Seeker's Light (The Tazalian Series)

by N. I. Snow

  “You are somewhat correct. I am indeed free to walk my own path, but that path has no need to be bothered with the Gaia.”

  Zaharak walked past Umelia's specter. She gave him a quizzical look as he passed by and followed him silently. A door opened ahead leading into a room filled with deadly objects. Large razor-sharp knives lined the walls, some with dried, blue blood caked along their edges. At the far right corner was a long, clear box filled with a blue liquid. Electric wires ran through the fluid. Next to this box was a table surrounded by mechanical arms each equipped with a different deadly tool. At the far right corner was a metal chair with plasma cuffs built into the arms. Upon closer inspection one could find that the chair could be heated to molten levels, frozen to temperatures colder than the vacuum of space, or charged with enough voltages of electricity to short circuit a Tazalian cruiser.

  Zaharak ignored all of these as he walked towards an orb-shaped device set in front of a leather chair, this was the Hekti. The Seeker sat down on the chair and Umelia showed her disgust. “An unusual hobby you have. Had I not known otherwise, I would say you are the child of Tarline,” she said, frowning with discouragement from the Seeker's lack of interest in her remark. “Do you truly not care about your heritage?”

  “I have no need to know,” Zaharak replied coldly.

  “You truly are a pitiful creature” Umelia pulled back her thin lips to expose her fangs in contempt. “You have been given the opportunity to find the Light, and yet you choose to remain here playing with your toys. Should Salianos find the Light, what then? He will have no need for you.”

  Zaharak's impassive golden eyes remained on the Hekti's orb. “I will go about my ways as I always have. Should I chose to hunt the Light, it would be for a profit. I am sure there are other creatures in the galaxy that would offer a high price for it.”

  Umelia frowned. “Again, how am I not surprised. That is your one true care in this existence, isn't it? How long do you believe you can continue living in your loneliness before it begins tearing away your soul? No amount of money can fill that empty void in your black heart. Emma noticed this weakness as well despite you trying to hide it. It will be your undoing should you not change.”

  Zaharak's reply was a claw pressing an image on the Hekti's control panel. Umelia's frown darkened as the orb began to glow with a red light and a high-pitched shriek sounded from it. Umelia raised a clawed hand and the noise stopped and the light disappeared. Zaharak pressed another claw on the panel, but there was no response from the machine and he looked darkly at the specter.

  Umelia's spoke in a humorless tone to the Seeker, “I will not be ignored, young cub. It is time for you to face your own demons.”

  Umelia placed a hand on Zaharak's shoulder. He stiffened as a surge of energy passed from her palm into his body. The Seeker's golden eyes rolled back into his head and his neck bent back onto the chair. The opened wound on Zaharak's chest sealed, once more concealing his beating heart.

  Umelia gave the Death Shadow one last heavy look before fading away. Her task was completed. She could only hope that the Ancients were right in choosing Zaharak. They had entrusted the very Light of the Galaxy to the hands of the self-centered Seeker. She had never questioned their wisdom until now. As her soul passed back into the afterlife, she hoped that the visions she had given Zaharak would have their effect.

  Zaharak found himself standing in a cold, dark, nearly barren room. His empty gaze fell upon an infant Tazalian breaking free from the safety of its egg. First its tiny gray-scaled hand appeared; then came its small, blunt snout. Soon Zaharak realized he was watching his own birth. The Seeker caught movement from the corner of his eye. A cloaked figure hurried over to the hatchling.

  The infant Zaharak cooed happily as faded, black-scaled, clawed hands lifted him from the ground. The adult Seeker Zaharak tried to ward off the shock coursing through his scales as the faded black claws held the hatchling gently to a red-and-white robed chest. Though Lutianist appeared much younger than his current appearance, Zaharak identified him easily by the wispy tuft of fading red hair on his head and the calm, clear golden eyes.

  The Elder looked softly at the squirming infant. His calm voice hardly audible, “Hello, my little one. I hope you can forgive me for this room you were born into, but your mother and I had to keep you a secret.”

  A door opened across from Lutianist and the infant. The Elder kept his eyes on the cub making no move to hide him from the figure walking in. The arriving Tazalian was hidden underneath the hood of a cloak, but an auburn-scaled hand appeared out of the depths of the cloak and gently caressed the tuft of silver hair on the infant’s head.

  An emotionless female voice spoke from the depths of the hood, “He is beautiful. He has your eyes.”

  “And I am grateful that is all he has inherited,” Lutianist replied as he passed the newborn Zaharak to his mother. “Eyes are not enough for any to suspect.” Lutianist sighed and his eyes watered as he watched his son snuggle into the folds of his mother's red and white robe, “Oh Shadonel. I doubt I will be able to stand to watch our child turn into a monster.”

  “We have already agreed a Seeker's path would be the right one. Should we choose another, we risk him wanting to know his heritage. You know as a Seeker he will not care about who we are.”

  Lutianist kept his head down, tears rolling down his snout. “I know, but I am beginning to prefer death to seeing my son turned into a murderous slave to Salianos’s will.”

  Shadonel threw an arm around Lutianist and pulled him close to her. The infant Zaharak squirmed and growled between his parents' bodies. Shadonel pressed the side of her snout to Lutianist's muzzle and spoke softly to him, “This is how it must be. We have duties to fulfill as Elders. If you want our cub to be able to survive without us, then we have to do this. If he cannot endure the trials, how well do you believe he can live a normal life should Salianos find out about him?”

  Then Shadonel drew back, both arms holding the infant close to her. “I will put him with the other little ones.” She turned away from the grief-struck Lutianist. “And remember, Lutianist. He is to be treated like the others.”

  Lutianist bowed his head, his soft voice barely choked out his words, “I know.”

  Lutianist kept his head down as Shadonel carried the cooing hatchling out. His tears fell silently to the ground as he shuffled over to the broken shell that had once shielded the infant Zaharak.

  “What about you?” Emma's calm voice echoed throughout the room as Zaharak watched the Elder solemnly pick up the broken shell, “Any happy family members?”

  The vision rattled Zaharak's soul. Though his gaze remained as impassive as ever, his mind whirled. A normal creature would have been overcome by guilt and sorrow, but Zaharak would not, could not feel these emotions. Even remembering the few times he and the ancient Tazalian crossed paths and even recalling Lutianist’s regretful look as he would brush him away left the gray-scaled reptile without regret.

  The room on Tazal began to fade away. Lutianist's heart-broken form lingered briefly before fading away also as Zaharak's own cold, husky voice echoed around him, “I have no care about my heritage.”

  Despite everything he had just witnessed, Zaharak remained stoic. Deep down in the pit of his soul, however, it bothered him. He had seen displays of emotion before, but never toward him. He had never been bothered about not knowing his family. He had never cared if they knew whether he was alive or not. Confronted now with the pain Lutianist was in when he gave him up. Zaharak was, in a sense, unnerved.

  “He still cares about you,” came a deep voice at Zaharak's side, “Even after two hundred years, his heart still bleeds when he thinks about the life he denied you.”

  Zaharak turned his head to see a golden mist figure of a bronze Tazalian. The figure's golden eyes stared blankly through the gray fog, his voice was stern, yet kind. “You may not care about your past, but he does.” The figure noted Zaharak's silence. “I can see this
has barely affected you. Then perhaps a glimpse of your future should you allow Salianos to retrieve the Light will weaken your stone heart.”

  The darkness faded to reveal Salianos standing on a cliff’s edge with his arms folded across his robed, faded blue-scaled chest. A black cape billowed around him as his violet eyes peered coldly down at a large city occupying the valley below him. Building tops barely reached to the cliff tops. The once underground city of Xempor now scarred the surface of the canyon, and a haze of smog smothered the buildings threatening to choke the Tazalian citizens, who were walking or driving hovercars to their destinations.

  Behind the High Elder, Zaharak watched as a much older version of himself walked towards Salianos. His tattered hat was pulled down barely allowing his emotionless, dimming yellow eyes to be seen. The once fine leather jacket lay in shreds against his slouching shoulders and broken spikes. The old Zaharak stopped a few meters behind the High Elder. The Seeker waited silently for Salianos to acknowledge him. The two remained there for some time with the only sounds coming from Salianos’s cape billowing in the wind and the city life below.

  “This is an unexpected visit Seeker.” Salianos turned to face the aging Zaharak. He gave the silvering gray-scaled Tazalian a cruel smirk, “My, how the years have gone by. How old are you now, Zaharak?”

  Zaharak opened his mouth revealing rows of either dull or broken fangs. His guttural voice, though softened, still retained its lack of emotion, “Six hundred and forty-two standard years, Gaia Salianos.”

  “And yet you hardly look a day over four hundred,” Salianos replied mockingly. “What brings you here, Seeker? Having money troubles?”

  Old Zaharak shook his grizzled snout. “Hardly. But I am finding it difficult to find anything to work on. I have come to ask if there are any resistances that need to be destroyed.”

  Salianos turned back to the city. A cold look played in his violet eyes. “All those years of training and now you are left with nothing. The other two Seekers killed themselves long ago to end their uselessness. I am surprised you have not done the same.”

  Zaharak snorted. “They were weak.”

  “We have no disagreement there.” Salianos turned his violet gaze to a small building at the edge of the city. “You know, when I first discovered you to be Lutianist's son, I feared you; but then you did what was expected.” A light began to shine in both of the High Elder's palms. “You sold me the Light.” He turned his head slightly to peer at the old Seeker, who remained emotionless as always. “I wonder, do you still hear that human's screams when I tested this new found power on him.”

  “I never cared for him,” Zaharak's reply was blunt.

  Salianos returned his violet gaze to the building. “Of course. It was the girl you were always fond of.”

  “Not quite the term I would of used. She was an investment, nothing more.”

  “In any case, she is still frozen in her cryogenic slumber should the Gaia decide to break its vow. She was a good little hound.”

  Zaharak snorted. “As interesting as this update is, Gaia Salianos, I came only for any knowledge of a resistance outbreak.”

  Salianos lifted his right glowing palm towards the small building he had been studying. “There is a rebel group meeting in that building. They believe themselves safe from suspicion in such a populated structure with citizens surrounding them.” Suddenly the light on Salianos's hand flickered, and the building erupted in a brilliant explosion. Sirens sounded throughout the city as innocent Tazalians rushed around in confusion. Salianos spoke grimly to the old Zaharak, “You see, Seeker, I no longer need you.” The old Zaharak bowed and turned away from Salianos.

  Despite himself, Zaharak was taken aback by the show of respect his older self displayed. He had lived his long life making sure he was superior to the High Elder. Yet there he was, nearly begging Salianos for a mission, a purpose. It wasn't possible; this had to be a trick of the Ancients.

  The image faded away once more into darkness, but nearly immediately, it shifted and changed into a new scene. This time he was in the pilot compartment of the Valkyrie looking down at an ancient version of himself. His grizzled, silvery white-scaled snout rested against his bare, bony chest. His misty golden eyes, half-lidded and nearly shrouded by his long wispy white hair, stared blankly at the ground. Thin long arms hung limply at his side with his clawed hands barely touching the ground. His long tail curled around the base of the chair.

  “Master,” came the empty voice of the Valkyrie's A.I. “It is feeding time.”

  The ancient Seeker did not move.

  “Master?”

  “Leave me be, Valkyrie,” Zaharak's guttural voice was barely audible. “It is time.”

  “Understood. I will start shutting my systems down.”

  The young Zaharak knew what was happening. As the A.I. began shutting the ship's power off, he watched the dim light in his older self's eyes fade away. His long empty, life had come to a lonely end.

  “An odd thing to watch oneself die is it not?” came the deep voice of the phantom Tazalian. “You could have lived much longer, but you chose to sit here alone day after day with no one to talk to, nothing to hunt, in essence, no purpose to continue on. The emptiness in your soul finally broke you. It will be thousands of years before anyone finds your ship. When they do search it, they will find no one aboard, your bones will have already decayed into dust and there will be no trace of your glorious scales. The only being in the universe that will remember you will be the same Salianos laughing at your fate.”

  The young Zaharak knelt down beside his own decrepit corpse. He reached down and lifted a thin hand with its broken claws into his own strong grip. The deep voice continued, “Is this truly how you want your life to end?”

  Zaharak stared into his own dead, golden eyes. For hundreds of years he had perfect control over his emotions; but now, forced to see how his chosen path had begun and would ended, those suppressed feelings began to tear at his heart like a pack of altoni. The Seeker shook his head and whispered, “No.”

  “Then you know what must be done to change your fate.”

  “Zaharak,” Emma's voice called to him. The Seeker's eyes snapped open erasing his own dead form from his vision. He sat at the Hekti's controls, his entire body shaking. He placed his snout in the palms of both clawed hands. As he tried to calm his nerves, he heard Emma's voice close to him, “Hey, Scales-for-brains, focus!”

  Zaharak blinked the memory away. He was still sitting in the pilot's chair aboard the Valkyrie. Turning his head, the Seeker looked over at Emma who in turn was looking at him with an alarmed expression on her face. Beside him, the warning for incoming transmissions blared. Zaharak hardly noticed it as remnants of the memory still flickered through his mind.

  “You're beginning to frighten me more than before,” Emma remarked while backing away from the Seeker.

  Zaharak seemed to not be listening to her. His thick voice asked, “Where were you and Lutianist going?”

  Emma frowned and narrowed her stormy eyes with suspicion, “Why should I tell you? Going to sell the Gaia to Salianos?”

  Zaharak sighed and shook his head dejectedly, “I know your hatred for me is nearly limitless, but you must trust me.”

  “You've got to be kidding me.”

  Zaharak lowered his head believing Emma meant those words for him, but Emma was recalling the message she had been given in a pyramid eight years before, a message she had believed was meant for Kahluna. Now she was confronted with the possibility that it was meant for Zaharak. “When the time comes, little one, do not be afraid and trust in the Seeker.” The poor girl was in a deep shock.

  Salianos paced impatiently in the hull of his ship while Tigret tried to get a transmission through to Zaharak. The Seeker had been known to ignore Salianos's calls before, but knowing he had the girl and knowing his true heritage made the High Elder anxious. He had waited too long to find the Light; he wasn't about to allow some arrogant sell-swor
d-of-a Seeker stand in his way.

  “High Elder,” Tigret's steel voice cut through the faded-blue Tazalian's thoughts, “the transmission went through.”

  “Finally.” Salianos hissed walking over to a pillar in the center of the room. “Bring it up.”

  A holoscreen appeared above the pillar bringing with it the cold emotionless golden eyes of Zaharak. Salianos felt a small shiver run down his spine at the reminder of a pair of similar eyes. The High Elder narrowed the violet slits of his own reptilian eyes, and his raspy voice, lined with annoyance, acknowledged the Seeker, “I have been trying to contact you for the past standard hour, Seeker. You know I hate waiting.”

  Zaharak spoke without care to the High Elder, “I know.”

  “I am sure you are aware of why I am contacting you.” Salianos folded his arms behind his back.

  “Indeed. You want the girl returned and I am more than willing to give her to you for that reward you were offering the mercenaries.”

  Salianos felt relief flood his blue scales. He had been a fool. Despite Lutianist's belief in Zaharak, the Seeker was all too predictable. “Of course. I will have the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand cardonans transferred to your account when I have the girl.”

  “The reward was five hundred.” Zaharak replied.

  Salianos frowned, his violet eyes burning with rage. “That was for both Lutianist and the girl. Since I know very well you don't have the old fiend, I will only give you two hundred and fifty.”