It was a thoroughly emotionally exhausted Lady Lo who entered her chambers in the Palace Royal after flying her ship back from the Qar Province. Somehow, no matter how many hours she put into the machines, nothing was quite as soothing as flying a zitidar. Sadly, it would take another ten moon cycles before the creatures, used mostly by nobility, population grew enough to risk flying them again.
A recorded message from her assistant, Lirya informed her that the critically injured Dar-Ur was aboard a medivac craft and would soon be installed in a Regeneration chamber in Kandor. She rubbed red-rimmed eyes, took a deep breath, and thought reflectively about Zor-El. He had been the decisive leader their people needed during an epoch of great chaos and anxiety. Rather than wasting time in endless debates and additional geological research, with his brother’s Jor-El’s assistance, they had pushed through decisions to create the great ships that would securely bring them to New Krypton.
Normally, as a whole, Kryptonians were an even-tempered people. They held their emotions in check, but were not heartless. Sadly, the thought of disrupting their comfortable existence perhaps caused more consternation among some than the end of their world. Because of Zor-El’s resolve, Polara and millions of others were alive and safe.
She thought bitterly, if only he had not fallen victim to this crippling disease. All of this – Nor’s rebellion, his numerous attacks on the provinces and the ideological battle between out-moded traditions and living and thriving on this new planet – might not have taken place.
The only thing she did not regret was reuniting with her grandson.
Unfortunately, Zor-El’s death had brought other, more disturbing memories and images cascading down upon Lady Polara Lo. For the first time, the weight of age began to feel evident in every muscle and sinew. As she removed her flight suit and prepared for sleep, those images, at first shadowy, rose sharply into focus with each passing moment…
Old Krypton
It was during the last weeks of Krypton’s existence that ominous signs throughout the planet appeared, heralding its massive destruction. The atmosphere felt hot and dry, and the pungent smell of sulfur hung thickly in the air. Many observed dark, threatening clouds approaching from the west. It was thought the clouds were part of one of the normal thunderstorms, which usually appeared late in the harvest season.
As the clouds drifted overhead, heaped up in picturesque disorder, a steady rain of frightening, fine light-colored ash, and not familiar, life-giving water, began to fall, plunging much of the city of Kandor into darkness that lasted all day. The ash clung to buildings, swept over roads, covered farm collectives, and crept into machinery, blanketing the world in a silencing, all-encompassing dust.
Lord Zor-El and most of the members of the Convoca were certain this was the first indications of the planet’s death. But for many of both the nobility and common class, the very concept of their home coming to a fiery end was a difficult concept to grasp. Nevertheless, in that moment of endless ash and smoke, Zor-El knew that the truth must be faced. With a heavy heart, the First Lord called a final meeting of the Convoca on Krypton.
Zor-El said, “My lords, the ash rain continues to pour over the ground. It is time for those chosen to evacuate to our new planetary home to do so.”
A rumble of discussion filled the immense hall. Words like ‘Truly’ and ‘We need more time’ punctured through the air. Lady Polara Lo stood by Zor-El’s side, frustrated by the lack of decorum in the hall. She wanted to clash the sword of Lo on the great ebony table but decided against such an aggressive move. The Lords and Elders had to leave the ancient council chamber, gather those of their families who were chosen to survive, and depart on the great ships. Delay would only get them killed.
Surreptitiously, she had sent several messages to Lara and Jor-El to go immediately to the Throneship, the Aeryn-Ka. But they had never responded. She knew they were involved with helping their servants evacuate, but to imagine that both of them would ignore her repeated calls, each growing more urgent than the last was unreasonable. Something was desperately wrong.
Abruptly Zor-El’s voice cut through the din. “Discussion is at an end! Men! Brothers! We must evacuate now. This council will reconvene via omni-beam from the Throneship.”
Nor’s voice rose up through the din. “This could be another set of tremors. They have been taking place for several moon rounds. It’s no reason for us to abandon everything we hold dear!”
Zor-El made a slashing motion with his hands. “If you and the rest of House Il wish to remain, do so at your own peril. Still, it is doubtful that your sire feels that way. Where is Zay-Il? All members of the Convoca were supposed to be here.”
“Making certain our family’s place is secure.” With those words, Nor-Il squared his shoulders with an insolent bow, turned his back on Zor-El and departed the chamber.
Something about his tone and words chilled Polara. She touched the First Lord’s sleeve and said, “I have contacted all the members of my household who are slated to evacuate. Neither Jor-El nor Lara have responded to my calls. I am taking my zitidar and going to Abondar.” She did not say that she had a terrible feeling as to exactly where the paternal head of the House of Il had gone. If that were truth, Jor-El, Lara and her grandson were in danger.
“Be quick, my lady.” Zor-El said grimly.
With a nod, Polara joined the other council members departing the building.
***
Lady Polara-Lo, alighted from her winged steed, the zitidar, Nimitz. The creature’s body was well over ten meters in length with extensive, powerful wings made of skin, muscle, and leathery membrane. A triangular head and large intelligent eyes that sparkled like gems. Despite its fearsome appearance, zitidars were peaceful, gentle reptiles used by the nobility for transport around the planet. Polara knew that taking Nimitz was wrong, the loyal beast should have been aboard the Aeryn-Ka with the rest of its family. In this time of aerial transports filling the skies, it was kinder to lend her personal shuttle craft to the evacuation effort.
As her feet hit the ground, Nimitz snorted, expelling the ash that filled it’s nostrils. Polara moved up beside her head and stroked her neck speaking comforting words. Nimitz, although gentle hesitate in carrying Lady Polara into combat. The rudimentary bond that Polara had with Nimitz allowed the zitidar to know that Polara was headed into danger and her loyalty to Lady Polara was driving her to distraction at being left behind. She snorted again, and Polara gave the hand signal command, the equivalent of ‘stay’, and watched as Nimitz settled on her haunches. Polara could sense the frustration of Nimitz, but she was satisfied in the knowledge that Nimitz would obey her command. With a final pat, she turned and struck off on the trail of Zay-Il.
A short distance away, Polara could see Zay-Il’s steed and swore under her breath, hating that her suspicions were correct. It was similarly settled on its haunches. She called out one final command to Nimitz that she wasn’t to bother the other creature, before taking up the trail.
As she started following the trail through the cleft that led to the ancient caverns. That way lead to Abondar, she thought to herself. He is here before me so that he will have the advantage of position and time to seek concealment for an ambush. I must be very cautious.
As Polara moved through the cleft, she checked her equipment. Her breastplate and back plates were firmly buckled in place. Likewise were the greaves and shin pieces. Upper arm guards attached to the shoulder pieces, while her forearm guards attached below. The gloves she wore were mailed with overlapping plates on the outer surface. The inner surface was made of supple leather with a light coating of tacky resin to assure a firm grip on her weapons. On her head, she wore a leather skull cap, and over that was a light chain mail hood under the helm of a lightweight, but strong alloy. While some helms had additional face guards, Lady Polara favored a helm without that extra piece, feeling that it could shift and obstruct her vision at an inopportune time. The alloy from which her armor was constructed was a dark, almost black color. From a distance, one dressed in this armor looked like nothing so much as a black four-legged insectoid.
She fingered her weapons hilts. Her sword was in its scabbard slung across her back. Her long dagger, almost a short sword in its own right was in her belt on the right side, at the ready for a left-handed draw. Her short dagger, fashioned more a stiletto, sat on her left hip.
Feeling confident that her weapons were ready, she proceeded with cautious confidence up the path.
As Lady Polara entered the caverns, she noted how it’s environment and formation had drastically altered. Normally, the air would have a hint of humidity, yet now whatever moisture was there had been sucked away by the ashfall currently covering the planet. She knew this place, as did many of the nobility, it was the back passage to the House of El’s Abondar estate. Some of the features were stalactites, stalagmites, towering passageways, and heaps of fallen rock. One passageway had been cleared and used to enter into the estate. Once the passage had been cleared the atmosphere was no longer moody and dark, but still conveyed normal sounds, such as wind, echoes, mineral water dripping, and tiny animals scurrying over the stone floor.
Recent jaggered fissures had crisscrossed through that stone, a byproduct of Krypton’s planetary crust heaving against itself, heralding the death of a world.
Her throat felt tight and drawn as she moved forward and every sense was on alert, It was time to put aside any thoughts of family or the disaster currently tearing through their planet. On instinct, she swiftly, drew her sword with her right hand.
This sword had been in the family Lo for centuries. Its blade had been forged from a single piece of meteorite that had fallen from the sky, landing fatefully on the traditional grounds of the holdings of the family Lo.
The Lo Matriarch at that time, Lady Kahlyn, had commissioned the master swordsmith, Trejorn-Un to produce the blade. The process of creating this blade had taken months to complete. The meteorite’s metal had been heated and pounded out and then folded and pounded out again, time after time. When this process had been done twenty times, the forging of the blade had finally begun, and the elegant blade was shaped.
It had a gentle curve from the tang to tip. The curve was not as drastic as that of a saber used by mounted troops, but it was not straight like a rapier. It was long, over an arm span, but perfectly balanced.
The sword had a single edge, contrary to most of the swords of similar size forged at that time and that edge was as sharp as a razor. The back side was thick, thicker than the center of the blade of a broadsword commonly in use. The tip was unusual also, it didn’t simply taper to a point like a rapier. Over the metal of the tang which became the haft were two carved lengths of ironwood held in place by a mass of leather thongs plaited in a complex weave. The slightly scaly texture aided in maintaining her grip on the hilt. The hilt was long enough to use two hands, however, unlike a broadsword, which needed two hands to swing, because of its weight, this sword was much lighter and could be used one-handed or two-handed as the situation demanded. The guard was in the shape of the symbol of House Lo.
Lady Polara continued moving into the caverns cautiously, her highly trained senses aware that combat with Zay-Il could commence at any moment. Since were many outcrops in the rock affording places of concealment, she charted a course which would not take her too close to any place that could be an ambush. She was nearing the center of the caverns. As she moved deeper, the gloom of being underground was slowly relieved by a natural phosphorescence in the rocks, which imbued all surfaces with an eerie green tint to except for her armor, which seemed to simply absorb and not reflect any of the light. Her sword, however, glowed with that same green radiance, reflecting the color from every surface. The sword looked like a thing alive as it wove a pattern before Lady Lo.
As she was cautiously advancing she heard the noise of a dislodged stone, off to her left. She spun in that direction, and brought her sword up, overhead with the back of her blade resting in the palm of her left hand. Her blade was held at an angle, her right arm stiffly extended, and her left arm bent. Her blade was twisted slightly so that the blow wasn’t taken directly on the cutting edge, but behind it almost on its stalwart side. There was no fear of her blade snapping under the impact because of the quality of its metal and design. Within only a second of completing her move, a blade struck hers and skittered down the length harmlessly. As Polara had suspected at the last second, the a stone had been thrown as a decoy to distract her from the true attack.
The force of Zay-Il’s blow caused her to stumble slightly because she had expected resistance from her blade sinking into the body of her adversary. When it didn’t, she almost fell forward. She recovered quickly and brought her blade up in a guard position protecting her own neck. With no time to spare, Lady Polara quickly shifted from defense, and with a two-handed grip, swung at Zay-Il. The force of her blow almost knocked the blade from Zay-Il’s hand. But his blade was in turn angled in a defensive hold, causing Polara’s blade to skitter down Zay-Il’s, only impacting the basket hilt.
Polara jumped back, out of Zay-Il’s range, in case he swung again, but instead he assumed a defensive posture, allowing his adversary to recover.
Zay-Il barked, “You had the advantage. Why didn’t you finish me? I would have finished you.”
Polara responded, “That is not the way of House Lo. We win by fair fight, not by ambush and trickery. Our planet is dying. Our respective households need us in the uncertain days ahead. So rather than trying to kill each other let us call a momentary truce. Why are you here?” So saying, Lady Polara brought her sword up using a single right hand grip before her face in a salute and then swept her blade around and out to the side, her arm at a down angle with the blade extending straight out from her hand continuing the straight line.
“I could say the same to you! Go back. Board the Throneship, and depart. My way is clear.”
“The clearness of a madman!” Polara snarled.
Zay-Il brought his sword up before her face in a similar salute, honoring the truce, instead of going out and down he brought his sword up as in a high parry with the mid-point of his blade directly above his head.
With these opening stances, the two opponents warily circled. Lady Polara swept her blade across her body and then spun the blade around, spinning it in her hand until her grip was reversed and the blade hung down from her hand.
As Polara was making this move, Zay-Il, thinking that he would have an opening, swept his weapon around in a right side sweeping horizontal cut in an attempt to gut his opponent.
Seeing Zay-Il’s movement, Polara blocked her blade crossing her body to cover her left side. Zay-Il’s blade impacted Polara’s blade near the mid-point and stopped. Polara shifted her stance, taking a half step back on her left foot squaring her off directly against Zay-Il’s blade, which was bearing down against Polara’s with all of Zay-Il’s considerable brute strength as he tried to force her to her knees.
Polara’s grip on the hilt of her blade did not falter in the slightest. Her blade’s strength was as solid as the rocks around them and just as unmoving.
In a lightning fast move, he pulled back his blade and whirled around for a backhand cut with the reverse of his blade. He was attempting to hit Polara’s right side, hoping she’d be taken off guard after he’d just attacked her left.
Sensing what Zay-Il was doing as soon as the pressure lightened from her blade, Polara swept her blade across her body to the right in a mirror of her previous defensive position, taking the blow easily.
Zay-Il took a step back to disengage, then brought his blade up into the en garde position.
Lady Polara obliged him by spinning her sword around so that she was using a forward grip rather than the reverse, and brought her blade up to touch Zay-Il’s.
Then began a barrage of furious blows, all initiated by Zay-Il – high right, low right, high right again, high left, high right, low right – all searching for an opening in Polara’s defense.
Each blow was met by Polara’s blade as she parried, intentionally giving ground as she put space between herself and her attacker. She used a single-handed grip to match Zay-Il’s, which gave her the speed to counter her opponent’s attempts.
After the fourth pass, Polara saw the pattern that Zay-Il was falling into and knew that there would be a brief opening shortly. She waited patiently for the opening to appear. After a low right sweeping cut, as Zay-Il was shifting his weight for an overhead cut, Polara struck with the speed of a viper. She found a spot on Zay-Il’s forearm that was unprotected by armor, in fact it was the underside, and her slashing cut not only drew blood, but it also cut the strap that held that part of his armor in place. Zay-Il’s forearm guard began to flapping around with each movement, becoming something of a hindrance.
It was the turning point of the duel. With that blow, Lady Polara, who had been acting on the defense to this point, now took the offensive. She started to rain down blows on her opponent with the rapidity of raindrops falling in a thunderstorm and it was Zay-Il’s turn to give ground. Polara’s blade being the heaver had more effect on Zay-Il’s blade. Where Polara’s would remain rock steady, Zay-Il’s gave way.
Zay-Il was hard pressed to ward off all of her blows and he failed on a few of his attempts, however his armor proved his salvation in those instances. Before the two stepped back, separating for only a moment to catch a breath, there were several scrapes on Zay-Il’s body armor attesting to the number of times Polara had scored hits. Polara’s armor gleamed blackly in the green phosphorescence, unblemished.
On the next pass, Polara allowed Zay-Il to take the offensive again. Unfortunately, this time when she gave ground, her right foot came down on an uneven spot on the packed dirt of the cavern floor. For a second, she lost her balance! Even though she brought her sword up to guard, she wasn’t fast enough to completely prevent Zay-Il’s overhand strike. She felt a burning sensation on her forehead and suddenly she lost sight in one eye. Her blade hadn’t been high enough to prevent the tip of Zay-Il’s blade from scratching its way down her forehead, laying it open to the bone and slicing her left eye. The hot blood poured from the wounds and Polara knew within seconds she would begin to feel light-headed and pass out. It was time to end this battle.
Continuing the upward movement of her blade, she swept Zay-Il’s blade up and away as she spun around. As she completed the movement which would bring her back to Zay-Il, her blade spun in her hand again until she had a reverse grip. Grabbing the hilt in a two-handed grip, she thrust straight back under her right arm close to her side.
Polara’s blade, made as it was of the superhard meteorite metal, forged by the premiere swordsmith of Krypton, and propelled by the power of both of Polara’s arms, amazingly, it struck and slid off Zay-Il’s armor.
Polara turned swiftly, switched the sword to her right hand and was ready to face her opponent again. She swore to herself that the House of Il would not win this battle! As they both raised their lethal swords to strike again, a massive vibration tremored under their feet. The sickly phosphorescent glow of the surrounding rocks wove about them with a dizzying effect. Polara, already feeling the effects of her wounds, had trouble maintaining her equilibrium.
“The final eruption of Krypton has begun!” Zay-Il shouted.
“Quickly, let us forget this fight and leave here! Our steeds can get us to the spaceport. By now, our families must be on their assigned ships.” Polara said this while wiping the left eye which was covered in blood.
The big man looked down on her and said with a strange calmness. “My path is …set. I will not go to New Krypton. I leave the task of building a new world to my son and his offspring. But first, you and Jor-El’s family will die.”
Another frightening rumble of sound and vibration filled the air around them. Polara keenly felt the wildly erratic shifting of Krypton’s Teutonic plates as the soil and rock shuddered with greater violence with each passing second. Zay-Il lost his footing and fell. Just as quickly as the tremors began they ended. All was quiet.
“Zay-Il …”
Before Polara could finish speaking she heard the sound of powerful leathery wings stirring through the air and shower of rocks and pebbles moving as a scraping of sharp claws ran over the hard packed surface of the ground.
Nimitz entered the cavern and not far behind was Zay-Il’s own steed. Polara felt a profound sense of relief seeing the animal. The beasts halted and with frantic movements of their heads indicated to their owners, time was of the essence. In answer to the steed’s summons, Polara turned her back on Zay-Il, which proved to be a near fatal mistake. Rather than go to his own zitidar, with sword at the ready he ran toward Polara and stabbed her viciously in the back. The severe burning pain of the attack sent a fire throughout her nervous system and then all went black.
New Krypton
Now, safely in her bed chamber in the Grand Palace, moments from sleep, her mind rolled back from the events of that searing day; the memory of Zay-Il’s sword strike still had the power to make her back burn as phantom agonies from long ago haunted her very being.
She had awoken in the sickbay aboard the Aeryn-Ka, with one side of her head covered in bandages. The sword wound in her back had been treated and now she lay in a zero gravity bed to accelerate the healing process. Nimitz had somehow managed to stop Zay-Il from killing her and with no doubt had some difficultly to take her to the Throneship. A grim faced Zor-El had informed her of the terrible news; Lara, Jor-El and their infant son were not aboard. It was expected that they had perished in the cataclysm.
Tears were shed and her heart shattered amidst such a profound loss, Polara had wanted to coil away like some ocean shell creature, but as always, the needs of her people, the weight of duty, forced her to emerge from the sick bed to be seen by not only inhabitants of the Throneship but also those on the other great ships.
She was Lady Polara first. The maternal head of the House of Lo and must lead her family and those who depended on them through this celestial voyage to their new home. Her role as grieving mother and grandmother had to play second. She was not the only one to lose loved ones.
Days later the transport which was to bring Lara and her family to the Aeryn-Ka caught up with the travelers, at first there was much joy, only to discover it had arrived empty. Seated in pilot’s chair was a data crystal which informed them Lara and Jor-El were prevented from leaving their residence. Nonetheless, their infant son had been placed in a tiny vessel and sent to a planet called Terra. Jor-El had imbedded the star coordinates of the planet within the data crystal. He hoped that someday, either Zor-El or Polara would be able to find Kal-El and bring him to their new home.
Polara had long wanted to travel to this planet and find her grandson. Yes, she had other relatives, but Kal-El was her only direct descendant. Sadly, so many other concerns had pushed that determination aside. Settling the colonists in their new home was a big enough project in itself. All resources were to be used to shelter, clothe and feed more than ten million people, not track down the nephew of the First Lord.
Five moon rounds had passed before the business of building a new world allowed Lady Polara to send a ship to Terra. The vessel was about to be launched when one of the crew developed a suspicious cough and severe headache. Little did the inhabitants realize these were the first signs of the deadly atmospheric sickness.
It was not until many moon rounds later that attention could be turned to her quest to bring Kal-El home.
