Xenosaber: Fury of the Stars

by Jedaiah Ramnarine

  “What is it my lady? I came as soon as I can.” he entered the royal hallways where Arya had dismissed the other guards for the two to meet privately. Cyrus was a well-groomed, tanned elf with a muscular frame and a short buzzcut, sprouting a cleric’s ponytail. He carried both royal and holy insignias across his armor and a pendant, depicting the Ancient Goddess, as a testament to his beliefs.

  “There is something I need you to do without question.” Arya’s tone was strict. Despite her beauty, she was more than capable of handling a kingdom. Many feared her.

  “Your wish is my command.” Cyrus was ready to accept the order.

  “You must take a party and make haste to the Temple of Gates. I believe my brother has returned.”

  “Baldr?” Cyrus’ eyes widened. “Shouldn’t we inform the King?”

  “You questioned me.” Arya shushed him.

  “Forgive me, my lady. I will ride to the temple if that is your wish – though if it is true that Baldr has returned, then this is something much, much more.”

  “My father no longer trusts me,” Arya said with regret. “You are the only one I can lay my confidence in. Something has happened to my brother. Something dark. I have reason to believe Mikael knows of this as well. You must find him and discover what he knows. Bring him back to Eira Citadel. My father must not know of your expedition. He will not understand.”

  “As you wish. I will round the troops and we will be on our way.” Cyrus turned and headed for the exit.

  “Cyrus.” The princess stopped him.

  He faced her.

  “Come back alive.” she ordered.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Moon Elf

  A HOODED RIDER made way across the lush, acreage of Star Moon on route to his village just a few kilometers away. He rode past mountain and lake, farm, and temple, peering over each of them with a sense of nostalgia. Each place carried a fragment of old memories. From the time, he was a little boy, climbing up the mountain and dreaming of the day he’d leave such wonder behind, to the time when he entered the Shadow Temple and was told – he didn’t belong here.

  The sight which appealed to him the most was the planet dominating the sky overhead – Star World. On the moon, Star World was three times larger than the distant pair of binary suns orbiting each other. It was an exotic sight, filled with color and wonder, and yet that did nothing to detract the underline feeling he carried. The rider didn’t belong there and he knew it. He always felt displaced when he looked up to the sky from the trader's farm and see all the beautiful, twinkling stars beckoning him to ascend into the night sky. He belonged out there – back at Star World, not home, where he started. The rider steered his horse toward his village, Istara Woods, carrying a collection of supplies.

  “Back so soon?” An older lady elf noticed him strolling into their dreamy hamlet.

  “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.” he got off his horse and presented her supplies of wine, bread, and meat for the annual celebration to come later that night. The old caretaker sensed uneasiness in her adopted son while he tied his horse to the front of their little vined home. He removed his hood, revealing a youthful and handsome, dark skinned elf with shimmering green eyes and long, silver hair, sporting a slender, but athletic body.

  The two went inside.

  “I was hoping you’d meet a girl out there.” The caretaker chuckled while she arranged the new supplies in their cozy little home.

  “No need Julith. You’re all I want.” The young man teased. His caretaker was old, but still beautiful. She had long, blonde hair with deep blue eyes and fair skin. The wrinkles hadn’t slowed her down much. There was no doubt that back in her prime, she was unmatched.

  “You flatter me Jaival,” Julith snickered while she began preparing them a meal. “Still, I want to see you with a good girl. One that would take care of you. I think that’ll be best for you.”

  Jaival’s eyes wandered, lost in thought over Star World. He wasn’t very interested in the women from his village. Julith wasn’t from the Moon either. She was born in Eira. Jaival was an orphan whom she’d taken under her care while visiting the moon on her own personal journey. They’d grown fond of each other. Julith was recently widowed without child and Jaival was an urchin without parent. She decided to stay and raise him.

  “What’ll be best for me is to leave.” Jaival thought aloud.

  “And go where? Eira?” Julith asked rhetorically.

  “Perhaps.”

  “What is it about that place that calls you so?”

  Jaival paused. He searched deep within to find the true answer.

  “It brings me closer to the thing that’s been missing in my life all these years.”

  “And what is that thing that’s been missing?” Julith walked toward him and handed him a fresh plate of food. The delicious aroma of the meal nearly knocked him out of his chair.

  “Not sure,” Jaival stared blankly while Julith sat down opposite him with her own plate. “All I know is that it’s there.”

  “Then it might be your time to go back.” Julith smiled.

  ***

  Later that night, Jaival and Julith went to the village celebration of the new year. Fireworks lit up the sky while the villagers were out in the cobble streets, drunk with holiday cheer. Tales of times long gone, and times to come, rumored amongst the elven moon folk. Beautiful belly dancers took to the stage, tempting the men. Wine and pipe were passed around for all to share. The moon folk were not the same elves as those in Star World. Most had either tan or dark skin with silver or white hair. Once they reached the age of maturity, they were taken to the Shadow Temple to receive a unique set of tattoos said to capture the meaning of their destiny.

  Jaival only had one – a series of three rectangular lines with a circle in the middle on his right shoulder. The temple monks advised him that this tattoo; which they referred to as the mark of age, symbolized ‘The Star of Magi’. It was said those who bore such a mark carried a great destiny. Jaival often berated the monks’ wisdom, citing it as false hope.

  Nevertheless, the night was so full of merriment, it was hard to remain pressed on tribulations. Jaival allowed himself the simple pleasures. He had drink and pipe, wine, and dance – though he kept himself from going overboard. Sometime later, he snuck away from the commotion for some alone time with the stars and a bottle of rum. A drunken villager and his female mate noticed the moon elf alone.

  “Oi boy-o.” The young man called.

  Jaival spun around to acknowledge the boisterous lad with a friendly nod. It was someone he knew.

  “Me and the crew are having a little get together with the lasses. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind another well-cut fella’ like yourself.”

  “We got grass and wine for the picking.” The tipsy woman grinned, allure beneath her tone.

  The word no almost slipped out Jaival’s mouth. Then he paused for a moment. Why not?

  “I’ll think about it.” he said to the drunken couple.

  “We’re up on hill’s bark. We’ll be the rowdiest lot. I’m sure you’ll hear us.” They walked off, giggling in each other’s arms.

  It was a tempting offer – one that could rid him of some tension. Yet, Jaival was bothered by another matter. There was gloom on the horizon and he felt it. Maybe he was being paranoid or awfully too serious. He should just let go and enjoy the night. Still, Jaival couldn’t shake the feeling. He had every intention of heading to the invitation but the rum had taken its toll. He drank to the stars with the rustling trees till his body gave out and he could remain awake no longer.

  ***

  Hours later, Jaival was rudely forced out of his slumber by the crisp echoes of nearby flames. He rose to his feet, groggy and annoyed by the disturbance. At first, he didn’t notice the severity of the situation or perhaps it was denial. He was ready to tell whoever woke him to buzz off until he felt the searing heat whiffing across his face.

  Oh my stars, his mouth dropped.

/>   The little hamlet of Istara was set ablaze. The tall trees that surrounded the village were helpless victims to the spreading flame. The little homes, the town’s square and even the playgrounds burned as Jaival looked on, horrified by what was happening.

  Is this real?! He shook his head.

  No matter how many times he tried to force himself out of it, he couldn’t escape. His village was set on fire and was burning to the ground. A bolt zapped through his head, reminding him of his mother. Julith, he gritted his teeth. Jaival raced into the village without a care for the scorching flames. Instinct overcame his desire to hold his head and cry. He had to find his mother.

  The moon elf choked as he reached the town center, the stench of burning elf and alcohol permeating the air. He looked around and saw the crisped bodies of his townspeople – folk who were just hours ago laughing and dancing. A sense of dread crept up his spine. The moon elf felt alone. The entire town was in ruin – not just set on fire, but ravaged. Buildings were torn apart and doors were kicked in.

  Who did this?

  “Julith!” Jaival shouted.

  No response.

  “Julith!” he called again.

  Nothing.

  Jaival ran to their home, only to discover the entrance blocked by fire and debris. He called for his mother once more. Nothing came back. Guilt clouded his mind as he frantically searched for Julith, hoping that somehow, this was all just a nightmare.

  “Jaival.” a weak hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

  Instinct made the moon elf spin around with lightning speed.

  “Julith!” he caught his old caretaker from collapsing, holding her in his arms as he dropped to his knees. Life was quickly leaving her.

  “Hold on, it will be okay.” Jaival said.

  “Yes, it will.” The old woman deliriously replied.

  “Hey!” Jaival noticed her eyes closing. “Look at me! You must stay awake! I’m going to get you out of here. Hold on.”

  Jaival was prepared to lift her in his arms and carry her to the nearest healer but Julith simply caressed his face and looked over him with pride.

  “My son,” she said. “You’ve aged so well.”

  “Mother.” Jaival stuttered.

  “It’s your time. Become the great man you were meant to be. Embrace your destiny. All your dreams,” she squeezed his hand. “Will come true.” Julith breathed her last and life left her. The moon elf held her close, doing everything he could to control his tears. He wanted to say so many things to her but all he could do was hold her and quietly sob.

  Fire danced closer and yet, he didn’t care. The only one he cared for; the only one who cared for him was gone. A deep rage boiled in his chest. He gazed around, gnashing his teeth as he searched for the culprit of this woe. In the distance, he noticed two caped, elven soldiers preparing to set fire to the rest of the village. The moon elf moved from the spreading fire with his mother. He placed her aside on a safe patch of grass, closed her eyes, and kissed her forehead.

  “Until we meet again in another life.” he said.

  Jaival looked at the soldiers again. He ached for blood. The moon elf snuck toward them and plotted an ambush. Although no soldier himself, Jaival grew up on the streets during his childhood. He knew how to handle himself. The invaders were preoccupied incinerating the rest of Istara using their twisted void magic, a school of energetic manifestations so dark, it was forbidden from use for over seven centuries. Whoever they truly were, they were no officiated knights.

  Jaival took a blade from one of the town’s dead sentries and waited for the opportune moment in the shadows. The outlaws were so focused on spellcasting that they didn’t see him coming. The moon elf slipped his blade into the spine of the invader on his left, then slashed the neck of the other before the invader could draw his sword.

  Call it beginner’s luck or stars’ fate, Jaival had seemingly succeeded in avenging his village, yet he did not feel complete. A subtle chill in the fiery winds compelled him to make way to the local Shadow temple. It was not far. He listened to his gut and followed the trail.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Void-Star Blade

  “Stop! You know not what you do!” THE LAST SURVIVING MONK PLEADED inside the Shadow temple against Baldr and his men, who were bent on opening the temple’s sealed inner chamber after slaughtering everyone else in the sanctuary.

  “The artifact that rests in that room is a key that keeps the balance between our worlds. If you remove it, the consequences will be irreversible. You will destroy us all!” The monk's tone was rife with desperation.

  Baldr took a few steps forward from the rest of his pack. He observed the enormous stone door while paying heed to the old elf’s warning. The door was technological in nature, created by a civilization eons ago, bound by shadow energies only the temple’s monks and their lineage could manipulate. The symbols carved in it warned trespassers of dire consequences.

  Baldr clenched his jaw and shot a cold gaze at the monk.

  “Open the door.” The Exiled Prince demanded.

  “Please, I beg of you! Don’t do this! This will only bring chaos.” The monk cried.

  “Sometimes it takes chaos to restore order,” Baldr unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the monk’s neck. “Now, open the door or die.”

  “If you kill me you won’t be able to open the seal.”

  Baldr smirked. “Then I guess we’ll just have to find another way.”

  He held his sword high, ready to strike the old man down.

  “Wait!” The monk whimpered. “I’ll do it.”

  “There’s a good man.” Baldr sheathed his weapon.

  Always cowards in the end, aren’t they?

  The sage held his palms to the door with closed eyes. An eldritch aura encircled him while streaks of shadow energy rose from his body and crawled on the hinges of the door. The magic was unnerving, to the point where Baldr and his men had thoughts of striking the monk down and find another way. Moments later, the heavy doors slid open in opposite directions, opening the way to the temple’s secret room.

  Baldr led his men along with the monk inside the new room. It was a large, empty, dark sanctum. In the middle of the chamber, the objective of the betrayer’s mission could be seen. Impaled onto a stone outcrop, around which an elaborate altar had been built, was an artifact of legend. A part of a weapon of mass destruction from an age before the advent of elves. It was the Void-Star Blade, the shadowy half of the Xenosaber.

  Although the weapon wasn’t connected to its twin, the Void-Star Blade was a sword more than just powerful, on its own. Void energy emanated from the dark, elegant, alien blade, enticing all those there. Even the monk had to muster all his discipline to keep himself from reaching out and touching it. The blade whispered an unrecognizable language from an archaic time, far beyond studied history.

  “We should not be here.” The monk said under his breath.

  Baldr’s blade pierced the old man from behind, slipping into his heart before he had a chance to react. The monk collapsed to the ground lifeless. Baldr’s cut was so precise that the old man didn’t feel a thing. It was the least he could offer him for his aid. The outlaws moved closer, drawn to the Void-Star Blade like moths to a flame. They couldn’t take their eyes off it. It spoke to them, deeper than any lover.

  Baldr trusted his men, but here, he saw wild looks on their faces. As the alpha of the pack, he decided to make the first move. The exiled prince took careful steps toward the blade, reached for the hilt and felt an overwhelming power course through his veins. He sighed with pleasure, enthralled by the alien sword. Whispers of old gods and goddesses spoke into the betrayer’s mind, sharing knowledge of magic and wonder. He had accessed a realm of creation so far beyond his own that it defied imagination. Baldr wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to sustain it.

  This is what they hid from us all this time!

  A strong presence at the entrance of the sanctum diverted the outlaw’s
attention. There, standing with bottled rage, Jaival stood, sword in hand, soaked with blood from the enemies he’d slain on his way there. An unnerving power flowed through the moon elf that made the outlaws uneasy. Baldr, however, was unusually calm.

  He gazed back at Jaival with a half-hearted look. “What’s this? A hero?”

  The outlaws weren’t sure who to be more disturbed by. Their new foe or the new demeanor their leader possessed. Jaival gnashed his teeth when he saw Baldr. He knew who the fair elf once was; practically everyone in the modern age did. Baldr pulled the Void-Star Blade from its pedestal with great might. The temple began shaking. Swirls of dark lightning curled around the mystical sword. He pointed the ancient weapon at Jaival, drunk with its overwhelming power.

  “A champion of the moon folk?” Baldr mocked.

  “Should we dispose of him?” One of his entourage asked.

  “No,” The exiled prince smiled, looking at Jaival’s sword. “Looks like he’s had his own taste of blood. Let’s see what he’s made of.”

  Baldr leapt in the air and crashed into the ground in front of his men with tremendous force, some few feet away from his new challenger. He stood tall, feeling the power from the Void-Star Blade seep into the fibers of his body. He stretched his free hand toward Jaival, gesturing him to bring it.

  “Come then, let’s see what you can do.” he taunted.

  Jaival held his sword using both hands and charged at Baldr. The exiled prince simply sidestepped, allowing Jaival to stumble into his men. They pushed the moon elf back into the space of the duel and laughed at him. Baldr cackled too. Not only did the exiled prince feel an ungodly power overtaking him, he was fighting a far less experienced combatant.

  After all, Baldr was a hero in Eira – young boys in both worlds aspired to be him. He swung the star sword while he waited for Jaival to get back to his feet. Jaival wasn’t keen about the mercy. It made him feel humiliated. He charged at Baldr once more, unleashing a flurry of slashes high and low. Baldr made use of his trained footing to keep the moon elf from getting out of hand until the two locked blades.