“I’m more than ready for any task you have for me.” Amlaidh stared at the tube, wishing the frame within it wasn’t so blurry. It was impossible to gauge the man’s reactions within the murkiness.
“Let us hope you are, because my future, your destiny, and the course of the universe hinges on your success.” There was a long pause. “We wouldn’t want another failure again like the one in Nimue.”
“That was out of my contro—” He bit his tongue. The man before him cared nothing for excuses. The only thing that registered with him were results. “Allow me to prove my worth to you.”
There was a long silence, followed by a series of sickly coughs. Amlaidh waited without uttering a word. Pumping plasma into one’s veins was not natural, and this occasional loud outburst was just one of the side effects. Hearing the ruckus made the irony of the situation even more vivid. The man lived on the brink of death, a shell of his former self. Yet, every time Amlaidh stood before him, he felt unworthy and exposed, as if he were the one who had resorted to such a pathetic form of living.
“Amlaidh!” called the man quite suddenly. “You’re to travel to the one of the moons of the Celtia system, Chas. There you’ll find a boy living with the Alioths, one who is known as Xalen. You will bring him to me. Alive.”
A boy from the Alioths? Amlaidh had always been able to take tidbits of information and see the bigger picture, but the need for a nobody Alioth was something that he had no answer for.
“Is there a problem, Amlaidh?”
“No. No problem. I will do as you have requested.” He took a breath, forming the words as he’d rehearsed them back in the ship. “There was one other matter I wished to speak about.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s about the Deargs. They appear and kill people all over the universe, many who are innocent. Isn’t there something you could do to put an end to this? Destroying an army base or a Bastion embassy I understand. I see no use in killing women and children.”
“Are you questioning my authority?” The white tube grew a crimson red.
Amlaidh staggered back. It wasn’t out of fear of harm that he retreated, he knew the man had no power to harm him, not directly at least. It was the fear of disappointing him, just like he had all those years ago. “No…no, sir. I simply thought—”
“Leave the thinking to me. I’m Yashvir, The beginning and end of this universe. I will not be questioned.”
Amlaidh understood that the conversation was over. “I will do as you have commanded.” He bowed slightly and turned, walking quickly out of the cave. He had a target to capture, a target that would prove to the man that he was a worthy successor. I won’t fail you. I promise, Father.
ΩΩΩ
“Get back down, Beatrix,” said her mother. “The guards will see you.”
“I don’t care,” said the blue-eyed girl, she ran her hand through her brown hair and hopped atop a large rock. From there she had a clear view of the entire tribe, from old lady Magnes to her childhood friend Lista. They, along with the other members of her small tribe, were spread across the green field, packing the last of their belongings in the dark cases the Bastion had provided.
“People of Palek!” she screamed. “My entire life I’ve heard of the great deeds we’ve accomplished. It was our people who first colonized this planet when it was deemed uninhabitable. It was our ancestors who defended it against the ravenous storms and turned the land into one that is prosperous. It was our men who went to war against the destroyer of world’s and fought bravely for the Bastion, taking out more of Yashvir’s creatures than any other battalion our size.” A few people stopped what they were doing to give her a quick glance, but most continued with their task. I have to get through to them. “Are we now simply supposed to stand aside while our land is stolen by the Bastion? People of Palek,” she raised her fist into the air, “join me. We must fight for our land!”
Beatrix breathed heavily, waiting for her people to rally behind her and fight against the injustice that was being committed against them. But instead, they gazed at the ground as they continued to fill the leather cases with the few possessions they could carry.
“Get down, Beatrix!” hissed her mother through her teeth. “The guards will—”
“What do we have here?” asked a Bastion guard in a loud snort. He walked with long strides, stopping to look at the girl. He pulled on his long mustache with one hand, and rubbed his oversized belly with the other. “Another Palek insurgent looking to stir up trouble?”
Beatrix’s mother, a short, slim woman with a myriad of wrinkles across her tired face stepped in front of the guard. “She’s not looking to start any trouble, sir.”
“What nonsense is she spewing? From where I was standing it sounded as if she was trying to start an uprising.”
“What if I was? Don’t—” began Beatrix.
The older lady pulled her daughter behind her. “She means nothing by it. She has a big mouth, but she means well.”
“I’ll be merciful just this once. But you best keep her under control.” He glanced hungrily down Beatrix’s low-cut blouse and licked his cracked lips. “I wouldn’t want to come back to pay your luscious daughter a personal visit.”
“I will.” The woman spoke rapidly. It was the way her voice always got when she was nervous.
The guard turned, leaving behind a red-faced Beatrix. “Why did you stop me, Mom? Someone has to put an end to this.”
“Shhhhh …” the woman brought her finger to her lips. “Don’t you love me?”
Beatrix’s features softened. “Of course I do. Why would you ask something like that?”
“Because you know I’ve lost everything. Your father and my brother both died trying to keep our land from the Bastion. In fact…” She motioned to the people around them folding their tents into neat, thick rectangles. “There is no one from our tribe who has not lost someone. All our men have been killed, and now you would have me lose you as well?”
Beatrix stiffened. Why did her mother always have to make her feel guilty? “I love you, just like I love our people. That is why I’m trying to fix this injustice!”
The woman shook her head. “So headstrong.” The way she said it made it sound as if it was a negative attribute. “Your father and uncle were the same way. It did them no good, did it?”
Scowling, Beatrix said, “At least they didn’t stand by while our land was being stolen from under our very noses. They died defending us. Defending you!”
“Enough!” The woman’s usually kind eyes turned vicious. “Ever since you were a little girl you’ve been trying to fix every wrong, but the world doesn’t work that way, Beatrix. You’ve only lived seventeen cycles, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect my daughter to obey my command. You will keep quiet and pack your things!”
Wordless and shaking, Beatrix turned her back on her mother, sprinting away from the helpless sheep her people had become. She ran and ran, not stopping until she reached the tall pine tree that rose on the outskirts of the prairie. A tear dripped from her eyes as she ran her finger over the carving her father and she had etched into the tree all those cycles ago. Her eyes closed.
This is our home, muttered her father. She was that little girl all over again. She coughed as his father’s strong aroma after a day’s work at the fields filled her nostrils. With his strong hands, he threw Beatrix over his shoulder, talking as he walked. It is where my father’s father, and his father’s father lived out their life. And it is where you will one day raise your family. We must cherish it and protect it.
Her eyes opened. There was no father. No more scent of mud. No strong arms to cradle her safely. All that was left was anguish, dark and bleak. Anguish at having lost her father and uncle. Anguish at having been unable to protect their land. Hours later, as she boarded the Bastion ship relocating them to another moon, that anguished turned into an icy fury.
Her mother rested a hand on her shoulder, Beatrix’s
rage was replaced by a look of defeat. It was the same look that was shared by every woman, child, and elder who surrounded her.
As the ship rose into the sky, ready to take them to their new home, Beatrix stared at the steel floor. She had no desire to look out the window as the Bastion architects scoured Palek, deciding where they would defile the land by erecting their steel buildings. The young girl’s knuckles turned white as she balled her hand into a fist. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming.
Chapter 4
Xalen moved down the long corridor, gazing at one statue after another. There seemed to be countless statues lining both sides of the corridor like silent, marbled guardians. Golden plaques were etched under their feet, relaying the story of the person above. He didn’t bother to read any of them until he reached a statue that, instead of marble, was made of simple stone. Its legs and hands were cracked, and half of the face was missing. The plaque underneath read:
In memory of Alioth Musashi.
In starcycle 333 the Sanatus, vile creatures of destruction, arrived from the depths of space. Their armies destroyed all who got in their way. No one could stand against their ferocity. On the brink of total annihilation, a warrior rose from the ranks of the humans. He led the Bastion in the victory of High Void. He turned the tides at the Clash of Red Hill. He alone was responsible for the destruction of the Sanatus’ third battalion. When his time came to—
“Hey, move,” ordered a voice behind him.
Xalen turned, coming face-to-face with a girl with light purple skin. She looked to be the same age as him. Half of her head was bald, the other sported a long wave of dark hair. The mysterious tattoo decorating the bald spot, along with the frown on her face, gave her a tough exterior. She wore a light brown leather suit that exposed the top of her breasts. Her left arm had been completely replaced by a metallic one the color of her suit. Within the small holes and patterns in the metal pieces of the arm, he saw the careful work of an expert metaton. The cables were aligned neatly inside, without a single one exposed to the elements. The way she effortlessly moved her arm made it obvious that it was evenly weighted.
“Are you going to stare all day?” she asked, her hands thrown up in the air. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? Move!”
He moved aside. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen a—” He racked his brain, realizing that he had no idea what species the girl was.
The girl ignored him. She held an electronic pad in her right hand, where she scribbled something with a long stylus.
“What are you doing?” asked Xalen.
“What’s it to you?” she answered, so quickly that Xalen was certain that was a rehearsed, go-to answer.
“I’m just curious, that’s all. I’m new here.”
The girl dropped what she was doing and turned to him, a frown on her face. “Stop talking to me. Don’t you see that I’m busy? Sensei Barteau will have my head if I don’t finish this by tonight.”
“Can’t be that hard,” said Xalen, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries. “All you’re doing is copying what it says in that plaque.”
She rolled her eyes, but refrained from saying another word.
“You must have a library around here somewhere,” added Xalen. “If you have to write a report on this…” He took another look at the plaque. “Alioth Musashi, then you should just go there and get some books to finish your report.”
The girl continued scribbling on her pad. “You would have me read a book?” She chuckled. “That would be a first.”
“You don’t have to read all of it. All you have to do is grab a few books and skim over the details. Then simply put in a few of your own ideas.” The words blurted out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it. “I could help you, if you want.”
She stopped scribbling. “You? Help me? Why? You do know who I am right? My name is Nandi. I’m a Mordered. Did Lastrius put you up to this?” Her eyes grew wide and she stomped toward him, metal arm flailing from side to side. “Because I swear. I will kick both your—”
“Lastrius? Who is that?”
“Fine then. You seem totally useless in battle, which means that you’re probably smart.” She smirked to herself.
Xalen ignored the insult for two reasons. One, he needed friends and had none. This was not the time to get picky. Two, she was right, besides what he’d taught himself from battle scrolls, he had no training whatsoever when it came to fighting. But books he did know.
Wordlessly, he followed her through a labyrinth of corridors and out to the yard, the same yard he had come through earlier. Dozens of stares followed them as they walked. He had a feeling that many of them were not directed at him, but at the girl beside him.
“Keep up,” she said, descending a flight of stairs. They emerged in an underground tunnel. Their loud footsteps echoed off the concrete floor.
There were two open doors at the end of the tunnel. Inside, Xalen, caught a glimpse of countless of bookshelves aligned in uneven rows.
“You guys sure keep your library well hidden,” he said.
They walked into the library, his mouth slackened. At first he had thought that the room was going to be small, but it was gigantic, with countless staircases and elevators that descended deeper underground. There were hundreds of students seating in the cushioned chairs, reading from electronic pads, books, and scrolls.
“I know,” said the Mordered “They could use this to store ammunition and weapons.” She sighed. “But instead they wasted it on useless books.”
“Ummm…,” said Xalen. This girl was something else. “That’s not exactly what I was thinking about.”
“Shhhh…” A wrinkled, hunched woman with glasses brought her finger to her lips. “This is a library!” Her voice carried through the large room. “Keep your volume down!”
“Shessh,” said Nandi. “Sorry, Madam Overreaction.”
The elderly librarian frowned, not that Nandi seemed to care. She took Xalen’s hand and pulled him toward an elevator. Her skin was ridiculously smooth. His insides turned icy. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d never really felt the touch of a girl before today.
He let go of her hand, hoping she hadn’t noticed that her touch had flustered him.
If she took any notice, she showed no signs of it. “Hurry up.”
They stepped into the elevator. Xalen tried to collect his thoughts, concentrating on the purple interior walls and the overbearing scent of jasmine incense.
They emerged in a smaller room with two shelves at the center. Florescent lights shone from the oval lamps above. “Here we are. Alioth Musashi’s level.”
“This guy has his own room?” asked Xalen astounded.
“That is what I said, isn’t it? The Alioths are named after him. He’s a pretty big deal.”
Xalen couldn’t imagine what the man could have possibly done to earn such an honor. Whatever it was, it must have been nice to have people look up to you in such a way. To have people admire you so much as to name something after you. What he wouldn’t give to have such a feeling.
“Get to it,” ordered Nandi. “Show me these amazing research skills of yours.”
Xalen shook himself back to attention. He might have been new to this place, but that didn’t mean he was a stranger to how it worked. He had frequented the library back on Vintra many times. He selected a few books from the shelves and threw them on the desk, where they both took a seat. Usually it would have taken longer to find the right books, but every book on the shelves involved the legendary warrior, Alioth Musashi. This made everything monumentally easier.
He handed Nandi the three books that he thought she might find more bearable: The Battles of Alioth Musashi, Killcount of the Man Behind the Mask, and Musashi Battle Strategies to Decimate One’s Opponents.
Her expression turned icy. “What is this?”
“They’re books.”
“Yes. I know that. W
hatever happened to not reading any books?”
“You’re not going to read them. Just skim through them and pull some information that may be useful. A few battle strategies. A quote or two about his thoughts during a fight. Then we’ll mix that with what I find in my books. We’ll add some of your thoughts, and tada!”
She frowned, but refrained from saying anything further as she opened her first book. Once in a while, she would grunt and write something on her electronic pad.
Xalen took his own stack of books, which, judging from the titles, were much less violent than the ones he’d given to his companion. The first one he scanned was Alioth: The Man Before the Legend. After that, he skimmed through The Psychology of Musashi.
After about an hour, Xalen already considered himself a mini-expert on the man. According to the books, Musashi had grown up on Metrio, a dwarf planet at the very outskirts of the known galaxy. He had was the son of a wealthy entrepreneur, and as such was tutored on every subject imaginable from a young age. He attended Cambria University and became a scholar. Behind his father’s back, however, he used his substantial allowance to hire private mentors to tutor him on the way of the sword. As an adult, he served as a regular soldier during the invasion of the Sanatus. It was here that he devised the grand strategy that saved the galaxy from the brink of defeat.
“Let me see your notes,” said Xalen.
Nandi handed over her tablet and thumped her fingers softly on the table as Xalen went over her work.
He looked down at the notes, and then up at the girl, wondering if she was serious. What she’d written down was absolutely atrocious. Worse than atrocious, in fact. She displayed the academic skills of a five year old back at the orphanage. The first line read, He liked to fight. The second said, He would use the environment to his advantage.
“What?” she said, looking not the least bit ashamed. “I’m a fighter, not an academic.”
Star Rising: Heartless Page 5