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[Alright, here it is! Of all my GaengerWelt settings, this one is the first chronologically, though Modern Heroes is really meant to be the first one to be seen/read/whatever. If you don't get what's going on, don't worry. Hopefully, you will if you stick to it a little, and if you want to know more about GaengerWelt, my fictional universe, you can always go to http://DUNOTS.tripod.com and read the RGO Colour history, or just ask directly at Big_Joe@n2.com. Also, C&C is VERY MUCH appreciated, as this is one of my more serious and involved works. If it draws positive response, I'll post more of it (Chapter 2 is already done), and hopefully move on to the second half of Ariaslied, tentatively called "Ad Infinitum." With any luck, you sods will get drawn into this world much as I have...]
[Oh yeah... all of this belongs to me. All. Period. Don't anger copyright law: at least ask before you use this for anything (as if anyone wants MY stuff...)]
Ariaslied: Concerto Galactica
Chapter 1
A cool breeze eased its way through the light woods outside of Tare'ze, giving the birds an excuse to sing. Amid the pastel haze of the noonday sun, light green leaves rocked back and forth between light and shade, whispering quietly. That same breeze reached across the wispy peace of a perfect day to lift a few strands of stray hair out of their owner's eyes. A lightly sun-goldened hand finished the wind's labor and gently placed them with the other golden strands. Softly, the shining sea of blonde lifted off of a strong gray shoulder.
"Kremonoth?" whispered a soft and sweet voice.
"Hmn?" came a lazy response.
Kremonoth-Abdaar looked into the eyes of the woman he was in love with, waiting for her question. K'zerre was sunning in that noonday summer glow that can only be found in love. Her long strands of straight blonde hair tried to hide her tanned skin and azure eyes, but never quite made it.
"Will it always be like this? Eventually, won't somebody come and stop us? Something has to happen to stop this peace; I can feel it. Nothing lasts forever, not even love..."
Kremonoth was startled by this sudden outpouring of despair, feeling in him the same pain he couldn't account for in her.
"Don't say that," he quavered in his rich Arabic accent, "I... you know that isn't true. I can stop it. I can stop anything. We can sit forever, the sun never setting. The world can't stop us. Not here."
Kremonoth saw the fear in K'zerre's eyes fade away as she looked into him. He was right, and they both knew it. He would make them safe from the world. The world didn't like him; it punished him always. He would be glad to do without it.
From the other side of the glade, he heard a familiar female voice call to him, "Hello! Kremonoth? Are you there?"
Kremonoth and K'zerre broke from each other to look at a woman of about thirty striding toward them. She wore a long, open robe with tight pants and shirt beneath, ideal for activity. This and her telltale lavender hair revealed her identity immediately.
Kremonoth stood up and gathered up the jacket he had been sitting on in one motion. "Right here, Mrs. Kemera! What do you need of me?"
As she ambled closer, he could begin to see details he always forgot: her headband, slightly unruly hair, careworn, but nonetheless strong face. He had always felt a sort of camaraderie with her. She was the only adult who understood him, even more so, it seemed at times, than K'zerre. This was hardly surprising, however, though, she carried the Great Seal of Ke. It was slung over her left hip, as though it was a burden, its dome rocking back and forth. About a foot across and perfectly circular, the outer few inches of its smooth, round shape were a nondescript white material, with the lavender emblem of the Ke lineage emblazoned beneath the glass in the center. He, too, would wear a Great Seal one day. Though still young, less than 19,000 yet, he knew his time was soon. One day, his father would pass to him the black-rimmed Seal of the Abdaar lineage. It was a day he longed for in fear.
"I think I should go," sighed K'zerre in a manner typical of her slight people, "I have responsibilities."
As she stood up, Kremonoth pulled he close and kissed her softly, already waiting for their next meeting. She lighted away, pausing only to acknowledge Kemera's presence.
Kemera sidled up beside him, managing to be both motherly and boisterous. "I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I'd drop by to invite you, too."
"Invite me to what?" he asked, slipping his red jacket over his gray arms.
"See? You don't know. That's why I'm inviting you," she witted, almost condescending. He raised a black eyebrow. "We Ke are inviting your family over to dinner tonight. We're celebrating the engagement of the future Ke."
He thought for a second about the Ke family, trying to remember Kemera's daughter's name. "Oh, um, little... Keja, right?" he guessed.
"You'd know the names of my family better if you weren't out here on the physical plane so often, but how can I blame you? It's love, right? Last time I checked, that's what the Ke lineage was about," she paused, a half-grin on her face, "come on, let's get over to my place."
"To the sanctity of the lineage!" roared Konrad over the din of three families.
At his side, the young Gunther sat drinking icewater, following his father's example. He pushed his light blue hair from his eyes and looked at Konrad, then Keja. He obviously wasn't much more mature than nine or ten, though he was obviously taking the whole room into consideration. He would be dangerous.
Kremonoth adjusted himself in his chair, distrusting his surroundings. He had been seated right at the corner between the far end of the Abdaar side and the Rivel side. He was pressed between his sister Sene and Gunther Rivel. It took little time for him to realize that ten mature children aren't much for intelligent conversation. Eventually, he had given up on talking altogether and was trying to ignore the little gray hand tugging at his robes.
"What is it, Sene?" he whispered through his teeth.
She looked up at him with that deep concern children have, "The girl over there is staring at me."
Kremonoth looked up and started. Across the table was a girl of about Sene's maturity with lavender hair. She was staring with a nearly crazed look Kremonoth couldn't quite place. He realized that this must be the Keja who was being betrothed tonight. He felt a bit of sympathy go out to Gunther.
"Keja, darling, don't stare. It's rude," soothed Kemera's voice from the other end of the table. Keja stopped staring; Sene stopped tugging.
Gunther, on the other hand, showed no signs of being fazed by his future wife. His almost forlorn eyes kept switching from target to target, settling on none. He began to fiddle with his shirt, the same kind as his father's. The split was off to his left side and had only one visible button: right at the corner where it met the collar.
A black dot. That was the crest of the Rivel lineage, the symbol which would inhabit the gray-rimmed seal he would eventually use as his singular button. It held the entire philosophy of the Rivel inside it, as the crescent and circle did the Abdaar and the four-pointed shimmer did the Ke.
The man wearing it was the black dot. Kremonoth had been afraid of Konrad from the first time they met. Konrad was a huge man, not unlike Kremonoth's father, but with a squarer, gravellier feel. His hair was in a messy topknot, hair still jutting at random; this was his most kempt. He did business and had no time for frivolities like brushing his hair or tucking in his shirt. He simply wore his eternal grimace and mistrusted everybody.
Konrad stood up and lumbered to the opposite end of the table, where Kemera and Kremonoth's father were sitting. He began to engage them in some sort of conversation to far away to be heard, but just loud enough to be intriguing.
"You have a good family, Aran!" Konrad thundered to the gray man at the end of the table. Kremonoth strained his hearing to listen to the rest of the conversation, but he was pulled back into a dialog with his immediate neighbors.
"Krey! Play Tel-addir with me!" demanded Sene as she wove a spell to summon a board.
"Um, don't we need four players for that?" he asked, knowing the answer.
"It's okay. Gunther and Keja said they'd play, too," she beamed.
He was amazed by how simply she smashed such an artful dodge. As he sneered to himself, his sister took his silence as acquiescence.
"You talk to Gunther," she commanded blithely, "I'll get Keja."
Across the room, Keja was stuck between her father Tor and Jenne, Kremonoth's mother. They seemed to be having one of those conversations one has at someone else's party. He knew how they felt. It was obvious that Keja was trying to leave, but Tor's firm grip on her shoulder squelched all of her resistance. Kremonoth looked at Gunther's inquiring face. Keja at least had Sene coming to her rescue.
Sene paused on her way and looked at Kremonoth frustratedly and mouthed the word "Well?" widely. Something wasn't right about being reprimanded by a younger sibling.
"Hi, Gunther. So, are you well?" came his token attempt.
"I'm healthy, if you mean that, though you probably don't," came a smooth response from Gunther.
Kremonoth paused for a moment before replying, "You're smarter than you look."
Gunther lightened slightly, "I've been told, though I don't think it's real odd. I am over nine thousand years old. Other races grow up much faster."
He made a good point and Kremonoth had to agree. He himself was almost a thousand times older than K'zerre, yet they were about the same maturity. It was incredible that this child should be so intelligent, yet still only ten mature. Perhaps he would prove interesting after all.
"Gunther, how do you feel about Keja? Don't you think that this arranged marriage is a bit outdated?"
The boy put his hand to his chin in an over-thoughtful way for a moment, "It's true: she is very cute, yet I think that is not enough. I hope she can be as good inside as she looks outside. Then we could be married."
Kremonoth looked up again at Keja, who was still struggling with the hand of order. Sene was able to wrest her from Tor's grip just before Keja took a fair-sized bite out of it.
"So if she's bad inside, you won't marry her?" reviewed Kremonoth, still looking at the ferocious child.
Gunther seemed thoughtful and noted, "I suppose. I think that by that time, I could decide without my dad."
Kremonoth turned his head and opened his mouth to reply just as a soft weight fell into his lap, knocking the wind out of him. He opened his eyes only to be greeted by the smiling, lavender-crowned head of Keja looking up at him. He was mostly impressed by the fact that she had managed to wedge herself between the table and his chest, especially since he hadn't pulled his chair out.
"I don't think one player is allowed to sit on another," he grimaced while trying to ease her off of him without much success.
As Keja slid through his grasp and back onto his legs, she drew up close to his face and gave him a look which was disturbing only when given by a little girl.
"It's okay. We'll be on the same team," she added subtly.
Kremonoth found this girl infinitely disturbing for some vague reason. He quickly turned to the ever-indifferent Gunther and offered, "Actually, this party is for you and Gunther, right. You two are engaged, so you should be on the same team."
Keja seemed a little disappointed as she climbed into another chair. "Anyway," continued Kremonoth, "Sene and I are in the same family. We should be on a team together."
"Thanks, Krey!" Sene said through his chest as she hugged him thoroughly.
Kremonoth caught Keja's gaze on its way to Sene when he began to look for the cards. It was the same one she had given Sene earlier. Kremonoth gave a start as he placed it.
It was the same as one he had seen a lion give a gazelle.
Several hours later, Tor sat on the hood of his vehicle, describing its various outstanding abilities to a few onlookers. It was shaped roughly like a Terran 1990's roadster, in a large part due to the fact that it was a Terran 1990's roadster. More accurately, it was based on the designs for one, which Tor had obtained from a friend at RGO Colour, regardless of the fact that the plans wouldn't be drawn up for some 40,000 years. It shone silver to the best of its ability, struggling against the dwindling light. Devoid of wheels, it hummed dutifully several inches off of the ground.
"These would'a been headers if this thing had an internal combustion engine, but on her, they're the rockets," explained Tor, running his hands along the chrome pipes extending from the sides of the hood, up, and back down to the rear of the car.
"So," asked a man wearing a black feathered cloak, "What is the horsepower rating on this vehicle?"
Tor mentally thanked the man for the question. "It's been rated at 15,400 bhp. Mr...?"
"Inoco."
"Inoco? I think I've heard that name before."
The cloaked man pulled off his hood to reveal stone-gray face. "Inoco-Abdaar. I am currently employed by the Christian God. In addition, I am..."
Cutting him off, Kemera hugged Inoco and pulled back. "Great-grandpa-pa! I thought you couldn't make it. Why, I haven't seen you in twenty-thousand years!"
Inoco looked upward for a moment and replied, "alas, you are right. I was only able to escape my schedule long enough to see you and my great-grandson. I must be off now. Come visit me soon. I have a vacation in the next four-hundred years."
He hunched over briefly and stood again, his flesh replaced by bare bone. A skeletal hand holding a black steel scythe emerged from his cloak and snapped the blade into a ready position. As several others, including Tor, watched the spectacle, his cloak opened into a pair of black wings, lifting his skeletal form upwards and towards heaven. Somehow, he managed to wave his implement in a friendly manner as he swooped past the horizon.
Tor snapped his fingers, "oh, yeah! Grandpa-pa Inoco! I'd forgot. He's Death, huh?"
Kemera chuckled under her breath and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I don't know what I was thinking. How could I fall in love with an idiot like you?" she teased.
A smile crossed his face as he responded, holding her waist, "Just about like this."
Hemuchtos-Abdaar locked his eyes with those of the lavender-haired girl on the other side of the room. Nobody else was watching over her, providing Hemuchtos a perfect opportunity. He began to stride towards her, his gray hair flowing about and behind him, taking note of but still ignoring all else.
"Hello, Keja. Do you know who I am?" he asked in Egyptian, placing his bony gray hand on her shoulder.
She looked up to his face, reading the lines tattooed across it. They traced contours of his face: the nose, corners of the mouth and eyes, and cheekbones - Keja recognized him immediately.
"No, but I know what you are," she shied away.
Hemuchtos put his hand to her chin, "what am I?"
Scared, she looked away, but her gaze found itself back on his face, his lined, wizened, terrible but beautiful face.
"You do not know," Hemuchtos dropped his arm and looked away, disappointed.
"I do! But..." she choked on her words, "You scare me."
"Because?"
"Because you're the... the dark way."
Hemuchtos smiled with thin lips; "I am called Hemuchtos-Abdaar. I am Sene's grandfather. Feel free to come to our house if you would like to... play with Sene. I would be honored to have you."
As he walked from her, Keja still saw the black lines of the dark way.