The Golden Age
Chapter 12
Endymion cursed under his breath as his shin collided with something cold and hard.
He put out his hands and felt a smooth marble surface, chiseled to a sharp corner.
"Who are you?"
He froze. The voice was female; soft like a wind-chime. He reached for his sword and remembered belatedly that he'd left it on Earth.
He spun around, ready to defend himself, but in the shadows all he could make out was the dim form of a woman with long, softly shinning hair. Her features were shaded by the light of the Earth behind her, but if her form and voice were anything to judge from, she was unmistakably beautiful.
"Who are you?" she repeated.
"No one."
Her laughter tinkled like the tintinnabulation of bells.
"Well, No One, what are you doing in the gardens so late at night? Without a light. You must know that's the best way to injure yourself. I've done it many times."
"I -" Endymion closed his mouth. He was completely dumbfounded. She had found a strange man in her path at night and yet she had no fear. There was a regal tone to her voice - a voice used to command - that he recognized at once. His mother's voice had been very similar.
"No matter," she interrupted, "If you'd like me to show you the way out -"
"No!"
He recoiled from her hand. Shaking himself in an effort to break the spell of her voice, he recalled all the stories he'd heard - his bedtime stories, practically - of the arcane powers of the Moon people. This woman must be a very powerful witch indeed.
"Let me go."
The woman seemed surprised.
"Why, I'm not holding you!" she answered, "You seem lost. If you know your own way back to the Mercurian suits, then -"
"Wait."
Despite his fear, he wasn't sure where he was. If he was careful perhaps he could use her to help him find his way home.
"I - you must promise no harm to me. You must swear it now."
The woman stared at him - even in the darkness he could tell she must be frowning.
"Alright. I swear no harm will come to you that is within my power to prevent. Will you come with me?"
"I can't."
"Oh, for Earth's sake, whyever not?" she gave an exasperated sigh and he felt his lips twitch with the urge to smile.
"I'm not a Mercurian," he began carefully.
"I see."
"I'm...I'm actually from..."
"Earth." she finished for him.
"Yes, but how did you -"
"There is something about you - your bluntness perhaps - now that I see you in the light," she paused, reading his face by the light of the garden lamp.
"Yes, you are from Earth. And, if I am not mistaken, of the royal line?"
Endymion stiffened.
"How did you know that?" he growled, "Are you able to read minds?"
The woman laughed again.
"I wish I could, young man," she said, stepping into the soft glow so that he could see her.
Involuntarily he gave a small gasp. She was lovelier than he could have ever imagined. Her fair white hair, almost silver, hung in long tendrils down her back to the ground. Her figure was graceful and petite, her face heart-shaped with that strange wide-eyed look characteristic of Lunarians. Her blue eyes were large, tranquil, and sparklingly clear.
She looked, he guessed, to be about his own age.
"Who are you?" The question passed his lips before he realized he'd spoken.
"I am Selenity, I'm the Queen here. And who are you, young Earth person? And why are you wandering around my gardens?"
"You're the Queen?"
His face went white. If she knew who he was (as she no doubt could tell from her strange powers) then he was as good as dead. His comrades would never know what had become of him - and his father would have them executed without question.
She frowned again.
"Young man, you seem to be troubled. If you will tell me a little of your story, I'm sure I can -"
"Please," he said, kneeling slowly in front of her, "Please. I don't ask it for my sake, but for the sake of those dearer to me than my own flesh and blood, please have mercy. Let me go back to Earth. I will not carry any of your secrets with me."
The queen watched him in bewildered wonder, then suddenly she snapped her fingers. It startled him.
"Astarte, that's who you remind me of," she said.
"W-who? I beg your pardon."
"Oh, you never met her," the Queen continued, waving her hand, "She died three centuries before you were born, I'm sure. You can't be more than...twenty?"
Endymion gulped.
"You are - you....are you a witch?"
"Hardly! Though my daughter might disagree from time to time. Now let me guess, you are one of the royal family? You look just like someone I once knew, quite a long time ago."
"When you knew Astarte?"
"Oh, much longer than that."
He wondered at her sad smile. But she soon dispelled it with a laugh.
"How did you manage to get here I wonder? The borders between Earth and the Moon have been all but closed for the past thirty years."
"I - we - there is a - it was an accident." he finished lamely.
"I see." Her face and tone clearly implied skepticism.
"Why are you not - I was told that, I was given to believe that the hostility between the Earth and the Moon was such that -"
"You have only heard one side of the story apparently," she answered, ruefully, "I don't know what they teach you on Earth, but the Moon has no desire for the continuance of this uneasiness between our planets. But since communication was broken off, we have been left in the dark as to what the Earth's plans are concerning anything - especially foreign policy."
Endymion regarded her with suspicion, but he found it difficult to doubt her words. Even if they were false, she certainly believed herself to be telling the truth.
"Your ministers, perhaps, think differently?" he suggested.
The Queen pursed her lips at him.
"I have no ministers, and if I did, I'm sure they would not think differently."
"No ministers? You govern the entire planet?! But what about your principalities, your under-lords, how can you govern an entire people without -"
"My entire people consists of one hundred Lunarians total, including myself and my daughter. There are no others."
"How...how can that be?"
Endymion steadied himself by grasping the nearby column. His head was spinning. One hundred Lunarians? How could such a force ever prove to be the threat his father had stated? - but -
"As you've probably already deduced, Lunarians live a very long time," the Queen explained, "we hardly ever procreate, and as a result only one or two new Lunarians are born in a century. Our lives span millennia, if we do not grow ill or fade prematurely."
"You are not mortal?"
"Of course I'm mortal," the Queen countered rather sharply, "But not everything mortal lives by the same time span as yourselves. That is something I will never understand about humans, you know -you all think everything must be just like -"
"But your powers," he broke in, wildly, "Your abilities to control others' minds - haven't you enslaved the rest of the universe to do your bidding? Haven't you set up the monsters on Mars as your black sorcerer guards - the Jovians as your elite army with their supernatural strength? The Mercurians as your dark alchemists?"
"Enough!"
The Queen's words echoed through the garden and broke the stillness of the night.
"I would prefer not to hear any more ridiculous, offensive language from you, young man, royalty or no."
Endymion bowed his head. It was all too much to take in. He started when he felt a cool finger tip his face up. Her hand, he realized, felt like any other hand - soft, smooth - like human skin. She was flesh and blood, no matter what kind of blood. He breathed out a sigh.
"Listen to me, young one," the Queen said, softly, "You have been living your life scared of nothing more than scary stories. Let me show you something."
Without looking back she led him to a fountain in the center of the garden, the drops cascading down in perfectly shaped, uniform spheres in a flawless rhythm.
"The Mercurians, the dark alchemists as you call them, invented this fountain - it took twenty years to build. The design is so simple and yet so complicated that to disturb even one drop would cause the entire structure to collapse - and yet you see how beautiful it is. The Mercurians are scientists, artists, and their work deserves to be respected and admired, not slandered."
Endymion continued to gaze at the fountain, even as the Queen pointed toward a large red flower as big as his head.
"This is a Jovian Anemone, grown in the hothouses of the current Queen herself and given to me on the occasion of my daughter's birth sixteen years ago. See the petals - how firm and yet delicate they are - and the fragrance."
He sniffed and was able to detect the heady, rich perfume.
"This is what the Jovians spend their time cultivating, not war. It has been six centuries since the last war on Jupiter - ten since its last interplanetary skirmish. The Jovians fought hard for peace and now that they have attained it they have set up a new government that is entirely pacifist. Their formal armies are disbanded, they have destroyed all weapons, and the only martial arts remaining are those that train in defense."
Endymion felt his cheeks flush the same crimson as the Anemone. The Queen's tone of rebuke was gentle but he felt it like a sharp stab.
"And this chime, hanging there on that column, was left by the Martian priest who blessed this garden for me when I finally completed it."
"You designed this?"
"It's my hobby," she replied, "And it was an honor to have it blessed by such a holy man."
"So you see," she finished, turning to him, "You have nothing to fear. We could not martial strength against you, even if we wanted to."
"Don't you fear us then," he asked, quietly, turning to look at the Earth as it floated through the midnight sky.
"Aren't you afraid of our power - for unlike you we do not spend years planting flowers or building fountains - we are strong and fierce."
"And we admire you for your strength," she smiled, "We even love you for it."
He heard more in her tone than perhaps she meant for him to. He closed his eyes briefly - he wanted to remember this - her beauty, the garden, the sound of the fountain and the chimes, the smell of the Anemones.
"Are you ready to return?"
"Yes."
"Then, young man, close your eyes and don't be afraid."
Endymion took a step back as she raised her hand.
"Trust me."
Her eyes, sad and older than anything he'd ever seen, pleaded with him. He stopped.
Finally he nodded.
"Wherever it is that you want to be, close your eyes and think of it - and, young man, remember, will you? What you have seen tonight?"
He swallowed. He knew he would never forget it.
"Thank you," he whispered, but he didn't think she could hear him - he was already disappearing in a fall of soft, shimmering moonlight.
And then, before he could take his next breath, he was standing in the hallway outside his own room.
He looked at his hands and pinched himself to be sure. And when he raised a hand to his face he could still smell the flowers.