A group of soldiers nervously waited for the prince at the base of the cliff. "The hyper-rail is charged and ready to depart whenever you are, sir," said one of the Gartolians as Xander exited the lift. The soldier had a rather large lump on the top of his head that he was clumsily trying to conceal.
"What did he hit you with?" asked Xander as they walked briskly toward the rail.
"I think it was his foot, sir," replied the soldier as he struggled to keep up with the long strides of the Gartune. "He jumped off of the tank and hit me from above. I never saw him coming."
Xander nodded. "You know that's their thing, right? They jump so that they can attack you from above." It was clear that the sentry had never seen a Reytana before that night, let alone studied their combat techniques.
"That's all right, chief," said Xander as he clapped the torman forcefully on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll get him next time."
The sentry took this as a sign to fall out of step with the prince and so he slunk back toward the rear of the escort and tried to become invisible while rubbing the shoulder that Xander had slapped.
A low hum emitted from the hyper-rail car where the magnets between car and rail were interacting. The car itself looked like a bullet. At the front of the vessel was a single window for the occupant to see where he was going, but most passengers chose to shut their eyes during the ride. It was easy to become sick from the view as it sped past with incredible speed.
"We sent a rider ahead to alert Gartol of your arrival," said the Gartolian in charge of the hyper-rail.
Well, there goes the surprise, thought Xander as he climbed into the car. He leaned back against the single captain's chair and closed his eyes as the outer door was shut and locked. The magnetic hum intensified from beneath the car and then, as if shot from a cannon, the car catapulted down the rail.
After the initial jarring start, a hyper-rail trip was fairly comfortable (assuming you kept your eyes closed). Xander thought about what he was going to say to his father as he zoomed along the flat stretch of land known as the Battle Plains. This barren desert composed the majority of the space between Reysa and Gartol. It was here that most of the great wars were fought. It would not have taken much digging in the ground to come across a smashed eüroc, some broken hovercraft or parts of a Gartolian tank. However, very few people ever traveled over this land. The history that had unfolded here made the Battle Plains sacred ground. Other than the occasional hyper-rail passengers, the only time that anyone crossed it was when they marched to war.
Xander looked out over the moonlit plains as they sped past. His stomach began to turn, so he shut his eyes and thought about the destination ahead. It had been two years since Xander had last seen his father and double that since he had last been to Gartol. It dawned on him that Reysa was now just as much his home as Gartol. Five years ago, he would not have believed that possible, but there it was. He wondered what kind of reception awaited him, both from his peers and his father. Would they welcome him back, or see him as an outsider? Truthfully, he had never really cared what his fellow Gartune had thought of him, but try as he might, he could not say the same about the king. His opinion mattered. After all, he was his father.
The smooth, humming vibrations of the hyper-rail car eventually began to calm Xander's nerves, so much so that he was almost asleep when he felt the car slow down as it approached the mouth to Hadrian's Canyon. He was almost home.
Hadrian's canyon was a massive valley that stretched a thousand feet wide at its base. Through the center flowed the southern branch of the Aeil River. The river escaped the canyon at its mouth and skirted around its base as if searching for a home until it finally emptied into the Delucean Sea.
The canyon had not always been called Hadrian's Canyon. Previously, it had been Tendrel's Canyon, Plutarch's Canyon and Drohnus's Canyon. It was Gartolian custom that the canyon be named after the current king of Gartol. That way a visitor always knew who awaited him at the end of his journey.
The hyper-rail car slowed as it swerved through the snake-like path of the canyon. Xander knew these turns by heart. As he felt the car come around the twelfth turn, he opened his eyes to watch the immense city of Gartol appear before him.
Gartol was more of a fortress than a city. Over half of it was built into a giant cavern in the side of the canyon. Because of this, only a small portion of Gartol was ever hit by the sun's rays. This was, of course, by design. If ever Reysa decided to attack Gartol, they would have to do it in the shade.
The city was encompassed by a massive outer wall that was one hundred feet high and made of solid iron. It stretched all the way from one side of the canyon to the other, enclosing the entire city. Only the upper levels of Gartol could be viewed behind the height of the wall.
The Gartolians’ mechanical prowess was visible throughout the city. Tiny contraptions performed thousands of different tasks in thousands of different locations. The city was alive with the hum of spinning gears, pulleys and levers. It was a fortress that was constantly in motion.
Though it was a dark and cold city, Gartol did have a certain beauty to it. Chief amongst its beautiful elements was the Aeil River which careened over the top of the western canyon wall. The tall and stormy waterfall collected in a glossy lake at the base of the city. The Gartolians called this Moon Lake because of the way that it reflected the moons of Torma on clear evenings. From here, the water of Moon Lake emptied out through Hadrian's Canyon and spilled into the Delucean Sea.
Many years ago, the Gartolians built a large marina along the edge of the lake. Today, the marina was filled with hundreds of Gartolian war ships – ships that were rarely used but available in case a sea battle was necessary. The portion of the marina nearest to the waterfall was walled off, and only Gartune were allowed within. This was where the Gartune infants were collected after their eggs came tumbling over the waterfall.
The Gartune believed that it was the treacherous conclusion to their incubation journey that hardened Gartune babes and separated them from the Reytana, who enjoyed a relatively peaceful path to existence from Pinecrest Mountain to Reysa's own pool of life.
The hyper-rail car slowly pulled into the Gartolian docking station. Xander exited his car and was greeted by several Gartune soldiers. Amongst the faces were several old friends he had not seen in many years. They exchanged the traditional Gartune handshake, wrapping their fingers around each-others’ forearm – just above the wrist – in an excruciatingly tight grip. It was a sign of weakness to be the first one to break the handshake and so some of them could go on for several minutes. However, when shaking the hand of a superior, the subordinate Gartune was expected to break the handshake first.
Xander spotted his old training partner, Belkore, talking to a group of Gartune next to the hyper-rail platform. He made his way toward the group, but before he could reach them, he was stopped by a stern-faced Gartolian in a royal guard uniform.
"The king is expecting you," he said.
Well that didn't take long.
Just before he turned to follow the guard, Xander caught Belkore's eye. His friend gave him a quick acknowledging nod and then went back to his conversation. "Humph," Xander snorted to himself. Nice to see you too, old friend.
The soldiers' compound was the first area of town that one must pass through as he entered the city of Gartol. Like everything else in the city, this was by design. The entire might of the Gartolian army was in full display in this compound, and it was an intimidating spectacle for any outsider.
Four stone-paved courtyards contained the barracks for the Gartolian infantry. Here, several regiments of torman infantrymen trained under the watchful eye of a daunting Gartune drill-sergeant. The Gartolians preferred to train at night. Darkness was their ally and the more experience they garnered battling in the dark, the better.
The basic rank and file did not practice with eürocs – those were reserved for the Gartune. No, their armaments were of a much simpler nature; just steel
swords and shields. Xander watched as a young Gartolian accidentally dropped his sword while practicing a maneuver. No sooner had the weapon hit the ground than the drill sergeant was on top of the soldier administering several punitive blows with his eüroc. The Gartolian stood tall and accepted his punishment with barely a wince. Once his beating was over, he quickly retrieved his sword off the ground and continued with his maneuvers as if nothing had happened. Good for him, thought Xander.
At the center of the four infantry yards was a large, raised platform. This was the place where the Gartune trained. On this particular evening, young Tormada (the product of the last war's fallen Gartune) were being trained on one of their most fundamental maneuvers – the bodong. Like most maneuvers, this one had been perfected by Drohnus and was specifically intended to combat the powers of the Reytana. In battle, the Reytana would charge by jumping high into the air and attacking from above. The Gartune did not have the Reytana's jumping abilities, so they had to come up with a way to meet the Reytana at their height. Thus, the bodong was invented.
The bodong consisted of two movements that had to be executed in perfect timing for the maneuver to succeed. First, a Gartune in full sprint tilted his eüroc and brought it down in front of him with a sharp strike. This strike caused the ground in front of him to ripple and pile up into a small hill. Depending on the strength and accuracy of the eüroc's strike, the hill could be between five and twenty feet high. The second, most difficult part of the maneuver consisted of the Gartune using his planted eüroc as a lever to vault himself through the air and land directly on the hill in front of him.
It was a very difficult maneuver to perfect. The timing had to be precise and it had to be done in one fluid motion. Run. Strike. Plant. Jump. Land.
Xander watched as young Gartune struggled to create the mound of dirt in front of them, and then went flying over their hills. He smiled. These Tormada had only received their metal in the last day or two, and their inexperience with the eüroc was evident. One, in particular, got so frustrated that on his next pass he smashed his eüroc too hard into the ground and created a twenty-foot wall of dirt directly in front of him. He proceeded to slam into the mound at full speed.
I remember those days, thought Xander. Though he had been one of the more gifted young Gartune in his class, he had still struggled with the bodong like everyone else.
Elsewhere, metal-fresh Gartune were custom-fitting the tips of their new eürocs. This was a tradition that Gartune dreamt of from the time he or she was young. Each Gartune was allowed one customization to their eüroc. It was referred to as it's tre'ance. A tre'ance was a hidden weapon within the weapon. Each one added an extra deadly dimension to the eüroc , and accordingly, required that the Gartune train in that tre'ance's specification.
Xander watched one young Gartune fill the tip of his eüroc with explosive powder. There was a deadly gleam in his eye as he poured the black dust into a secret compartment within the staff. He would need to be trained in alchemy and pyrotechnics in order to take full advantage of his chosen tre'ance.
A second Gartune eagerly screwed several retracting spikes to his staff. He would be trained in long combat. A third loaded his eüroc with a sharp, disc-like projectile. When he pressed a button in his staff, the projectile went flying through the air faster than a bullet. It is said that a similar device killed the Omega Calan hundreds of years ago, and because of that it was a popular choice among young Gartune when they outfitted their eürocs. It was not the most practical of tre'ances because after the projectile was launched, it must be retrieved or a new one had to be fashioned, during which time the eüroc was without an added advantage. But, boys like to shoot things.
I almost chose that one. I'm glad that I didn't.
Xander's choice of tre'ance had raised a few eyebrows. It was a customization that was rarely ever chosen. In fact, ever since his specialization training ended, Xander had never once activated it, not that he had been presented with many opportunities.
Xander passed through the training compound and entered the city via its main gate. The "front door" to Gartol was ten feet thick and one hundred feet high. It consisted of several ten-foot by ten-foot iron blocks that could move independently of each other. This way, the entire door did not have to open in order to let someone through. Sections of the gate could open by themselves in order to let normal pedestrian traffic pass. When the Gartolians controlling the front door saw Xander approach, they threw a switch and a series of screws that were inlaid into the gate began to turn, causing a ten foot section of the door to slide open. No sooner had Xander and his escort passed through the opening than the iron slid back into place, sealing the gate shut.
In the lower half of the city, tucked into the shadow of the wall, it was always nighttime. Where Reysa was lit by thousands of glowing tubes, the streets of Gartol were illuminated by fire. Torches in ornate iron castings were everywhere; along the sidewalks, attached to street posts, flanking every door and entryway. The ever-present darkness accompanied by the flickering firelight made the lower half of Gartol feel like an open-air dungeon.
Several Gartune sentries strutted up and down the streets, occasionally poking or tripping a passing torman with their eürocs. Another difference between Gartol and Reysa was that the tormans in Gartol did not go out of their way to avoid the Gartune. Rather, they walked briskly past the oncoming Tormada with their heads bowed, hoping to be ignored. Sometimes they were; sometimes they weren't. But, the occasional jab or poke that they received was nothing compared to the punishment they would incur if they intentionally avoided their Tormada masters. Such disrespect was not tolerated in Gartol.
Xander traveled up through the layers of the city's outer streets until he reached the king’s royal apartments. In the front courtyard he came upon several armed soldiers sparring with a single Gartune. The single combatant's skill was impeccable. One after another the soldiers charged, only to be dealt a crippling blow. Eventually, they all tried to attack at the same time, but the result was no different. No matter how they approached the Gartune, they were rebuffed by a violent kick, a smash of the shield or a thump from the eüroc.
Finally, the soldiers threw down their staffs and gave up. Most bent over either from pain or breathlessness. The solitary warrior had barely broken a sweat. Xander smiled.
"You're taking it easy on them, sister" said Xander.
Septa's long, jet-black hair spun around her as she turned to face her brother. Her purple eyes were almond-shaped, slanting slightly toward a pointed nose. Like her brother, she had dark, chiseled features, but where Xander's face glowed with irreverence and mischief, Septa's face was the epitome of seriousness. She was beautiful, but she was also terrifying.
"Perhaps you would like to step in, brother?" answered Septa. "I have not had a good fight in years. Or have the floaters made you soft?"
"I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends," smirked Xander.
"A rain check then," said Septa.
"Indeed. Now, where is father?"
"I will take you to him." She turned to Xander's escort. "You are relieved."
Septa led Xander through the royal apartments, though he did not need a guide. He had spent his childhood running through these hallways and playing in the courtyards. Septa was thirteen years older than Xander and had chosen to spend most of her youth with their older brother, Lex.
Xander's two older siblings had been inseparable. The Scales must have released some of the same Gartune's aura when the two of them were formed. They had the same steely cold temperament, the same drive for perfection and the same knack for intimidating all those around them. Day and night the two of them could be found sparring together, perfecting their battle craft. When Xander was only a few years old, he tried to join them, but they would have nothing to do with their younger brother. It wasn't that they were worried that they might hurt him; for his well-being was not a concern of theirs. They simply did not want to waste their tim
e sparring with an opponent that offered no challenge. "You'll just embarrass yourself," they had said. "Come back when you aren't so weak!"
Xander was five.
Eventually, Xander gave up on trying to fit in with his older siblings and learned to entertain himself, much to the chagrin of the palace staff. The poor torman maids and butlers came to rue his daily pranks and schemes.
At first, Xander thought that his actions would garner some attention from his father, but the king had no interest in disciplining his son – he had servants for that. Xander quickly realized that if he couldn't hold a eüroc, he was of little interest to his father, and no amount of bad behavior would change that.
Rather than sulk in his loneliness, Xander discovered freedom in his neglect. He could do whatever he wanted, and nobody would care – at least nobody important enough to concern him. And so, he continued to act out, knowing there would be no consequences to his actions. Though he had matured into a powerful Gartune, the mischievous child had never truly left Xander. That is why when an old Gartolian maid spotted him walking down the hall, she quickly ducked off into a side compartment after realizing who had returned.
Septa and Xander found the king in the war chamber, where he spent most of his time. When they entered, their father was conversing with Morlo, a commander in the Gartune army. Both men appeared agitated.
"Every time I hear from you, you're further and further behind schedule," said Hadrian to Morlo. "I'm starting to think that this job is more than you can handle. Perhaps I should find you a position that is more equated to your... abilities."
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