a dead lie."

No one heard Namor. They saw his rage. They heard the screaming and yelling and the slow cracking of the house of God. Eventually a wall gave way and crumbled. Fighters climbed in one after the other to find the priests. And quickly slaughter them.

After the fighting was over and the looting was finished, Namor explained the protocol of Angel Island and made suggestions how to govern their natural wealth and how to protect their land and water so that there would be life for their children's children.

And then a few days later they continued down the river.

The farther down the river they travelled, the bigger the settlements. The bigger the settlement the bigger the estate of the priests and the more impoverished the dwellings around it. The closer they got to the ocean the more the people were prepared to fight for Barbaralba and her King from Angel Island. Some cities had city counsels appointed to learn what it was that the Protocol King had to instruct them.

Most of a year had passed since Barbaralba and Namor jumped from their burning schooner in the harbour of Havatara. Their journey on two of the great rivers of Barbancor was coming to an end.

At the mouth of the mighty river was a great walled city. The inner inhabitants where highest priests and the high priests. Outside the great walled city the roads were paved with stone. Even the smaller dwellings were made by craftsmen. Stone, metal and wood on solid foundations. It was one of the more wealthy cities Barbaralba and Namor had seen in their travels.

A warm salt breeze kept the air fresh even if the river and sewage system stank of waste and death.

Before the first river control, the seven foreigners disembarked the river boat that had been their home since the river had been deep enough to carry boats. Barbancor was almost behind them. All they needed was a way to get back over the ocean to Angel Island. It was a problem that Namor had been trying to ignore. He hoped with the money they still had that they could hire a fishing boat.

The streets were busy. The people in the streets were busy. They took little notice of Barbaralba and Namor. Or the strangers with them. There were so many people doing so many different things that a few visitors made little impression. The city seemed to be oblivious to their arrival. Namor was hoping this was a good thing and that they could go unnoticed and leave Barbancor.

It took most of the day to make their way through the city to come to the very busy ship yard. Namor knew that some of the children and older people had seen him, seen Barbaralba, seen Saharah and known.

They stood and watched the happenings of the ship yard.

"They have some pretty impressive looking war ships. They are not like ones we have seen before."

"They have metal. Their ships are of wood and metal. From where do they have the metal. They have more than a little metal in this city."

They decided to find a soup kitchen. It was usually the best place to get information without looking like they were looking for information.

They found a modest kitchen overlooking the ocean. It was not a beautiful view with all the chaos of forgotten industries or homes but it was the ocean.

Some answers were on the wall. A map of Barbancor. They were in the city Gadavida. The only large city of the west coast. All along the west coast were bigger and bigger islands down to Castle City. Island of the Damned.

"Island of the Damned doesn't sound so friendly. Let's say we are from Snow City until we get out of here."

"Let's not say too much till we get out of here."

"Metal Islands. Look at the row of islands."

Nobody did. Namor said it mostly for himself. He puzzled over the idea of islands of metal in a very convenient line all the way to Angel Island. Getting there in a fishing boat was well within the scope of possible. They could almost take canoes.

"Metal Islands."

The owner finally came to their table and Namor left the map to sit down.

"What are you drinking."

"If I had a brew, I would drink it."

Brew and soup was ordered by all. The brew was not good. The soup was also disappointing. For Namor it was a very bad sign. It was enough to make him very nervous. He remembered the Old Man explaining to him, him a Zauqir, the philosophy of a good brew and a good soup. It was the most essential part of the basics of a social skill. If that was not right, it was simply not likely that anything about that place was any good. Namor thought about the people he had seen so far in the city. Except for the very young and the very old, they seemed to hide behind their business. Afraid to look out. Beyond their own affairs. They were trapped worse than Havatara. At least in Havatara they understood a good brew and a good soup.

"We put them there. From the dirt road."

Namor pulled a piece of meat out of his teeth and put it in his unfinished soup. He looked up to see those at his table looking at him. He had almost forgotten they and he was where they were.

"The islands. The Metal Islands."

He took a sip of his brew.

"The fresh water on our island is put there, flows there, since the machine was put there to do it. We put the thing there so we could have water. Without the luxury of water, we would have lived on Barbancor. If we visit one of those islands we will find no rivers or streams. And no metal. Just whatever is left after we took what we wanted. And obviously some of the metal came this direction. But nowhere else."

Namor could feel other ears straining to hear what he had to say. He whispered so that his voice would not leave the table.

"We had the technology to do it. We haven't used the technology for over 30,000 years. Don't ask me why. Or as they say here. God only knows."

He thought about that for a while.

"This planet might not have had metal when we got here, and we wanted metal, in fact, we are metal mad creatures, so we bring it from the dirt road. From outside the fifth planet. If metal is anywhere, it can be brought, or sent. To crash into a planet. I know this seems impossible. But with a star ship it isn't. And we have one and we put metal on this planet before we put us on it. It is simple math."

Barbaralba smiled. Namor laughed.

"And if that is true. Then I am certain we had metal on the planet we came from. Or we most likely never would have got off of the planet."

Cardinal Saharah stood to look at the map and the row of Metal Islands.

"Maybe I'm way off. But on the other side of the mountains there is almost no metal."

"You seem to be able to explain the world quite well, Drave King. But can you explain that such a brew be brewed. They have served others the same brew. It is not that they have served us their special bad brew for visitors who are not welcome."

"No, Barbaralba, I can't explain it. It makes me rather uneasy and I would like to get out of here if the rest of us are finished."

Everyone nodded their consent.

"We will buy, hire or steel a boat and set a course for the old man's soup kitchen."

Barbaralba was at the bar paying for the food and drink they had not enjoyed when patrol priests rushed in. There were so many knives and swords and hungry angry dogs pulling on chains and barking, that there was nowhere to move.

Barbaralba felt hands all over her body, removing money and metal.

"Your sorcery days are over. Move when you aren't directed to move and you will have your head separated from your body."

They were all removed of their money and metal and accused of sorcery. Namor wanted to ask what sorcery was but knew it did not matter.

They were labeled the enemy.

Namor was not surprised to see that inside the walls of the priest was little different from Castle City. Symbols were different from Castle City. Construction was different. Still, with a monster God as the foundation, it was the same luxury through slave labour.

They were lead to a well-lit courtyard before a dark prison. Namor could feel the eyes looking out from behind small barred windows like he had heard voices out of the beast.

Though there was no sound, he heard it clear. What are you going to do, Drave King.

"War Lords from the Island of The Damned."

"I think he means you and me, Drave King."

The point of a sharp spear was thrust just short of Barbaralba's nose.

"You speak, sorceress, when you are instructed to speak."

"He means you, Fish Queen."

The point of a sharp spear cut into Namor's arm. He felt the blood roll down his arm. The dog next to him barked and strained on its chain until it had been beaten repetitively on the head.

A large crowd had gathered. Countless priests and their families coming out to see the famous sorceress and sorcerer and get tickets for the morning burning.

Namor looked back at the crowd over his shoulder. The crowd. It was more than priests. Members of the higher echelons of the outer city who lived near the walled holy city, had seen the light or heard the news and were also interested in an event that attracted so much attention.

"Confess your powers of sorcery and your souls won't be damned."

"Our sorcery is knowledge and technology. We are prepared to trade our knowledge and technology for goods and services. And most importantly, an end to war. Otherwise we will destroy you."

"You speak boldly for an accused man behind a sword."

"I am only the messenger. Terror rule has run its course. We are space travelers and have an objective."

"What is you objective, Space Traveller."

"Our objective. Was to bring life to this planet."

"Blasphemy."

The crowd cheered blasphemy. They wanted to see a live burning. Such things did not happen every day.

The priest in charge of the inquisition, however, was not so ignorant as the crowd. Even at sea level with a good looking glass and thousands of years of wondering about heavenly bodies, one sees a space ship. One might not understand it. But one understands that one does not believe the monster God lie that was used to rule the slave class. One knows that if that dark thing with a shape was made by people like themselves or people unlike themselves.

Anything could be real.

"Take them to their cell and open the ticket booths and set the stage."

The high priest left the stage that would become the main event in the morning.

The seven convicted were taken to a cell. They passed many cells on the way to their cell. In the dim light, the faces of prisoners looked out at them. Their cell was the last cell in a long labyrinth.

"Maybe we can scratch through the rock before morning. Someone before us already started."

"I think we should rather save our energy and ambush them. We can grind dirt in their eyes. Let them think we have accepted our end. Until we are next to a crowded cell. If we all act at once, we have a chance to gain weapons. Then we will find a way to open the cells and we have at least a mob to go before us. Or with us."

"King Namor. I like how you think."

Barbaralba was trying to imagine something similar but it seemed more possible when Namor said it.

"We have too much yet to do. It can not end here like this. I refuse to die with the taste of a bad brew and poor soup lingering on my tongue."

Barbaralba explained how they would count. How they would get the prisoners charged to fight with them. How best to break bones. How to fall back into an animal trance that allowed no hesitation. How to be one frightening beast.

They practiced into the night, slowly. Relaxed. Taking short breaks.

During one of these short breaks, Barbaralba felt the floor bang under her as she sat looking at the dim light in the door frame.

She jumped up.

"What the bleeding beast."

A hatch opened up in the floor, sending dirt and dust around the hole.

In it stood the high priest. He was wearing a smile, even in the dim light it was obvious that the priest was quite pleased with himself.

"Okay, Space Travelers. I believe you. I will take you to the Island of the Damned."

He made it clear that they were to follow him down the stone stairs. Damp, dark and echoing the sound of crashing waves. They followed the sounds bumping up against the walls on both sides of them. The high priest knew his way in the darkness, the rest followed closely in his footsteps.

They splashed their way to the waiting rowboat.

"The water didn't come up this far thirty years ago. I do not believe that it is coincidence that you have come. That the people are waiting for you. Even if I admit to not believing in God. Something quite grand is at play here. And I have never ever in my life had so much fun as I am having this moment."

The priest was laughing. No one was quite out of the cell long enough to understand his pleasure.

Namor knew there was significance to the water level and it was part of the reason he could start believing they were not walking into a trap. He followed the high priest onto a rowboat. The weapons that had been confiscated were all in the boat. As were two men, obviously ocean fit, with oars in hand.

"Off to the Island of the Damned."

"In a row boat."

The priest laughed.

"No, my friend. I have a fleet of ships. We are preparing them to attack your island."

The priest laughed until he managed to contain himself.

"We will take one of them tonight. I have wanted to visit the land of sorcery a very long time."

"There is no sorcery."

"I'm well aware of that. My friend. I am a high priest. The highest priest of Gadavida. I don't believe in anything."

The high priest laughed all the way to the ship.
chapter 25