by Reiter
“What are you saying, fool?” Gantee barked, churning up contempt of Dungias that faded in the time it took his elder sibling to take another step. There was something to his Vu-Prin, shay-spawn or no, and when he set his golden eyes upon a person, few could ignore him.
Unlike Danatra, Gantee had actually seen the events that had been reviewed by the analyst. The first he had watched with gritted teeth, hoping the Grenbi would remove Gantee’s only source of confusion, distraction and frustration. The second he had witnessed in awe, having never seen a person dodge an iro-blast… especially after being struck by a blast which had contained enough of an electrical component to reach the nervous system, delivering pain and incapacitation to the target. If the subsequent movements of Dungias had indeed been impacted, Gantee was not sure he wanted to see his Vu-Prin move at his best speed.
Gantee had witnessed them, and he had not needed a memory probe to recall either event. He had not bothered to argue his Vi-Prin when she had declared the recalled thoughts delusional, thinking it was better for her not to know what had happened on those star-terms. The young Malgovi, along with the students and faculty of the lyceum, had struck a silent pact to keep the facts to themselves and the Grenbi had yet to speak.
“Many things are given and yet never received,” Dungias continued. “The beginning of this moment is all that is promised! Nothing more than the first step of a trek, your Xara-Mansura. You have the opportunity to take your moment and force the Stars to recognize you.
“I will not wish you well,” Dungias said, lowering his head and stepping back. “You have already been better than that to begin this trek. I will simply wish you good speed to your destination, and no one will cheer louder for you than your Vu-Prin.” Dungias continued to back away for three more strides before he turned and went about the business of fetching refreshments for his mother and sister.
Jorl’Lassor was the first to dismiss his eldest Vu-Khan’s words and as he pulled on Gantee’s shoulder… only to have him not move. Jorl’Lassor quickly discovered he had been the only Z’Gunok to dismiss what had been said. Mother looked at daughter who had not moved her eyes from her youngest brother. He mouthed something she could not make out, but no one said anything. They simply resumed their duties of the moment. Vu-Zai and Vu-Khan turned to walk toward the preparation chambers as Vi-Zai and Vi-Khan closed the doors of the transport which would take them to their viewing box.
Gantee walked in silence, still caught in his sibling’s words. The weight of their meaning had him just as captivated as the very act of Dungias speaking favorably on Gantee’s regard. His mind stayed mostly on the words remarking what Gantee had been through to reach the Games. He took solace from the words, agreeing with the statement. Despite the weight of his parents’ ambitions and the power of the Z’Gunok name, Gantee had indeed earned his place in the Games. He was physically talented and his ability to wield iro was greater than most. There were many expectations all about him, but Gantee had effectively focused on the expectations that mattered most: his own.
That did not mean he would not have competition, the field this orbi-term was thick with incredible potential. It was no surprise someone of the Royal Family was in attendance. Gantee and one other were considered favorites for two reasons: bloodline history and location. The union of the Viora and Z’Gunok bloodlines had produced one incredibly gifted musician who had already mastered fourteen instruments and could play three iro-phased pieces at once. But it had also produced a shay-spawn who knew nothing of the touch of iro. Gantee was the final argument for the worthiness of the name, and he intended to maintain his High Birth assignment.
“Master of our Kith, did you tell Dungias to say such things to me?” Gantee asked as they left the arena floor.
“Who can say what goes through your Vu-Prin’s mind, my Vu-Khan,” Jorl’Lassor answered as he opened the door to the lower chambers. Many of the competitors were already in the room and most of them looked up to see Gantee’s arrival. Few were happy or eager to see him, and their poorly-disguised dread made Gantee smile.
“Certainly not the analyst,” Gantee added, tapping his Vu-Zai in the chest and bringing them both to laughter.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
Getting the refreshments was not a difficult task compared to the gauntlet Dungias had to run in getting them back to the viewing box without incident. Fortunately, while he was known to his most immediate community, a number of the patrons in the service module of the arena only saw the family seal and made every effort to give Dungias room. He had bumped into several bodies, but he had yet to spill anything.
With only a few trams left to tread through the huddled masses, Dungias stopped. The normal noise had been stirred. Dungias had heard a scream. Many had heard it, the volume of the sound was too great to ignore. The proximity was also close enough to make Dungias stop and look around. He could not see the matter directly, but opted instead to follow the wave of turning heads. Those that were looking back and forth he ignored; the ones that turned and did not move again, save from side to side to look around objects in their line of sight, he stared at and calculated the point of origin. Moving to the stairway, but walking on the outside of the railing, Dungias reached a point of elevation where he could see the reason for the outcry. It was a female’s scream he had heard, and it was a female form upon which he looked. She was obviously not Malgovi. There was no hue of gray or blue in her skin, but a rich yellow, approaching brown, at the sides of her face and the ends of her limbs. Her hair was brown with yellow streaks, but it was shiny and fell down the right side of her body, kept there by two long, thin, braids that had been wrapped around the rest. Though Dungias had never seen one directly, he knew a great deal about the Vinthur. They lived in the K’Dalkian System which neighbored the Deku System; the home of the Malgovi. In many of the data forms Danatra had given him, there was a rich history of the two races working well together.
Neither the Malgovi nor the Vinthur were indigenous to the region of space they now called their home. They were two races born from the same planet which had been destroyed by another race; one race which had remained nameless throughout the crystal-recorded history of both peoples. Danatra had long since pelted her Vu-Prin with an aged, printed tome which gave the name of the race: the BroSohnti. The Vinthur and the Malgovi had lived far from one another, and each had taken their turn in fighting the planet ravagers. The space between the races was so great that it was nearly a full orbi-term before they knew the other was dealing with the same enemy at the same time. Alone in their efforts, they were failing miserably and their numbers were drawing thin. A pact had been formed between the two races and they had pooled their efforts… not to fight the BroSohnti… but to flee from their invading armada. It was common to review the recorded destruction of the homeworld in the very beginning of any study of history. Though the two races fled, the third pursued; driven to wipe out all traces of them. For fifteen generations the Vinthur and the Malgovi had lived in harmony as they ran from their attackers with only two laws to govern them: to stand together in the face of their enemy and to never mix their bloodlines. The children of the super-giant planet K’Daldeku worked side-by-side, putting quadrants between them and the BroSohnti. Hoping they had outrun their nemesis, they colonized the Deku System.
The two races lived together and they grew together, keeping to their two laws and developing principles and practices which were revolutionary to both races; the very necessary invention fathered by a driving need. Only the oldest of Dungias’ books even mentioned what was referred to as the Stride, a mysterious method of manipulating Time and Space using an energy that the Malgovi no longer chose to emit. Current historical documentation no longer made any note of them, and they were now all but forgotten.
Just after a foothold had been established in the Deku System, the BroSohnti had arrived. Taking measure of what they stood to lose and what they had to gain, the Fleeing Races did nothing of the sort, but instead
stood their new-found ground and pledged that they would fight to the last... and many of them did expire in the midst of the effort.
It was a time of desperation and great fear. But it was the time of Traybus Gan Pax’Dulah and the events that led him and his peers to their discoveries of self, thought, iro-form and life. The war drew to a poorly recorded and incredibly mysterious conclusion, but for many, it was enough to know the Malgovi and Vinthur forces were victorious.
Not ten orbi-terms after the war was over, however, the Vinthur sought haven away from the Malgovi and took to the planet Xora near the center of K’Dalkian System. It was believed the yellow striders had felt themselves somehow drawn to the only planet in the system that could support life. The invitation for the Malgovi to join them had been refused and thus began the separation of the races. That was ages ago, and the bond that had given both races life was barely the stuff of passing conversation any longer. To many Malgovi eyes the Vinthur were a backward people, clinging to mysticism when science and the ever-present iro-forms shined like the light of a newborn star.
As Dungias climbed higher on the stairway, he came to see a living testament of one of the forgotten ways. The girl was kneeling over it; a much older form, one that wore a particular type of sash, a symbol that Dungias recognized instantly. An asymmetrical three-pointed star; it was the mark of the Travelers, those that sought the treks of the Stars. This one in particular was encircled but the young Malgovi did not know what that meant.
Dungias placed the serving tray on the step and jumped for the rafters. His outstretched hand caught the metal support bracing for the level above and he swung around it twice, building momentum as he marked his next destination.
“Pax’Dulah,” the old one whispered.
“Neyeh, Gemnur!” the young Vinthur female cried. “NEYEH!”
“Get back!” Dungias cried as he caught a pole, the fifth point his agility had helped him to reach. It was at a diagonal with respect to the ground and he swung around it twice before releasing, pulling his knees up to his chest, tumbling over the heads of those watching but not had failed to take any action. Many had looked up at the sound of Dungias’ command, and there were a few who moved away from the old Vinthur and his escort. There was enough space for Dungias to land, but only if his trek had possessed a high arc. As he drew nearer, the effort to get out of his way became greater and Dungias struck only ground on his landing. The young female Vinthur looked up at him between pressed brown locks with streaks of a vibrant yellow color. Both colors of strands were adorned with small, raw crystals that reflected light in varying colors. After he landed, Dungias found he could not move, petrified by the gaze coming from her eyes which were a very striking shade of teal. For a moment he was entranced by what he saw, and even more by what was looking at him. She saw him as unique, as many Malgovi did, but he was an individual in her eyes because she saw him as someone who could help.
“What is the matter?” Dungias asked as he approached and knelt next to the elder Vinthur.
“We walk to seat when he grab his chest and stop breathe.” Her Liangu was pedestrian, but she had clearly expressed the problem to Dungias who was hanging on her every word. The situation, however, called for an easier means of communication.
“Has he had this problem before?” Dungias asked in K’Vo, the native tongue of her people.
“No,” she answered, slightly surprised to hear her language coming from a Malgovi, but greatly relieved. “He grabbed at his arm though, before he fell.” She pointed at the man’s left arm as she spoke, and Dungias moved quickly.
“Then I will trust that he knows best,” Dungias said as he reached for the underside of the man’s left arm. It was hard to believe the man was that old, but in all of Dungias’ studies, the cardiovascular system of the Vinthur was related to the right side of their bodies. There was a mentioning of a very old measure, however, that would seem to make sense, given the man’s problem breathing and his reaction to the respiratory attack. He grabbed at the inside of the arm and felt for something firm near the armpit. This Vinthur was very old indeed. Dungias breathed easier as he pressed the device and there was a soft popping noise. Almost instantly the old one sighed in relief and his body gave off a soft white light for a brief moment. He started breathing and opened his eyes, looking first at the young woman who was the most relieved to see him recovering.
“I thought you were leaving us,” she cried, placing her head on his chest. It was then Dungias noticed that this Vinthur had no brown spots at all, only bronze stripes across his chest and white spots where brown would have been seen in a younger member of the race.
“Now, Saru, why would you think that?” the man asked as he turned to look at Dungias.
“You started calling out the names of the Elder Travelers!”
“Not all of the names, little one… just one of them; the one whose name is also an art. Well done, young Malgovi,” he said to Dungias who immediately looked around to see to whom the man was speaking. It was clear that he was the only one close to where the Vinthur was looking. “Your form could use some instruction, but your ability is unquestionable.”
“Thank you,” Dungias said, lowering his head.
“Talk to me or talk to the ground, not both,” the Vinthur replied as he sat up.
“Gemnur!” another voice cried out. Dungias looked up to see another Vinthur leaping from column to column, his orange-streaked black hair trailing behind him as he all but flew over the patrons. He was clearly Vinthur, but the darker regions of brown were spots on his face, chest elbows and knees. The latter two spotted areas blended into dark brown hands and feet.
“You see,” the man said as he reached out for Dungias who took the man’s arm before he knew what he was doing. “That is the product of instruction! Simple movements; clean and concise… no wasted action. There’s no need for all of this swinging about to build momentum. Too often that is a sign of fear… over-thinking the obvious!”
“I understand,” Dungias replied, helping the Vinthur to stand.
“Master,” the young Vinthur said as he landed from his last bound which had carried him more than five meters. He landed just behind the crying female. “I could find no healer who would hear me.” Breathing hard and somewhat tired from his efforts, it did not escape him that his Master was standing, a condition he had not been in when he left his side. “But perhaps you are no longer in need of one.”
“Laejem, I was not directing you to a healer,” the old man giggled. “I was trying to tell you to activate my capsule.”
“You have venkaldolis,” Dungias stated. “… often called the Hard Chest, it is a rare and potentially fatal condition. The tissue of your lungs–”
“Is far more interested in having your name than your explanation, young one,” the old Vinthur smiled as he interrupted. “Seeing as how I’ve had my condition all my life, and you only these last precious moments.”
“I am Z’Gunok Tel Dungias,” he answered, bowing to the old Vinthur in the custom to which Dungias believed he deserved. As he lifted his head, two of the three Vinthur were amazed; one was elated and put to ease.
“May the Stars grant you direction,” the old man said, placing one hand inside the other as they rested on his belt.
“I will not refuse the Stars,” Dungias answered, bowing again. “But if they are to grant me anything, it is my hope they grant me serenity.”
“Why?” the old one fired back, his copper-toned eyes squinting. He decided to take things beyond the boundaries of simple text-learning. The child did not have the vision, but he was certainly not without potential.
“Because while I am among the Stars, I am never alone, never lost.” Dungias bowed a third time and as he stood up straight, he extended his left hand toward the Vinthur who was questioning him.
Nugar looked at the hand being extended to him and his eyes flared wide. He knew then what the moment meant. It was pivotal that he not lose his way, as hasty int
erpretation was the worst bane of the thoughtful mind.
“And when the charts give your eye nothing to recognize?” he pressed as he stepped forward.
“Still I am not lost,” Dungias answered, wondering why the greeting had been extended. Had he offended the Vinthur somehow? Was his K’Vo inaccurate?
“Or am I assuming the worst?” he thought. “A Grenbi might be quick to decide. But I am not an animal!”
“My home is their home,” Dungias continued, matching the old one stride for stride and taking hold of his left arm, insisting on the handshake. “If I am in a place where my charts are useless, then what I have found is a new chamber in the spatial dwelling.”
Nugar smiled as he pulled out of Dungias’ grip and slid his hand up to grasp the young Malgovi about the forearm, directing him to do the same. The two younger Vinthur looked at the embrace and then at each other, but they remained silent and still.
“Grips of the palm are for making acquaintances,” he said softly. “I would like to think of anyone who saves my life as being family. Welcome to a new chamber, Z’Gunok Tel Dungias!”
Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
Vaclav Havel
“Well that certainly took long enough!” Danatra bemoaned as the door to their seating box opened.
“I fear I must apologize for detaining this young person for as long as I have,” Nugar said loudly as he moved Dungias aside and entered the room first. When Laylaria and Danatra stood up from their seats and turned around, the Vinthur Master Traveler stammered in his speech, quickly abandoning the effort, and taking instead to his knee. “My Graces, I had no idea!” he said without looking up. “Please forgive this intrusion!”