Starhaven E-Book

Charles Lankiwicz

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

The first is a trilogy about mankinds return to power after an alien conquest. It contains 41 pen and ink illustrations. It starts with humans at a medieval level on a refugee planet.

Leseprobe

Charles Lankiwicz

Starhaven

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

The Beginning

The outpost of Jelna was quiet in the early morning dawn. The guards leaned on their bows as they looked out of the wooden towers into the deep forest, a hundred yards outside the palisaded walls. The forest consisted mainly of ulv trees, circular in shape, and with circular leaves, the whole laced with fine vines. The smell of cooking permeated the air, and they thought longingly of their breakfast, which they would eat after their relief came.

Suddenly, to their shock the forest erupted with howling, weapon wielding figures: Moraks. They were about the size of a man, but squatter, more powerfully built, covered with a short blueish fur, that gave them an ape-like appearance. Their piercing cry, out of their fanged mouths, sent a shiver up the spine of the human guards. Their weapons were overlarge, with jagged edges and spines. A drummer, beating on a large skin drum added a weird throbbing to the din. Then a standard appeared, adorned with severed human heads, waving in the morning breeze. Finally a horn sounded the attack, and the horde charged the walls.

The guards, momentarily paralyzed, sounded the alarm with a hammer on a brass gong, while the rest plied their bows. Some Moraks went down howling, but it made no difference. In less than a minute, they were at the wall, leaning logs against it with foot holes cut out, and swarming up. The human garrison began to run out of the barracks, half dressed and armed. But the Moraks where already on the walls and inside the outpost. The harsh clang of weapons rent the air as well as yells and screams

of both Moraks and humans. But in minutes the battle was over. Jelna had been overwhelmed with huge numbers of attackers. The garrison was destroyed to a man, their heads cut off, and planted on the palisade walls. Then bright flame licked up and a pall of dark smoke shot up into the sky, as the Moraks burned Jelna.

A courier, mounted on a lator, pulled up a mile away on a hilltop, and watched the smoke rise into the magenta sky. The lator was some 12 foot tall, with large hind legs, which it ran on, and very small forelegs. Its hide was lizard like, as well as its head, but the eyes were large and very intelligent looking.

As the courier looked, he could see a group of Moraks coming down the road towards him. With a grim expression, he turned back and sped to the Pass of Horn with the grim news.

Lars

Lars Pomel sat with the other novices on wooden benches listening to high priest Melo’s lecture. Lars was a youth of sixteen, with even features, blue eyes, and sandy hair. He was slightly built, but with a sinewy strength. They were all clad in the robe of the Priesthood: loose, yellow, and with a cord about the middle. Also they had the haircut of the Priesthood, short and shaved at the sides.

“We all strive towards order and unity,” droned on Melo, bald and well into his sixties. “With tradition, all is well. We are comfortable. We know what to expect, what to do. Innovation is to be discouraged. It interrupts order, and society. Because it brings change, and change can be harmful--Yes Lars?” he said with a frown as Lars raised a hand.

“But innovation can be good. Suppose I found a way to increase our crop yield? Would that not be a good thing?”

“No, it would not. We have enough food–all that we need. More would lead to waste, which is an evil.”

“But..”

“Enough Lars. I will speak to you later. After my lecture.”

Disgruntled, Lars lapsed into silence. He looked at the symbol of the Priesthood behind Melo, a sun with spiky beams, carved into the wood. He wished that he was not a novice in the Priesthood. But his older brother Welan, would inherit the family farm. He was not judged sturdy enough to be a soldier. His good mind made him a natural choice for the Priesthood. True, there he would learn how to read and write, and have access to knowledge, which he valued. He could avoid the hard labor of the farms and the danger of being a soldier. But his life would consist of living in the church, with the other novices and priests, and he would have to accept celibacy, thereby giving up his love for Myra. Thinking of her, made him feel pain and longing.

But even more so was his frustration with being so limited, having everything so proscribed and spelled out. Surely there was more than the realm of Oplo, with its central town, outlying farms, and defending garrisons. He looked longingly at the Azor mountains, which he could see in the distance, capped with snow. What were they like? He would like to go there. And the Moraks, just where did they come from?

A chime sounded the end of the lecture and all the novices stood up. “You are dismissed to prayers. Lars, attend to me,” said Melo.

Lars waited until the other novices had left and he was alone with Melo.

“Please sit down Lars,” said Melo, he sat down beside Lars. After Lars did so, he went on: “You must understand what we are doing here, Lars. You are a bright young man, I can see that. You have a good mind, but do not see wisdom. We have a stable community here. Most are content with their lot. To bring change would benefit some, but be a disadvantage to others. If a farmer were to produce more than others, they would have a problem supporting their families while that farmer would have excess wealth that he did not need. Change is not always good Lars, even if it has some benefits. The main purpose of the Priesthood is to promote the best good for everybody, and that means we must promote stability not the disorder that would result from change.”

“But the farmer that produced more could show his methods to the others, and all could produce more.”

“But to what end? Then we would have a surplus of food. That would enable more children to be born and what would they do. There is only so much land available in Oplo. We would have unemployment.”

“We could expand beyond Oplo--to the mountains.”

“What of the Moraks, then?”

“They have great numbers, true. But if there were more of us...”

Melo shook his head, and said: “Lars, believe me. In time you will see the truth of what I say, of what the great founder of the Priesthood, Alan Holm in his Book of Writings said. I suggest you read it again. Now let us go to prayers.”

Melo got up and Lars followed him to the church. Lars mind considered what Melo had told him but he did not accept it. But if he continued in his lack of acceptance, and he was released from the Priesthood, what then? He would become an Idler. He would be dependant for food and shelter on the Priesthood’s charity, unless he found odd jobs with the farmers. The disgrace would hurt his family, and what would Myra think of him then.

Later, after dinner Lars sat in his room. It was small, spartan with only a cot, chair, desk and dresser. He was looking at a piece of paper he had found in the library. It had been stuck in the back pages of a book, entitled: The Beginning by Alan Holm the founder. It had squiggly lines in various colors, that after a while he realized represented topographical outlines of mountain and hills, recognizing the ones around Oplo. To the far left, or west, of the map was marked a spot, with a dark blue circle. Someone at sometime had crossed out the words underneath it. Why? Lars was very intrigued by the paper. Just what did the blue circle represent? He longed to go there, but he would have to go through the territory of the Moraks. He had no skills as a soldier in regard not only to fighting, but to camping out and riding a laptor. While he was thinking, he heard the chime indicating lights out. He put out his candles and lay in the dark thinking of the days’ events and the paper.

High Minister Groval looked grim as he heard the news about Jelna. The lines on his sixty five year old face seemed to deepen as he looked at the map of Oplo. What to do now? The only hope was the pass of Horn; it would have to be fortified at once. But would it be enough? The numbers of Moraks that had attacked Jelna... He looked up at the ceiling of the High Hall, the sunlight streaming in through the windows lighting up his silver hair. Maybe he should resign and thereby call for another election of High Minister by the landowners. But who would replace him? Volo? He would want to attack all at once, and the army of Oplo would be destroyed.

He looked at General Walter, standing rigidly in front of him awaiting his instructions. A strong, loyal man, good at carrying out instructions, but poor in giving the right ones. He

was nearly as old as Groval, having gotten his position by seniority. He was better by far in defense, rather than attack.

Groval pointed at the map in front of him, at the pass of Horn. “We will defend the border here. Pits must be dug, and filled with stakes, also a high defensive wall must be built.”

“Yes! Yes! I know. Attack! Attack and be wiped out! I do not want to hear any more about Volo!”Walter looked uncertain. Seemed about to say something, but turned away with a bow, walking to the door. Groval sat at his desk, with his head in his hands.

Myra was standing with Lars’s brother, Welan at the market. She was gaily dressed in yellow, which matched her hair. The wind caught her skirts, and blew them around, and she had to hold her bonnet firmly in place. She was attractive, with a strong jaw, small, up turned nose, and a full, red lipped mouth. Her large blue eyes looked at Welan, a taller, stockier version of Lars, but also not as bright, she had to admit. But he was to inherit the farm, and a girl had to look out for herself. She much preferred Lars, but he was in the Priesthood now, and therefore not able to marry.

She looked about her at Oplo. In the distance loomed the citadel, at the center, the last refuge against attack, as well as the meeting place of the Ministers. Around it were the residents of the town people with the temple and market district. Surrounding all, were the high inner walls of Oplo, interspersed with towers, outside of which was a lower wall behind a deep moat. The city was constructed of the yellowish stone common to the area, giving it a pleasant hue with the red tiled roofs.

They walked among the various stalls, which consisted of

food brought in from the outlying farms, and crafts. Normally there was a festive atmosphere here, with shouting voices amid the bright colors, but today all seemed subdued and quiet.

“Gloomy today, is it not, Welan?”

“No doubt the folk are worried about the garrison of Jelna being wiped out–but that had to be due to incompetence on the commander’s part. The Moraks are strong and many in number–but also stupid!”

“Whatever the cause, it is lost and people are worried.”Welan sniffed in answer.

Myra thought: always thinks he knows it all. No room for doubt with him. He is a good man basically–but so obstinate. Lars too could be obstinate, but he, at least was usually right.

Then just ahead, they saw a troop marching through the street on their way to the High Gate. The cadence of their feet sent up a loud shuffling sound, along with the occasional orders of the sergeants. At their head rode the High Ministers son Adrul with his officers mounted on laptors. At the rear of the column was the lumbering supply train.

“With troops like these, how can we fail to defeat the Moraks!” declared Welan.

Myra sincerely hoped that he was right.

After Services and classes, Lars went to the library. He was still thinking of the paper with the blue mark, could he find out more? Perhaps if he consulted Holm’s book, The Beginning, again. He approached the Librarian, old Cosol, who looked at him with rheumy eyes.

“I would like to look at the Beginning, again good Cosol.”

Cosol’s eyes lit up a fraction at the mention of the book. “I will get it for you, Lars. There is much good reading in it for novices–to keep them on the straight path.”