Syros and Bora were standing upon a nearby cliff, watching the Alpelite multitude as they journeyed through the mountain pass. There must have been thousands of them, of all different ages and sizes. Many of the surviving Alpelites had instead chosen to head east, while this swarm, led by Syros and Bora, were travelling westwards. Most had found their endings within Ankor, either bloodied from the piercing sharp arm of a Venian, or left lying still with the stiff expression caused by the flower-like life forms’ deadly poison. He had seen more death than he could have possibly imagined, but it no longer left him feeling scared or mournful. It made him feel only hollow.
“Do you still mean for us to travel to Asterleigh?” Syros asked.
Bora gave a nod of the head. “Yes, human, it should only be a few more weeks until we reach your borders.”
“Why?” Syros challenged callously. “Even if the humans do not just kill us as soon as we reach the border, does it truly matter where in the world we go, when the Venians travel from under the ground? Would Asterleigh not just be their next target?”
“As I told you before, human, there is a mysticism to Asterleigh that your species knows nothing about. The Venians cannot arise there, the ground beneath is too dense, plus in Asterleigh we have Medzu to watch over us.”
“And where was Medzu in Ankor! When the infants choked and the elderly were butchered? Why worship a god that has no interest in you? As you told me before, Medzu’s consciousness left this world many years ago, so why do you continue this blind worship?”
“Habit, most likely. Truth be told, the only difference between us and the gods is that they are large while we are small.”
“Then why…” Syros continued, staring intently at the wounded Alpelite, “do you still hold hope that Medzu will save us?”
Bora gave a long pause, gazed back down to its fellow species below them and spoke in a voice that shattered like glass. “Because it’s the only hope that we have left…”
Syros stopped himself. He should not be attacking Bora, not at this moment; the Alpelite clearly had much love and affection for its people, so the recent slaughter and threat of complete annihilation must be weighing heavily on its mind. Despite the current circumstances, perhaps it would be best to portray himself as being optimistic.
“The humans will kill us as soon as we reach the border…” Syros could not fake it; they were all going to die. All of them. His own fallacies would not change this inevitable fate, so why even bother?
“If we die, then we die,” Bora said, still surveying the Alpelite crowd as they continued to move through the steep-sided ravine. “But at least our fate will be in our own hands.”
Syros did not respond and solely joined Bora in a silent watch over the thousands upon thousands of three-eyed life forms passing below them. There are so many of them, Syros thought, as he witnessed one of the elderly pick up an infant. Each with their own lives and stories.
“Human,” Bora said. The creature was standing a little taller, a new glint in its eyes. “There is only one God. It’s a God we have all been worshipping ever since life first appeared in the universe and its name is Survival. We will survive this; we shall all survive this.”
Syros stared back silently. He appreciated Bora’s attempt to lighten his mood, but the truth was they had only lived this long because the Venians had allowed them to do so, and at any minute they could reappear. Furthermore, who knew what other powers that strange Entity possessed? Syros and the Alpelites had hardly any weapons, next to no food and no horses. Despite this playing in his mind, he gave Bora a sturdy nod. “Yes, we shall survive this.”
“Good. Now let us join the others in the canyon.”
Syros could feel all of the Alpelites’ three eyes staring up at him as they steadily headed down the rocky path to the mountain road. He was still not used to them; even after all the time he had spent with Bora, the Alpelites felt like strangers and many treated him as such. He seemed to be the only human within the horde travelling west and most of the Alpelites did not speak his language, so Bora was the only one with whom he ever truly conversed. He missed human beings, he could not deny it. Despite the last couple of encounters he had had with his own species, he could not lie about feeling less on edge with his own kind than he did with these three-eyed ones. Who knew how they really felt about him? Syros questioned, as he stared round the gathering. He was sure many of them must hold anger for him in their hearts; their two species had been at war for thousands of years and they were all collectively starving, so what would stop them from…
Syros’s thought process was interrupted as he felt something pull on the back of his shirt. He turned to face an elderly, hunched-over female, a silk shawl across its face to help shield it from the intense sunlight. The old Alpelite was carrying a newborn sleeping gently in its arms. The weathered life form spoke in its native tongue, while searching Syros’s eyes.
“Bora… what is it saying?” Syros called, provoking the Alpelite to see what caused his discontinuance.
Bora gave a smile. “Thank you for helping us…”
Syros felt his face redden. Please don’t thank me, he thought, as he gazed back into the elderly female’s eyes. He wasn’t any different from the rest of them; he wasn’t helping, not really. The only reason he was here was because of circumstance, nothing more.
“Thank you,” Syros answered, in the little of the creature’s tongue he knew. The elderly female let go of his top, then joined the others as they made their way down the rocky passageway.
I hope you survive, Syros thought to himself, as he and Bora watched the back of it moving further and further away. If Medzu is truly watching over us, and if it has an ounce of compassion, it would save you both.
The darkness of night was approaching; the once bright sunlight was disappearing and with it the rocks of the mountains. They were entering the grassy meadows and deep forests, which stretched ahead for as far as they could see.
“We should set up camp and restart our travelling in the morning.”
“Here in the meadows so close to the trees? What would stop the Venians from killing us as we sleep?”
“As you said before, human. If the Venians truly wanted us dead, they would have done so already.”
They sat around the campfire, now the only thing illuminating the complete darkness. He, Bora and two other large-bodied Alpelites sat up on guard duty as the others tried to get as much rest as they could within an abandoned encampment that they had stumbled across when they had entered the forest. It appeared to have belonged to humans, but there was no sign of anyone else in their proximity. What happened to them? Syros questioned, swivelling his head round the deserted camp. Had the Venians already come? If so, then where were the bodies? His worriment did not appear to be shared by Bora and the other two, as they laughed and joked with each other in their native language. Syros could only understand a few words of what the creatures were saying to each other. In this moment, he missed Saniya and Torjan greatly. He wondered where they both were. He assumed if Torjan were still alive, Raynmaher would have sent him back to Asterleigh to await trial for treason. And Saniya, he had no idea where she was, or the rest of Zelta Squadron. He prayed they had returned to Asterleigh and that she was safe. He remembered how beautiful she had looked that night underneath the moonlight. I should have kissed her, Syros thought to himself. He had seen Dashera’s naked body a few times back in Asterleigh and he wondered what Saniya’s looked like compared to hers. He imagined both of them kissing underneath the moonlight while caressing each other’s bodies and the moans of pleasure both girls made. And then, after that, they would turn their attention on him. They would treat him like a god, not just one god out of five, but the greatest of all the gods. He fantasised not only having Dashera and Saniya fall for him, but every girl on this planet and on any other worlds as well.
The flames on the campfire
began to flicker, and Syros’s eyelids along with them. It was the early hours of the morning and there was only so much listening to an unfamiliar language he could take. It was a cloudy cold night, no stars nor moonlight, only the blackness of space. He closed his eyes and began to imagine, imagining himself on distant planets trillions of lightyears away from this one. A new life, a new outlook and a new destiny – perhaps what Torjan had told him was true, when the three of them had sat there gazing up to the stars together many moons ago, that this is what happens after death. How much longer? he questioned weakly as his eyes shut, and his body and mind grew numb. How much longer until I finally… A loud noise from the bushes promptly alerted his senses.
“Bora!” he shouted, rapidly withdrawing his sword.
Bora and the other two Alpelites got to their feet, also drawing their weapons, and pointed them towards the bushes. Had the Venians already come for them? He continued levelling his steel in that direction. The leaves parted and his disbelieving mind saw Saniya’s face emerging – Is this real or am I dreaming? Their eyes matched and it was as if for a moment he had forgotten himself entirely. He continued to stare back; I must be dreaming, he told himself. However, it appeared his eyes and mind were not lying to him, as she swiftly moved out of the bushes and entwined him within the deepest embrace that he had ever previously experienced.
“Syros! I thought you had died. Oh Sy… they killed everyone… Raynmaher, Freckon, Steph… we were the only ones who made it.” She hung on so tightly he could feel her trembling.
Syros surveyed the bushes from which she had emerged and saw Hurus leaning on Petula’s shoulders. From head to toe, he was covered in blood, his eyes were also completely glazed over – it appeared Petula was doing all she could to keep the lad upon his feet.
“What happened?” Syros held Saniya’s head firmly to his chest. His heart was pounding. He could not process what it was she was telling him; the only thing that mattered was that she was here with him, in his arms.
“The Venians attacked us a few nights ago.” Her voice was almost unintelligible with grief. “Oh, Sy, this all seems like some horrible nightmare.”
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t; he knew it and she knew it, but what else could he say?
“We will nurse your friend,” Bora told Petula, as the three Alpelites gently picked up the now unconscious Hurus.
“Please take care of him!” Petula pleaded.
“Do not worry, we will give him the best medical attention that we can.” With that the three Alpelites lifted up Hurus between them and carried him off into the campsite. Some of the other Alpelites were emerging from the tents to see what the commotion was.
“Sy, I’ve missed you so much…” Saniya spoke again, her cries intensifying.
“It’s okay.” He kissed her on the top of her head and brought her in even closer. “We’re alive…we’re both still alive…”
The hours passed and the darkness grew. Syros was lying beside the campfire, head on a log as a makeshift pillow, with Saniya gently sleeping on his lap. All the others had either gone to bed or were attending to Hurus’s wounds in a nearby tent. But he could not sleep; there was too much adrenaline running through his body and too many thoughts occupying his mind. Instead, he sat and stared into the fire for what seemed like an eternity. The commotion had finally died down and silence had descended upon them, apart from the scurrying of a few woodland animals moving through the forest.
“Has she finally fallen asleep?” Bora whispered, appearing behind him.
“Yeah,” Syros responded, as he gently played with Saniya’s hair.
Bora let out a deep yawn, stretched out its limbs and lay down beside them, eyeing the shimmering blaze.
“How is Hurus doing?”
“Not too well,” Bora answered solemnly. “We must wait until morning to see whether he lives, but I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.”
Syros did not respond and merely joined Bora’s quiet staring into the fire. They were all dead, all of them, Mercivous, Captain Raynmaher, even sweet innocent Freckon. Only five of the original members of Zelta Squadron were still living, if of course Torjan was even still alive, wherever he might be.
“Human… can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I know you are not helping us out of honour or kindness. Who knows? Perhaps deep down you do not truly care for us. I know the only reason you are here is because if you were anywhere else you would most likely be dead…”
Syros eyed the Alpelite wearily. Why was it telling him this?
“For all that,” Bora continued, still fixated by the burning embers, “there is too much hatred between our species. Even after you saved my life and we first began to travel to Ankor, I wanted you dead. And that is because I have been designed throughout the entirety of my existence to want you dead; even now, I can feel it in my very being. Even with Medzu’s light guiding me, I can feel its cold abyss. It’s pure hate. It has always been there… I suspect there it shall remain until the end of my life. I have a wretched feeling deep inside me… we’re not going to survive this, none of us will… and you know what? I think we may have deserved it.” The Alpelite leaned backwards and placed its hands over its eyes. “Silly, isn’t it, how our lives have played out.”
“Yes, but we’re friends now, aren’t we?” Syros smiled.
“Yes, human… we are friends.” And with that it stood up, gave another loud yawn and started to walk away. “I’m going to bed. We near your borders with each day; we will need our strength.”
“Okay, good night, Bora.”
“Good night, Syros.”
Syros looked down at Saniya and played with her hair once more. As he continued his gentle stroking, her eyes opened to match his. He smiled at her as she regained consciousness.
“Hi.” She sleepily raised her head from his lap.
“Hey.”
They stared at each other silently, the clouds above parted and the moonlight of Vurtus began to shine down upon them. He continued to search her eyes, her bright pale eyes, searching, searching for something to which he could relate. Was she also doing the same? What was it she was searching for within him? Moments passed, silence lingered and the wind began to gently blow. Whatever it was she wanted, she appeared to have found as she broke their shared elongated period of nothing.
“Syros…” Saniya got to her feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him upright.
“Yes, San?”
“Come with me…”
With that she led him, still clutching his hand, drawing him away from the glow and the silently sleeping three-eyed creatures, to deep within the forest. She steered him far into the placid woods, not making a sound, with the moonlight guiding their way. Eventually they reached a clear, deserted area within the trees; a small stream ran past them, the moon from above was on full display as she faced him. After a few more moments of silent nothing, she slowly undressed, until she stood completely naked in the moonlight. Syros watched her, his mind blank, feeling very much like he was within a dream.
“San…” he started. “We shouldn’t… ” before she moved closer and kissed him. The trees around them gently swaying and the light from above illuminating them, he finally started to lose himself and, with that, all thoughts of death. He clasped her firmly, returning her love, as the still night sky above them slowly filled with eternal, ever-burning stars.
19
Brother
10 Days until the New Year
Ednon sprinted through the streets at such a pace he tripped over his own feet. Wincing slightly, he picked himself up and, ignoring the concerned glances from a few onlookers, started to run once more. He knew where he needed to go. His mind was racing and the pain was growing, but he could not stop running. He accidently collided into a couple, causing all three of them to topple over.
�
�Watch yourself, kid!” the man shouted, as Ednon rose to his feet and regained his previous pace. He could not slow down – for the sake of Amelia, he couldn’t. However, his eyes did indeed catch something that managed to slow his charge. He spotted a poster upon a wall and a face he was now all too familiar with.
WANTED: THE MAN KNOWN AS ‘LUTHER’
FOR ACTS OF TERRORISM
AGAINST THE STATE
PERCEIVED AS BEING
EXTREMELY DANGEROUS –
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DETAIN WITHOUT
MILITARY PERSONNEL PRESENT.
Underneath was a sketch of a man with a bald head, dark-tinted shades and a baleful grin. Ednon stared at the picture in dismay; how long have these been here? He studied other walls as he continued onwards. The posters were everywhere, on the sides of taverns, shrines, shops and even on schools, each showing the same depiction of Luther. The other Elders must have been arrested along with Abacus. However, it appeared that Luther had managed to elude the military’s clutches. Taking a deep breath in, he tore his eyes away from the posters and started to run once more.
At last, he reached his intended destination and, panting heavily, Ednon banged upon the golden gates. There was no response, so he hammered on them once more. They must be in, he pleaded to himself. For the love of Medzu they must be. He studied the barrier to see if there was a way for him to climb up. The gates were at least fifteen feet tall and he could see no footing to lift himself over. He could wait until someone came by to open them, but who knew how long that would take? The military man who had burst into their home said Abacus was to be hanged for his acts of treason, but did not give a specific time or place. His mind drifted to Amelia and her mother. This was his fault. How could he live with the guilt if he could not prevent the execution from taking place?
To Tame the Sentry Being Page 19