by Reiter
“Wait,” he thought, “… the doors did not close behind me!” Like most automated conveniences, the sliding doors operated by sensor feed; the functionality of closing the door would not be triggered if there was a bio-form within the range of the sensor. Kinjass had not moved when Dungias walked away, but he was not the only one in the room, and a quick review of the sounds Dungias had heard while he and Kinjass spoke only made him more suspicious. Closing his eyes, Dungias employed his other senses. While he was indeed shay-spawn, the ability to perceive iro-forms had not been kept from him... and there was much energy about!
Fearing for the safety of the slide sled, Dungias pushed it forward before bolting for the nearby wall on his left hand side. As his feet left the ground, he could hear the crackle of electricity passing behind and beneath him. A slight tingle registered on the back of his legs.
“Simple movements,” he recalled the old Traveler’s words as Dungias had watched Laejem move over the crowds. “Clean and concise… no wasted action.”
“No wasted movement,” Dungias thought as he reached the wall. Planting both feet against the vertical surface, Dungias pushed off, traveling at an angle back toward the sliding doors. The sound of electricity had a point of origin, and during his efforts to avoid the blast, Dungias had heard no sound betraying the movement of his attacker. He had been too busy watching the action. Dungias was motivated to insure that there would be more for him to see!
Putting his eyes on a slender figure, who was obviously amazed at the display of agility, Dungias spun around, extending his leg, hammering the side of his foot against the slender man’s face. The impact was greater than what Dungias expected, lifting his opponent from the floor and spinning him to where he landed on his face and chest.
“My, somehow you have become faster!” Kinjass declared as his bolt of electricity struck Dungias in the back before he could land, then he smiled at the sound of Dungias’ pain. “But, you are still slower than iro, fool!” He chuckled as the blast had carried Dungias’ body out of the room and into the corridor and the doors finally closed.
“You two,” Kinjass ordered as he at last took to the completion of his Vu-Prin’s sled. “… see to the other and then take the shay-spawn out there to the nearest receptacle. He should feel right at home with the rest of the refuse!”
“I have never seen anyone move like that,” one of Kinjass’ lackeys whispered to the other as he saw to their downed companion. “But it looked as if Kinjass had seen it before.”
“And he was ready for it,” the other declared as he walked outside. He groaned as he lifted Dungias’ shoulders from the floor. “All of that jumping about is no rival to the wielding of true power!”
“I would hazard to guess that it all falls to one's application,” Dungias argued as he planted his feet. The two men gasped as Dungias took hold of the one who was dragging him. With a very quick spin, he threw one man into the other and pressed them both against the wall. “He struck when I was not yet grounded!” Dungias then slammed their heads together, and took better hold of the lighter of the two as the sliding doors opened.
“What are you two do–” Kinjass fell to the ground as the body of a Malgovi nearly twice his size crashed into his face. Seeing no need to press the issue, Dungias back-kicked the man still against the wall, turned on his heels, and ran down the corridor. He collected the sled and ran to meet Gantee.
“So this is what it is to be in the Games,” Dungias thought as he entered the staging area. Bordering on utter panic, people were running about, seeing to their particular contestants. Dungias could feel the anxiety sparkling around him; the anticipation reaching greater heights with every weighted breath. It reminded the young Malgovi of his time, his so-called race beyond the boundary, and he wondered if each of the contestants felt now the way he had then.
“It seems less than likely,” he thought as he moved the sled along. “This contest is not life or death, though I am sure I would receive much argument to that perspective.
“And there is my Vu-Prin, Gantee!”
It would have been all too easy to just stand there and watch; the way that Jorl’Lassor worried over his child. Dungias knew he would never be the recipient of such concern or affection, but he was glad that the Master of the Kith could demonstrate it to Gantee. Jorl’Lassor looked up to see Dungias and for moment, for a very brief moment, Dungias could see an expression of relief splash across his father's face. It quickly turned however, and with a harsh gesture he signaled Dungias to approach.
“Is the sled ready?” Jorl’Lassor asked.
“It is, my Vu-Zai,” Dungias replied. “I have even–”
“Then bring it along and put it over there!” Jorl’Lassor snapped. “I trust there are no more scratches or the like?”
“Vu-Zai,” Gantee spoke, placing his hand on Jorl’s arm, “… we do not yet know my position in the forthcoming heat. Perhaps one of… influence might be able to gain that information.”
“Indeed,” Jorl’Lassor replied. His shoulders seemed to broaden and his chest inflated. Dungias was not sure what could have made the man so proud at the moment, but it did not matter to him. Jorl’Lassor turned quickly and made his way to the judges’ booth.
“Are you sure that was wise?” Dungias asked.
“Your focus should be on the sled and nothing else,” Gantee directed. “Your mind is not suited to illumination, figurative or otherwise. You would be wise to remember that.”
So young into the way of things, it was easy to understand that Dungias had much to learn. Gantee, younger and less pressed toward exploration, had even more to fathom. In this star-term, they would both come to learn that the passions of Dungias ran deeply. They were strong emotions and of obvious import to Dungias. When he had been wronged or otherwise transgressed against deeply enough, he was very much prone to intense and immediate action.
Gold eyes locked on to rust ones as Dungias’ hand found Gantee's neck. Dungias had moved so quickly and with such intensity that Gantee found he could not move, not even to prevent his sibling from choking him. Dungias, however, was quick to come to the reality of his actions and lessened his grip, eventually releasing Gantee altogether.
“Please forgive me,” Dungias said, lowering his eyes away from his brother. “That was uncalled for; I find myself unsettled. I am greatly concerned for your well-being in the coming rounds.”
“Do you believe you have the grounds to doubt my capability?” Gantee asked sharply, rubbing his neck.
Dungias thought it best not to address the point. Things were troubling enough and he could not fully trust himself. He had only spoken a half truth. He was concerned about his Vu-Prin, but only half of that concern involved other participants of the Games. The other matter dealt with Gantee himself and the way he had carried himself. Still, to answer Gantee would be to move further into yet another argument he could not win.
“You should know that the contestant wearing a mask is Kinjass’ Vu-Prin,” Dungias shared. “Like others in his family, he is gifted in power. But that may not be the only family trait he possesses. If he is truly like his Vu-Prin, then there is an avenue of approach whereby you may compromise his ability. While magnitude may indeed be theirs, composure is something severely lacking in their bloodline.
“Attack the mind; attack the demeanor, and question station,” Dungias directed. “The moment you make it seem as if he is unworthy, Kinjass’ Vu-Prin will do everything in his power to prove you wrong, and that will take precedence over his performance in the Games.
“As for the coming event–”
“I believe I can pilot a sled!” Gantee snapped. He took hold of the vehicle and started to push it away, but found that it would not budge. He looked over the sled to find the obstruction to his movement: Dungias’ hand latched on to the rear of the seat.
“There is no question that you are indeed a pilot,” Dungias stated calmly. “… but you have never driven this sled. It only appears to
be the one to which you have become accustomed, and that was intentional. When you push for maximum acceleration, lean forward and press down on the nose of the sled.” Dungias drew closer and lifted his hands to gesticulate his concerns. “Whatever beliefs or lack thereof that you have regarding me, you have witnessed me at the controls of a slide-sled and you have seen me race. I was heavier than my opponents on that star-term, but I was still in the lead… even before we reached the boundary. If you cannot trust in me, trust in what you know.” Dungias took his leave of the staging area, leaving Gantee with his many considerations.
** b *** t *** o *** r **
The talkative Malgovi merchant had taken his leave only to return with another round of drinks… and chatter on endlessly. No one could have guessed that he was such an aficionado of the Iro-Games. There was no trivia that seemed to be beyond his recognition, and Danatra, along with the wait staff, was overwhelmed by his knowledge and his ability to continue speaking without seemingly taking a breath. Laylaria was enjoying the benefits of her position: she gave the merchant all of her attention when he offered the refreshments, but she was then able to speak solely with her most unexpected guest. Basking in the delight of attending a Viewing Chamber of a sect higher than his own, the merchant did not press his company upon the Iro-Gellvi.
The conversation, one-sided as it might have been, was quieted by the music which was suddenly blaring throughout the arena. It was a signal for those seeking to view the Games to return to their seats and disengage from their private visitations. Without the need of a reminder, the merchant turned to face the arena, moved to sit in his chair, and remained completely quiet. As soon as the introductory music came to its conclusion, the speaker for the Iro-Games took to his post. Everyone listened to the announcer as each racer was introduced to the crowd and again Gantee had been chosen as the obvious favorite. The Second Round had been broken down into twelve heats of races, with forty-two racers in each heat. In the falling of fate, Gantee was in the first heat and Kinjass’ brother, Vradwynn, was in the tenth.
Introductions had been made, and the racers piloted their slide-sleds out onto the track. Much like their dress uniforms, the makings of the sleds was another opportunity for individual expression, if not simple Family pride. The sled Dungias had constructed was simple… once one took a moment to realize all the flare of the vehicle was simply paint and a few well-placed lights. The manifold was neighboring on crude, but the Z’Gunok Kith colors of purple and black were etched with sparkling silver, making the sled appear expensive and difficult to duplicate. In truth, it was neither. As Gantee began his circling runs, Dungias looked to the crowd and allowed himself a slight grin as they cheered the racer and his slide-sled.
The contestants circled the starting area, with nearly each of the sleds giving off crackles of electricity or bursts of light in various colors. For each display the crowd cheered as was the custom; and Laylaria was out of her chair, ready to cheer on her child, but no such fanfare came from his sled. She could see Gantee looking as if he was giving serious effort to send iro through the construct, but there seemed to be a problem with his sled.
“I wonder what is wrong,” she said softly, losing some of her excitement and her stance that she slowly sank back into her chair.
“Perhaps wrong is not the proper word here,” Nugar suggested. “Perhaps instead you should wonder what the matter is.”
“But his sled does not shine,” she argued. “It does not surge with my Vu-Khan’s iro! Where is his light?!”
“Indeed,” Nugar replied, his tone serving as a patting hand upon her shoulder. “It does not. But I noticed the same separation of similarity when one speaks of racers versus winners.” Laylaria smiled at his words and shook her head. “What is the matter now?”
“I am reminded of how much I miss being in the company of Travelers,” Laylaria replied. “It has been too long a time.”
“Not any longer, my Gellvi,” Nugar said with a slight bow.
“Vi-Zai, what is wrong with Gantee’s sled?” Danatra asked, causing both Laylaria and Nugar to smile. “His sled doesn’t glimmer or sparkle like the others.” Danatra looked around at the crowd and could see that they too looked puzzled. “What will the Royal House think?” While Nugar was able to maintain his smile, Laylaria lost hers and looked at her Vi-Khan before standing once more and looking toward the Royal Viewing Chamber.
The Iro-Games were held four times every orbi-term, so the event was fairly common in occurrence. With that fact in mind, it was not customary for the event to be visited by anyone of regal authority, let alone two of that status. But the First Princess and the First Prince, her younger sibling, found themselves in the position of acting on behalf of the Queen, though only one of the Queen’s attending children could have been considered happy in doing so. Queen Galvasti Thuuna BaKedia had made a request of her chosen heir; her Vu-Prin had volunteered to accompany the First Princess as he knew of her disdain for what she commonly referred to as ‘social chores’. He had not been in the room when the request passed from Vi-Zai to Vi-Khan, but SonBa held his only living parent in a different regard than any of his other siblings, all four of whom were Vi-Prin to him. Whenever the Queen spoke, she ceased to be his Vi-Zai and was transformed, in his eyes, to the light that shined the way for the kingdom to follow.
It did not hinder matters at all that he was a three-time Iro-Games Champion in his home region as well as an Ishok, or Interplanetary Champion, of the last Iro-Games in which he competed. So elated he was in serving the throne, and therefore his people, he did not question why the task had not been given to him. He was, after all, a much more logical choice between most of the children. From the moment they stepped aboard their shuttle, SonBa had placed himself in a service capacity to his Vi-Prin and liege. When she had opted not to speak to open the Games, he had said nothing of it and put his best effort in making his face a thing of stone.
“Sryla,” he had thought, “why do you say nothing? Is this so painful a task that it blinds you to the opportunity you have to embrace the people?! Have I failed you already, my Vi-Prin?”
“You are ever the crafty sort, Princess Sryla,” Duke MarrZo had said, ushering the two to their seats after it had been announced that Royals were present at the event. “This is by no means a formal gathering for reasons of the throne. They are barely above the mentality of the mob, and you do not need to address them.” Sryla had smiled at MarrZo before taking her seat. SonBa, on the other hand, had given the esteemed Malgovi more than a cursory viewing. Duke MarrZo Falo Warseth was indeed a powerful figure. Sastra was one of the most developed regions of the Malgovi Sovereignty, and it was unquestionably his to command. His long black hair was in direct contrast to his age, but made for a more handsome offering of the Malgovi physique. His eyes were a rich, almost royal blue and missed very little, including the watchful glare of the Prince.
“You are too kind, Duke MarrZo,” Sryla had said. “… and I still feel as though too little of an apology has been offered to your station for this intrusion.”
“Nonsense!” the Duke had argued with a bright smile and broad gesture. “We are all servants of the Throne, Your Majesty; one that will be yours one star-term. I would be less than my station if I were not to convey, upon any given occasion, my loyalty and full support of the Throne.
“Now the Iro-Games of this quadrinial are nothing like the ones your Vu-Prin, our Prince, so ably championed,” the Duke had continued, gesturing toward the Prince and bowing only after he made eye contact with SonBa. “… still, I am sure if you sit back and relax, you will enjoy the spectacle that is about to unfold before your eyes!”
Round One of the Games had proven to be something to watch, though Sryla looked as if there were a number of places she would have preferred to spend her time. SonBa, however, had been drawn in by the audience and how they reacted to the contestants. It had been made quite clear they had a favorite, but the mystery and overwhelming power of the masked G
amesman had made a strong impression on them.
As Round Two began, Sryla, following her Vu-Prin’s example, rose from her seat to greet each of the racers. She remarked on how the number of contestants had been drastically cut from just over a thousand to five hundred four.
“That is the normal way of things, my Vi-Prin,” SonBa said as his light green eyes looked down on the first heat. “Though I would hazard to say the starting number was too high. Some of those youths should not have been allowed to compete. Great is the difference between untrained, ill-prepared, and simply delusional.”
“Please forgive the First Prince, good Duke,” Sryla offered. “He forgets that is has been well over a dekatal since his time in the Iro-Games.”
“Perfect of mind and thought, I am not,” SonBa replied. “… but perhaps it has been forgotten that of the five Gamesmen I have trained, only one has failed to reach Ishok. Forgive me if I am of the standing to believe such an accolade makes me an authority.” The eyes of the siblings met; Sryla’s emerald green glared into to SonBa’s. The anger from Vi-Prin to Vu-Prin was clear, but the First Princess knew she had no grounds to accuse her sibling of any insult to her position. If anything, he had confirmed that his opinion had the experience of both a Champion and a Master Instructor.
“What became of Dwalwynn, my good Prince?” Duke MarrZo asked, hoping to shift focus as quickly as possible. “I believe that all most of us can recall was that he never showed for the Interplanetary Games.”
“Indeed, he did not,” SonBa affirmed. “I gave him leave to mourn the loss of his Vu-Prin, Vi-Zai and Vu-Zai. They were taken by Grenbi.”
“Ah yes, I do recollect the circumstance now. Their settlement was without an Iro-Curtain if I am not mistaken.”
“Actually, Duke MarrZo, it was their passing which moved Dwalwynn to incorporate like-minded individuals and perfect the device,” SonBa explained.