by Reiter
“Now how did he do that?” Phizon asked.
“How indeed,” the voice added and three of the ten moved to reveal what was now the twelfth of their kind. He was not large in any way, but very slender and quite old. The aged Malgovi walked with the use of a cane and stroked his silver-haired beard. “How did he move so quickly? So efficiently? That was not the T’Surran T’Sarr,” he said as he tilted his head, clearly thinking deeply about what he had witnessed. “… or was it?”
“If it was, it is a method no longer practiced or taught,” Phizon added.
“And he would know that, wouldn’t he?!” Dungias thought. “He who controls the information a society has access to learn controls that society! I wonder how many secrets these Savanté are hiding.” Dungias steadied himself and lifted his blade.
“If you are nothing else, my friend, you are bold,” the eldest remarked. “And while you are aware that your helm prevents our telepathy… I wonder if you are aware that the armour of the Royal Guard comes with an assortment of locks… and more importantly… keys!” Taking his hand away from his beard, the old one made a very simple gesture and Dungias heard his suit powering down. It would only be an instant more before the holding locks would disengage and the armour would simply fall off his body.
“Then I shall give them another point of interest,” Dungias thought, drawing the pistol from the holster. Each of the men present held up a hand and quickly generated a shield. Dungias set the weapon to augment its existing power supply and locked the trigger so that the shutter for the barrel would not open. Effectively his gun had just become a bomb, and he tossed it at the feet of the men. He could feel the cold touch of their mental probes as the gun hit the floor. He projected the image of a powerful explosion though his mind and the probes disappeared. A small dome of pure ThoughtWill formed over the weapon as Dungias jumped up and out of the collapsing armour. He reached the ledge of the wall and swung up for the higher rafters. He opened the dimensional holding pocket and was in his clothes when the pistol exploded, making only the slightest popping sound.
“By the Founders!” Dungias thought as he jumped from his perch. Only one of the Savanté looked up. It appeared he put more effort into blinking when he sent a telekinetic surge that thrashed the dense wood as if it was loose ash. Dungias landed on the next rafter and looked down.
“He knows of the Founders,” Phizon reported and the old one smiled as he hobbled forward.
“I know of other things, Savanté,” Dungias said softly. “Leave this place now and live. Choose to remain and you choose to face me.”
“And look upon the sign he wears,” the old one added, ignoring Dungias’ warning. “He is a Traveler.”
“So be it,” Dungias whispered as his shoulders lowered and his body relaxed.
“The one after whom we have committed many resources to collect, and ultimately destroy, has come to us of his own accord. Yes, you are bold. Foolish, but bold. It will be some time before you are forgotten.”
“What is it that you want with me?” Dungias asked as he dropped down to the floor.
“You will find you cloak’s hood is not of the same make as an armoured helm!” Phizon asserted. Dungias staggered back a step before he fell to his knees. He had never felt so much force invade his mind. The ability of his Vi-Prin was trivial in comparison, and he felt his guard would succumb at any moment.
“Yes it hurts,” he acknowledged as he drew his pistol. “But pain is no stranger to me, my house, or my journey. It too can light me the way!” As he expected, the Savanté lifted their hands to defend against whatever iro-form his gun would emit. Dungias depressed one of the thumb controls and silently thanked his Master for the first lesson and gift he had given the young Malgovi. The gun fired and the projectile tore through the chest of the eldest Savanté and he gasped in horror.
The sensation of pain was a lesson he had forgotten long ago, and he had mastered the means to never again be reminded of any such agony. Not only was Kinetic Energy one of the hardest forms of EnerJa to manipulate, and was hardly ever mastered, the material of the projectile seemed to pass through ThoughtWill unaffected by the force.
“Salvigaron!” one of the Savanté called out, reaching for the old one as he fell to the hard stone floor and Dungias’ eyes flashed as he heard the name that had been uttered by Jamille. “Protect the Boniface!”
Two of the Savanté moved forward, one on either side of the largest who had recently recovered from what should have been a lethal sword thrust. The others quickly encircled the wounded man and started applying their talents to maintaining his life-force and restoring his body.
“I will destroy you!” Phizon promised as his gray eyes flashed white. Dungias assumed the Star-Stride and lunged forward, blurring past the rightmost Savanté. Old Malgovi blood burst from the side of his neck, and the master of ThoughtWill shuddered as he struggled to breathe and stand. He failed poorly at both attempts and collapsed to the floor.
Dungias landed on the floor just behind the largest Savanté and fired his gun again. The projectile ripped through the back of one rotund taskmaster and into the chest of the one who stood opposite of him in their quickly formed circle. Without looking, Dungias sent his elbow back and heard the nose of the large Savanté break under his attack. He had stopped the large one’s advance and stunned him heavily in the same action. A spinning kick sent the voluminous Malgovi into the last of the three who had opted to contend with Dungias.
A third shot brought down two more Savanté and the remaining four quickly realized that they would not be able to help their leader until they had removed the pressing threat. As a telekinetic thrust threw Dungias toward a wall, their building hopes were crushed when his body twisted and flipped, landing on the wall and leaping back at them as he faded out of sight. The four looked around high and low, left and right, but there was no sign of the Traveler.
“It is amazing how a little fear makes these mentalists forget their powers of the mind,” Dungias thought, slowly holstering his gun and gently picking up the discarded sword. He lowered his stealth field as he attacked, cutting across the back of the closest enemy. He stepped to his left and slashed the chest of a second; a turning back-kick pounded into the stomach of a third. Completing the spin, Dungias avoided an iro-form bolt, landing a powerful swing and opening the stomach of the one who had sent the attack. As the Savanté slowly fell, Dungias fanfared his blade. He lifted the weapon, felt its balance and power, and used both to remove the head of the Savanté who was bent over trying to recover from the stomach kick.
Dungias turned to see the one called Salvigaron coughing. The worst of the wound had been abated, but the aged Savanté was still bleeding badly. Dropping the sword, Dungias drew Alpha from its hanging sleeve. The near-six century-old Malgovi looked at the Osamu and shook his head in disbelief.
“Impossible!” he coughed, clutching at his wound. It looked as if he might be concentrating, but Dungias did not see any change in the wound and he twirled Alpha.
“Old fool,” Dungias said as he slowly approached. “… one of the many differences between truth and perspective: disbelief can contain perspective. It diminishes in the Light of Truth! One of your perspectives is that you believed you could contain Truth. Even after the Beta Forms escaped you, your perspective did not change, did it?”
“And what will you do, Star Chaser?” Salvigaron breathed as he winced. His colleagues had only managed to prolong the pain before death. He did not possess the focus necessary to heal his body. He barely had the wherewithal to call for help. “What will you bring to the people? The truth?! Some truths should remain hidden from the eyes of the commoner!”
“I am familiar with that perspective,” Dungias replied. “And for a time, I too believed it to be true. That was before this quest.” Dungias touched the end of Alpha to the forehead of the wheezing Savanté.
“NOOO!” Sryla cried as she appeared and hurled five photons at Dungias. He jumped up and over
the volley only to conclude he had not been her only target. Two of the photons exploded into Salvigaron’s body, immersing it in energy, and Dungias landed near the side of the corridor. He quickly perceived a sensation that alerted him of an impending attack for his head. He ducked just before an energy blade cut through the wall. A downward slash was all SonBa needed to enter the corridor from the chamber into which he had been teleported. He took his combative stance and it was clear to Dungias that the First Prince’s skill with the weapon exceeded a passing interest.
“This is… unexpected,” the Traveler said softly, squaring off with the Royal House of Galvasti.
I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage.
Friedrich Nietzsche
The corridor was indeed expansive, but it seemed much too small to all three who stood in the middle of it. Dungias decided not to be the first to move. The speed and capability of each of his opponents made them incredibly formidable. One of his hopes was that they were not that well-practiced in fighting together. Another hope developed as he observed the First Prince take note of his surroundings. He looked as if he had never seen this area before. The First Princess, however, showed no such signs of unfamiliarity.
“What is this place?” SonBa asked as he maintained his stance and his opponent’s position.
“Focus, Vu-Prin!” Sryla commanded as the glow of light in her eyes intensified. She had never seen her barrage attack fail to do anything to her target, but doubling the number of photons was not beyond her ability.
“I will remind you, Vi-Prin, that only one of us was trained as a Warrior,” SonBa said as he eased his position closer to the cloaked figure.
“That is good to know,” Dungias thought, taking note of the stance of the First Princess. “But she has trained as something!”
“Surrender to us or be destroyed!” Sryla snapped at Dungias.
“My Lord!” a voice called out over SonBa’s PC. “We have secured the chambers of the First Princess and the Gardens. Your Vi-Prin and Vi-Zai are safe.”
“Well done, Commander,” SonBa responded. “Keep your positions. I am currently… investigating an issue that might be related to this alarm.”
“It would appear that a number of secrets have been unveiled with this visitation,” Dungias thought as he pulled his hood back. Given what he was able to hypothesize, the revelation of his identity would serve as a catalyst for several points of consideration.
“We meet again, Princess,” Dungias said and he knew both of his opponents immediately recognized him.
“By the Light of the Stars,” SonBa whispered, beginning to see what his mother meant when she had spoken of his options. “Z’Gunok Tel Dungias!” SonBa decided not to voice the report he had been given claiming that Dungias had met his end by the old Traveler who had decided to have nothing to do with the troublesome shay-spawn.
Dungias relaxed slightly and looked around. “The make of this place reminds me of the cell I was in when last I laid eyes on the two of you. You meant to destroy me then, Princess, but your aims were thwarted.” SonBa’s brow curled over his eyes, but he opted to remain silent. The truth, after all, was coming to him without having to say a single word. “It would seem that the rank of Travelers still stands between you and your wishes. Upon last occasion, it was Nugar, may the Stars continue to kiss him with their Light. It is a different Traveler who stands before you now, ready and eager to deny you. Your Majesty might find this one more motivated than the last.”
“You have yet to learn your place, shay-spawn!” Sryla said, shaking her head. Her eyes glowed brightly as arcs of electricity passed over her body and into the stone floor. “So it falls to me to be your true instructor, does it?” Sryla drew back her right hand and Dungias did not need to look at the palm to feel the power she was generating. It was greater than what he had ever seen a Malgovi create. “So be it!” Sryla cried, releasing the volley of ten photons.
“So bright the light that blinds even reason,” Dungias whispered as he closed his eyes, drew Alpha back in his left hand and moved his right foot forward while lifting his right hand. Fighting such a source of power was foolish, and his initial dodging of her volley had been successful mostly because he had not been the only target and he certainly had not been the object of priority. Blasting Salvigaron had been her exercised prerogative; an exercise of amity. Killing him was preferable to losing the information he guarded. “The price of keeping secrets,” he thought, releasing the power of Alpha into the fray. “I have to time this correctly!”
The photons streaked down the corridor and SonBa increased the power feed into his shields. It was obvious the First Princess had no interest in interrogating Dungias. One of the empowered pods alone could have killed him. The ten, thrown in such a pattern, were sent to remove him from existence. Just out of reach of Dungias’ outstretched hand, the photons abruptly changed course, with five turning to the right and five to the left. They arched around his body as the outstretched hand quickly balled into a fist. Dungias jumped up and forward as the photons collided with one another behind him. The blast was tremendous and sent Dungias rocketing down the corridor. Halfway down the corridor, Dungias pushed his left hand forward and took a two-hand grip of his Osamu.
“I am done with you!” Sryla shouted, clapping her hands together. Two gigantic hands of Force containing electricity formed and started to fly together to mimic the clapping action. The Osamu stopped in mid-air and Dungias swung around it as the massive hands exploded together. Sryla could not see that she had missed as Dungias swung around completely and released his Osamu, flying feet first into Sryla’s face. The soles of his boots hammered into her jaw and temple and the First Princess was lifted from her feet and landed head first on the stone floor before rolling to a stop. She tried to put her hands to the floor to rise, but fell unconscious not long after initiating the effort.
“We need Light to see, First Princess,” Dungias said, reaching back for Alpha which flew to his hand. “When it shines so brightly that we are blinded and forced to turn away, it is time to find a new Star by which to chart our course.” Dungias slowly turned to look at the First Prince and was not surprised to see his weapon still in hand but lowered.
“It would seem that I have only managed to stymie the both of us,” Dungias concluded. “It appears as though you did not even know this place existed.
“And now that I am no longer wearing Royal Guard armour,” Dungias thought. “I cannot even see the door through which I came to enter this place. Quite interesting!”
Looking around the corridor, SonBa decided to deactivate his weapon and place it back on his weapons belt. He noticed that Dungias did the same with his Osamu. “I did not,” the First Prince admitted. “But that is hardly my only surprise this star-term,” SonBa said, gesturing at the look of the young Traveler. “A Malgovi Traveler! I was not aware that such a thing could be made.
“But I suppose you would say that my stars do not shine bright enough if I cannot see what you have become,” SonBa added, rubbing his chin as he looked on the form of the First Princess.
“Given that statement, I would say His Majesty can only see in the direction he is facing,” Dungias replied. “A Malgovi Traveler must be small in comparison to the matters of the kingdom.”
“The matters of the kingdom are the subjects whom the Throne serves,” SonBa asserted. “Most of my time is spent with the defense of the two systems. Until this very moment I had thought that defense was against enemies from beyond our boundaries.”
“They call themselves the Savanté,” Dungias explained. “… and I am sure they consider their organization to be beyond boundaries as well.”
“Don’t you mean they called themselves Savanté?”
“The large one over there, acting as if he is unconscious, he is still alive. And there is not a House of influence and power that does not have the Savanté somewhere within its folds.
I am led to believe the more powerful of their order dwell among the Vinthur. ThoughtWill is their iro-form, and they use it in applications of the mind. Such power at greater levels than the Malgovi can begin to detect.”
“And why do I not know of them?”
“I cannot say, your majesty,” Dungias quickly answered. “Aside from the mental arts, these Savanté keep secrets… like why the path the Founders provided for our people was abandoned so long ago. The finer points of mathematical and scientific discovery are held by them. It is a point of knowledge that disgusts me, in that we share the same blood.”
“Perhaps I can be of some relief for you,” a man spoke as he appeared just over Phizon whose eyes shot open the moment he heard the voice. He was dressed in blood-red robes and appeared to be older than the Savanté that had used the cane; his body, however, was nowhere near as feeble. He was a very mature and incredibly fit, bald Vinthur standing tall and confident in the corridor. His gray eyes looked around at the carnage, seemingly untouched by what he saw. “Since I am too late to keep this from becoming a problem, I shall have to do what I can to assuage it!
“The cost will be considerable, given the agreements we have with the Throne,” the man said as he looked at the First Prince. His eyes had barely focused on SonBa when the First Prince’s eyes flared white and he fell to the floor unconscious.
“If you are done lying about,” the man said to Phizon who quickly got up. With the blood removed, it was easy to see that he had healed most of what had been done to his face. “… get up and prepare SonBa for conditioning!”
“By your will, Lord Censurer!” Phizon stated, moving as quickly as his body would allow, scampering over to SonBa. He slid to a stop and fell when Dungias’ boot moved ever so slightly in his direction as he drew his Osamu.