Barbarians

I’ve been here since dawn of time

Countless hatreds built my shrine

I was born in anger’s flame

He was Abel, I was Cain

I am here

I’m hell unbound

Burn your kingdom to the ground

Metallica - “Here Comes Revenge”

Acolyte Nassat knelt before the symbolic flame, his fore and hind legs tucked in close as he bowed his head in meditation. The Saurotaur faith was a simple one, focused on quiet contemplation, and for those that chose the ascetic life filled their days with seeking answers to the Great Truths from within. Did one choose their Path, or did Fate decide? Is Reality something that could be measured, or was it an illusion? The internal debates that went to the core of their faith did not come easily to him, but he had vowed to find the serenity he saw on the visages of the older monks.

“Is Morality constant, Acolyte, or is it a reed in the wind?” he heard behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Nassat turned to see the Venerable Eashray regarding him with hooded eyes, as he struggled to answer the question.

“It is constant, Honored Venerable,” he replied, after a moment’s reflection. “A Morality that bows to outside forces is not Morality, but Corruption.”

The elder Monk drew himself up. “Defend your position,” he challenged.

Nassat swallowed. “Morality is a doctrine that guides us, to help us choose good from evil,” he said. “Good does not cease to be Good because one’s circumstances change, nor does Evil cease to be Evil. An outside force may demand otherwise, but that does not alter Truth.” He looked up to his Master, praying his answer was the correct one.

The older Monk smiled. “Quite so, young Acolyte. Truths are eternal and inviolable. They are the amassed wisdom of millennia, tested and proven again and again. To think otherwise based on a whim is indeed Corruption.”

The young Acolyte smiled in return, his hide rippling with the pleasure of Eashray’s approval when an odd thought entered his mind. “Master...what if we found new data? Some new Truth we had not known before? Could that alter Morality?”

The Venerable’s smile disappeared. “And what supposed Truth do you think we have not yet discovered, young Nassat? Wiser minds than yours have searched for answers since the dawn of our history, and if such Truth did exist, we would already have found it.” He sniffed at the still prostrate male, who bowed his head once more.

“Forgive my impertinence, Honored Venerable,” Nassat blurted out. “I ask only because you teach us to question. Does that not mean there are still Truth’s yet to learn?”

“We teach you to question to learn those Truths,” Eashray said. “To internalize them, and make them your own, not to question the collective wisdom of all those who have gone before. Or do you believe you are more enlightened than they?”

Nassat's head bowed even deeper. “...of course not, Honored Venerable,” he whispered.

The Monk glared at him, and then jerked his head towards the doorway. “Assist in preparing the evening meal,” he commanded, “and while you do, reflect on your transgression.”

“Yes, Honored Venerable,” Nassat replied, as he lumbered to his feet and scurried away before he incurred even more penalties. But as he made his way to the kitchens, his mind kept returning to the Monk’s reaction.

He’d only asked a question.

A soft chime announced an incoming call, as Leandra looked up from the report she’d been perusing...only to blink in surprise when she spied the Governor-General’s official seal on her screen. She took a moment to tuck an errant wisp of hair behind her ear and take a calming breath before pressing the “Accept” button on the com.

“Governor, this is indeed an honor,” she said, as an elder male with silver hair looked back at her.

“Ambassador Singh,” Governor Granville nodded. “I’ve just received a com from the Triumvirate Ministry. It seems your recent visit made quite the impression.” He gazed at her, with no hint as to his thoughts.

Leandra stifled a sigh as she nodded in return. “I was just finishing my report, Sir,” she mumbled. “I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me, and for that, you have my deepest apologies.”

Granville didn’t answer immediately, letting the silence draw out as she fought the urge to fidget in her seat. “Sir,” she said at last. “If you desire my resignation, you’ll have it within the hour.”

The Governor let her stew a bit longer, before shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he said at last. “To be honest, I’ve been expecting this.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You have?”

“For some time now, in fact,” he replied, as a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Leandra, you’ve lasted longer as Ambassador than any of your predecessors. Did you ever wonder why?”

The question caught her off guard, but as she turned it over in her mind, she found herself curious. “Not until now, Sir,” she answered. “I guess I’d always assumed they just decided to move on.”

“They did, but that wasn’t the reason they resigned,” Granville said with a shrug. “Eventually, they were all overwhelmed with the sheer futility of the post…just like you,” he said. “The Triumvirate hasn’t budged a centimeter in ten thousand years on any subject. Even acknowledging us was a huge change in their policy...and it wouldn’t have happened at all if we hadn’t literally landed on their doorstep.” The exploration vessel that stumbled onto the Triumvirate had suffered a mechanical failure and diverted from their original course to make repairs. Earth would have found them sooner or later...the size and location of their region of space made that inevitable...but the first meeting was an accident.

Leandra nodded in agreement. “Nothing ever changes with them. I guess I hadn’t realized how it was affecting me until this last meeting.”

“They can be downright infuriating, and if it wasn’t for the technology they’ve shared, we would have walked away from the table years ago.” He leaned forward, looking at her. “I can offer you another post...perhaps a Cabinet position on Zion?”

“That’s… a very generous offer, Sir,” Leandra said, in something of a daze. She’d been dreading this conversation; certain she would face his wrath. To discover he was anything but displeased with her was quite the reprieve. “May I have some time to consider my options?”

“Take all the time you need,” he smiled. “After all, I’ll need to screen candidates for your replacement. If you have any recommendations, I’d be happy to entertain them.”

“I have a short list,” she smiled. “I’ll forward it to you immediately.”

“I look forward to reading it,” he answered. “Let me know what you decide. Granville, clear.” The screen went blank as he ended the transmission.

Leandra leaned back in her chair and fingered her necklace. It was a tempting offer, as one of Earth’s older colonies Zion would be a step up, and a nice addition to her résumé. It was a shame in some ways to leave the Ambassador post, but the Governor-General was right...nothing ever changed in the Triumvirate.

A cold wind swept across the barren landscape, as a lone warrior made his way up the small hill, to the Place of Skulls. The chieftains of a thousand clans lined his path, each bearing a torch as they waited in silence. Though their technology had advanced over the long bitter years, this place was sacred. Their distant ancestors had first landed here, little more than starving refugees on broken ships, falling to their knees and rejoicing that the Fates had granted them even one more day of life.

Dakik was a harsh world, demanding much from those that called it home. Only the strong survived here, and yet it had shaped his people as a stone hones a blade. A vow was made in this place, long ago, and as time marched on the people of the Khonhim race prepared themselves for the day when that vow would be fulfilled.

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz reached the top of the craggy tor and turned to face the waiting horde. His nostrils took in the acrid air, his jet-black eyes gazing at those surrounding him, old allies and foes alike. He bore the scars of countless battles, and as his fingers caressed the worn dagger at his hip a thin smile of triumph appeared on his lips.

“Countless ages ago, our forebears made a pact,” he intoned to the silent crowd. “They were a beaten people, defeated...the ragged remnants of a once proud race. Hounded from their lands, fleeing with nothing but the cloth on their backs, watching in sorrow as their loved ones were torn from their grasp, and left to perish. This, we remember.”

“We remember,” the horde chanted in reply.

“Those that survived the Dark Years passed the tale to their children, and their children’s children,” he continued. “They vowed that one day they would take back what was theirs, to avenge our honored dead.” Jiyazh took a moment to let the crowd reflect before he continued. “But the Khonhim were few in number, struggling to survive, so it was up to their descendants to fulfill to vow. They charged their progeny to prepare for that sacred day, to hone their skills, and become even greater than they had once been. This, we remember.”

“We remember,” the horde answered.

“And in the fullness of time, Fate smiled upon the Khonhim,” he said with pride. “Our numbers grew, our children lived and thrived, and it was good.” Jiyazh paused once more, as his features darkened. “But the people forgot their vow, turned their backs on the promise of their ancestors. They became scientists, and teachers, and walked the Path of Peace. Fate saw the Khonhim falter and weaken, allowing themselves to become soft and without honor...so Fate intervened once again, and sent to us the Flaming Star, the rock from the heavens. It smashed into this world and brought us pain and sorrow. This too, we remember.”

“We remember,” the horde said once more.

“And so, we began again...but this time we did not forsake our vow. The Path of Peace led to our downfall, so instead, we chose the Path of War. Clan warred against Clan, Tribe against Tribe, brother against brother, and each generation that followed grew stronger than the last. Our People have been to the fire, felt the smith’s hammer as it shaped us, all to prepare us for the day when we would honor the vow.” He searched the crowd, his gaze landing on a grizzled warrior with a single remaining eye. Jiyazh lifted his hand and pointed him out. “Mobhudh and I have faced each other in battle countless times. I have tasted his blade, and he mine.” The older man nodded in agreement, returning his unwavering look. “And yet today, I call Mobhudh my kinsman...for today we are all kinsmen.”

A hungry growl began to spread amongst the horde as they listened to his words. “For today...this day...we fulfill our forebear's vow. This day we mount our ships and return to our ancient lands. This day we take back what was ours.”

Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz, the chosen leader of his people, pulled his dagger from its sheath and raised it to the sky. “This day, we remind those that tried to destroy us we have not forgotten our vow...for we remember!”

"WE REMEMBER!" the horde screamed, as they raised their own blades to the heavens, the howling winds carrying their promise across the land.