Kalibur growled loudly this time, dashing forward with raised fists. Kitreena was caught off guard, and the first punch connected with her ribs and drained the air from her lungs. The next hit found her cheek, tossing her face to the side where it was greeted by a solid boot. She fell to the ground in a heap, wiping blood from her nose as she tried to shake the specks of darkness from her eyes. That's what arrogance gets me. She blinked the pain away and pushed herself to her knees. Kalibur ran for his sword, but Kitreena wouldn't let him regain the upper hand. With a shout, she threw her arm forward, and her whip wrapped itself around his neck from behind. A sharp yank pulled him off balance, and his back hit the ground with a heavy thud. Her boots slid in the dirt as she leapt to her feet and jumped on top of him, fumbling for the tail end of her whip as he struggled to loosen its hold around his neck. Somehow, the tip of her weapon managed to find her palm, and she pulled hard on both ends, tightening the rope of leather around his neck like a noose. Finally, Kalibur stopped yanking at the thing and punched her hard in the face, knocking her to the side. As she rubbed her aching cheek, he rose to his feet, and her whip dropped to the ground beside her.
"You're tough for a child," that crackling hiss came from above. He sounded like he was wheezing, gasping desperately for air. When she looked up, the white headpiece that had covered his face was in his hand, and a serpent-like head was staring down at her with hate-filled eyes. Spines rose and fell on the back of his head with each heaving breath, and a red forked tongue lashed violently. Most frightening were his fangs, long yellow points that curved inward below his black chin, sharp tips glistening with a liquid that Kitreena could only assume was venom. Her stomach rocked as she scrambled to her feet, whip swirling in front of her as she backed away from him.
"Stay away!" she heard herself cry. "Don't come any closer!"
Kalibur's smile stretched from across the entire width of his face, ending at round nubs where ears should've been. "Does my appearance frighten you, my dear?" he asked mockingly. It seemed as though he was taking deliberately slow steps just to torment her. "I simply needed to breathe easier. You nearly choked the life out of me."
When her back hit a tree, Kitreena's heart stopped cold. Kalibur's tongue flicked out as though licking his lips. His knees bent ever so slightly, and desperation gripped her. As he leapt forward, she flicked her whip out with a scream, and the tip of her weapon snapped hard against his hideous face. He growled and stumbled in mid-leap, and she jumped aside as his body crashed into the tree. Seeing her only opportunity, she took both ends of her whip in her hand and slung the loop over his head, tightening it as hard as she could around his throat. He grunted and grabbed at her hands, claws piercing through his white gloves and digging into her skin. Desperation kept her grip tight, and Kalibur slumped to all fours, breaths coming slower. She couldn't see from her position, but she had a strong feeling that his eyes were bulging from their sockets. Finally, he made one more useless tug and collapsed with his face in the dirt, tongue lashing uselessly until it, too, had stilled.
Kitreena loosened her grip slowly at first, almost expecting him to gasp for air the moment he was free. But his body remained still, eyes distant and cold. A brilliant flash of red from behind startled her, and she turned to see Arus lying on his back beneath Scimitar, his cybernetic laser burning a hole through the serpent warrior's head. When the blast died down, he threw the ninja's body off of him in disgust, and slowly rose to a sitting position.
"Arus, are you all right?" Kitreena cried, rushing to his side. She dropped her whip and collapsed to her knees, wrapping her arms around him. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the bloody wound on his arm. "You're hurt! How bad is it? Are you going to be all right?"
"Easy, easy," he said, spreading his hands with a grin. "I'm fine. See?" he raised his arm and flexed it, though the pain in his face was apparent. "Works just fine."
"That doesn't look like ‘just fine' to me," she grumbled, looking over the gash. "How deep is it?"
Arus shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. "It doesn't matter right now. There's nothing we can do about it for the time being anyway."
There were emergency medical kits in the transports, but who knew where they were now? Amidst the chaos of running from Kindel's assault and fighting Scimitar and Kalibur, Kitreena had completely lost track of their direction. Now, surrounded by raging winds and ear-splitting thunder, they were helplessly lost in an endless forest with no hope of rescue slim chance of discovery. "What do we do now?" she asked, though she really didn't expect an answer.
"We walk," Arus said, retrieving his sword from the leaves. "Lost or not, we'll never find Damien by staying here. If we try to find an area where the trees aren't quite so tall, we may be able to spot that mountain we saw when we landed. That'll give us an idea of which way is north."
They chose a direction and hurried off, running more than walking, yet nagging pain kept both from picking up any real speed. Her hand ached from overuse; the fight had certainly pushed the mobility of the exoskeleton. If luck was on their side at all, the transports would appear behind the trees any moment now. Her feet ached, her stomach burned, and her wrist throbbed. Pull yourself together, Kitreena! she told herself silently. You've never let pain affect you before! The problem was that it wasn't the pain that was dragging her spirits down. If anything, she should've been thrilled that she and Arus had managed to eliminate Kindel's long-time bodyguards and assassins. But even that couldn't lighten her mood. Nothing would so long as Kindel was out there wielding that sword. There was no mistaking it; only one blade ever spoken of had been constructed with a handle of blue diamond. Only one blade fed off of the power of the soul, drank in the essence of the spirit and amplified that power beyond anything imaginable. It was the sword of legend; the weapon of Azriel. It had to be.
"Look," Arus pointed, pulling her from her thoughts. To the left, a huge mountain rose in the distance behind the trees. Red and purple arcs of light jumped through the forest at its base like fountains of water, leaving fire and smoke in their wake. Every cloud in the sky was converging above its peak, spinning into one great circle of darkness that looked as though it might swallow the mountain whole. Or worse yet, the entire planet. "Come on," he said, tugging her hand toward it. "I'm willing to bet Damien's headed that way, too."
Reluctantly, Kitreena nodded and followed, her grip on his hand growing tighter with each step. She'd once left her homeworld, her country, her kingdom, her people because of fear. Everything she'd known was left behind because of her fear of meeting the same fate as her parents and fear of sending those she cared for to share in that fate. Yet through her training with Damien, she'd thought she had overcome her fears a long time ago. Death was inevitable, she used to tell herself. Life was but a temporary thing, here one day and gone the next. She used to dance with death every time she pulled out her whip, every time she met an opponent in battle. And she'd loved it. The Armada, the Kyrosen, Deltorian Pirates, space smugglers, bounty hunters; she'd faced them all, knowing full well that her life could be taken at any moment. It never fazed her. If she died, then so be it. But now, looking at the young man beside her, she found she wanted nothing more than to cling to life and cherish every moment that was given to her.
And it was now that she faced the greatest danger she'd ever imagined.
Chapter 3
Kindel stood at the peak of Mount Garvey, the largest mountain of the strange planet of Arynias. The weapon in his hand still vibrated occasionally, trembling in its own bizarre way. Ominous clouds of grey and black swirled above his head in a spiral of burning ice and frozen flames, cold enough to freeze a man's bones on contact; hot enough to melt steel at a distance. Sweat oozed from every pore, rolling down his face and trickling down his back, yet his body shivered as though he was naked in an ice storm. Below him lay the corpses of slain Ayaans. Creatures of every shape and size littered the mountainside, the trails, the forests, the streams, and the rocks. The still
ness of death stretched further still, reaching beyond the foothills and off toward the dark horizon.
I should've done this long ago. Everything is all so clear to me now.
The weapon shook once more, drawing Kindel's glowing eyes. The darkness that spewed from the blade had been drawn from every living thing on the planet; every evil soul he'd felled was consumed by it, never again to impose their despicable will on the truly innocent. And it was that which Kindel had finally realized that filled him with such renewed vigor and excitement. Only the truly innocent people of the universe would pledge their loyalty to the Vezulian Armada, for those without malicious intent would understand and embrace Kindel's quest for peace. Any who doubted, any who opposed, and any who ignored would only serve as stumbling blocks for his new universal order. If they are not for me, they are against me. Why did I not realize this sooner?
That was why the Ayaans had to be exterminated. On the surface, his failure to forge an alliance with them appeared to be caused by little more than an inability to communicate. But that impenetrable barrier between the two cultures presented a very real threat to the purpose of the Armada. How could they be left to grow and develop on their own if there was no way to ensure their loyalty to Kindel's ideals? Who was to say if the Ayaans would one day rise up against the Armada, costing more lives? They might not currently possess the tools for such a rebellion, but their technology would no doubt evolve over time. What might become of peace then? Would they rise up as the Ma'tuul had? Would they become the next Kyrosen? Such questions were too risky to be left unresolved. The Ayaans would, regrettably, perish.
And so would every other race, species, and planet that refused to swear fealty to the Armada. The choice was clear, and every law-abiding being across the universe would inevitably agree. Those that did not were clearly only concerned with their own personal interests rather than the greater good. For so long, Kindel had given worlds the choice of whether or not to join him or to remain neutral. But why? The way forward was simple, the only true path to harmony. The universe could either accept it or fight it, but with the power now at Kindel's disposal, no uprising would ever be great enough to bring down the Vezulian Armada.
Gazing down at the sword, Thorus shook his head. "No more," he murmured, raising the weapon above his head. Power surged into his body, flooding him with a burning electricity that nearly made his knees buckle. He felt the urge to scream and buried it under the energy that pulsated throughout his veins. "The galaxies of the universe will no longer brush me aside as some minor nuisance," he thought aloud. "I will dominate the evil and destroy the wicked. Any who oppose me shall be sent to the grave, and every nation of every planet of every galaxy will wave with the banner of the Vezulian Armada."
The sword trembled in his hand once more, vibrating with a sweet warmth that soothed his body like precious nectar. He'd grown accustomed to wielding the thing, though most of the time he was unaware of exactly how he performed some of the techniques that he had. Teleportation no longer took concentration—it barely even required thought!—and other skills he hadn't even known of were suddenly at his disposal, tools to use against any who dared to challenge his might. He almost wished he'd found the weapon before returning to Zo'rhan to face the Ma'tuul. Their defeat would've been much more convincing then. Certainly more bloody. A crimson streak of electricity shot from the sword, slithering around his body several times before winking out with a fizzled pop. Power radiated throughout his body until he thought he might burst, but the struggle to contain it never touched his grin. I have transcended beyond the barrier that separates mortal from immortal. I am invincible!
Below, arcs of red and purple continued to leap about, expanding outward from the base of the mountain, destroying all living things in their paths. He had no idea how he was controlling them when half of the time he forgot they were there, yet they moved at his will, leaping from here to there, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. The Ayaans had evaded his wrath at first, but it hadn't taken long for him to discover their nests amongst the treetops. Every tree had at least two or three, and every one would be destroyed until the planet was devoid of life. A pity that so many had to be extinguished so that peace might reign, but the ends justified the means. It wouldn't be long, now. Once the Aeden Alliance was dealt with, and the Falcon Mist was destroyed—taking the Kyrosen along with it—true progress would begin to spread across thousands of worlds like a vaccine for a disease that had ravaged the universe for far too long.
Lighting rained down from the clouds, crooked lines of red and white that struck the blade he held aloft with deafening thunderclaps and sizzles of electricity. He turned the sword toward the land below—anywhere would do, really—and a brilliant bundle of glowing streaks sped into the trees, turning another section of the woods into a fiery inferno. Die, you worthless insects! Die!
"Kindel."
Aldoric's voice sent both excitement and anger surging through him. He turned to face his brother, swinging his weapon threateningly to ensure that his dominance remained unquestioned. "So, you've come at last." He stood a short distance away where a steep footpath ended below the rocky peak. Vultrel didn't do his job, I see. Behind him, Arus appeared alongside Aldoric's supposed daughter around a bend in the path, both bloody but alive. Scimitar and Kalibur failed, as well? The three were visibly tired, none seeming to be too eager to face him. But then, why would they be? Two were about to die, and the third would perish once the secrets of the implant were studied and the lephadorite was returned. "The time has come," Kindel heard himself say. "As influential members of the movement against me, you deserve nothing short of a slow agonizing death. However, the leader of the Vezulian Armada is not without compassion. Swear your allegiance to me now, and I shall forgive your past transgressions."
"You know that will never happen," Aldoric's hair swayed as he shook his head. There was a sympathy in his voice that made Kindel's blood bubble. Thunder split the air as a bolt of lighting darted from the clouds and struck the rocks beside him. Aldoric didn't as much as flinch. "How could you, Kindel? How could you use a weapon forged to destroy the greatest evil ever known to further your own selfish desires? How could you unleash such power against these innocent beings?"
"What you call selfish, I call selfless," Kindel responded, gazing over the landscape. "What you call innocent, I call ignorant. Since we cannot communicate with the Ayaans, I have no way to determine whether or not their intentions toward the rest of the universe are pure or not. I will not risk the truly innocent lives out there by allowing these things to pursue what might be dangerous aspirations."
"You're killing things because you think they might one day rise up against you?" Aldoric yelled, pointing toward the woods below. "As far as I've seen, they haven't even harnessed the power of electricity, let alone space travel, and you're killing them off because you think they might somehow bring down your precious Armada one day? Kindel, open your bloody eyes! Your obsession with power has made you into something even worse than the Ma'tuul!"
Fury bared Kindel's teeth. "Don't you ever compare me to such murderers!" he screamed, clenching the hilt of his weapon. "I'll incinerate every planet of every galaxy if it prevents murderers like the Ma'tuul from ever rising again!"
Aldoric's eyes widened in astonishment. "You're mad," he said simply. "That sword has driven you mad. You think power is the solution to every problem, that dominance will secure your position in the universe. But as long as you treat life as carelessly as you do, there will always be people who will rise up against you. The Ma'tuul were defeated in the end, Kindel. You will be, too."
Now, Thorus smiled. He held the sword out toward his brother, turning it over slowly. "I doubt it. Not as long as I have this. There is no power in the universe greater than this, and I will continue to increase my strength in every way possible to ensure that none will ever come close. It is in your best interest to join me, Aldoric. I am not above forgiveness."
Arus, po
or ignorant Arus, stepped forward, his hand straying toward the handle of his own weapon. "You have been given countless opportunities to change your ways, and it has only increased your thirst for power. You must turn back now, Kindel. I don't know what's so special about that sword, but no amount of strength is worth the lives you've ended with it."
He didn't know. The poor fool didn't know. "I've been to many worlds over the course of my lifetime, child, and I've heard many stories about the origins of the universe. Though all possess some form of similarity, they have many unique traits and characteristics that conflict with one another, making it difficult to see which, if any, accurately retells the tale. Some say the Maker is a female. Others suggest that our Maker is but one of many. And, of course, scientists contend that there is no Maker at all." He curled his lips in disgust at the latter. "Regardless of the others, I can at least put that last theory to rest. For you see, there is one story common across every planet I've visited and every version of faith I've studied. It is a story I'm sure you've heard before, a legend about a sword forged by the fires of heaven, a blade tempered by the angels of the Maker and used to battle Kuldaan himself."
The boy's remaining eye looked as though it might fall out of its socket. "You can't possibly mean—"
Kindel's smile nearly reached his ears. "But I do." He lifted the sword over his head, drawing a series of powerful lightning blasts to the blade. "I have harnessed the strength of a weapon no mortal has ever dreamed of touching!" His voice rolled down the mountainside louder than the thunder that shook the heavens. The land vibrated with violent tremors as the clouds swirled faster, pouring a funnel of darkness into the top of the sword. Energy flowed into him at an increasing rate, growing and expanding, intensifying each of his senses and sending his emotions into a fitful rage. He grappled with the power, wrestling in a desperate fight to maintain control over his body, but anger and fury boiled over in one ear-splitting scream. "Behold the power of the Blade of Kaleo!"
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