To Tame the Sentry Being

by Michael Georgiou

  “Maybe he’s got a crush on you!” Torjan laughed, after Syros mentioned this while the two of them were sequestered away from the rest of the squadron. Syros gave a small shudder when his broad-muscled friend uttered this, as if cold ice was suddenly poured down his back. “Perhaps he’s under the same spell as our dear Saniya. You always have been extraordinarily pretty, Sy. Who can blame them?”

  Syros had winced when he heard this. However, his friend was not wrong. Syros had never found it a difficulty attracting members of the opposite sex. With his big brown eyes and chiselled features, he often found women staring his way. Nevertheless, for some reason, and as with most other things, this also brought him anger. Why do I feel like this? he found himself thinking. Will these feelings always be burrowing away inside me? Does it ever stop? He felt like hitting something, but restrained himself from attacking Torjan, as he was now, truly, the only friend he had left in this world.

  “Can you and San please make up already?” Torjan asked while picking up a bundle of logs. “I’m tired of acting like an ambassador charged with getting two rival species to stop warring.”

  “No one asked you to do that, Torj.”

  “True, but damn do I miss the old trio. You’re off by yourself, looking all miserable as per usual. While she’s with the other female members of the company, pretending to be interested in the same crap they’re into. The whole situation’s damn depressing.”

  The two of them walked back to camp. The evening was dark and restless as they moved through the remote yet serene woodlands. They had journeyed deep into the woods to find a suitable tree to cut, so deep in fact that Syros genuinely did not know where they were.

  He gazed around anxiously. “Torjan? You do remember which way we came?”

  Torjan surveyed every direction. “Umm… no… not really.”

  “Brilliant,” Syros sighed. Dusk was fast becoming night; all natural light would soon vanish, plus they had never been this far east. For all they knew this forest could stretch on for an eternity.

  “It’s alright, we could go… oh, who knows, let’s continue walking the way we were going.”

  “If it’s the wrong direction, then we’ll just be walking further away from camp.”

  “Damn it! Why didn’t we mark locations to remind us of the way?”

  “You were distracting us with all your relentlessly dull talk of Saniya and her precious feelings.”

  Torjan glared at him. “Fuck off! All I ever do is help you, but lately you’ve become unbearable.”

  “You really think I care?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m your friend!”

  Syros made a dispassionate motion before spitting on the ground.

  “If that’s the way it’s going to be…”

  Syros watched Torjan, believing he was about to walk away. However, Torjan instead dropped the logs he was holding, faced him and, without a hint of a warning, struck him hard across the face, knocking him to the ground. Syros arose quickly and tried to land a punch, but Torjan dodged it and returned a blow of his own into Syros’s stomach. Syros had been punched many times throughout his short lifespan, but none were as hard or held as much strength as the ones from the gigantic Torjan. He felt the wind go out of his lungs. The pain was unbearable, but Syros managed to rise with the help of the adrenaline flowing through his body and lunged again for Torjan, who quickly manoeuvred him into a headlock. The blood rushing to his head, Syros landed some jabs into Torjan’s ribs, but it was like hitting a sturdy rock with a broken feather and did not seem to have any effect. After a minute or two of Syros’s head being crushed between Torjan’s enormous arms, he decided to call out for a truce. Exhausted, the two of them fell to the floor panting heavily.

  “You always were the better fighter,” Syros conceded.

  “Well, I am twice your size.”

  “That you are… How ever did you get so big?”

  “Not sure… I just woke up one morning to find all my clothes were ten sizes too small for me.”

  The two of them laughed. And it was as if everything that had been said previously was forgotten. After a moment, however, Torjan repeated, “We are your friends, Sy, no matter how much you may deny it. We both are, me and San.”

  Syros placed his head into his hands, utterly drained, both physically and mentally.

  “Sy, I realise you have a lot of anger; that’s one of the reasons I was drawn to you. However, to go through life with so much is a waste. Chances are, we will probably both die out here past the border, so don’t spend your last moments neglecting the people who actually like you, mate.” Syros did not respond immediately, so Torjan proceeded. “I don’t mind it when you release your angst with me, but Saniya doesn’t deserve it. She’s more sensitive than she lets on, as are most of us. Hell, I bet even that creep Mercivous has a sensitive side to him, as miniscule as it may be.”

  Syros once again did not answer. He continued to sit upon the broken branches and displaced logs, his head remaining firmly in his hands.

  Apparently unnerved by Syros’s silence, Torjan pressed forwards. “So how did it go with Dashera before we left? You never did tell me.”

  “I hit her…”

  “What?”

  “I hit her,” he repeated with greater clarity.

  Syros’s eyes were covered by his hands, so he could not gauge the reaction from his stocky friend. The mood surrounding the secluded area had changed, however, and the wind had just turned a little colder.

  “Torjan?” Syros asked tentatively, beginning to feel a strange, unfamiliar feeling creep up inside him. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

  A lengthy pause followed, as Torjan thought over his response. The heavyset lad eventually responded with the single word, “No.”

  Syros’s eyes started to fill. He could feel his lips tremble; he was about to do something he had not done in many years. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore…” Tears rolled down his face. No matter how hard he fought he could not keep them from streaming. Torjan came over and silently placed an arm around his shoulder. It was the first time Syros had openly cried in front of someone since the day he had found his parents on the street of his old village. On that occasion, he was in front of his brother who was only a baby and would not remember him doing so. Sensations swept over him as the tears continued to fall. It was strangely calm and salutary. He sat there in the windswept leaves underneath a lone oak, lit only by the blue moon Vurtus, which had come out from its hiding place behind the clouds. Small wild animals and insects scurried past him and Torjan, who sat there silently for close to an hour.

  “What are humans doing so deep within our forest?”

  Startled, the two of them jumped to their feet, withdrew their swords and turned towards the speaker. A face was sticking out from the tree behind them, almost as if it was carved into it. It had large glistening emerald eyes, light-green clear skin and an extraordinarily small nose and lips. The blue moonlight from Vurtus reflected off its skin, causing it to twinkle softly. It had an extremely kind face, which was all Syros and Torjan could see of the being; the body still appeared to be within the tree itself.

  “Are you a Venian?” Syros asked, already knowing the answer. He had seen the species once before when he was a child travelling through Molosis Forest with Ira and his infant brother, straight after the massacre that had killed their parents. Even though the Venians were a renowned passive species, Ira had quickly gripped him by the hand, telling him not to go any closer. Though at the time all he saw were their green eyes gleaming in the darkness, there was no chance this wasn’t the same life form that he had seen on that day many years ago.

  “If, human, that is the term you want to use, then yes, I am what you call a Venian. Although that name has only been used since the ancestral human beings first arr
ived here.” It spoke softly and quietly, much like Mercivous did. However, unlike Mercivous, whose every syllable caused a chill to run down the spine, this creature’s voice was nothing but soothing.

  The tree separated from the bottom of its trunk to as high as Syros’s eyes would lead him. The two of them retreated backwards, uncertain of how to deal with this new situation. The Venian emerged from the tree and now its full body was on display. Its legs, arms and body were thin, quite like the stem of a plant, with small light-brown patterns running horizontally up its legs and arms. It appeared very much like a flower with its large ovate-shaped head and beyond thin body structure; but flowers did not twinkle delicately in the pale moonlight, nor did they walk upon feet that slowly approached with each step they took.

  “Now, humans…” the Venian said, its glimmering eyes dancing with their own. “Won’t you tell me what you are doing so far from your border and so deep within our placid forest?”

  Syros had to think quickly. Perhaps he should not tell the creature they were travelling as part of a large-scale military campaign east on a mass invasion of Alpelite land. Nor would it be wise to say they had got lost cutting down trees to be burned upon a campfire.

  “We are mere travellers.” Torjan quickly came to the rescue. “Travelling the world to gain the knowledge to write a novel so profound it will one day solve the conflict between ourselves and the Alpelites. See, we are both pacifists, much like yourself.”

  The Venian stared at them blankly and then opened its mouth to release a sound utterly unlike anything Syros had ever heard before, but if he could find a similarity, he would have said it reminded him of laughter.

  “Such pacifists,” it howled, continuing to make the strange vibrations. “Only moments ago, I witnessed the both of you attacking one another. I know very well what you humans are doing. I am not so very short-sighted; I have eyes in all trees, plants and blades of grass. I have seen you humans riding other saddled mammals in high numbers heading east. But lying has always been a very mammalian characteristic, as has war. I was merely trying to determine whether the two of you broke this never-changing mould.”

  They gave a nervous smile, unsure of how to act. Syros could not tell whether the creature was upset or not. He read no emotion on its face, but the words it uttered and the way it spoke to them gave Syros the impression the plant-like life form was amused by them.

  “You’re the first Venian I’ve ever seen,” Torjan said.

  “I feel that is more your human doing than it is our own. I remember the ancestral human refugees used to come visit us within the forest almost nightly. However, as the war deepened, the less frequent those visits became. Shame, you always were a most intriguing species.”

  “You said you remembered,” Syros began, having completely forgotten his tears from earlier. “How old are you?”

  “I am almost as old as Vena itself, our race is many but we are also one, sharing all thoughts, experiences and memories. I have witnessed much in my long life, but this is the first time a human being has ever caused me to laugh.” The wind around them was blistering; leaves flew in all directions, as the Venian took further steps forward.

  “Usually, you humans are so un-humorous. Both you and the Alpelites have begun to lose appreciation of this world and all it has provided; you spill each other’s blood upon its dirt, causing it to sink within our roots. Vena is feeling the cost of your savagery.”

  “The Alpelites are the ones who are the savages!” Syros spoke in a voice loud with anger, as he did most times he talked about the Alpelites. “They break through our borders, raid our villages and kill our people.”

  “Yes, but I’ve seen you humans do the same. And if I recall correctly, those wondrous temples and homes within Asterleigh, that you all inhabit, were built by the Alpelites… not done so easily by a race of savages. There is more to a being than your predetermined hatred, human. How many Alpelites have you met? How many have you talked to, much in the same way I am talking to you now?”

  “None,” Syros admitted. “And I don’t intend to. If I ever meet an Alpelite, I will kill it – and without any remorse.” He finished coldly as Torjan shot him a worried glance.

  The sentient plant moved upon him quickly, standing only inches away from his face. “Now… you are a most interesting life form,” it whispered, beginning to search his eyes. “I can feel only sadness coming from inside you. Perhaps before your time does come, you can find a little peace within the variable chaos.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” Syros began, not troubled with how close the creature was, or indeed its vague words, “could you show us the way back to our comrades?”

  “I could…” the Venian murmured. “However, your lives lingering will only bring more bloodshed to this already blood-soaked world. Perhaps I should just leave you here and a young Alpelite child may still have a father when Sechen comes by once more. Although…” its tone quietened as though it was speaking only for itself, “I guess it doesn’t really matter now anyway…” It paused for a moment in a deep reflective silence, before lifting its voice in an excited, almost child-like way. “Yes. I think I will help you humans, for making me laugh so much earlier.”

  “Thank you,” they both replied sincerely.

  The shimmering life form swiftly moved past them, its whole body becoming even more phosphorescent from the light of the moon Vurtus, which was now central in the cloudless night sky. “This way, humans.” Its thin lips stretched out to something that could almost resemble a smile. “We must all find our own salvation. You mammals will find yours on the battlefield doing what your kind does best; while our salvation… has finally come falling from the stars in the sky.”

  5

  Ira

  For how long have I been enticed by you? When did your gaze first draw me in, governing over my stream of consciousness – my kaleidoscopic eye? And, once again, you have me falling, deeper and deeper into the void of nothingness, and for what? Where are you leading me?

  He felt the sensation of plummeting and, in what felt like no time at all, identified the muddy ground beneath him. He sensed the rain and the wind rustling against his skin. Where am I? Who am I? He had forgotten himself. Had he even existed before this moment? He opened his eyes to find himself upon the top of a high grassy ridge, surrounded by hills and meadows that seemed to stretch open for an eternity; the sky was a dark shade of red, the star and the moon were passing. He continued to survey his surroundings; emerald-eyed beings were standing over him, staring gawkily. Meeting his gaze, they fell into a bow, uttering “You have arrived…” before they steadily receded into the bespattered terrain below them. He checked his own being. Why were his hands illuminating like this? He could feel something within them, a feeling that covered every inch of his being, circulating underneath his cold grey skin; it was life itself. For how long has this been my shell? As the wind and rain picked up to a fierce pace, he found himself quietly whispering, “To pass between the black void. To reconfigure the fragments and matter. To separate the spirit from its transient shell. To tame the sentry being…”

  Ednon opened his eyes. He was back in his own body in the grassy fields around his farmhouse. Strange visions had begun to fester within his personal nothingness ever since he had spoken to the shadowy figure in the darkened depths of the Grand Library. He had not told Ageth, Amelia or even Ira of his conversation with the shadows – would they believe him? Ednon was not known for lying, but some stories were just too fantastical to believe. The figure had spoken of the world ending. Well, many claimed of the world’s imminent destruction. He passed them all the time in the streets of Asterleigh, smelling of booze and shouting in almost unintelligible voices. However, it felt different this time, as it wasn’t a man who had told him this. It didn’t appear to be a life form of any kind. He was scared; life was spiralling, beginning to overwhelm his mind. He placed his head within his ha
nds. He could no longer travel into his nothing. Too many thoughts were within him, clouding his judgment. Along with worries about his grandfather’s rapid decline in health and his loss of communication with his brother, he also heard the ghostly words of this shadowy figure playing continuously through his head.

  He got up from his stance and glanced skywards just as a shooting star pierced the black veil. The night was warm and still, without a single cloud. The moon was on full magisterial display. Taking a long breath inwards, he decided to go for a short walk around his farm before he went bed-ways. Mournful howls echoed in the distance. Wolves, he thought to himself. Good thing all the animals are already locked within the barns; perhaps it would be wise for him not to stay out too late. As he walked, he tried to make sense of his latest vision. That figure told me the end came riding upon the Star of Sechen, he deduced to himself, and in that vision I was looking up towards the crimson eclipse.

  Pieces were coming together within his mind. The shadow had told him that the only option left was for escape onto the shores of Xerus, but he still had no idea how he would be getting there, or indeed how many people would be able to accompany him. He would like to think he could take everyone, all humans, Alpelites, Willtors and sentient plants. No one should be left on this planet if it truly was the end. He changed his mind; no, he had never believed in destiny. It went against every conception of the universe that he had. There must be a way to change this planet’s fate. “There is a way to change this planet’s fate,” he said out loud, newly filled with optimism. He thought of his brother, Ira, Amelia and Abacus, and even Ageth. He had too much to lose to let it all go willingly. He would fight for them, even without the physical strength.