by Reiter
No good deed ever goes unpunished.
Proverb
(IV)
(Rims Time: XII-4203.06)
The contest had started like so many others, and he had every expectation that it would end within the parameters of what he considered to be ‘normal’. Though it had been of some curious concern to the man how three young women had come to find themselves in what had to have been one of the darkest corners of the spaceport. His dark brown eyes had tightened, staring at the unfolding situation, wondering if it was bait. Ship masters who practiced the ancient art of shanghaiing often set such traps looking for souls who at least would take the initiative to do something.
“I’ve had my time in servitude,” he had thought, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. He finally had the credits to get himself home, and now all he had to do was find a ship that was bound for the Gulmar System. It was a fair chance that it would either be a Slaver ship or a captain that didn’t mind ferrying slaves. That was a fight for another season; it was time to get home!
The moment had become too real when one of the women drew a small blade and scored a cut to the hand of one of her five agitators. “Blood’s seldom a component in shanghai-traps,” he had thought. “She’s feisty, but from the look of her grip, I doubt she’s ever cut anything before… even meat!” The man she had cut looked at his wound before feint-lunging at the woman. She had reacted in the very fashion the man had expected and he quickly trapped the arm, removing the small knife from her hand. He had then moved to stab the woman with it, but by that time the passive observer had opted to change his status.
The mysterious figure had moved quickly, taking the knife from the man and throwing it in one fluid motion. In the shadows of a stacking of crates, another man had cried out as the blade found his exposed foot. “There’s more than five of you,” he had declared, flipping his long, dark brown hair out of his face. Indeed, the beginnings of the engagement had been nothing new.
The seventh person fell to the ground, spitting blood and all kinds of muttered curses. The would-be savior panted as he readied himself for the last three. He blew out of his mouth twice, fairly content with the way he had paced himself, and metered his movement and his breathing.
“And here comes eleven through fourteen,” he thought without taking his eyes off the three who were in front of him.
“Actually, we are one through four,” Hanvashi replied as he came to a stop. The condition of his people laid about the area made this man something worth investigating. “Yulshal, will you be so good as to relieve my people of this man?”
“It will be my pleasure,” the wolf-rider replied as he walked from behind his Baron, signaling Xanu to stay and watch Hanvashi’s back. The time in Baron Zoll’s service had been everything the people of Minstrel had been promised. They had gone from being the savages to the revered Tau-Men, clad in their gray armour, wielding En-Form weaponry and the power that the Baron shared with the most loyal of his followers. “It is a shame you are winded.” The good Samaritan said nothing as Yulshal ushered the remaining three opponents to move away.
“Report to my position,” Lola Phandree ordered. The three soldiers quickly walked around the combat area. She could feel Hanvashi enter her mind, delivering what he had collected from all ten of his warriors here at the scene. He also added the experiences of the three young women who had begun to have hope they would be delivered from a troubling fate . The approaching man, however, was larger than their would-be savior and was certainly more menacing. “This one is trained,” Lola commented.
Yulshal strode directly to his opponent, reaching for his chest. His wrist was grabbed and the man spun around, landing an elbow strike to the lower back of the wolf-rider. His back-fist then struck the back of Yulshal’s head and his spinning foot sweep kicked Yulshal’s feet out from under him.
“Well trained!” Lola added.
The man’s downward punch was caught and Yulshal used raw strength to push his opponent back, nearly knocking him down with his power. The wolf-rider kicked up to his feet and turned to face the mysterious combatant. He charged and the man ran to meet him. The wolf-rider tumbled over the diving tackle that took out his lower legs. Getting up to his feet, Yulshal roared and jumped at his opponent. The man huffed, spinning out of the way of the outstretched hands, landing a quick uppercut to the ribs as Yulshal passed by him. The large man then put his eyes on the two other newly arrived people and the large wolf that traveled with them. Lola’s eyes stared at the man and he returned the gaze before smirking.
“Another time, another place,” he said softly, ducking under a wild hook Yulshal was desperate to land. A swift hook found the stretched ribs and locked wolf-rider’s body in pain. A combined grasp of the hair and a well-timed foot sweep sent Yulshal’s face to the floor tiles.
“Very well trained,” Lola concluded. “What is he thinking?”
“I cannot say,” Hanvashi replied, glaring at the man. “Ever since I revealed that I could hear his thoughts, his thought patterns have jumped through the moments of the fight he just had with my men and, of course, what he is presently doing to my wolf-rider. Apparently he is too well-trained!”
“They built this one to last,” the man thought as Yulshal moaned before getting up. He roared once more, but it quickly became a howling war cry. “And he’s special!” The man looked at his canvas bag and concluded it was too far away to even make the attempt. He pressed his lips together, hopping backward. His chest felt cooler as his jacket and shirt were ripped away by one clawing slash from the man whose features were suddenly more lupine. He had also grown sharp teeth. Lifting and crossing his arms over his head, the man blocked a downward pounding fist, catching Yulshal at the wrist. His knees bent and his body strained as it received the increased strength of the wolf-rider. “Blood ash! He was already stronger than me!” the Samaritan estimated as his body finally stopped lowering to the ground. “Where did this power come from?!” A quick twist of the arms and spin of the body and Yulshal was pulled and thrown over the man’s shoulder.
“No!” Yulshal growled, taking hold of the hands that had just thrown him. “No!” With hardly any leverage, Yulshal tugged and threw the man into the stack of crates ten meters away. The man collided with them, smashing two of the three as his body rolled over the lowermost container.
“Durr, help me!” the man prayed as his mind was spinning from all the pain that had been visited upon his body.
“I didn’t know plastiform could break like that,” Hanvashi observed.
“You have to hit it pretty hard,” Lola remarked as the wolf-rider got up and walked over to his stunned opponent. “This guy owns Yulshal in the skills department.”
“Owned, my dear,” Hanvashi added. “We must use proper grammar… especially when we’re about to witness the passing of a truly great warrior.”
Yulshal reached in with both hands to grab the man. Jagged pieces of plastiform sank into either forearm and the man twisted them, pulling Yulshal into a powerful knee lift. As the wolf-rider started to fall back, the man released his makeshift daggers and caught the wrists of his opponent while lifting his knees to his chest.
“Too bad I’m winded,” the man hissed, pulling the man toward him before kicking with both feet. Yulshal was actually lifted from the floor by the power of the maneuver. He landed on his back and rolled over his shoulders, stopping on his hands and knees. The man kicked up from the broken crates, landing on the one that remained. He was still stunned, blinking his eyes rapidly, but he was ready to continue fighting.
“Thank you, Master of the Mountain,” the man thought as he panted.
“We should recruit this one,” Lola stated.
“No!” Hanvashi said, moving to get a closer look at the man. “This man has a god, and he is very devout in his following of it. Perhaps it is time for him to see what the power of a true god can deliver!
“Yulshal, call your sister!”
“Xanu!” Yulshal howled
and she quickly ran to him, her eyes flaring with a silvery light. She jumped as she reached Yulshal, merging with his body and making him more than a wolf-rider. He was now Yul-Nu of the Luprane. He stood two and half meters tall with a mixture of gray, white, and brown fur.
Yul-Nu lunged forward, landing just behind his opponent; his claws were wet with the incredibly dark blood of the warrior, just taken from his side. Yul-Nu turned and leapt once more, grasping the shoulders before the man had an opportunity to fall. His fangs sank deeply into the flesh of the shoulder just at the neck. There was a taste to this blood – one neither man nor wolf had sampled before – and with its salty, metallic taste there was a heat that was not from any spice, but it registered in their combined heart. The Samaritan screamed in pain as his arms were pulled out of their sockets. He had not even seen the first attack after the merging of the two creatures, and now all he could see was his own blood.
Releasing the man’s shoulders, Yul-Nu set his claws on the screaming man’s chest and ripped it open. His mouth finally released its grip and he slashed the man’s face before allowing the bleeding body to fall to the floor. The Luprane Warrior howled his victory and Xanu departed from Yulshal, the two of them looking untouched and refreshed. Moonwolf looked at wolf-rider for a moment and Yulshal nodded.
“I will ask the Baron,” he said, stroking Xanu’s snout.
“Ask me what?” Hanvashi inquired.
“Xanu wanted to know if, when this one is made a Tau-Man, can he be given a cub?”
Baron Zoll walked up to the bleeding heap of a man and squatted down. A gesture of his hand and the fallen hero was made to roll over onto his back. He moaned at the pain the moving had caused. “I suppose that depends on the man. Whatever empty vessel of theocracy you exercised before today, it has been the divine power of Xaythra that has brought you down… and can just as quickly restore you. You only need pledge–”
“Durr,” the man spat through clenched teeth. “He will… burn your house… to the ground!”
“Ahh, so it’s Durr, is it?” Hanvashi pressed, taking hold of one of the chest wounds. His fingers burned at the contact with the exposed innards, but he did not scream. “Before I am done with the Middle Rim, I will obliterate that name from this place and feast on the souls who would dare to follow him!”
“You don’t say,” the man chuckled. He wanted to choke the life out of the man, but he knew his arms would not move. He had already tried three times and only the slightest movement of his fingers had been the result.
“I do say!” Hanvashi hissed, pressing into the wound and breaking the man’s back. With the next gesture of power, Hanvashi teleported himself and his people to their ship. The man laid there as his body grew colder, looking up at the ceiling of the spaceport. Suddenly, his vision of the lights was blocked by the crying face of a very concerned young woman.
“Get out of here,” the Samaritan whispered, coughing up blood. He knew it would not be much longer. “At least I kept my word,” he whispered, feeling the soft hands of the woman on his face.
“What promise was that?”
“That I wouldn’t die in the arena,” he answered. “But… suppose this… was an arena too.”
“Then you know better than to give up!” she pleaded, holding up an Interplanetary Amalgamation badge. “One of those crates was filled with IA uniforms! I can hear the warning beacon now. You just have to hold on!”
“Nothing… to… hold on… to,” the man whispered as his eyes closed.
“No!” the young woman shouted as she pressed her hand against one of his chest wounds. The leaking near-black blood seemed to coalesce around her hand. The man’s eyes shot open as he growled and groaned in pain. “Don’t give up! Fight! You fought for me and my sisters. Fight for you! FIGHT!”
“Yes sir!” the man coughed as he opened his eyes. They opened wider in surprise seeing the figure of his savior and foster mother standing over the crying woman, her aged and powerful hand atop the one he could feel pressing against his body.
“Your fire has seen you through the arena, boy,” he could hear H’Lahray calling to him. Instantly, he was back in the desert, at the base of the Fire Mountain, the home he had come to when his original home was taken from him. It was where he learned to be a Desert Ghost, where he had abandoned the name of Sarnon Tirinos. “… why not let it see you a bit more, eh? After all, there are others who will need that fire!” The man smiled before he stopped breathing and collapsed. The young woman screamed and was about to pound into his wound again when she was grabbed from behind and pulled away from her would-be protector.
Scanning lasers fired from above the visor of the Magistrate’s helmet. “Man down,” he quickly reported. “… and he’s fading fast!” The man was soon joined by a medic who placed a large circular device on the man’s chest. Other IA Magistrates secured the area, the three women, and started investigating the damaged parcels.
“That’ll give us a few minutes,” the field physician reported. “Permission to proceed with treatment, sir?”
The female officer stepped forward, reading a report that had just been delivered to her visor. “Permission granted. Ripper, you let this one get away from you and there will be repercussions! Headquarters is not going to believe who this is!”
** b *** t *** o *** r **
“They certainly know how to splurge around here, don’t they,” Joslyn said as she walked into the large, circular chamber behind her twin. In the center of the room was a large, floating gem, about one meter in diameter at its widest point (which was only half a meter from its base), three meters tall, and crystal white in color.
“And then some, Jos,” Specs replied. “That thing is giving off all kinds of energy and I think more than one.”
“I am detecting at least two,” Ernestan claimed as he entered the chamber and circled to his left. “ThoughtWill and MannA… and, as already stated, in peculiarly abundant amounts.”
“I wonder if it’s doing that to keep our minds off the doorway to this room,” Jashana thought, patting the side of her shoulder bag as one of the living gems inside registered a change in locales. “Because we’re not in the castle any longer.”
“I do so love sharp minds,” Freund said, stepping from inside the gem. “It fills me with hope when I consider the obstacles this group may face.
“You are quite right, my dear,” Freund said, briefly pointing his staff toward the young SorceresS. “You are not in my castle. You have been… well, to not put too fine a point on it… evicted!”
“Evicted?!” Shanvah snapped before quickly catching herself and looking at the floor. She placed her left hand inside her right and lowered her head and nodded toward her mistress. “Forgive me, Mistress Shuronne.”
“I am not sure there’s a matter to forgive,” Shuronne consoled. “I would ask that our benefactor make himself clear.”
“Yes, that was the next matter to be handled,” Freund assured. “But I think an introduction is in order. You can of course see the construct behind me. I have come to call it Rook.”
“Does that mean it already outranks us?” Megan whispered to Reginald who smirked and patted her shoulder.
“Only if you are blind,” Freund thought, maintaining his countenance.
“He is the first of what I hope will be many… but more importantly, he is the next to last gift you shall receive from me.”
“Which means it’s not only an eviction you’re here to give us,” Shuronne deduced.
“Quite right,” Freund nodded. “Which brings me to my last gift: your freedom.”
“What?!” Ethadior barked as his arms unfolded. “Our freedom?!”
“Good to know that nothing gets by those ears,” Freund quipped as he turned to start for the door, walking around Rook which flared with light at his passing. He was in his fifth stride when he shook his head dismissively. “You should know the fate of the last Enacranite who sent MannA to me in an offensive matter, Ethadior… be
fore you release what you believe is a well-prepared incantation targeted at dealing with me should the need arise. That time has come and gone, my friend, and I do not think you would survive the reprisal.”
“Aebrynn Mulrear survived your reprisal!” Ethadior snapped, feeling the hands of Jashana take hold of his arm. He was ready to pull his limb free of her grasp, but not for the look on her face when their eyes met. She was on the verge of tears and there was nothing but fear for her mentor in her green-gray eyes.
“No he didn’t,” Ernestan declared, putting his hand to his chin. Kannadi turned to look at him and it was clear she wanted to inquire what her master had gleaned. But she said nothing and returned her eyes to Freund who had stopped in his departure, turning his head to his left shoulder as Ernestan was to his rear and his left. “I am often called a seer, but I will freely admit I am overwhelmed at the level of vision you possess.
“We have been brought to this place, but it’s you who is leaving,” Ernestan continued as Freund turned to face the Star Gaper. “This place is meant for us. Not just Rook, but also wherever we are right now. Furthermore, if you are indeed evicting us and saying farewell, it cannot be a reflection of the performance of your Dark Pawns.”
“Oh?” Freund asked, taking a two-handed hold of his staff.
“Well, it is certainly couldn’t be a mark against them,” Ernestan answered. “It is more likely that while you were away you encountered something that gives you concern. Something that can even destroy you. No, you are not punishing us. You’re protecting us, in the hopes that we will continue doing what we must… or what we should, at any rate.”
“What you should?” Freund pressed.
“Just how sure of that are you, Gaper,” Shuronne inquired and Freund’s eyebrows shot up at the manner she had cut him off.
“It isn’t something I’ve gained through celestial sight, my Lady,” Ernestan explained. “But even Freund has a pattern to the way he works. The library of the castle is quite extensive.”