How many different worlds were there? How many different races of species? Were all worlds like this one? Was Xerus much like Vena? He felt something brush up against his leg and lowered his gaze to see a strange blue-skinned creature with large white eyes shaped like diamonds. The life form was small, only two feet or so high. Two antennae hung to the ground, much like long hair on a person. Its body was transparent with what looked to Ednon like bright orange organs gently floating round its insides. Its arms were bright blue flippers. Its lips and nose were both barely visible, the nose in particular was almost completely non-existent. A spiral marking appeared to be engraved on the strange animal’s forehead. It was sparkling slightly, illuminating the almost complete darkness. Such a beautiful creature, Ednon thought, kneeling down to get a better look at its face.
“Hello. What is your name?” Ednon was half expecting the creature to respond. It didn’t. However, appearing to return his smile, it uttered a small joyous squeaking noise. “Are you hungry?” he asked, confused at what had attracted it towards him. Reaching inside his pocket, Ednon retrieved some grain that he had previously used to feed his farm animals and placed it in front of the creature’s face. It clapped its flippers together approvingly and gave a squeak before proceeding to eat the grain out of Ednon’s hand.
“Where did you come from?” Ednon queried, not expecting the creature to answer, especially now since it was using its mouth to nibble furiously on the grain. The organism was emitting a strange presence; it felt calm and loving. It can’t be from this planet. Ednon had never seen anything that even slightly resembled the small transparent creature. The loud howling of wolves once again broke his deep contemplation. He glanced back to the life form. He could not leave it out in the wild to fend for itself; much like himself, it didn’t look like a fighter.
“Come with me,” Ednon told it. The small life form, however, was hesitant, unsure whether to comply with the demand. Ednon gave a sigh and outstretched his hand containing the grain. It clapped its flippers together gleefully and trudged alongside him, following the open palm.
Ednon entered the back door to his farmhouse. He had left the creature locked within his barn. It seemed happy enough, instantly going over to the herds of pigs, sheep and chickens as if it was striking up lively conversations. Something about the organism lured him in. Maybe it was the eyes or the beautiful transparency of its skin, but something inexplicable made him feel warmth, much like Amelia did. He would go see it in the morning, and if Ira was up for it, he would take him as well. He would also very much like to show it to Amelia. He felt overwhelmingly positive; yes, tomorrow was going to be a good day. He was certainly in need of one, considering the chaos and conflict his mind had been under since his visit to the Grand Library earlier that morning.
His home was dark and only dimly lit by lanterns upon each of the walls. The stones were old and battered, paintings of stars and grassy landscapes decorated the bland lack of colour. He took off his muddy boots by the back door quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping Ira. It was way past midnight but, for whatever reason, he had found this the perfect time to go into the fields to meditate under the ever star-filled night skies. Why did that vision come to me? He often dreamt of strange scenarios where he was inside someone else’s body, experiencing their thoughts and emotions, but never had they come while he was trying to achieve his state of nothingness. Sometimes he even dreamt of great battles on worlds trillions of light-years away from this one. Thousands of strange creatures and life forms being led by gigantic gods into war; he even saw himself among them sometimes, leading the armies from out ahead as if he were a general.
He opened his bedroom door; the room had been stripped of anything relating to Syros, almost as if he had never been there. Ednon remembered when his brother used to play with a wooden sword, and how he’d hit it against the battered walls of their bedroom whenever he got angry; usually due to a fight he had had with their grandfather. “One day, Ednon, you will write the books of my exploits,” Syros used to tell him, giving him a wide grin. “Humanity will win, little brother, and I will play my part to defeat the monsters.”
Ednon got into his bed; he had not heard any coughing from Ira since re-entering the house. It’s good he’s sleeping, Ednon thought. At this stage, it really is the best thing for him.
“Ednon.” The gravelly voice of his grandfather startled him. The old man was standing by his door. He was wide-awake and dressed as if it were midday and he was about to do something of importance either with the village elders or in the city. The messy hair that remained on the side of his head was brushed and he was even wearing a tie.
“Yes?” Ednon said, unsure of what to make of the situation.
“If you wouldn’t mind, would you please accompany me outside? There is something I wish to discuss.” Ira started to make his way down the hall and out into the fields. Confused, Ednon got up from his bed and assisted his grandfather who was swaying slightly, struggling to get to his sanctum of the cool open-air underneath the majesty of the tranquil night stars.
He helped his grandfather onto one of the wooden chairs in the yard that were positioned to survey the vast acres of grassy fields which were, and had been, his farm for most of his life. Ira gazed skywards. “Not a cloud in sight… It’s as perfect a night as any for this.”
Confused, Ednon sat down on the chair beside him. “A perfect night for what?”
Ira’s glazed eyes filled with frailty. “My sweet child, I am going to be forthright with you. I have not feared death for a long time – in many ways, I have longed for it dearly. All my life I have prided myself on my knowledge and my own inward lucidity. As I feel them fade away due to sickness and old age I see less and less reason for lingering. I am afraid Syros was right. I am a coward and yes, I have always been, but not for death, but for what life may become for me in the future if I should continue this dawdling. My boy, this pains me greatly to say.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“My burning star…” Ira breathed heavily. “I no longer wish to live under the density of this fog. My life has only become a burden upon you and I fear I am not a burden anyone should bear, especially one as young as you.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards upon his chair. “Do you remember when you asked me what I was talking to Abacus about?” His voice was almost completely quiet. “When my consciousness departs to wherever lost consciousness goes, you will stay with your friend Amelia and her family. Ednon, remember what I told you? About when you take her hand, not ever letting it go…” he wheezed violently, and his speech became even weaker and more sluggish. “Please don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” Ednon said, wiping his eyes.
“Good,” Ira said, the weakened grin still across his face. “Your smiles are what dreams are made of; genuine pure smiles from your loved ones are what makes life worth the struggle.” Saliva spat from his crusty mouth as he coughed violently. “Ed, go to them now. I have already ingested the poison. My light will soon fade… go quickly.” Powerlessly, he outstretched his hand to find him.
Ednon caught his grandfather’s hand. It was cold, colder than ice. He glanced around the fields and thought of what his grandfather had instructed. He could quickly run next door to inform Abacus and maybe try and find an antidote, but it looked like his grandfather had only a few minutes left. He could not leave; the thought of not being there at the moment of Ira’s death he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“I’m going to stay,” he uttered in a shaking voice.
“My dearest Ednon, you will one day become the awe-inspiring visionary who will change the fate of our species. Of that I hold no doubt. You don’t hate – sometimes I question whether you are human at all. When I heard the news of what happened to my daughter, I was filled with so much hate.” He began shaking his head as his face tightened, with pain etched into every syllable of h
is voice. “I wanted so badly to kill the ones that had done them that injustice.It was all I could think about, and it’s all I dreamt about. And for that, I have always been a hypocrite; what we show and who we truly are is usually so different. When I told Syros that it was the State that conditions man’s hatred, I was wrong.” He shook his head violently as tears fell from his tightly sealed eyes. “It’s this whole damn planet!” his voice erupted in bitterness. “I fear, Ednon, you may never truly know what’s lying within the hearts of strangers. These ghouls masquerading as thinking and feeling life forms won’t deserve you. They won’t even come close.”
A long silence followed, only the trees and the grass gently rustling in the gentle breeze could be heard, along with the deep unsteady breaths of Ira’s life dissipating. Ednon sat there with him for what seemed like hours, savouring each passing moment. After a while he managed to look upon the face of the almost completely vacant shell that was once his grandfather. “You taught me so much. No matter how much inner turmoil you were in, you did what was right for this world to end the hatred. That does not make you a hypocrite; all it does is make you human.”
“My boy, I’m far more of a hypocrite than you know. Life is merely a dream that quickly fades, but it is a glorious dream we must all work in unison to savour, for the generations still to come. So they may live in a better world.”
These last words hit Ednon hard inside his stomach as he remembered the warning of the shadowy figure, and how he had spoken of the world’s imminent ending. He had previously planned to discuss the shadow’s words with Ira, but had got home late from Asterleigh with Amelia, and Ira had been asleep throughout the entirety of the evening since he had been back.
In his last moments, his grandfather gave a slight smile and spoke in a voice quieter than a whisper. “If you see Syros, Ed, if you see him…” his voice grew fainter. “Please tell him these words …” But his voice finally faded and the light in his eyes along with it. His consciousness also left to go wherever separated consciousness goes when no longer bounded. His grandfather’s cold hand still holding his own, Ednon no longer cried. He solely searched the night stars and imagined a world where he would be able to meet him once more.
6
Vows of Moonlight
Syros and Torjan walked across the verdant fields, back to the encampment of Zelta Squadron. With a smile and a wave, the Venian left them at the edge of the forest before slowly receding into the ground – as if Vena itself was demanding a reunification. The creature was happy, almost too happy. Something about it made Syros feel perturbed. It even appeared to be whistling to itself as it illuminated their way through the empty woods. Maybe I’m overreacting, Syros thought. It was, of course, his first ever interaction with the life form – perhaps they were always so cheerful. However, he and Torjan had both initially entered the forest to cut down wood. If the creature spoke the truth about having eyes in all trees and plants, it surely knew what Syros and company were planning on their campaign. A species so renowned as being pacifists should not have behaved so harmoniously towards them. He also could not get out of his mind what it had said; “Our salvation has finally come falling from the stars in the sky.” He repeated this aloud to Torjan after a few minutes of walking. “What do you think it meant?”
Torjan just gave a disinterested motion as the two finally reached their destination.
“You took long enough!” shouted Steph, a lanky blond-haired lad and a comrade from Zelta.
“The lovers have returned. Enjoy your nice romantic walk, lads?” laughed Hurus, another of his brothers-in-arms. They were both sitting around a high-burning fire in the dead centre of camp.
“Where is everyone?” Torjan asked as he and Syros sat down to join them.
“Most are in bed,” Hurus explained. “Raynmaher is in his quarters writing his reports to be sent back to the capital. Oh, and before I forget, he said you both were to take over night duty for making us wait. So why did you take so long getting back? And you didn’t even bring the wood!”
“Where is Saniya?” Syros interrupted.
Hurus grew visibly annoyed. “Not sure, most likely in her tent with the other girls. Are you going to answer my question or are we going to pretend you haven’t been gone all evening?”
“Got lost,” Torjan explained. “A Venian had to show us the way back.”
“A Venian!” Steph’s eyes sprang wide open. “I saw a Venian once when I was a kid… Went to take a shit behind a tree when I saw a head sticking out from it. Almost scared me to death.”
Syros stood up from the campfire. “I’m going to find Saniya.”
Torjan gave him a knowing look. The two had been discussing her as they made their way through the forest, following the sparkling back of the life form.
“Did Torjan not give you a good enough time?”
Syros knew he was joking, but the words still caused his blood to boil. No matter how slight the affront might be, he was never one to let his ego get bruised. He clenched his fist in anger. Sensing this, Torjan firmly grabbed him by the wrist.
“He was only joking…” Torjan whispered, glancing up towards him.
“Blimey, Sy, will you chill out for once?” Hurus grimaced. “Torj, how do you put up with this?”
Torjan released his arm. “Sy is alright. As long as you can handle a few unprovoked attacks and a constant moody attitude, it’s actually quite the rewarding friendship.”
Syros swallowed his pride, took a deep breath in and uttered the single word “Sorry” before moving past them in search of Saniya.
“Did he really just apologise for something?” Hurus laughed. “Perhaps we should all lose ourselves within the forest; it may end up stopping the war!”
There were twenty of Syros’s comrades in camp, with each tent holding three people. Only three females had left on the campaign east and they shared the same quarters, so all Syros had to do was walk round the camp until he heard a woman’s voice and that would be Saniya’s location. The night was late but almost all tents still had lights emitting from them. Many of Zelta Squadron stayed up until the early hours of the morning, telling stories or playing games, and, if they were crafty like himself, they drank alcohol they had managed to conceal before making it across the border. As he moved round the camp, with ears and mind focused, he eventually heard hushed female voices. He moved closer and determined this was the tent belonging to Saniya and co. He felt nervous; he could not just barge in, that would be ungentlemanly, plus who knew what state of undress they might be in? He was visualising this scenario when he heard one of the voices mention his name.
“So where do you think Syros and Torjan went?” said a voice he recognised as another of his comrades, Narcisi.
“Not sure. If you ask me, the further away Syros is from us the better,” said a different voice he identified as the third girl of the group, Petula. Syros knelt beside the tent, just far enough to still hear their voices distinctly. He was never one for eavesdropping, but learning someone’s true thoughts and feelings about you was an opportunity too rare to squander. He picked up a nearby flower and moved it round his fingers as he focused his full attention on the voices.
“Something about him really is unnerving,” Petula continued. “Unlike the rest of us who signed up because we have nowhere else to go, people like him and Mercivous signed up because they love killing… ”
“Sy is not so bad.” His heart lifted a little to hear Saniya stick up for him.
“Come on, Sandy…” This almost made Syros laugh out loud. Sandy? When Syros first met the fierce warrior in the East Asterleigh training camps, he had made the mistake of calling her ‘Sandy’. After that day, each time she saw him for months afterwards, she gave him a heavy punch to say ‘Hello.’ But Petula clearly did not bring out the same reaction in her that he once had.
“You only like him because he’s handsome. If he
was more like Mercivous, I doubt you would be able to tell the two apart.”
“Syros is lost, but deep down I know he’s a good person. There’s a kind-hearted boy there, it’s just buried underneath all the anger and sorrow he carries from what happened to his parents.”
He did not know how he felt about what she had said, but the flower he had picked was now violently crushed within his hand, leaving it bleeding from the thorns. He flexed his hand in and out of tension, watching the blood slowly drip onto the grass. He wished he had never told her that story, but on one drunken night out in Asterleigh, and after one too many drinks with constant calls for him to ‘Open up’, he had eventually caved in and told her about the day he had found his parents lying in the street of his old village. After that moment, the way she reacted to him changed; she no longer punched him a ‘Hello’ and her eyes filled with sympathy whenever she saw him – eyes he began to despise. Syros didn’t want her sympathy, or anyone else’s. We all go through experiences that change us, he told himself. Some experiences just change us more than others. He often imagined what life would have been like if they were still alive, but constantly stopped himself whenever these thoughts went on too long. For his own sake, he should not dwell on them.
He didn’t want to eavesdrop any more. In fact, he no longer wanted to see her or anybody else. He wanted to retreat. To leave to where he would no longer be seen by anyone. Getting up from his position he started his withdrawal, until he heard one of the voices. “I think I will go see if they’ve come back.”
To Tame the Sentry Being Page 6