23

A Graveyard of Ice

"I don't believe it! I just don't believe it!" Earthquake exclaimed, hopping up and down on his powerful pistons in agitation. The short, round Lunattack was in the control room of Skytomb, as the Lunattacks returned from taking the offerings the townspeople had set up for Mumm-Ra...or rather were supposed to. It was the day for the village of Tisatria to give their goods. But when the Lunattacks came with Skytomb and the five or so Lunattacks approached, they were not greeted by the dozen or so humans that usually met them, but a small army of about fifty fighters and a few villagers. Shocked at first, the Lunattacks had only listened to the apparent leader's blathering about freedom and not bowing town to their rule anymore.

When they got over their surprise, Fintii had stepped forward with Havoc and grabbed the spokesperson. He had been a young warrior. Had been. Havok had crushed the young man, bear hugging him until his ribs cracked, and buckled in, and his lungs were squeezed and ruptured. The others had watched in horrified fascination, and the Lunattacks had thought that this would deter the rest of them, but they attacked! They dared attack the Lunattacks of Plundaar!

They had taken some injuries, but in retaliation for this outrage, they had taken Skytomb and terrorized the entire town, blasting buildings down, firing at the town square, scattering humans like bowling pins. They had finally left with the admonition that next time they had better have a double offering or there would be problems.

Icrii growled, nursing a sprained arm and a slash across her face. "They learned their lesson. Those miserable humans will not dare defy us again, not unless they want their village destroyed."

"You can't bring a people to their knees if there are none to kneel, Icrii," Earthquake said peevishly. The Lunattacks had been outraged, as this was the first resistance they had seen. Psychren, also known as Psycho, had had a good time retaliating.

Icerii was wrong, though. The people of Tisatria, the last village young Saber had traveled through before journeying through the empty forest, and the wastelands beyond, did not intend to grovel. They had discovered what Saber had known for a long time: enough was enough. They had lived in oppression long enough, under the tyranny of a lord they had never even seen. There were many that wanted to submit, that wanted to protect the village. However, a certain village elder was thinking of a dark skinned warrior from the Dark Continent, and a small boy from a faraway village that had the courage to do what none of his people had before. No, his people would not be beaten down this time. Because enough was enough.

Unaware of how he had affected that village of humans, Saber had entered the massive castle in the snow, and stepped inside. The huge doors shut behind him, making the boy jump, and he was in darkness. He had seen windows on the outside, but the sun had set, and they would not admit light until morning.

Saber sat down on a hard, smooth surface that almost felt like smooth wood, and again took off his wet boots. The floor was cold, and had it been light enough, Saber could have seen his breath puff from his mouth, but the wind could not touch him inside here, although it howled eerily outside. Moving in pitch-blackness, and his shaking becoming more that of excitement and fear than cold, Saber moved barefoot through a dark, silent hall. He walked slowly, his hands splayed in front of him so that he did not run into anything but it was a long time before he did. At the end of the long hallway, his numbed feet encountered something soft, and peasant to the touch. He bent, removed a glove, and felt the floor. Carpet! He knew some people that had carpet! And it was soft. Cold, but soft.

He did not now where he was, but he knew he was better off here than out there, and laid down right where he was. He could sleep until first light and then see just where he had ended up.

When he did open his eyes, Saber thought he must be dreaming. But when he sat up, yawned, and rubbed his eyes, he knew he was not. He vaguely noticed that some of the feeling had returned to his feet, whose skin was red and angry-looking, and he just as vaguely realized that his half frozen body was a little warmer. However, that was not what had him so awed. The room he was in, the room that led from the long hallway was huge, vast. It almost could be the home of a giant, he thought as he looked around. It looked like a library, with shelves of books lining the walls, and large, comfortable chairs around the vast room. There was a he fireplace at one end, which Saber was never so happy to see, and next to it, a large pile of firewood. Above it was a glass case with a large sword inside, the hilt looking like it was made of gold, and above that a portrait.

Saber stood a little unsteadily and approached the picture above the fireplace. It showed a...person? A creature, perhaps, although Saber felt that he was sentient. It was a face that had coarse fur covering it, with sharp, intelligent looking eyes peering from the thick fur. It had the same features Saber's own face had, but they were heavier, more feral looking, and meaner if Saber had to describe it. And yet, there was pride in the carriage of the creature' head: it looked like someone proud of his people, honorable.

Of course, that was a lot to assume, but the way a person held his head could tell a lot.

"What is this place?" Saber asked himself, even as he knelt to drag a large log from the pile and shove it in the fireplace. He grabbed a few twigs obviously put there as kindling, and after a little while had a nice, warm fire going. He stripped off his wet clothing, hanging it on the poker nearby. He hung his belt and dagger there as well, and set his boots, gloves and hat in front of it as he warmed himself by the flames. He sighed in relief. He'd thought he would die out there in that frozen wasteland where it seemed the only thing alive was he.

Well of course, he was the only one foolish enough to be traipsing around in the dead of winter, he thoguht to hismelf, and laughed.

But here... While his body thawed, more or less, Saber looked around the room. The chairs were huge: not just oversized, but scaled differently, as if for people seven, maybe eight feet tall! That was almost twice Saber's own height. As the fire warmed the room, and Saber could feel all his body parts again, he climbed up into one of the chairs and found it was very soft and comfortable. Well that was his bed for a few nights. Now that he had found this place, he did not want to leave any time soon. He had enough supplies from his hunting and the last town. He hoped.

After just resting and recovering for a few minutes, Saber got the urge to look around; he still did not know if anyone lived there. Leaving his pack behind, he grabbed his clothing and boots, which had finally dried by the fire, donned them, and stepped hesitantly back into the hallway. "Hello?" he called cautiously, walking down the tiled corridor, and looking up at the windows at the end, casting the sun's light into the hall. "I-is anyone here? I'm not here to steal, or attack or anything!"

But he did not hear, sense, smell, or see anyone as he made his way down the hallway. He saw other corridors branching from this one, and thought that it would take days just to see the whole building. He opened a door, and gasped.

Behind this door was a long, long room, with a long, long table in it. It looked like a banquet hall. His own
village had something similar, although not nearly as grand, ornate, or as big. But that was not what had made the boy gasp. Seated at this great table were thirty or so creatures like the one whose portrait was above the fireplace...but they did not move. They were not alive.

Perfectly preserved by the cold, the people, as it was clear now they were sentient people, mostly sat at the table; although some lay on the floor, as if whatever had struck them did so when they had risen from their seats. Whatever it was must have been quick.

Chilled, and not by the cold air, Saber walked shakily into the freezing room among the dead warriors. He saw blades, and lances of ice, and shields of stone and metal. Most were not carrying these weapons, as it was clear it had been meantime, but some had them in hand, perhaps hoping they could fight what attacked them.

He found himself thinking of what the Unicorn Guardians had told him so many months ago: the latest disaster to hit this planet had been a weapon from another world. A gas weapon, which had changed the very air, and killed off many species. It must have been quick for these people. He hoped it had been painless, although the eternal expressions on the faces were that of pain.

He looked to the left to see one that had remained standing, who must have fallen against the wall, and by chance been balanced long enough to freeze that way. Gooseflesh ran across his arms and legs as he realized the face of this frozen warrior was familiar. It hung above the fireplace. Even in death, this warrior snarled defiantly, clutching his mighty lance, holding his shield before him. But now the shield hung limply, and the lance pointed at the floor, frozen eternally.

Shuddering uncontrollably, Saber ran from the room, and back to the secure feel of the library, where his life-giving fire burned. He curled up in the large chair and tried not to think that hours before that awful event had happened, the creature had probably sat in that very chair perhaps reading a book, or just enjoying the fire.

The boy decided he did not want to do too much more exploring that day, although before he lost the light, he did look around a tiny bit, avoiding the banquet room, and ready to find any more of the dead giant-men. He did not, but he did find what he was looking for: the kitchen. It was well stocked with food perfectly preserved from the icy temperatures, and he pulled down from the cupboards food he hoped he would be able to eat. He would find out. He had had to climb up onto the tall counters, but had managed. He had tried the ornate-looking water pump, but any water that had been in the pipes was long frozen without people there to run and warm the castle and its water systems. That was all right: he had fire, and he had snow. He would have water.

Saber brought the meat and the strange looking vegetables to the library, and thawed them by the fire. Using his spear, he set the meat over the fire to cook, while eating the newly thawed greens. They tasted decent enough. There was plenty of food, and plenty of wood. Saber could stay here for the bitterest part of the winter, and move on one more when the weather began to warm a bit.. He had been gone over half a year now, another month would not be anything. Yes. He had enough here to keep him alive and comfortable for a month.

The boy did not get sick from the food he ate, and he was glad at that. After that first time in the Berbils' village he did not want to go through that again. Curling up in the large chair, Saber fell into a secure, exhausted sleep.

Part 24: Fighting for Freedom

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