The story of “Princess of Amathar” takes place in the world of Ecos.  Notice I said takes place “in”, not “on”, for Ecos is a Dyson Sphere. There is a lot of information on Dyson’s Spheres on the web and quite a bit relates to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation.  I however set Princess of Amathar in a Dyson Sphere long before that episode was shown, having read about it in a role-playing magazine (for the Traveller RPG).

Ecos is a giant hollow ball, about 180 milliion miles in diameter, with its sun in the center. The people walk around on the inside of this great sphere. Though the Ecosian sun is slightly smaller than ours, you can’t tell because it is slightly closer to the surface of Ecos than ours is to Earth. This vast shell provides a surface area that is billions (with a B) of times larger than the surface area of any normal planet.

Ecos was created ages ago by a race of beings known as the Elder Gods. They also populated Ecos with dozens, perhaps hundreds of alien races, who then developed their own civilizations and societies. No one knows what happened to the Elder Gods, but the many races of Ecos continue to thrive.

“Alexander Ashton! Alexander Ashton! You don’t understand!” she cried. “You don’t know! Once you cross into the Garden, you cannot come out again! To come out without your knighthood, is the greatest disgrace!”

I waved to acknowledge her. I could see a kind of fear in her face, even at this distance. I have often jumped into something without thinking, and I resigned myself to the fact that this was probably just such an occasion, though it didn’t quite seem fair that I should bear all of the burden, drawn as I was without my consent. I was compelled beyond my ability to refuse. I saw that Vena Remontar stepped over to speak with the group of templars, no doubt to plead that I was only an ignorant savage. I didn’t watch to see the outcome, but turned and made my way into the wilderness.

I had walked a mile or more, when I turned to look back. The gate was no longer visible, lying beyond a small hill that I had crossed without really thinking about it. In fact, I could no longer see the city in any direction, though I knew that it lay all around me. I didn’t know how large the Garden of Souls was, but there was a small mountain rising up ahead of me, so I headed toward it. I know it must have been a number of miles, but it seemed that I crossed the distance and climbed over the mountain, in no time at all.

When I reached the summit I looked down into a small valley surrounding a blue pool. It was not the most beautiful valley that I had ever seen, but is seemed a nice place to await my soul. I was unsure as to just what I was really waiting for. I knew that the Amatharians met their souls here, but just what was a soul? I could only think of the soul as a mystical force, as in the Judeo-Christian sense of the word, but I knew that the Amatharian soul was different. For one thing, not everyone had one. For another, I knew there was some physical manifestation. There was a force of some kind which made the remiant’s sword glow and cut through anything. I had seen it myself.

I sat down on the ground, below a small tree, beside the blue pool. Try as I might, I just couldn’t feel fearful about what I had done. Any sane person would, I suppose. I had stepped into a life or death situation without any thought at all. If I came out without a soul I would be disgraced and would be forced to leave the only friends that I knew in this world. If I didn’t come out at all, I would die where I sat. Still, I wasn’t sad or afraid or unhappy. I was fine. At least that’s how I remember it.

A slight breeze picked up, and blew low clouds in to block out the sun. I leaned on my right hand, and felt something smooth beneath my palm. Looking down to see what it was, I saw a partially buried skull grinning back at me. I slowly looked around, and for the first time noticed that the ground around the little pool was littered with bones, some with decomposing flesh still hanging upon them. Here were the remains of those who failed to find their souls. I suddenly felt my stomach sink and my loins tighten. Here was the fear that had failed to manifest itself up until this point. I should say two fears, for there were two distinct emotions, and I didn’t know which was causing me the most anxiety– the fear that I would die here, or the fear that I would prove unworthy and drag myself from the garden in disgrace.

These thoughts were still occupying my mind when I noticed a small flame directly in front of me. Something on the ground had caught fire. The fire was the size one would expect from a freshly filled cigarette lighter or five or six wood matches lit together, though I couldn’t quite tell what was on fire. Nothing seemed to be consumed by the blaze. Then the little fire hopped toward me, leaving nothing scorched in its wake, and stopped within arms reach. At the same time, I felt a tickling sensation on the surface of my scalp. I had the impression of thinking a thought, or smelling a smell, or reading a word which I could not quite identify.

“You are my soul,” I said, a feeling of awe coming over me.

The little flame burned and I continued to have the tickling sensation in my head, which continued until it became an itching and then an aching.

As I said this, I swung down. I knew that were we really engaged in battle, her sword would have glowed with power, and sliced through the mundane metal of my own, but for now, the soul was asleep, and we were on equal terms. Actually, I had an advantage of superior strength. She blocked my swing, but was unprepared for the added power, and it knocked her from her feet. Without hesitation, she swung toward my knees. I jumped up, and the blade passed harmlessly below me. The young knight rolled to her feet.

I could see by the half smile on her lips that she was enjoying herself. With a flick of her left wrist so quick that I almost didn’t see it, she whipped her short sword from its sheath and grasped it like a dagger. I chopped down with my blade in an attempt to catch her off balance, but she wasn’t off balance. She blocked my blow with the shorter blade and began to attack with the longer. Then she attacked with both swords, forcing me to defend, and I am sure, hoping to wear me down. Unable to attack for the moment, I began to leap quickly to either side, and then to the back, forcing her to chase me. I knew that it was I who would be able to wear her down first, and after several dozen parries, I could see in her eyes that she was coming to the same realization.

Here was the advantage I needed. I rained a series of blows at her head, then swung with power at her side. Like she had before, Vena Remontar spun around with her back to me and swung her sword, tip down, outward to meet mine. I expected to have a quick shot at her exposed back and left side, but even as she blocked my attack, she had with her left hand, driven her short sword straight back under her arm, and into my stomach.

“Umph!” I grunted in surprise. I expected that I had been cut through, but the tip of her sword merely pricked my skin.

Vena Remontar wiped the tiny drop of blood from her sword tip onto her tabard, then sheathed her sword. With the drawing of first blood, the contest was over.

“I’m satisfied,” she said. “I thought that perhaps Norar Remontar was being overly generous. But you are quite skilled.”

“Still, you defeated me,” I said, still holding a hand over my wound.

“It could have gone either way.”

“Wow,” I said.

“This is most definitely not an Orlon site,” reiterated the Amatharian. “Their technology never reached anywhere near this level.”

“I wonder what else these shapes do.” I said, stepping around to the cube.

I placed my hand on the side of the cube, which felt warm to the touch, and marveled as another giant image appeared opposite the first. This image was of a beautiful green field, obviously cultivated. In the distance, to the right was the edge of a great forest of extremely tall coniferous evergreen trees. At about the same distance but to the left, one could see the edge of a strange and marvelous city. It was made up of ivory colored buildings with reddish roofs– each roof topped by a craved animal figure. In the foreground, as well as around the city, were the inhabitants.

The people living in the strange city, playing around it, and working in the fields looked remarkably like a child’s teddy-bear. They were covered with light brown fur, had very large round ears on the top of their heads, and large expressive eyes above their small snouts. They came in a variety of sizes, probably males, females, and children. Some of the small ones seemed to be playing tag just outside the city. Larger ones were working in the field, pulling up green vegetables of some kind. Still others, of several sizes, were busy within the confines of the city, though just what they were doing was impossible to tell at the present magnification on the image. They were probably doing the same things that humans on Earth did in their own cities.

“I do not know that race of people,” said Malagor. “I wonder who they are, and where in Ecos that place is.”

“Or when,” I offered. “For all we know, that may be a stored image of the ancient Orlons, or even their ancestors.”

Norar Remontar and I were both fascinated by the images, and we began moving around the shapes, placing our hands here and there and watching the scenes produced on the three blank walls of the room. Most were of wild places with nothing but plant life and an occasional animal, though the locale of each was noticeably different. There were scenes of deserts, of forests, and of jungles. Finally I placed a hand upon the sphere at a point as yet untouched and a picture of a hillside replaced an earlier scene on the wall opposite the door. Standing on the hillside were two Amatharian men.

“Bentar Hissendar!” Shouted Norar Remontar.

“You know him?” I asked the obvious.

“He is a friend and kinsman of mine,” the Amatharian replied. “He works within my uncle’s trading group.”

The two Amatharians did indeed look to be kinsmen of Norar Remontar. They were both handsome, with straight black hair and dark blue skin. They both wore black body suits and white tabards with crests upon them, marking them as knights. The first one, whom Norar Remontar had identified as Bentar Hissendar sported the crest of a flaming sun held by a stylized hand. The other’s crest was that of a flaming sun raining light rays downward. They were picking up rocks from the hillside and examining them. Since there was no sound in the images, it was difficult to figure out what was going on. The other man said something to Bentar Hissendar, who laughed and punched the man playfully on the shoulder. Then the two walked off the edge of the image, leaving nothing on the screen but the side of the hill.

“That image at least seems to be of the present,” said Norar Remontar. “though I cannot say where that place would be. Bentar Hissendar looks just the same as when I last saw him, and if I am not mistaken, that other fellow is Tular Maximinos, though I have not seen him since he became a knight.”

“It seems amazing to me that there is no one here keeping an eye on this place,” I said.

“Indeed,” replied the Amatharian. “This is an important find. I am sure that my people will wish to have this chamber under Amatharian control.”

“I think that the Ancient Orlons must have found this place long ago. That is the message in the little room,” observed Malagor.

“They may have found it, but they did not create it. This is definitely far beyond any technology that they possessed.”

“Then who did create it,” I wondered, all the while continuing to press points on the geometric shapes.

I put my palm once again up to one of the shapes, this time the dodecahedron, but this time no image appeared on the wall. Instead a section of the wall disappeared, creating a doorway to a small anteroom. This room appeared to be a smaller version of the room we were in, with similar walls and similar lighting, but with two exceptions– there were no large geometric shapes on the floor, and on the wall there was a black panel with a frame around it, opposite the doorway. The framed panel looked very much like a window.

I stepped into the room followed by my two friends. Crossing the small chamber, I pressed my face up against the black panel, but could discern nothing beyond the glass, if it was glass. I was about to ask if Malagor or Norar Remontar had any idea as to the purpose of the room, when the opening behind us disappeared, sealing us in. A fraction of a second later, I felt my stomach shoot upwards, as though I were standing in an incredibly fast elevator going down. There was no vibration, nor any other sensation of movement, but I knew that this must be what this was– a highly advanced and very fast elevator.

“Ummph,” said Malagor, as the air returned to his lungs.

“We are going down…fast,” said Norar Remontar.

“Yes,” said the furry fellow. “but where are we going down to?”