by Don Newton
“Why would they need them?” Karl laughed. “Who would be crazy enough to attack their stronghold?”
“Good point.” Kain adjusted his armor and pulled one Na’Geena axe from his back: the shaft was hardened wood, a Griffin-claw fastened to the end with silver-metal bands. “Thanks for these weapons.”
“You’d have no chance without them.” Karl slapped him on the shoulder.
“You should go now.” Damian grabbed his hand.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come?” Karl asked.
“We’ll be fine.” Damian pushed him away.
“You’ve thought this through?”
“I have.” Damian checked his axes.
“Ok, then.” Karl turned to walk away.
“Do me one favor though…”
“What’s that?” He spun around, squinting at Damian.
“If we don’t come back, tell my brother to let it go, don’t avenge me…”
Karl grabbed his shoulders and stared into his eyes. “How can I do that, when I won’t?”
***
“So, how did you stop the sun from exploding?” Darkonus asked. “We haven’t determined that yet.”
“I thought it back to normal,” Sa’riya said.
“You what?” Darkonus grinned.
“I thought it back to normal…”
“No, I heard you say that…” Darkonus laughed. “You thought the exploding sun, back to normal?” he asked.
“Yes.” Sa’riya nodded.
Darkonus threw his hands up. “How does that even work?”
~~~
She stared at the flaming ball of a sun that had killed Zi’anna, wanting to hate it, but realizing the futility. It was a consequence of situations she had no control over—things she couldn’t change.
Sa’riya pulled the sun back together with her mind. She reached into the explosion with tendrils of thought and wrapped them around the various particles. She felt each one: the positive, the negative, the neutral, and she understood the power that drove them. She changed the direction of physical force, turning explosion into implosion. The waves of sun-fire and matter reversed, squeezing itself back together. She stopped it at the point of the initial burst, then ejected the stray Terillium from the corona: it flew into space in multiple directions, and she vaporized it, so it wouldn’t repeat this devastation elsewhere.
The sun returned to its natural warm-yellow glow.
***
“And you can do that by thinking about it?” Darkonus had a look of awe on his face.
Sa’riya stared into the fire in his eyes. “Yes.”
***
Three days before the trial…
“Concentrate.” Nu’reen held her hand and pointed at the void.
“Concentrate on what?” Sa’riya shook her head. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to create your future,” she said.
“They want me dead, what future do I have?” she asked.
“She still doesn’t get it…” Nu’reen looked into the void and found Yin.
“No, she doesn’t… but she will. Keep trying. This is all new to her.”
“Yin?” Sa’riya recognized the voice in her mind.
“Yes, listen to Nu’reen.”
They stood at a nexus where the multiverse collided: a point in space where things could be, or could be not, depending on your view.
“Fashion your future right here.” Nu’reen pointed at the conjunction of realities. “This is the point where you can create whatever you want, and they can’t find you.”
“You think I’m going to lose…” Sa’riya said.
“I’m going to vote against you.” Nu’reen glanced at her.
“Why would you?”
“Because it’s necessary to keep you safe.”
“I don’t understand,” Sa’riya said.
“Yes, you do, you’re simply not aware of it yet. Everything will become clear in time.” Nu’reen pointed at the nexus. “Now do it.”
Sa’riya focused her thoughts at a point within the void. She imagined a beautiful landscape with mountains in the distance, snow capping their peaks, rolling hills between, covered with smooth green grass, dense forest on the right bordered by a swift-flowing river, and a small white cottage surrounded with verdant land that looked good for farming.
“Is that what you want?” Nu’reen asked. She watched the scene unfold before them.
“That’s exactly what I want…” Sa’riya smiled.
“I thought so.”
“But this doesn’t save me Nu’reen. They still want me dead, because they’re afraid.”
“And they will kill you, one way or another…”
“So how does this help?”
Nu’reen pulled a crystal from her pocket, it was clear and about the size of her closed fist.
“What’s that?” Sa’riya asked.
Nu’reen held the crystal up to the light. “The answer…”
***
The tunnels led deeper into the mountain, branching and twisting with no clear path ahead. Kavan had warned them the longer they remained inside, the more likely the illusion would fade, and fade it did, at the worst possible time.
They’d made it halfway across a medium-sized cavern when Damian saw the shimmer dissolve. It started at their heads and ran down their bodies toward the floor, a sizzling exposure.
“Wait!” He pulled them all to a corner. “We’re visible.”
“This was supposed to last hours…” Kain spat on the ground. “I guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way… I knew we couldn’t trust magic…”
“I don’t think it’s Kavan’s fault.” Garrick held both hands out. “There’s a dampening field of some kind here.”
“You freakin magic-people…” Kain glanced at him sideways.
“Shut-up Kain, let me concentrate…” Garrick closed his eyes and stretched his feelings out into the room. There was a web of warning-spells: they’d tripped most of them. “This is bad…”
“What’s happening?” Damian asked him, shaking his shoulder.
‘We have to get out of here.” Garrick’s face turned white.
“Which way?” Damian asked.
Garrick pulled the Na’Geena axes from his back, shaking his head. “There is no way. They’re coming.”
“From which way?” Damian shook him, trying to get a straight answer.
“From every way…”
***
Ji’yael stepped through the portal. She wore black slippers, and her robe was the color of space without stars: absolute black—the effect, when combined with the black granite she stood upon, made her head and hands appear to be floating in midair. Her skin was stark-white, which made her dark hazel eyes stand out—they almost looked black. The color of her lips was blood-red: some glamour she’d applied. She flipped her waist-length straight-black hair over her shoulders with both hands and strode onto the dais.
“Why are you here?” Nu’reen’s stare was icy, but Ji’yael ignored it.
“I asked her to come,” Ka’rin said.
“For what purpose?” Nu’reen turned to her. “She wasn’t involved in this, in any way.”
“She’s your sister: the second oldest of the K’pa. I think if you’re allowed to judge this, then we should find out what she thinks—the two of you are half of a whole person, after all. Why, are you afraid of what she might say?”
“I know what she’ll say.” Nu’reen laughed. “It’s not going to sway me one way or the other. By all means, let’s hear what my dear sister has to say.”
Darkonus looked back and forth between them. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two…”
“It doesn’t matter.” Nu’reen shook her head. “Ask her what she thinks.”
He turned toward Ji’yael. She looked down her nose at him, waiting for him to speak.
“I want to go on record as protesting this…” Gemma waved one hand
in the air.
“Noted,” Nu’reen said, pointing a finger at Darkonus. “Go on, let’s get this over with.”
“So, what do you think?” He took his chair and crossed his legs, waiting for her to speak.
“Sa’riya is anathema to what the K’Pa hold dear, she can’t be allowed to exist.” Ji’yael said, smoothing the front of her robe.
“And why is that?” he asked.
She leveled a glare at him. ‘Because her power is unstable, and she can’t control it.”
“Seems like she did a pretty good job to me.” Gemma stood and faced her. “She saved millions and an entire solar system.”
“And what’s next?” Ji’yael asked. “She can manipulate matter, which I find fascinating, personally, but it’s far too dangerous in the hands of someone so young.”
“What she means is,” Nu’reen winked at Darkonus, “anyone’s hands but hers…”
Darkonus raised his eyebrows. “I see…”
“So, now your opinion is on the record Ji’yael, will there be anything else?” Nu’reen asked, a thin smile crossing her face.
“No, that’s it.” Ji’yael examined her fingernails.
Nu’reen turned to Ka’rin. “And you? Can we finish this now?”
The hatred was evident in Ka’rin’s eyes, but she nodded and sat back in her chair.
Nu’reen waved Ji’yael down from the dais, and turned to Darkonus. “Good, let’s continue…”
***
The Draggons came at them from all sides. They stood back-to-back in the center of the room, Na’Geena axes in both hands. Kain killed the first one, the Griffin-claw axe ripping the throat from the beast as it attacked.
Damian took one more; a long bleeding wound down the side of its neck: it curled up in a far corner of the room to die. The remaining Draggons were not as stupid; they backed off, but only to change their strategy.
The largest one huffed, a sound like drawing a huge breath, Garrick rolled to his right as the flame seared past him—he jumped to his feet after the fire was gone and buried the Griffin-claw axe into the skull of the Draggon. The Draggon screamed in agony and died, its body trembling in death, the tail thrashing about.
Damian swung his axe in a huge circle, the point of the Griffin-claw sunk into the head of the last Draggon, he yanked it free as the beast fell to the floor.
“Is that all?” Kain spun the axe in his right hand. “I thought they’d send more.”
“Don’t ask for trouble.” Damian punched him on the shoulder. “You might get it.”
***
Darkonus shook his head and glared at the Council.
“It seems to me that you want this woman dead because you’re afraid of her. What I don’t understand is why? You all seem much more powerful. What am I missing?”
Nu’reen watched him, waiting for someone to break.
“She’s dangerous.” Markus shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
“You still haven’t explained how…” Darkonus said, glaring at the elder Draggon.
“Ask her about the Draggons she killed when she reset the exploding sun…” Markus said.
“What?” Darkonus turned to Sa’riya. “What does he mean?”
Sa’riya nodded, her eyes on Darkonus’ face. “There were about five-hundred Draggons on the smaller worlds that were killed when I reset the sun. I’m sorry, I couldn’t save them…”
“Five… hundred?” Darkonus face was blank, his eyes vacant. “But how? Draggons could withstand the exploding sun, it’s fire, we can withstand fire…”
“It wasn’t the fire…” Markus pointed at Sa’riya, “It was her power that killed them…”
“Can you prove that?” Nu’reen smacked the gavel on the bench.
“No, it’s true,” Sa’riya looked at Darkonus with pain in her eyes, “and I’m sorry, I didn’t know that it would affect them differently; every other species was brought back like it never happened, but the Draggons, they’re different somehow, and I felt every one of them as they died…”
Darkonus rubbed his forehead and glared at Sa’riya. “You know, Draggons, we’re only born about once every two-hundred-thousand years—that means you wiped out half my people in one moment.”
Tears filled Sa’riya’s eyes, and she fell to her knees.
Darkonus picked her back up and wiped her face. “I can’t hold you responsible for this, sister: it’s a twist of fate.”
She grabbed his face and looked into his eyes, the fire lit her features, and at that moment, they understood each other, she pulled his forehead to touch hers then released him.
“It’s not her fault, it was an accident.” Darkonus turned to the council.
“This is not your decision to make!” Markus jumped up, pointing one finger at him.
“Oh, but it is Markus, and you gave me the power to make it.”
Nu’reen stared at Markus until he took his seat; he was seething. “Proceed, Darkonus,” she said.
“I don’t see how I can… you want her dead, and I can’t find a reason to kill her: not even the accidental death of half my species,” he said.
“I don’t think we all want her dead…” Nu’reen smiled.
“I do.” Markus sprang from his seat and vaulted the metal wall. The dagger he drew from his waistband was a blur of steel—an evil looking gleam wandered the edge of the blade: a blackness that shined. The point slid into Sa’riya’s chest and out her back, the force of the blow lifting her from the floor and depositing her in a crumpled heap on the black granite beside the dais.
Darkonus was one-second slower than Markus—he drew the daggers from his neck scabbards. Pain and Suffering found their way into the elder Draggon’s spine at the same moment he killed Sa’riya. Darkonus yanked the blades free, and Markus fell to the floor.
He knelt next to Sa’riya, brushing the hair from her face. “I didn’t want this… she was pure.” If Draggons could cry, he would have.
***
“He’s right: ask for trouble, and you might get it…” The voice came from the far end of the chamber; it echoed from the stone walls; a hollow ring that made it sound more ominous than it already did.
Damian spun around.
A Draggon in human form stepped from the doorway and walked toward them: he was dressed differently than the others. Most Draggons wore black-leather armor, but this one wore red, and his hair was short instead of long, with streaks of gray frosting his temples and beard. A sash of brilliant silver chain-mail draped over one shoulder and across his chest; fixed to the center was the Draggon coat-of-arms. The flames in his eyes built as he approached them, pulling two thin swords from the scabbards across his back.
“This should be easy: three against one…” Garrick grinned, moving toward the Draggon’s right side.
“You would think so…” The Draggon stopped ten feet from them and ran one sword-blade down the other—sparks flew from the edge, and a squeal of steel assaulted their ears.
“We’re here for Darkonus, not you.” Kain sized him up with his good eye: he was stocky, but his movements were fluid, like a cattus. Kain slid toward his left flank, both axes up.
The Draggon gave them a wicked grin. “Then you’ll need to go through me.”
Damian sprang toward him, one axe whistling past the Draggon’s left ear—he stepped aside in time to avoid it, the sword in his right hand carving an arc through the air that lopped the head off the axe. The Griffin claw bounced across the stone floor, and the red-leather Draggon leaped to his right, rolling and coming back to one knee.
Garrick swung down hard with both weapons, the Draggon crossed his swords and caught the axe handles above his head in the vee of his blades—the shafts were severed right behind the heads, the claws falling harmlessly to the floor. The Draggon slid the blade of his left sword across the side of Garrick’s leg above the knee and stuck the point of the right one into his side. Garrick collapsed on the stone floor holding his stomach.
The Drag
gon stood and faced Kain and Damian, flicking the sword blades to remove the blood. “You should have brought more men…”
“That’s enough, Faydon…” Darkonus and Nu’reen stepped through the portal behind him. Darkonus pointed at the red-leather Draggon and looked at Damian. “Faydon is our master-at-arms… you couldn’t have run into a worse opponent. You’re lucky we got here when we did.”
Damian stepped toward Darkonus, followed by Kain. Nu’reen inserted herself between them and pointed one finger in Damian’s face. “You need to stop now: your mission is over.”
“Why is that, Oracle?” He knew her from his time with Karl and the Na’Geena. “We’re at war.”
“Actually, we’re not, as of this moment.” Darkonus held his hands out toward them. “I’ve taken a position, by accident I might add, that forbids me from harming you; at least until we can find someone to take my place.” He glanced at Nu’reen, who shook her head. “But I don’t see that happening soon.”
“You’re offering us peace?” Damian searched his face, not willing to believe.
“Seems I have no choice…” Darkonus winked at him. “Take what you can get. We’re all pawns in life, in one way or another…”
Nu’reen knelt beside Garrick and held her hands over his wounds. A soft green glow shined from her palms. After several minutes he stood and thanked her; she nodded and smiled.
“You can all go now.” Darkonus waved one hand at them. “I assume you had a way to get out of here?”
“Yeah, we do.” Damian nodded, feeling for the amulet under his shirt.
“Do me a favor though,” Darkonus pointed at the severed Griffin claws and the three axes they still held, “get those things out of my mountain…”
***
Karl put his arm around Darryl’s shoulder as they walked toward the Griffin stables. “I think we have to go away for a while, the kids and me…”