by J Hawk
“What do you mean?” asked Ion.
“The Nyon were meant to be far more than what they are now.” said Vestra. “They were meant to keep the spectrum under a blanket of peace and justice.” As she spoke, her gaze carried out the window. “We were meant to be protectors of this world. But at this point, at this fragmented state, we’re far from it. We can hardly protect ourselves, can we?”
“Well, we’re doing our best.” Qyro contradicted her. “And that’s more than we should afford right now. At this anti mystic age. The masters go for missions to stomp out trouble wherever we can.”
“And does it really make a difference?” asked Vestra, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him. “The difference it should have been making?”
Ion thought she was rather making a point. The glory of the Nyon in the day of the empire was well known. Their efficient struggle against crime and evil was said to hold no bars at all to the vastness of the entire spectrum. They were the ones who helped guard and protect the empire single handedly, moulding the spectrum into a state of peace like nothing before. But now, they could hardly protect themselves from the Naxim. And whatever feeble crime fighting they were pulling through … It was a miserably futile affair in a world full of crime and injustice.
“And we’ve come to a stage where the masters can barely step out for a mission.” continued Vestra. “The entire brotherhood has found itself in the hitlist of the Naxim, and we’ve hardly been able to touch most of the planets in the inner spectrum since then. At this point,” She shrugged. “we could as well have not existed. That’s the state we’ve been brought to now.”
“We’ve got have a lot of enemies to blame for that.” said Ion.
“From the Naxim to the states of the inner spectrum, we’ve got nothing but enemies.” said Qyro. He frowned after a moment’s thought. “And we’ve just gotten a new one recently.”
They moved on down the corridor, explaining their current plight, and how they were barely able to perform the duty that the Nyon had been meant for.
“Have the two of you been sent for missions, much?” Ion asked them.
“Rarely.” said Vestra. “Even if they did, the masters sent us for missions only for training purposes. To give us experience.”
“But they make sure it isn’t more than we can handle.” added Qyro, wearing a discontented scowl as he said it. “They don’t wanna risk losing the two only students they’ve got.”
“Except in the one exception that you just saved us from.” said Vestra.
As they came upon the centre of the long corridor, they headed into a small room by the left. Ion followed them out the balcony’s door, and found himself standing in a large platform stretching out from the end of the room. It was a balcony, but unlike any Ion had seen before. The gigantic circular expansion was so wide it could have been used for ship parking.
He saw a few cloaked figures spread out over it, most of them training. Two of the pairs were practicing with swords. Three of them sat at desolate corners, their eyes closed in meditation. Gentle brushed of wind tousled Ion’s hair as he stood in the enormous expanse.
“This is another place we train in.” Qyro informed Ion. “My favourite one, as a matter of fact.”
“We also use it for meditating and a host of other things,” Vestra said, gesturing to the meditating figures.
“Yeah, so it could get a little crowded at points,” said Qyro, raising both hands to gesture to the masters around them. “like it is now.”
Ion scanned the large balcony, watching all of the Nyon keenly engrossed in their own working.
“But we usually come here at the early morning,” went on Qyro. “to start the training. And that’s usually when there’s no one at all around. So we have the whole place for ourselves. I remember learning it all here.”
He swung his hands in a wild wave. A heat wave like disturbance burst from the air in front of him, gliding past the balcony and then disappearing beyond it.
“Oh, come on, the smash is amateur stuff.” said Vestra, shaking her head. “Some of the masters here can conjure a blaze.”
“A blaze?” asked Qyro, turning to her.
“It means to conjure fire out of thin air.” she explained. “It’s one of the hardest mystical fighting devices, and can usually be done only in extreme pressure.”
Ion looked past the balcony for a moment. A gruesome, twisting sensation had seized his insides. He heaved a deep breath, steadying himself. For a few seconds, he silently watched the duel between one of the sword pairs: a middle aged Elfling and a Blackling. The two of them were locked in a rapid dance of orange lights: they moved faster than humanely possible, their ignited swords swirling like ropes of fire. Sparks burst around them as their swords clashed repeatedly.
Ion couldn’t help feel a silent awe at the mindblowing skill that they displayed. The three disciples let their attention divert to the duel for a few quiet minutes, watching as it slowly dragged itself to the centre of balcony, growing tenser. It carried on for what felt like ten minutes, with neither of them letting their prowess slacken even a bit. The black fur on the Blackling rippled as he jumped, dodged, ducked and struck wildly at his opponent, who fought back just as aggressively. The two of them moved so fast, they almost seemed to flick from spot to spot, their motions a blur and their ignited swords spinning in a frenzy.
The Blackling’s blade swept around in a wild slash that would have taken his opponent’s head off, if he hadn’t leapt back in a split second’s notice. But the Elfling recovered from the staggering motion in the slightest effort, lunging forth with a snarl on his face … his sword shining in brilliant orange. A steely cling sounded, and the Blackling’s sword was sent flying off: The Elfling’s blade had clipped it by the bottom and wrenched it from the man’s hold. The Blackling’s eyes, for the meanest second, had followed his sword as it went twisting into the air. But the very next second, before he could complete a flinch, the Elfling’s sword was held before his neck.
A faint patter of clapping ensued from some of the masters around who’d been watching this. The two masters concluded their training duel with a deep bow, before the Blackling picked his sword back up and sheathed it.
Qyro turned to Ion with a grin. “Believe me, you haven’t seen duelling until you’ve seen Mantra duel.”
“Mantra?” Ion needed a moment to construct a mental scene of the elderly master dancing around with an ignited sword. “Is he good?”
“Good?” asked Vestra, smiling. “He’s the best there is.”
“You’d be surprised if I told you have the tricks he’s got up his sling.” said Qyro.
Ion shrugged. “Well, he’s eight thousand years old.”
“Yeah, compare that to the few years we’ve trained.” said Qyro. “I’ve been here for just over a year, and the few years before as a stray mystic could hardly count.”
“Why’s that?” asked Ion.
Qyro’s gaze went far off for a moment, as if in memory, and a dark look shadowed his red furred features.
“Those were dangerous days.” he said quietly. “Before I joined the Nyon, my earlier master, Tralgor was all I knew. And we were two stray mystics wandering about the outer spectrum.” He paused for another moment’s thought. “The regions of the outer spectrum, as we went about it, was less friendly than you could actually believe. Apart from just trying to evade the Naxim constantly, we ran into a load of other deadly ventures. And we couldn’t have come close to dying any less than a dozen times.”
“Sounds like the type of thing you would’ve loved.” said Ion honestly.
“Of course I did.” admitted Qyro. “And I’ve gotta hand it, despite all the fear, all the dread and uncertainty back then, the thrill of it compensated for it all.”
“Thrill?” asked Vestra, with an amused laugh. “Trying to not to be found and killed by the Naxim every single day? That should have been wonderfully thrilling.”
“What’s
the fun in life without a little risk?” asked Qyro, shrugging. “As my master used to say. The two of us used to have a blast throughout. Through all those dangerous instances that could’ve turned real painful.”
Ion found it evident that Qyro’s blatant love for adventure and danger was something he had found from his earlier master.
“Tell us about one of these adventures of yours.” said Vestra.
Qyro thought for a second, and then looked at her with a wild grin. “I’ve got one you won’t believe.” He shifted his gaze from her to Ion. “Try running into a bunch of Ensys.”
“Ensys?” hissed Vestra, the bright look on her face dying into one of shock.
Ion knew that the Ensys were one of the many non man being species. And among non man beings, they were among the more dreaded and feared ones. But as Mantra had said earlier, they had gone completely off the known portion of the spectrum after the onslaught of Redgarn’s empire. “But where’d you find them?”
“We didn’t.” Qyro shook his head. “They found us. They move very rarely, but in one of the few times they did, we crossed them in a planet, Halios, far out into the outer spectrum. It’s pretty close to where they actually hide. But when they crossed us, we met their leader, Rigmrr.”
“Rigmrr?” Ion cocked an eyebrow.
But Qyro shuddered, the light in his face now fading. “Oh, believe me … he was a nasty one. He was the Ensys’ complete, sovereign King. We found out that much. They completely abide and go by him. He’s like their god. And one mean god that was. And the fact that he was ailing with an incurable disease didn’t make him and the monsters in his command any friendlier.” He shuddered again, and a frown contracted his brow. “Non man beings are all the same wad of trouble that you don’t actually need to go looking for.”
Something in his features betrayed a sense of cold anger at this subject of non man beings. Though Ion found it rather curious, he knew Qyro couldn’t be blamed for it: apart from being inhuman in their physical forms, the non man beings were beastly and slightly dangerous as well, at times. Fear and hatred of them was shared and common to all people of the spectrum.
Qyro now fixed his attention on the other duel taking place across the other side of the large balcony.
“After spending an entire life of hiding and running, I can tell you this,” he said, as he watched the duel. “This is home.”
He turned to Vestra, who stood gazing past the forest beyond the balcony. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Still looking past the forests, Vestra gave a soft sigh. “I would love to. But I haven’t spent my entire life running and hiding, unlike you. This was my home all along.”
“Of course not. I forgot.” said Qyro, bringing his attention back to the other duel across the balcony.
It was between two younger looking masters, probably in their thirties. One of them was a species he couldn’t identify, with a violet skin colour, while the other was an Iveling. Their motions were considerably slower than the earlier one, but they were a sight to watch nevertheless as their orange swords spun wildly, clashing and sparking.
But Ion wasn’t watching it: he turned to Vestra, frowning, as the implication of what she had just said fully registered.
“So you … weren’t a mystic when before you joined the Nyon?”
Vestra said nothing for a few seconds, and Ion wondered if she hadn’t heard him. Then she slowly brought her gaze to him.
“No, I wasn’t.” she said. “I came here to become one.”
Ion felt a second of confusion as he worked his way around what he had heard. Then, shock overran the confusion.
“You mean…” he said slowly. “you mean you chose to become a mystic?”
Vestra was quiet for a second, her gaze still lost in the wilderness spreading beyond the balcony.
“It wasn’t an overly easy choice, you could say.” she said with a broken chuckle.
Ion felt his own gaze drift to the forests as well. The fact that a person chose this life … chose this path, a path filled with nothing but dangers, darkness and uncertainties, a path that was dreaded and hated by the rest of the world, left him startled.
He remembered what Qyro had told him earlier on in the cruiser, of Vestra approaching and joining the Nyon. When it usually happened the other way around.
“She was facing her share of suffering…” Ion remembered him saying.
He looked at Vestra, whose gaze was still distant. But something seemed to stir in the depths of her black eyes as she watched the horizon. A strange, thrumming emotion.
Was it grief?
With another soft sigh, she joined Qyro in watching the other duel across the balcony, evidently unkeen on pursuing the subject.
But Ion had deduced enough.
Vestra had joined the Nyon for the greater good of helping this world. She had sacrificed a normal, carefree life for this … And it had cost her something along the way.
Ion flashed back to that day, two years back…
And he couldn’t at all find it hard to believe that this was her…
The girl who had changed him from a senseless murderer to a good person.
The girl he had fallen in love with.
5
Terinoz, Outer spectrum
Stroking his chin absent mindedly, Zardin stood on the rocky terrain. The ground ran forth as far as could be seen in its rugged format, with miniature plateaus and hills rising all across it. Above, the sun lay frozen in the middle of the sky. Spread around over the small elevated portion of the land he now stood over, were a half dozen other cloaked men. One of them sat by the edge of the outgrowth Zardin stood over. Their ship was resting on a smooth portion of the rugged landscape at the distance.
Zardin tucked his hand into his pocket and felt his fingers clasp around a small pen like device. He withdrew the mineral detector, the one they had stolen from the Mech laboratory, and held it before him, rotating it between his fingers.
After obtaining the treasured information that they had been seeking in file D, the lot of them had come here to this planet. After arriving, with the help of the sophisticated mineral detector that he now held, he had traced a region with a high concentration of a mineral which lay hidden deep down in the bowels of the planet. A region with a high concentration of a particular, extremely rare mineral, known as Xarenol.
They now knew what to do.
They needed to dig their way into the earth. And reach this Xarenol filled region…
And there, the creeper would be awaiting them. He was trapped somewhere under the earth, where he had been all along. Unable to free himself for being a cripple, he had used his mystical powers to contact Zardin that day, and saved his life in return for having him found and freed. And Zardin was now here … and he was going to find and rescue someone who would be the greatest gain for the Xeni.
“But how, sire?”
Zardin turned slowly to face the source of the voice. The Xeni who had been sitting by the side was now standing before him, his arms folded.
“How do we proceed now?” he asked.
Zardin turned back, lifting his head to the sky overhead them. The clear blue expanse was fazed with streaks of white clouds. “I fail to understand your concern, Ferio.”
“The region that we located, where the mineral is found … it’s hidden almost miles beneath the earth.” Ferio paused to phrase himself. “How are we going to reach it? We would need greatly advanced tools, to drill our way through.”
Zardin continued to hold his head raised towards the sky for a moment, before turning and fixing his blank eyesockets on Ferio, who visibly fought the impulse to flinch.
“Everything has been well taken care of.” he said, feeling his lips curve. “We will reach the region where the Xarenol is. And quite easily too.”
Ferio seemed to teeter at the edge of speech again, before deciding better of it and falling silent with a bow.
Zardin raised his head
towards the sky again. The glare of the sun would have proved detrimental to someone else. Someone who had eyes. But he stood there facing the sky and the mid day sun above for minutes, without even the need to blink. Ferio stood beside him in equal silence, as did the rest of the cloaked figures.
Zardin allowed the silence to linger for a long time, before speaking.
“The Oristor republic had been spending its resources in crafting their armed forces. They recently finished with the first battalion of ships, Rash-cons and an arsenal of other powerful machinery. Having completed it, they were transporting the battalion in a vessel from its planet of manufacture to the republic’s capital.” He slowly turned to face Ferio. “The vessel went off track a few minutes back. It had gone off range in the course of its travel mysteriously, and there is not the slightest clue of where it now is.” He gave a soft sigh. “Poor Oristor republic.”
Ferio was listening with an attentive frown.
“So…” he asked very slowly. “where’d it go?”
Zardin turned to face the sky again, spreading his hands. “Here, of course.”