“Where are we going?”
“We are heading for the Palace,” Bora informed him. “We need to seek permission from our leader for you to live here among us.”
“And what happens if your leader refuses?” Syros questioned, his mind unable to focus on anything, as he swivelled his head distracted by the sights.
Bora did not answer and continued with its fast-paced movement. As the two made their way deeper into the city, Syros could see that Bora had not lied about Ankor being built upon volcanic lands. He spotted a volcano, looming over the northern edge of the city, as the Medzu shell did over Asterleigh. He had never seen one before, only read about them in Ednon’s books. Legend had it that there was also an inactive volcano buried far beneath the surface of Asterleigh, but it had long been covered up by the movements of time. Bora had told him that the one outside Ankor was inactive, yet he could see the reason why the Alpelites longed so much for a return to Asterleigh, as waking up underneath a sleeping God must be a hell of a lot better than sleeping underneath a dormant volcano. He did not stare at it for too long, as it made him feel uneasy. The city’s buildings were well constructed, rivalling those the Alpelites had built in Asterleigh. But the sight of the imposing mountain every morning was something he could live without. Still, he could not be too picky; as the creature had told him, he should be thankful he was living at all.
They proceeded to the long stairway leading to the palace doors. Despite this being the palace of the Alpelites’ capital, it stood much lower than many buildings he had seen in Asterleigh, although it was still a grand sight to behold. They halted in their tracks, awestruck by the fantastically ornate structure.
“A word of advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t speak much. Just nod politely and keep repeating ‘Thank you, Your Grace’… understand?”
“Yes.”
Bora nodded. “Good. And tell him how you killed that human, he will like that.”
And with that, Bora made his way up the long steps towards the Palace’s doors. Syros gave another worried glance at the enormous black volcano that rose so high it almost touched the clouds, took a deep breath and followed Bora. Alpelite soldiers standing still within a sentry unit flanked the path as they strode to the gates of the Palace. With a nod, the Alpelite standing next to the entrance gave a shout in its native tongue and the gates opened, allowing them both inside.
The Palace’s interior was impressive; there was a single hall, wide and magnificent, filled with Alpelites carrying swords, shields and axes, and dressed from head to toe in suits of silver armour. As they went further, a chubby Alpelite, sitting upon a throne of silver, and the only one not dressed in armour but instead in silver silk, stood up and moved upon them both. The number of Alpelites carrying weapons was not helping Syros’s paranoia and the single figure moving swiftly towards him was also not calming his nerves. However, he was shocked to find that instead of hitting or attacking him, the Alpelite brought him into a warm embrace.
“Thank you,” the round Alpelite told him, holding him close. “Thank you for bringing my son home to me.” The Alpelite’s human tongue was not as good as Bora’s, yet none the less the words that Syros thought he heard startled him. Bora had a wide smile etched across its face. Its son? But Bora had told him that its parents had died after a human military campaign attacked its village. The wide creature finally let go of Syros, moving from that deep embrace to entwine the much taller Bora.
“Hello, father,” Bora said in its native language. Syros didn’t know many words of the three-eyed species, but Bora had taught him this particular phrase while they were travelling through the mountains together. The two continued to talk to each other until the chubby lord’s attention moved back to Syros; its eyes were wide and seemed to hold warmth.
“Thank you,” it said again. “My adopted son is home.”
That settles things, Syros thought. He was glad that the creature he now considered a friend had not in fact lied to him.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Syros answered as previously instructed. But then finding the fortitude and sensing the grandly dressed Alpelite’s cheerful mood, he asked, “So you adopted Bora as a child, Your Grace?”
The creature gave a nod of the head. “Yes,” it answered in a deep, rough voice. “I have adopted many children…war makes many orphans… thirty-four.” The eyes of all the sentry Alpelites were upon them. Syros wondered how many of them spoke the human tongue and how they felt about their lord using it – the two species were at war after all. The lord gave out a bellowing laugh and indicated for Syros and Bora to follow it as it waddled back to the throne. Syros felt the Alpelite guards staring once more; they did not act as pleased to see him as their lord professed to be. Bora and Syros joined the grandly dressed Alpelite in sitting down on the chairs beside the throne. With a loud shout from their lord, wine was instantly brought over. He watched the cup in front of him fill up; it was not like any wine he had ever previously experienced; its texture was lumpy and brown and resembled mud more than it did wine. With a motion for a toast from the happy creature, Bora and Syros lifted their mugs and he tasted the strange substance. Surprisingly, he did not find the taste too bad – in fact, it tasted better than most wines that he had ever previously tried.
With a joyous groan, the lord of Ankor spoke to him. “If there is anything you wish for, human, ask for it, and I will attempt to make it so.”
This startled Syros even more. He had not been expecting this reaction; he had envisioned pleading for his life. He did not understand why Bora had been so apprehensive about this meeting and why he had been warned not to speak much. He stared back towards the creature, unsure of what to say. If he could have anything in the world, what would it be? He genuinely had no idea.
“I would like to have a bath, if that is okay, Your Grace?” Syros replied, having thought of nothing else.
The lord let out a deep laugh, and even Bora beside him began to chuckle. “Yes, human, you may have a wash. Afterwards, you can tell us what you know of your species’ movements in our lands and then we can sort out your living arrangements here among us.”
Syros felt worried; he did not know what his fellow species were planning. He assumed that Raynmaher had purposely kept them in the dark on what their true motive was, as they travelled from their barracks in East Asterleigh.
“I…” Syros began, before he was interrupted by a loud shout from one of the Alpelites on garrison duty near the entrance. He did not understand much of what the creature said, apart from one word, because it was the same in his own language – the word “Venian”. With that, the previously cheerful Alpelite lord stood upon its feet, confusion across its face. It gave a shout back that very much sounded like an order and the doors opened.
“What did it say?” Syros inquired.
“It said Venian ambassadors have arrived from the forests, seeking an audience with our lord,” Bora responded.
“Does that not happen very often then?” Syros probed, trying to understand the collective shock that had engulfed the room.
“It has never happened before…”
The doors to the throne room were flung open and in stepped six thin-bodied emerald-eyed creatures. This was only the second time Syros had seen the flower-like organisms and now there was a group of them, gliding their way across the room. Bora and the lord of Ankor stood up to make their way forward to greet the sentient life forms. The Alpelites on guard all firmly gripped their swords. Were they really expecting a fight from the thin-bodied flowers? They did not seem frightening. In fact, they were nothing short of beautiful, with their large sparkling eyes and bodies that twinkled gently. He could not understand why the Alpelites seemed so on edge.
“Human… ” a quiet voice whispered behind him.
Syros turned to see an extra Venian with its head sticking out from the ground beside
him. He knew this was the way the creatures travelled because he had seen it once before, when the Venian that he had met in the forest with Torjan had left, once it had led them back to their comrades.
“Human.” Its eyes glistened as it caught his attention. “What are you doing here, so deep within the mountains?”
It spoke as if it knew him; could this be the Venian he had encountered that night with Torjan? “Are you the same Venian who helped me after I got lost in the forest?” He wondered why this one was not with the others or why it was speaking to him in a hushed manner, as if not wanting to be overheard.
“No,” the Venian informed him. “I am not of that exact body, but as you were told on that night, our race is one, sharing all experiences and thoughts. Where is the fat one?” It scanned the room.
Syros presumed it was speaking of Torjan. He didn’t answer; he still felt so much guilt about how that whole situation had played out. Sensing Syros’s pain, the Venian smiled, “Do not worry, human. Salvation is nearing…” it finished softly, before receding back into the ground.
Syros watched the creature’s head slowly disappearing. What did it mean? The last time he had talked to a Venian it had also spoken of salvation. He was not entirely sure, but, much like the Alpelites, he too was beginning to feel apprehensive. He stood up from his chair and made his way over to Bora, standing stiffly behind the lord of Ankor, who opened its arms to address the life forms.
“Welcome,” it said, causing the Venians to each give the silkily dressed Alpelite a low bow. “Never before have you decided to come here to Ankor. May I ask why you have chosen to do so now?”
The Venian in the centre moved forwards out of the group, giving a glance around the room towards the row of Alpelite guards, who had not ceased their firm grip on their sheathed swords. “We are here to end the war, Alpelite.” It spoke so softly that Syros queried just how he could hear the words as clearly as he did. The flower-like life form’s eyes made him feel separated from himself, as if he were in a dream.
“Ah!” The lord of Ankor happily beamed. “So, after all these years you have finally decided to join our cause and aid the species with whom you have shared this planet for so long. Is it only now that you have begun to feel this kinship between us?”
The Venian who had stepped out in front did not answer straightaway, as it thought over its response. “I do not believe kinship is the right term, Alpelite,” it said, outstretching its long thin hands. “We watched you grow before us upon our surface; we watched your evolution with our very eyes. We have seen your hardships, along with all your horrors. We are your mothers. Your existence within this universe is down to our doing, both our benevolence and our conscientiousness. We have looked away during your war with the humans, but now the stars have fallen and the flow of fate moves in a different direction. We are the mediums for this everlasting change.”
“So, you mean to help us return to Asterleigh?”
“Yes. Something like that…”
“Good. With you by our side we shall overthrow the humans and retake Asterleigh.” The lord of Ankor tried to smile at the Venians, but failed to do so. Syros noticed the atmosphere within the room had not changed. The Alpelites were still unnerved by what was happening before them and by the six Venians whose glee had not lessened.
The Venian gave a slow shake of the head. “You do not understand.” Its wide eyes grew even wider. “Your race has never understood. We have watched you weep, all of you. We have eyes everywhere, even here within the mountains. What makes you so sad?” Its voice tried to display sympathy, but fell short. “Is it your longing for home and Medzu that makes you cry? Or is it your own stagnation, here in the mountains, which depresses you so?”
The Alpelites were becoming very apparently heated by what the Venian had said; even the lord of Ankor, who had previously been all smiles, now had anger upon its face. The Venian let out a strange sound that Syros, much as the time before, recognised as a laugh. It continued this noise for a full minute; the entirety of the room kept silent, waiting for the creature to regain its composure.
After a moment, the Venian did manage to control itself and looked down at the short Alpelite lord. “But do not despair,” it continued, mouth wider than Syros had ever seen before on the life form. “We have brought you a gift from the stars.”
The Venians parted and Syros could see a cloaked figure walking up the steps and into the throne room. A strange sensation swept over him as he watched it moving closer towards their location, one that he had never felt before, as if all air was being sucked from the atmosphere, as if space and time were warping. The visitor removed its hood, as it made its way past the Venians, leaving Syros able to see its face for the first time. It appeared human enough, with a bald head and face covered in strange markings. However, the one aspect that did not seem human was its eyes, two black sunken eyes that appeared to have no light within them whatsoever. Its skin was a tone of colour he had never seen before, a type of light grey azure, with red veins visible on the outside, curling, twisting and forming patterns. Syros even noticed that its whole body was illuminating, pulsing through different stages of brightness.
Syros and the others stood perfectly still, shocked by what the Venians had brought them. Is it human? Syros marvelled. No, it can’t be, but if it isn’t human then what is it? The lord of Ankor had taken a step back as the Alpelites standing on guard all withdrew their swords. What is going on here? Syros again questioned, staring at the Venians, whose smiles had widened even further. Why have they brought this illuminating being and where did they find it? Can it be as they said, it truly came from the stars?
“What are you? Where… are you from?”
The Entity did not answer straightaway, as it continued its lifeless vacant staring around the Palace. When it did respond, it was with a voice that sounded distant, as if not coming from the room that they were in. “From worlds far away…”
“Y-y-you seem human,” The lord of Ankor’s body was shaking. It pointed its finger towards Syros, who was standing just yards away. “You look like our friend here.”
Within this moment, the blank sunken-eyed Entity locked eyes with Syros. It was only for a second, but seemed to last an eternity; Syros gazed back into the most vacant of all voids. It was as if he were staring into Mercivous’s eyes once more, only he was certain that this body had only the darkest of presences, so unworldly, like nothing he had ever before experienced. The Entity broke its stare away from Syros, who let out a deep gasp as if he had arisen from the depths of the ocean. Nothingness was all that was running through his mind; no fear nor surprise, only nothingness.
“I was human, once,” the Entity said, its two empty voids back upon the fat, shaking Alpelite. “But having wallowed within the endless dreams, I have become something much more.”
“What are you now?”
“I am the burning star,” it uttered, and at that moment Syros heard a yell from one of the Alpelites on guard. He turned and saw a Venian had appeared behind it, its long leaf-like arm had become sharp, piercing through the Alpelite’s back.
“Wh-” the lord of Ankor began, when a Venian rose from the ground behind it and too pierced its sharp arm through the creature’s back, before withdrawing it, leaving the lord dead on the floor.
Bora let out a roar and withdrew its blade. The Alpelites on duty also unsheathed theirs and charged towards the Venians. Syros grabbed his sword, but it was too late. More and more Venians rose up from the ground. There now seemed to be hundreds of them within the throne room. Syros caught the eyes of an Alpelite guard as it swung its axe towards one of the intruders, but the botanic being’s body was nimble enough to dodge the attack. The room continued to fill and now the Venians outnumbered the Alpelites by at least five to one. Like a virus attacking its host, the Venians swarmed the Alpelite guards. Syros watched in shock, but suddenly his attention was drawn to
the glowing Entity that had locked onto him. It steadily moved forwards; he could not do anything, except run once more. He ran so fast past the Alpelite guards, whose bodies were piling up on the ground, that he forgot about the long winding steps outside and fell down them, plummeting to the very bottom.
Head dazed and heart pounding, he looked upon the manic, stricken city. Buildings were ablaze in the pandemonium – it appeared they had already been attacked. The Venians were everywhere, in every corner, killing all males, females and infants that they came into contact with. Loud, blood-curdling screams filled the air as the desperate Alpelites fell beneath the relentless onslaught. Syros searched for his blade, but he could not find it. Mind spinning and panting heavily, he sensed something behind him. He turned in time to see a Venian rising from the ground, its emerald eyes fixed on his own. It brought its hand back, readying to pierce it through him. This is it, he thought to himself, my death. He prepared himself for the blow. However, the creature did not kill him, instead gliding straight past into the frantic city. Why didn’t it kill me? Syros marvelled. They seem to be killing all others they encounter, so why not me?
His mind raced over this for a moment, until he felt a presence coming from the entrance of the throne room. The glowing Entity stood there, its arms wide open. Then, to Syros’s amazement, it began levitating, ascending so high into the sky that it blocked out the two suns. The unworldly life form lifted its hands and a sound like the roar of thunder echoed around the blood-soaked capital. The ground beneath Syros started to shake, causing him to fall violently upon the rocks. He looked up and saw that the volcano looming over the city was now spewing smoke into the air, while molten lava streamed down its blackened slopes, heading straight towards the city. He struggled to his feet and gave one more glance to the chaos happening around him, before outstretching his hand as a single black ash fell into his open palm. He silently watched it for a moment, before it slowly disintegrated into the nothingness.
To Tame the Sentry Being Page 17