Save The Orcs

The Mountain of Thine Inheritance

short fiction from the blackmount universe



You're eight years old.  Your father's arguing with the customs agent.  Something about tickets.  You don't care.  You're trying to figure out how to convince your dad to buy you the next Stories of the Paladins comic book before your flight.  You know they weren't afraid, and so you shouldn't be either.

You're twelve.  Life on the station is easier than it was on Pan.  Your friends pretend to be angels in the microgravity of the loading zone.  You look up from reading to shake your head.  Angels aren't like that.  

You're seventeen.  Your date's arm is around you at the theater.  The latest AdventChampion remake is playing in 360 degree holo.  News about the Vaath attacks can wait for later on.  A hero is about to fight the gods.

You're thirty, in the spaceport.  The pilgrim shuttle's full. A robed friar has been watching you in line.  He leaves his brothers and says something to the pilot.  They let you through.

It is your forty-second year, by solar count.  Soon they're going to announce the duty roster for the three explorer ships.  You look out through the tenser fields to see them hanging out there in the black.  Your name is called.

You turn forty-four the day the ships leave dock.  Witness to History is a fine vessel.  She reminds you of a church with stellar drives.   You're leaving, and you won't be back until the mission's over.  The ship is packed with dignitaries who outrank the air you breathe.  It doesn't matter.  Nothing does. 

You're going to see Blackmount.