Part one of INITIATION
Thanks to JP for Betaing
Standard Disclaimers
--
Run.
The tow headed boy jumped up from where he was industriously slashing the tyres of the Managers car and legged it down the street.
Sure enough the Manager of the market came out of the door, Accompanied by his aide, a man whom the youth knew had long legs.
..And a hard whip hand.
The boy had been caught stealing from the market stalls the month before. He had been caught and handed over to the ungentle hands of the Manager and his whip happy aide. This had not endeared them to him.
The Manager inspected his deflated car with sadness. (One of only a few such vehicles in Wulvatown.)
⌠That dammable brat.■ The Manager growled. He knew who the culprit was, of course.
⌠I▓m going to have a word with the Governor about him.■ Said the aide optimistically.
The Manager stared at his lackey, ⌠Oh, she wont take any notice, she lets him run wild.■
--
And indeed, Tar ran very wild.
He was a scrawny dirty urchin, dressed in rags, with unkempt blonde (at least it was blonde when clean) hair and hard blue eyes.
He was always in some trouble or other.
Tar mostly lived with his father. His father had a one room hut in the most unsalubrious part of town. His wife had put him there, also given him the job of butchering livestock. This was regarded as unclean, and so Gelruk was unwelcome in the better parts of town.
Tar regarded his Father as very put upon.
⌠You never stick up for yourself, do you?■ He told his father as they bedded down for the night.
⌠You don▓t know your mother,■ replied Gelruk. Normally he was silent. Tomrys had forbidden him to talk. But when alone with his son he would speak, sometimes.
⌠You▓re a wimp, dad.■ Tar snuggled under the sheepskin quilt.
⌠Hush.■ Gelruk cuddled him. Tar accepted this for an answer; his mother and evil twin never gave him much attention. Gelruk did.
When sober. Gelruk did like his drink.
But today Gelruk was not available.
⌠No, I don't know where your father is.■ Said the head of the slaughterhouse, Tar had hammered on the door of the hut for a while, perhaps his father was sleeping off his drinking.
He had given up and gone poking round the pens.
The man in charge of the butchering had chased him off; Tar had stolen off him before.
Tar cursed him and his ancestors in the worse way he knew.
⌠You shut your foul mouth before I slap you.■ The man growled. Tar was very rude. ⌠I don't know where your drunkard father is.■
Tar spat on the ground and sauntered off.
Typical dad. Going away and leaving me to go hungry.
Your father has probably important business to go upon.
Dad? No! He▓s probably sleeping off the kourmiss somewhere. That or mooching around, scrounging food.
Maybe. Agreed the Voice.
Bored and hungry, Tar went to see his mother.
His mother was the governor of the town. She lived in a spacious villa by the river. It was a proper stone built villa, rare in a land where many of the inhabitants were nomads who never stayed long in town. The settlement had grown up by a bridge that had survived the Fall; it was a trading station for the nomads of the plains and mountains.
They came into town with their massed herds of riding deer, camelids, gorals and shoats, to trade for goods they did not make themselves, it was an exciting place to grow up in, Tar had decided, he had been on journeys with the nomads and found their life very tedious. Tar always had returned home.
Even to his Mothers.
-
Tar did not want to run the gauntlet of the gatekeeper, so he climbed over the wall. First of all he scanned around for his mothers pet hyenas that were sometimes let loose in the garden.
Instead he met Mala.
Mala was Tars evil twin. Not to mention mothers spoiled darling.
Mala was a GIRL.
Mala wanted to play with him.
Mala had her gang with her. (Miraculously not shot with air rifle, stabbed, or bitten by hyenas.)
Tar had to play with Mala and gang.
⌠Why hello, sis,■ said Tar innocently.
The girls ranged round him, broken down air rifles, catapults and sticks in hand.
⌠Here▓s one of the enemy, lets kill him.■ Said one.
Playing militia was a favourite game of Mala's.
Tar hoped that none of those air rifles were working or the girls had been able to scrounge any pellets. He held up his hands.
⌠You surrender?■ Asked Mala who would rather have shot her brother dead
⌠Yes!■ Tar was not in a mood to fight, or run. Too many times he had had to have pellets dug out of his back.
The girl behind Mala giggled nastily. They had all heard tales of the Governors conquests and what she did to captives.
⌠All I came for was some food!■ Protested Tar.
⌠We don▓t feed POWs who complain.■ Said one of Mala▓s evil little friends
⌠I don▓t want to be a POW anymore.■
Another hit him with a stick.
⌠Oww, can▓t we play slave markets? I▓m a good POW and I think you ought to sell me as a slave.■ Tar suggested.
One of Mala's worst girls glared at him. ⌠You▓re not worth anything; best torture him to death.■
⌠Id make a very good slave.■ Tar looked at Mala, trying to judge her mood. ⌠Why don't you take me to the kitchens and sell me?■
The girls paused. If the cook was in a good mood they would get cakes in return for rounding up a washer upper.
⌠He's a drunkard like his dad!■
⌠No I▓m not.■ Protested Tar who though he had tried his father▓s kourmiss to the point of a hangover, knew better than to be as bad as Gelruk.
Mala's gang disagreed and tried to beat Tar up instead.
Tar was at a distinct disadvantage in the fight. His hands were tied, and all he could do was take a foetal position and pray to his ancestors.
⌠ZOLTAR!!■ Bellowed a depressingly familiar voice.
It was an Ancestor.
⌠Mother?■ Tar whimpered from the bottom of the scrum.
⌠Did you start this?■
⌠No.■
⌠Always when you play with Mala▓s friends a fight breaks out. You are a bad influence.■
Tar decided not to remind her that Mala needed no help from him to cause a riot.
A body moved aside and Tar found himself looking up at his Mother.
Governor Tomrys Latroise was a tall woman with blonde hair and oddly piecing blue eyes. She pulled Tar out from under the bodies of Mala's friends with one sturdy hand. ⌠I have a small job for you.■
--
The furnace was very big and needed cleaning out periodically. By some misdesign it had a small access hatch, one which only Tars thin frame could fit though.
Furnace cleaning was a particularly nasty job and one that fell to whichever of Tomrys offspring was in trouble at the time.
Four fifths of the time that was Tar.
He wearily stripped off his ragged clothing, and climbed up to the top of the furnace. His mother handed him the brush, and he lowered himself though the hatch.
Which was promptly shut and bolted upon him.
Tar sighed in the stygian gloom of his prison. He could breathe; it was his task to brush away the soot and out the ash hatch at the bottom. Nor was the massive wood hungry (chopped by Guess who?) device cramped. There was no light though.
Tar settled down in the ashes and went to sleep.
--
Tar awoke to a horrid cacophony.
There was a banging on the outside of the furnace.
Tar jumped up. ⌠Stop that.■
Mala▓s evil laugh came though more bangs. She had found a hammer and was putting it to good use.
Tar put his hands over his ears. ⌠Mala!■ He cried in real anguish.
The banging stopped.
⌠Give me that.■ Growled Tomrys. The noise had disturbed the entire house.
⌠Aww, I was having fun.■
⌠Leave your brother alone while he▓s working.■
Silence.
⌠I hope you▓re nearly done.■ Tomrys addressed the furnace.
⌠Yes mother.■ Tar began finally to brush.
--
Presently the hatch was unbolted; Tar screwed his eyes up at the light.
⌠It▓s only me,■ said Mala. ⌠I▓ve brought you food and water.■
⌠Thank you.■
⌠I▓m sorry I was mean to you earlier. I couldn▓t resist it.■
Tar did not say anything to this; It was Mala▓s excuse for everything, such as setting up a door trap of paint for Gelruk on one of his rare visits, or letting the hyenas loose.
⌠Mums mad at me. I▓m spending the night in the cellar.■
Tar decided not to comment. He knew that the cellar, cold and dark though it was a much better place of incarceration than his metal prison. There would be bedding, and a light.
⌠Will you tell our Mother that I have finished?■
Mala nodded. First she climbed up and unbolted the offending hatch.
By the time Tomrys arrived Tar had climbed out.
He stood there, naked, grey with ashes, while his demanding mother inspected the furnace with a torch.
⌠Tolerable,■ sniffed Tomrys. ⌠Now get out to the pump.■
Tar decided not to argue at that.
A kitchen slave pumped water all over a shivering but thankful Tar while a smirking Mala watched.
⌠I've not finished with you yet.■ Tomrys came out of the kitchen with a towel; ⌠you▓re going in the bath with Mala.■
Mala glared at this but her look was wasted upon her mother, whose back was turned to her while rubbing her brothers down.
Tomrys was evidently pleased with her unwanted sons work, that and slightly guilty, for she bathed him herself. Fortunately this was after Mala had been attended to, or else his twin would have taken the opportunity to pull his hair or other bits.
After his bath Tar was rubbed dry and taken down to the cellar. There were several rooms, a root cellar, wine and beer, and a locked store for other matters.
Such as his mothers arsenal.
There was a small munitions dump in there; Tar lived in a society in which most adults had shotguns and hunting rifles, but his mother kept more serious firearms. He had seen the armoury of the town militia; nothing compared to his mother▓s collection.
Just who was his mother? She had had spent many years in the military, and won several medals for work offplanet, but Tar was sure that most old soldiers did not take their armament into retirement with them.
When foolishly he had asked his mother about this she had beaten him bloody.
Tar learnt his lesson.
On the floor was a mattress, his sister already sleeping. Tar climbed under the rough blanket with her.
For once Mala did not push him away.
--
Tar had a low opinion of the militia, and rightly so, they were the worst sort of idlers, supposedly protecting his mothers town from the wild folk of the wilderness, in reality being greater parasites themselves, not a day but they were loitering outside the barracks, if they could get any, drinking and smoking, or if they had run out of credits, idling with their female counterparts or going down the river for a swim and no doubt an indiscrete tryst. In winter they kept inside the barracks, or visited or were visited by their female comrades. Every so often their superiors would inspect them, and they would spend a few days frantically repairing and cleaning kit.
Sometimes they went on patrols, basically an excuse to meet herding members of the opposite sex and warn the wild folk to stay out of town as Governor Tomrys was angry.
They were always getting into scrapes of one kind or another, inevitably petty, and it was the eternal shame of Governor Tomrys that the criminals in the petty courts were often those who were supposedly upholding the law.
Tar hung out with the militia for the stories though, mostly the age old ones.
How once upon a time, their world was not wasteland, but a paradise of farms and flowers. The human population was uncountable, many living in immense cities.
These people lived lives of luxury; even the poorest had a home full of unimaginable luxuries.
⌠Like the governors villa?■ ⌠Pretty similar but better still.■)
But they were never happy and so the universe which had aided them so much, decided to punish them.
(⌠Its best to be content with what you have,■ ■so it is,■ ■but apparently their society could not function without everyone being greedy.■ Tar could not get his head around this.)
Then came the Fall, and the planet was reduced to desert, none survived.
The Luminous One came, he tried to get the people to see the error of their ways.
The people ignored him.
A few did listen; they were the Spirits Chosen People
They alone survived the Fall, and it was them who the Great One helped rebuild the planet, creating the world of today.
⌠The Spirit?■ Asked Tar.
⌠He▓s called by many names.■
⌠The Searing Eye of Enlightenment■ Added a woman at the back.
⌠The Mighty One.■ Said the man next to the old campaigner.
⌠The Great Spirit.■ Informed a third.
⌠The Luminous One.■
⌠Doe he really exist?■ ▒Tar said, for he had little faith in the mumblings of priests.
⌠Yes he does■ said the old campaigner.
⌠Have you seen him?■ ▒Tar was cynical.
⌠He lives in the City of Light■
⌠Tomrys has seen him, that's why she's such a bitch!■
Laughter.
⌠Has she?■ But Tar did not know what to think. People talked about the City of Light in such ambiguous tones, the priests were serious but the common people used the term to mean a place that did not exist.
For none had seen it
Tar heard many stories.
The old campaigner counted the innumerable army of the city of the Spirit, even at a distance ▒Tar could see him hold up his hand; ten fingers, ten, ten of tens.
⌠A very big militia?■ Asked Tar.
⌠And that's not all, the spirit has more weapons than just soldiers.■
⌠He has monstermechs■ another added.
⌠Like in the comics?■ Tar was inclined not to believe in mechs.
⌠Yes■
⌠No one in the Empire crosses the Great One; he has weapons that can level a mighty city to the ground in a heartbeat■
⌠Oh?■ Tar was disbelieving.
⌠As well as the unconquerable weapons, the army is led by the Chosen One himself, the human agent of the Luminous One■
⌠Who is he?■ Asked Tar.
But no one could tell him.
--
When Tar turned twelve he decided to expand his vistas.
It was getting too hot for him in Wulvatown, thieving overlooked when he was younger more often ended in a beating, and worse.
Twice now he had ended up in juvenile court.
One of his mothers other hats were of JP.
Tar ended up on the chain gang.
The overseers and other convicts were kind to him, but this helped not at all.
All that month, Tar worked hard, somehow glad of regular meals and a warm bed in the prison compound. He did lessons too, something he had lagged at.
Tar knew that to get ahead, he would have to learn to read and write well.
Everyone was very pleased with his progress and his social worker was planning on finding a foster home for him. "We all know what your mothers like and your fathers hopeless." He told Tar, ⌠You▓re a promising boy and if you work hard you will go far.■
Listen to the man, Tar said the Voice in his head.
Tar shook his head mentally, no, as soon as I▓m freed I▓m getting on the next caravan out of here. He told the Voice, I▓m not going to face Mala and mum any longer.
Very well, will you listen to me then?
Tar did not reply to that.
--
As soon as he was paroled Tar did indeed leave Wulvatown; Tar packed his bag and left with the nomads. He spent the next six months on the move, doing a bit of work to earn his keep.
When he was in town he thieved, For Tar had little respect for settled people.
He had bought a few books and notepads, a member of the Luminati had given Tar a copy of the book of the Spirit.
Read it well, Tar, advised the Voice
Religion is bunkum, said Tar, for like many primitives, his views were a curious mix of the superstitious and rationalist.
It pays to be pious, Tar the Voice explained.
Or to look pious grumbled Tar.
We will see, replied the Voice mysteriously.
Tar nodded and worked on his reading skills, the Voice helping out sometimes. The Voice suggested the Internet; Tar had never used a computer, though his mother did have one. (Out of bounds to Tar, of course.)
Computers were for silly intellectuals.
Intellectuals are not silly, Tar, the Voice told him. You should know that.
Poncey university students. Sulked Tar who had heard many disparaging tales of such life forms from the militia, many of whom could not read.
So the Voice told Tar of the joys of academia. The serenity of studying, the wild parties at night, full of booze and girls, the satisfaction of learning new things.
Every decent person respects the robes and mortarboard of a graduate said the Voice.
There are lots not decent.
They are lower than slaves...A lot of slaves respect learning; it▓s a good way to gain freedom, and more than that..
This made Tar thoughtful, he decided to humour the Voice for once.
So Tar took a computer course and learned what he was missing.
As the Voice had promised, Tar liked it.
I rather fancy going to university one day, confided Tar. But you need money to go. He paused. I expect Mala will be sent to university when she's older...that or join the military, he said sadly.
You can go back to Wulvatown, Ill tell your mother to treat you a bit better as you have reformed.
Tar shook his head, no thanks...but how do I get there?
I have several contacts, Tar. Reassured the Voice, you can join a monastery as a novice and study for a scholarship. There▓s plenty of ways a smart person can get to uni; I made sure of that, even if they are poor.
That's good, agreed Tar.
--
A few days later Tar was on top of the wooden roof of the covered market, looking for a new and secret way to get in. The doors were locked firmly every night, and there was a nightwatchman who checked them at annoyingly irregular intervals. Tar had to think of something new.
This is a very old roof, Tar, said the Voice as the planks creaked alarmingly.
Relax, it▓s just the same as the one in Wulvatown. I climbed that enough, didn't I? Tar reassured.
That was a newer roof, and you were lighter then! Warned the Voice as a rotted plank gave way, taking Tar with it.
He landed in a heap on a stone floor, to the surprise of the greengrocers whose stall he missed by inches.
I told you it was not safe. Chided the Voice.
Oh you go screw your self! And the youth fainted in pain.
When he came round, several of the stallholders were bending over him, concern on their faces.
Tar flinched back, fearing a beating, his leg twanged with new agony and he whimpered, this was serious.
⌠Your legs at a funny angle,■ said a tall man with red hair, ⌠I think its broken.■
⌠Who are you?■ Asked the woman by him, ⌠you don't seem to be a local boy.■
Tar would not tell them his parents, for fear of what his mother would do.
⌠An orphan eh?■
Tar nodded.
⌠We will take you to the hospice then.■
--
He spent the following month in being looked after by the monks. He was treated kindly, but chafed at the inactivity.
The abbot spent a lot of time talking about religion.
Tar was not against talking about religion.
What made him reticent on the subject was the Voice sniggering every time it was brought up. Don▓t take them seriously Tar...Don't take me too seriously, come to it.
Tar did not know what to make of that. But he wants me to become a monk; I told him I wanted to study for a scholarship to a university...You heard me?
The Voice agreed.
He seems to have the same opinions of universities as do mums militia. He thinks they are hotbeds of carnal wickedness.
No, not all monasteries are the same. The Voice paused, but he is right, there's lots of pleasures of the flesh in unis.
This is the wrong one. I▓m not staying here,said Tar determinedly, Ill go back to the streets.
Do you want to be an outcast all your life?
▒Tar screwed up his face. I don't care; it▓s all I know.
Its fine now, people are prepared to forgive you your thieving.
I steal because I need to eat! He growled.
Oh? And selling that box of jewellery to the fence so you could buy those toys was somehow necessary?
It was easier and safer than robbing the toy store...You told me to be prudent in my thieving.
You did not need those action figures you know.
▒Tar sniffed. You know full well my mother would never have bought me them.
No? She buys your sister what she wants.
She loves my sister very much.
Yes.
Do you know why she hates me? And my father?
Your mother is a very fine woman.
You▓re scared of her too. He accused.
She has many good qualities, I hope one day you will be able to see them.
I wish I were a girl! All the strong people ▒Tat knew were females.
You▓re fine just as you are.
Girls get to wear pretty clothing, they don't have to do dirty work nor do they get beaten as much as I do. Look at Mala.
Mala is neither as strong nor as smart as you are. Reassured the Voice.
Ah, are you so very sure? Tar replied wearily.
No, to get back to the topic of our conversation, you know what will happen to you if you continue like this into your adulthood? You will be caught and sent to a labour camp.
Ill escape!
Or hung the Voice paused spitefully. And do not say you do not deserve it.
You▓ll protect me?
Possibly. The Voice half reassured. I am half tempted to sell you off as a slave.
The youth burrowed under the covers, whimpering. This was a favourite threat of his mothers. She had in fact sold his father several times over the years. (Something the apathetic Gelruk endured.) He did not want to become a slave, though was partially resigned to that fate. You don't know any slavers.
You will be surprised at the amount of people I do know. Some of my contacts deal in all sorts of things in the empire, including slaves. A Spectran slave fetches good money on places like Sigma Minor.
▒Tar was rigid with shock; it was normally illegal to sell a slave offworld, though there were exceptional cases. If you were sent offworld it was a great dishonours and tantamount to a death sentence.
I'm sure there are many nice Sigman women who would buy such a cute boy as you. The Voice informed spitefully.
▒Tar did not like this; He had seen the massive Sigmans sometimes in the market. They were a warrior race, very tough and not known for gentleness towards those weaker than them. He really did not want to be sold off as a pet.
Ill run away! He threatened defiantly.
The Sigmans have some truly vicious hunting dogs. Worse than your mothers hyenas.
They won▓t catch me!
They will if I tell them where you are.
You wouldn▓t dare. The youth was shocked. The Voice could be nasty but this...
Would I not?
▒Tar whimpered.
No, why do not you come and serve me?
You? He had no idea the Voice existed outside of his head.
You are already used to me as a master
▒Tar started sweating. The Voice had served him well over the years. But it was also demanding and could be very cruel. He had an idea it was also in some way responsible for his lowly state.
I▓m not your slave!
Oh you are, Tar, you are... The Voice crooned like poisoned honey. I own your soul, of little worth it might be...at the moment.
▒Tar lay rigid in sweat soaked sheets. Who are you anyway? He though he knew, but was afraid to admit it.
You know me.
I do not.
You know me. I know you.
Go away! Go away and begone!
You do know me? The Voice laughed. A thing the youth had learnt to fear.
You▓re Not my master!
Oh?
Go away, demon!! He was screaming in terror now.
Demon? Tar, I am hurt, I am very hurt.
Begone, in the Name of the Luminous One!
You said my Name! I am touched! I can enter you fully now!!
He sank down into blissful insanity.
--oOo--