Knights of the Inner Rim (Beyond the Outer Rim Book 0)

by Reiter

  “No,” the woman replied, losing her ire, “... but it helps me to categorize where and when to place my best efforts. So many come with pre-conceived notions. They are the most difficult to educate, and even with energy dedicated to their enlightenment, they often fall prey to the aforementioned notion. So you are right, nature embraces simplicity... and it is most simple for me – in dealing with those who cannot conceive of the true nature of this Nexus – to simply have them administrate themselves to a fitting avenue of approach and be gone from this place.

  “And you would be wise to be done with your distaste for testing,” she quickly added, surprising Valian. “We cannot fully conceive of the capacity within the territory of the Rims! This place is filled with I don’t know. Testing is how we come to know things. Are you not testing someone whenever you offer your hand when you’re getting acquainted?”

  Valian had to think for a moment and consider what he had been asked. When his eyes returned to the woman, she was becoming a black star of power.

  “This is my preferred form,” she announced. “And I am the Keeper of the Nexus.”

  “Well met, Keeper,” Valian said, offering his hand.

  The black star chuckled, emitting a stream of light that formed into an arm. Grasping at the forearm, the two exchanged a ‘well met’ before releasing one another.

  “I should tell you... they are here.”

  “Who is they” Valian asked.

  “Oh, just one more of the tangents of life, dear boy,” the Keeper replied. “Your Elder KnighT has a history in the Outer Rim with many who would prefer to see him dead. However, he is Ulreejun Jorkethian... and he has demonstrated what is, for them, a very nagging trait: resistance to utter destruction.”

  “So why not attack the student when you cannot attack the teacher?” Valian posed.

  “For many that is a wiser approach,” the Keeper answered. “But enough of such things. K’Torru, you know which fountain to take.”

  Stepping out of Valian’s body was a ghost-like image of the Thousand–Mind Monk. He turned to face the black star and bowed. He then looked at Valian and bowed again. “By your leave, Master.”

  “If it will allow you to remain with me, please do.”

  “That is not the Keeper’s aim... and neither is it mine.”

  “Then do what you think is best, Teacher,” Valian returned.

  The image quickly ascended from the floor, diving into the fountain of bright, golden waters, basking in the energy he found therein.

  “That must be ThoughtWill,” Valian stated.

  “Indeed it is,” the Keeper confirmed. “Just as the one where you see green water is ElemahntiA. The yellow-watered fountain is EnerJa, and the bronzed waters belong to the fountain of MannA.”

  “And there are more than four fountains, aren’t there?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Is not Chi one of the Energies?”

  “That is it,” the Keeper said before white light flared from its celestial form. The room had not changed, but the four fountains did. “The silvery waters are where you will find Chi. The white, fiery waters are the fountain of KaA. The mysterious purple waters flow from OmnahtI, and the pinkish-purple waters belong to FantasioR.”

  Valian closed his eyes as a recollection had been triggered in his mind. “K’Torru taught me about one of them. OmnahtI is used primarily by Witches.”

  “Yes it is, but even still, very few know its true purpose or capability.”

  “And what is FantasioR?”

  “Some would say that it is where MannA and ThoughtWill met,” the Keeper explained. “... deciding that they would merge to become an Energy. Others believe it is the material from which our dreams flow.”

  “And what do you say?” Valian asked.

  “To me, these are all Energies, different forms of light upon which I sustain myself. It is up to the wielder to define them. Just as a man and a woman are both human, both made of bone, blood, and flesh, and yet they are different, perform different functions, yet ultimately have the same task of finding their own place in this universe. Even if two women dance, is it the same dance? And even if it is the same dance, do they execute their steps the same way?

  “The choice of an Energy is but the first and easiest step, Valian. For that is why you were brought here today. A little later than most traveling your path, but that is another matter. The time has come for you to choose an Energy and see if it will choose you. For when you are one – moving with body, mind, spirit, and Energy – that is when you will find your universal expression. It resonates with its own vibrations, and where those vibrations are their most powerful – that will be your place in the universe!

  “You must choose your direction, Valian,” the Keeper continued. “You must create your own stride and start down the long road of life. Your destiny is waiting for you over the next horizon! For your sake, I hope it is a patient destiny.”

  “It will wait for me, Keeper,” Valian said confidently. “It’s got nothing better to do!”

  To be prepared is half the victory.

  Miguel de Cervantes

  (IV)

  (Rims Time: XI-4804.27)

  He would have preferred to be sitting, but Ulreejun had turned to his mastery of Girzakki, allowing his body to assume a resting station even as he stood. He smirked at the figure that had taken to pacing as he waited for the doors to the temple to open.

  “When the boy comes out,” Evard said softly, keeping his eyes on the double doors. “... we shall see what sort of KnighT you are.”

  “I would have thought that you of all people would know that already, Bruntelior,” Jorkethian quickly returned. “I seem to recall you being there the day I destroyed your son. Yes, you were there... cheering him on, if memory serves. You were screaming to the heavens, ‘Kill that old fool’ and ‘Let him taste his own blood, see his own heart’... or something in the vicinity of that sentiment.

  “But I didn’t take it personally,” the Elder KnighT continued, looking at the ground as he recalled the incident. It was so much easier to engage other senses with the one most used restricted, if not altogether eliminated. Ulreejun had to be sure of his perimeter. There were three KnighTs before him, and they all seemed to be increasingly eager for blood. He could not be sure they would allow something like just cause to stand in their way. “Many people were cheering for your son; the young man they thought they knew. I blame no one. We were all fooled, weren’t we? At least until that challenge... when what we thought was starkly contradicted by what we witnessed. How many times did a judge cry ‘foul’ during our engagement? Six? Seven? Interesting that there were no such cries when my sword slashed through his chest.”

  “Master, no!” one of the younger KnighTs cried as he moved to intercept Evard. The large, dark-clad KnighT had started his march of death and revenge toward Jorkethian, but his arms were grabbed. “This is exactly what he wants!”

  “Let go of me!” Evard demanded.

  “Slay me first,” the man yelled, standing between Evard and Ulreejun. “For I swore an oath of service to your position... and I would rather die than fail my assigned duties.”

  “It would appear that such a thing is easily arranged,” Jorkethian added.

  “Will you please be silent, Sir Ulreejun?!” the man barked, casting glaring eyes on the Elder KnighT.

  “You did at least say ‘please’,” Ulreejun acknowledged before falling silent.

  “Resume your position, student,” Evard said. His body still trembled with rage, but he had regained control over that emotion, and he simply glared at the man who had slain his firstborn son. “Clever as always, Ulreejun.”

  “Why take to a different weapon when the one in hand is still sharp and true?”

  Evard smiled brightly before releasing a hearty laugh. He stepped forward and leaned toward his rival. “But it isn’t sharp and true,” Evard stated. “You missed a step, old man. You are a KnighT... an Elder K
nighT of nearly unquestionable standing in order... the Sixth Haven Order of KnighTs. And normally you are allowed to exercise the rights and privileges of someone holding that rank.”

  “I didn’t announce,” Ulreejun thought, realizing what he had overlooked when he submitted to the will of Zorkaysha. After the death of Evarzon Bruntelior, Jorkethian had moved himself as far from knighthood as he could. It made it more difficult for Evard and those like him to challenge Jorkethian and it had worked for many, many years. Ulreejun Jorkethian had delighted in the freedom that being a KnighT in name only afforded him. But without an official notice being submitted to the order, Jorkethian was still just a KnighT in name only... and therefore he could not train another to be a KnighT. “They intend to challenge Valian for impersonating a Person of Station and Influence. If I had remained in the Inner Rim, all of this could have been avoided. My status there was awarded to me on the basis of merit. But here in the Odelree Dominion, I officially have no status. Evard is right... my sharpest weapon has indeed grown dull.” Jorkethian’s grip on Brick tightened when he heard the doors to the temple opening up. “No! I will not fail this student too! Stand with me, Brick.”

  “Today is unlike the others from this one’s perspective, Master,” the weapon projected. “My place is in your hand, but I cannot see the reason to assume my true form, given what is now exiting the temple.”

  Jorkethian would not turn around. He would not give Evard his back. It was easier to look in the large man’s face and read his reaction.

  Evard’s eyes fired to life as he turned to look at the temple. His eyes shifted for a brief moment, as if he was checking his peripheral vision. Ulreejun was even more relieved that he had opted not to move.

  “But look at this!” the man thought, watching the hope and desire fire up in Evard’s face only to see them flame out even more quickly. “And now that I can hear the footfalls, they are too soft-soled and too light to be from Valian.”

  “It’s two of the Keeper’s Attendants,” one of the younger KnighTs proclaimed.

  “Do not raise your hand to them,” Evard quickly commanded. “It would be an ill-advised and ultimately short stand. Like the Keeper, they are attuned to the nexuses of power flowing through the temple. As such, and this close to the Nexus of Wonder, they will never tire from employing the Energies.”

  “You shouldn’t let a little something like an infinite power supply get between you and your quarry, Evard,” Jorkethian ribbed. “I thought you were a man of means!”

  Bruntelior took one step toward Jorkethian and nodded. “You’re about to see what kind of a man I am, Ulreejun. When I stand over your student’s corpse, maybe then I will also be privileged to see what kind of man you are.”

  “That much you’ve already seen,” Jorkethian returned, turning to face Evard and glare into his eyes. “For the life of me, I cannot recall how many times... but I do believe you’ve always had the same perspective: from beneath me. Face up, face down, such things seem trivial in retrospect. What does it matter what you’re doing to the ground when I am standing above you?”

  Master KnighT glared at Elder KnighT and contemplated taking the man into a fifth challenge, but the Attendants of the temple were quickly approaching, which was peculiar given that they seldom moved quickly for anyone, including the Keeper of the Nexus.

  “The Temple Keeper bids you all welcome, and a very fond return to the place where you all embraced the Energies. If it is not too bold to inquire, what is your business here?”

  “We wait for one who is now inside the temple,” Evard offered. “A young boy of a man who is the student of Ulreejun Jorkethian. Valian Styrke is his name.”

  “And are you not well-informed?” Ulreejun thought, remembering that Bruntelior was more of a physical creature, leaving the pursuits of thought and scholarship to others.

  “There is no one by that name at this temple,” the Attendant replied, surprising everyone who heard him. “So, if you have no business with the Nexus of Wonder, perhaps you can take this matter, which appears to be quite personal in nature, to another location. That would be very much appreciated.”

  “Bruntelior,” Jorkethian chuckled as he turned to walk away. “... it appears we have been asked to leave. I, for one, have no intentions of angering the Keeper of the Nexus at this time. Good day t-”

  “Elder KnighT Ulreejun Jorkethian,” Evard called out in an authoritative voice. “I am here on behalf of the Sixth Haven Order of KnighTs. If I cannot find your student, I am under orders to bring you before the Lords and Ladies of our order. How do you answer this summons?”

  “And now I have the answer to my unspoken inquiry,” Ulreejun thought as he turned to look at Bruntelior. “That is the trouble with leaving one’s enemies alive... whether you were set to marry them or not. And here I thought you had better things to do with your time, my Lady.

  “I trust you have a transport waiting,” Jorkethian stated, starting back toward the large KnighT.

  “A transport... and an old friend you might re–”

  “Lead the way,” Jorkethian interrupted. “Let us not keep Threesha waiting.”

  Giving a slight snicker, Evard turned and started towards the docking slip.

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  The ride on the transport was smooth, but Vaiyorl would not have cared had it been otherwise. His mind was not even in the Middle Rim... it was on his four children and how they were faring in his absence.

  “How go the initial talks with these Middle Rimmers?” Quybron asked.

  “They are, as you said, initial talks,” Vaiyorl replied. “The people I need to be talking to aren’t even here yet. But that is the focus in this power play: those who show up first are asking... the ones who show up when they wish... those are the ones who are the guardians of the gates.”

  “And what can the Inner Rim Empire be asking of arrogant, self-indulgent, idiotic Vohlbred curs?”

  “I think the first thing we might request is that they approach the table in a more open frame of mind than what you are currently demonstrating,” Vaiyorl said.

  “My apologies, Your Grace,” Quybron said, giving a slight head bow.

  “Accepted only if you accept mine,” Vaiyorl replied. “We are both distracted, my friend... and by the same thing. Speaking of that distraction, how has Jurzo adjusted to his reassignment?”

  “About as one can expect, Your Grace,” Quybron informed. “He is still confused as to what he could have done wrong to deserve being removed from Yorlson’s detail.”

  “And did you clear that up?” Vaiyorl asked. He looked up at the Captain of his Guard, and when their eyes locked, the Duke looked away, sighing in disgust. “Quybron, we have been through too much for you to fear encouraging my wrath.”

  “I’ve seen your wrath, Your Grace,” Quybron pointed out. “There’s good reason to fear!”

  “For others, perhaps... not for you. Brother, I would rather lose my arm than lose your friendship.”

  “I would rather die than lose my Duke!” Quybron asserted.

  “And, if memory serves, you damn near have on several occasions.”

  “All save one, Your Grace,” Quybron stated and Vaiyorl allowed his head to lower to his chest.

  “Quybron Lotansheer... eight, long years ago... you were nearly killed by a suicide bomber. The man blew up right in front of you, and you survived the encounter! By the Throne, man, I would think that would be cause for celebration!”

  “Aye, let us toast the evening when my lord and his wife and children had to survive on their own wit and power during an assassination attempt!” Quybron barked. “... when their security became the responsibility of strangers! Strangers, Your Grace! And even with all they could do in the world, a number of them died in the exchange... while I lay on my back... on the roof of the house, nursing my wounds.” Quybron huffed as he walked to the window of the transport. He looked out on the afternoon and the city below. There was something to be said f
or Middle Rim megacities. They were not as elegant as Imperial complexes, but they certainly embraced technology with greater enthusiasm... and probably with better city planning. But the Head of Security could not see the city for too long. He was still stuck on the rooftop of a True Lord’s abode, eight years ago. “Yes, that will make a very fine toast. We should pour the best wine.”

  “So you would disobey my direct order?” Vaiyorl asked as he walked up to stand beside the man.

  “Never, Your Grace!” Quybron insisted.

  “Then I order you to forgive yourself,” Vaiyorl said softly. “Do you think for one moment that some simple SorceroR could have survived that night?” Vaiyorl put his hands behind his back as he watched a very good friend stammer. “Well, do you?!”

  “Probably not, Your Grace.”

  “And what do you suppose makes me more than a simple SorceroR?” Vaiyorl pressed. “Make no mistake, my friend, noble-minded dodges to that question are hereby disavowed!”

  The older man’s head sank between his shoulders. He had been cut off... by a man he had taught the cutting off measure. “You’ve never been a difficult charge, Your Grace,” he admitted. “You listen when others would argue... you try to understand what our jobs are so that you can assist us as much as possible.”

  “And?”

  “Your Grace!”

  “And?!” Vaiyorl pressed.

  “And... you’re a damn fine student,” the man declared. “Never had to teach you anything twice.”

  “Sure you have,” Vaiyorl smiled, clapping his hand down on Quybron’s shoulder. “It’s just that when you did, I was being–” Vaiyorl jerked away from Quybron, putting his hand to his chest. His body flashed with a red, fiery light that faded just as quickly as it had appeared.