The Maven Knight (The Maven Knight Trilogy Book 1)

by Matthew Romeo

  Above us, I can see the rays of the morning sun fully in the sky. Sweltering tendrils streak into the starry atmosphere and the azure skyline is cloudless. It is a new day. A new beginning.

  Part Two:

  Seeking Truths

  Chapter 14: Sarina

  Re-Questing

  THE DAY IS CALM and bright as we trek across the barren wastelands that stretch before us. The sky is clear, the sun is bright, and the air is more brisk and cool than the previous day. Underneath my feet, the sandy dunes give way to my boots as I trudge in front of the party with Abrax and Tálir. While both seem encumbered by their armor and survival gear, they walk with a brisk pace. It’s even more surprising seeing Abrax keep pace despite his age. Sweat glistens upon his dark forehead, and he wears a light cloak over his attire. Likely to keep the armor cooler. Tálir does the same, but is noticeably more uncomfortable.

  The rest of my companions follow behind us. If they’re the sheep, we’re the shepherds. It’s still odd, their regarding of me as important. I don’t see how they view me as such.

  A small repulsorcart floats at the center of our group as we walk. The size of a table, the hovering container is one of Abrax’s latest finds after ransacking a convoy. Packed inside it like a chest are containers of food, medical supplies, water cartons, and a few metal cases. Also stored inside is our chest of polished crystals, packs of food rations, and ammunition. Tálir pulls the cart via chain with ease.

  Everything has happened so quickly. I’m still reeling over the events. A day ago, the seven of us had chanced upon meeting and settled on a tentative truce for survival. Now, here we are—a band of companions off to find Providence. Off to save the world.

  My mission hasn’t taken the back burner yet, however. No matter how distracting this quest may be, my goal to uncover the truth of the banquet is still prevalent. Memory flashes are still vague. I can remember everything up to the point of serving ale at the gala. Then, it’s like a mirror shattering before me. Pieces are everywhere.

  So I’ll work with my companions. Assist this quest, accept their company, and try to save the world. But if the moment arises, I’m not sure if I’d be strong enough to resist finishing my mission. It’s horribly selfish of me, and my gut turns to knots as I think about it. However, I can’t fix this world if I’m broken as well.

  The dunes give way to several rock edifices after the first couple hours of our journey. We’re able to find some semblance of shade and cover as Abrax keeps an eye out for any signs of a Roil. Like spiny trees, the brown and grey rocks jag upwards. Small nooks are hollowed out within their bases, and we use them for shelter against the sun. The sand underneath is cooler, but firmer against our feet. Patches of brown weeds dot the ground. The edifices rise above us like the canopy of a forest.

  Water is passed around from the canisters. Devin leans against the rock wall, chewing on some jerky while Vyck sits in the sand. Aida gives Remus a dose of sedatives. Tálir shakes sand off of his cloak while Abrax starts up a small holoprojector detailing a map.

  It’s fascinating to see the amount of supplies and technology the old man had been able to steal from Imperial convoys. He says that it was a tax on the greedy, and that they had more supplies than they needed. The chip-like projector sends a three-dimensional image above it, detailing the Pyrack desert and the nation of Z’hart. A red dot near the northern quadrant of the desert indicates where we are.

  “Gather around laddies. Shit’s about to get important and I don’t want to repeat myself,” Abrax grunts to everyone. We do as he says and he gestures to the holoprojection. “So our journey at this point is threefold. One: We travel north for another three days in the Pyrack at a brisk pace. I sure as Hells don’t need my skin looking any more like leather.”

  The image magnifies and shows the northern reaches of the Pyrack. East of us by about eight hundred kilometers is Tálir’s home, Erron’s Ville. I can almost see his hazel eyes gleam with hope at the sight of it. I think Abrax does too, and he decides to put it to rest.

  “Erron’s Ville is too far out of the way, lad.” Abrax’s voice is sympathetic, but stern. Tálir’s shoulders sink somewhat in defeat. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t serve our journey to go there.”

  Tálir’s face shows disappointment, even a sense of nostalgia. I can’t blame him at all. Home has a certain call to it. But Abrax points to a mountainous region that spans along the border of the Pyrack and Z’hart.

  “Two: The Flames of Z’hart will be our direct access into the nation after the three day hike,” he says as the image scrolls to detail the northern nation. Then it hits me.

  We’re going to the capital: Z’hart City, I say to myself. A dark enthusiasm forms in me, and I realize that perhaps my mission might become more prominent than I thought.

  “And three: Z’hart City is another three days from the border,” he continues as the holoprojection enhances the image of the capital city. “That is where we must go. For supplies, money, and some navigation tools. I also don’t fancy walking for the duration of this… quest.”

  “Perhaps we can pick up some repulsorbikes.” Vivían intones with a bit of excitement. Her cheeks are sunburned.

  The others show similar enthusiasm for this decision, despite the trek ahead. Abrax nods as he turns off the holoprojector.

  “Then what?” Tálir asks, his disappointment still present but fading. “Where do we go after Z’hart City?”

  Aida chimes in while Remus shivers from the sedatives. “Then we head east. To the land of Asi.” Her voice points it out like it’s obvious.

  Abrax paces around the cart, regarding her with a nod. “Very good, Aida.” He then turns back to Tálir and me. “The legends are vast, but they all hint that Providence lies deep within the jungle wilderness of the eastern Outlands—beyond the Raged Rapids of Asi. Even in nine Cycles, those jungles have remained untouched by exploration. Or at least, survived exploration.”

  “Why not use an airship to fly over the jungle?” I ask, crossing my arms.

  Aida and Abrax both look at me like parents when a child asks about monsters. “Believe me, Providence would’ve been found Cycles ago if it were that easy,” Abrax retorts, caressing his beard.

  “After this past millennium, the jungles have likely grown over the fortress itself,” Aida points out leaning on the cart slightly. “It’s been six Cycles since we retrofitted Domain tech for flight capabilities. But in those Cycles, nothing was found from above.”

  I’m still having a hard time believing that in all these Cycles, no one has ever come close to finding Providence. It all seems like a matter of convenience. But then, perhaps that’s why it’s known as a legend. Because no one can find it. Even Devin, Vyck, and Vivían show signs of similar skepticism after the exposition.

  Abrax paces around the cart before lighting his pipe. “I can guess what some of you are thinking, right now. How can we find this place if no one in a millennium has?” He takes a drag from his pipe, and then says, “But what you have that makes this different is experience, resources, and a guide. Decades ago I failed to find it, and I don’t have much faith that we’ll find it this time. But there’s something in Z’hart City that can help. The Tome.”

  Tálir flashes Abrax an intrigued look. “A map,” he says. “A map that can lead us there.”

  “More like comprehensive puzzle pieces,” the old man affirms, smoke blowing from his nostrils. “We get to Z’hart City. Find supplies and transportation. And I’ll find this Tome where it’s said to be hidden.”

  “This thing is hidden too?” Tálir comments with cynicism. “Fragging Hells, we’ve got our work cut out for us. How do we find it?”

  Abrax grins devilishly and inhales one last drag of greenweed. In his dark eyes, I can see the light of adventurousness being rekindled. He has hope, more so than he did in the last decades. “All in due time, lad.”

  Chapter 15: Tálir

  Rules, Forms, and Drawbacks

  IT
IS LATE IN the afternoon on our first day trekking into the desert, nearly a week until we reach civilization. The hot sun is getting low in the sky, and the scorching heat of the day is swept away by winds. Night is approaching, and so does the cooler weather. Streams of sand are blown away from the tops of the dunes, and a persistent howl echoes across the terrain.

  With the evening approaching, we decide to make camp within a dried up ravine. A series of shallow caves have formed within the maroon walls of the gorge. The caves aren’t incredibly large, but they’re deep enough in the event we need shelter from a Roil.

  The repulsorcart is deactivated, and the supply container sits on the bare ground. Cots, sheets, stored foods, and other materials are unpacked. Vivían starts a fire while the others dress into more casual nightwear. Devin takes a whetstone and sharpens his shortsword. Sarina reviews some of the charts stored within the holoprojector along with Aida.

  As the sun sets we eat a portioned meal of soups, dried meats, and hard bread. It’s a quick meal, but everyone gobbles their food before preparing to rest until sunrise.

  On my cot and chewing a slab of jerky, I see Abrax approach me from the corner of my eye.

  “You, come with me,” he says impatiently. He moves to the edge of the cavern, a satchel draped over his shoulder. “Keep your armor on and bring a cartridge of crystals.”

  “Cartridge of crystals?” I ask after swallowing a bite of dried meat.

  He gestures to one of the metal cases within the cart. “Open one of those up and grab a cartridge. We have work to do.”

  A bit wary of his intentions, I cautiously get up and chew the last bite of jerky. Approaching the cart, I open the metal case and unveil nearly three dozen cartridges the size of a bowrifle magazine. Picking one up, I can deduce by its weight that nearly thirty crystal ingots are within. Abrax is certainly not unprepared when it comes to having ample energy for his armor. He won’t run out anytime soon.

  I place the magazine in my belt as I approach the cavern’s entrance. The others are bewildered as to what’s going on. ”This is between me and him,” Abrax says to everyone. His eyes glance at Remus for a moment, but says nothing more.

  Abrax starts walking back into the gulch and gestures for me to follow him. “What’s this about, Abrax?” I ask as I follow him. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s about time someone shows you how to operate the armor,” the old man says, heading north. Sand crunches under his boots. “Properly, anyways.”

  “So you mean, you’re actually going to teach me?” I ask with a growing excitement, delight glowing in my eyes. “What happened to ‘those days are behind me’?”

  “They are,” he growls. “But what good will it do if we have two Knight suits, but only one is used? It’s a waste having a useless set or armor.”

  Without another word, we hike through the sand and gravel in the ravine. My legs are sore from the day, but my determinism pushes me forward. It’s time to learn about my inheritance.

  ◆◆◆

  We walk for almost a half hour towards the top of the gorge where dry bushes and grasses form. The wind blows by, tossing my hair into a frenzy. The sun is practically gone and the moon lights up the night sky. Stars dot the inky blackness of space.

  We settle near the edge of the plateau watching over the inner ravine. I can see the firelight in our cave half a kilometer away. It’s almost like seeing a candle pulsate with light from within a dark room.

  Setting up a pile of twigs and weeds, the old man snaps his fingers and a small stream emits from his index finger. The magic strikes the twigs and a fire starts. I smile eagerly at the display. Abrax sets his bag down and starts unpacking some tools and pieces of metal. Is he planning to perform maintenance on my armor? But my armor hasn’t taken any serious damage.

  I look closer at what he’s doing. Bronze metal pieces are fused together by the tools he uses. He’s building something.

  “So,” Abrax says after a moment, his back to me as he keeps tinkering with the metal. “How much did your father teach you about the armor?”

  “He never really taught me anything apart from the Roil warning.” I rub my chin as I think back with melancholy. “He died when I was five, and the armor was just there for me to inherit. It was the only thing I had to remember him by, so I kept it safe for his memory.”

  My eyes start to itch as I think back. My father was a good man, a goofball at times and a bit reckless, but I loved him dearly. Despite the lack of books, he recited countless stories and songs before bed. With his death and the absence of a mother, I chose to fixate on the one thing he left me: the armor. It helped sooth my grief, believing his spirit was somewhere in the metal. Foolish thoughts of a child.

  “Romulus always was a stubborn fool. I still can’t believe he never showed you its true power. But, today’s as good a day as any,” Abrax says, finally turning to me. I stare in awe at what he holds.

  It’s a helmet. The bronze metal forms smoothly over the back and top of the head piece. A small spike protrudes from the forehead. Rigid wing shapes jut out from the sides, where my ears will be. A transparent visor comes down over the location of the eyes while a jaw-plate emblazoned with symbols finishes the faceplate. My heart races with ecstatic excitement. My armor is about to be completed!

  The old man sees my exhilaration and rolls his eyes, but not out of annoyance. A faint grin can be seen under his beard. Time slows as he walks towards me and places the helmet on my head. It fits perfectly, and I oddly feel whole. Plates shift down over my throat and neck, connecting the helmet to the armor.

  A holographic heads-up-display lines the transparent visor, showing several different readouts. Armor Integrity: 87%. Output Charge: 0%. Kryo Charge: 0%. What is this kryo charge?

  “Abrax, this is incredible!” I say, my voice sounding metallic. “But what does it mean by eighty-seven percent armor integrity? And zero percent kryo charge?”

  He starts examining my armor. “Well, your armor isn’t exactly meant for your size,” he says. “It’s meant for Romulus. I’ll get to the other part in a second.”

  The old man picks up some sort of high-tech wrench and asks me to perform various martial poses. The tool whirls as it connects and loosens various joints, plates, and pieces in the armor. It’s tedious work, but the armor feels like it’s becoming less like something I wear. More like it’s a part of me. It feels lighter, more fluid, and easy to move.

  Abrax sets the wrench down and examines his handiwork, scratching his beard. His eyes show some measure of satisfaction, and he grabs my left forearm. I watch him press in a small plate right above the top side of my wrist, and the helmet miraculously retracts. It folds away into the pauldrons of the armor, leaving my face unprotected.

  “Just in case you ever need a clearer line of sight,” he points out. “Your armor is now fully synched to your body, and with that comes safeguards. It’s programmed so that only you can do anything with it. Activating it, using it, and even undressing it. It will only permit the wearer to do such things. Of course, there are ways for someone to get it off in the event of an emergency… but it’s a complicated process. Now take two gems out of the cartridge.”

  I do as he instructs, opening the metal magazine which reveals thirty polished, marble-like gems. Their irradiate glow is intense, like staring into molten lava. Abrax takes one and places it into his right gauntlet.

  “The first lesson I will teach you is the importance of the kryos.” Abrax says, sparking emerald energy from his fingertips. He starts to pace around the fire, his boots kick up dirt.

  “Kryo is the Maven title for these gems, so you’d be wise to refer to them as such.” Abrax forms a faint flame of emerald energy in his palm. “But the kryo is the heart of the armor. Without it, the armor is lifeless. As you’ve noted, the HUD shows that your kryo charge is at zero. However, you don’t always have to use the helmet to be aware of your output. The terminal in the wrist does the exact same thing.

>   “Now, the kryos are a very... particular type of magical energy. So, there are three rules you must be aware of. The First Rule is that the kryo gem has a finite amount of energy. You’ve seen how their light dims when used, so they must be used wisely. The Second Rule is that magic energy can only be safely harnessed by Maven armor or weapons. Maven kryo Forms are an extension of this rule—the magic has very specific outputs. The Third Rule—and this is by far the most important—is to never use a kryo without a conduit. Raw kryo power is uncontrollable, unpredictable, and lethal… so never, ever use them without the armor.”

  He adopts a martial pose and extends his arm and fingers. He lets loose a torrent of five energy streams from his fingers. “This is Form One: Stream. The energy must flow within you like a stream of water and out your fingertips.”

  Pivoting to another pose, Abrax bends his knees and locks his elbow at ninety degrees. A domed shield of light energy forms atop his arm and shields his torso. “This is Form Two: Shield,” he says. “For your defense to be strong, your body and footing must equally be strong. If not, you and your energy will crumble.”