Star Rising: Heartless

Home > Other > Star Rising: Heartless > Page 16
Star Rising: Heartless Page 16

by Cesar Gonzalez


  “Why not? Those darn Alioths have been here for days. Days! And they have yet to purchase anything from my pub. I hold no allegiance to people who refuse to give me their credits.”

  “So?”

  “Oh yes. They’re west of here. Camped out in an old mining site. Shouldn’t take too long to reach them.”

  Having gotten the information he seeked, Amlaidh turned to leave.

  “What business do you have with Alioths, anyhow?” asked the man. The wrinkles on his face increased with curiosity.

  Amlaidh didn’t turn as he spoke. “We have a meeting of destiny.”

  “Meeting of destiny,” jeered the man through the loudest cackle Amlaidh had ever heard. It was mixed with sickly coughs, belches, and hollerings. “My boy, you truly are a piece of work. Meeting of destiny.” More sniggers. “So melodramatic!”

  Amlaidh had left pub, walked past the homes, and was now headed west into the desert, but the old man’s chuckles could still be heard. He, however, did not care. The young Zander had been ridiculed, looked down on, and cast aside all his life. Now, after this night, none of that would ever matter. Never again would he be seen as the half-breed mistake. Never again would he be the subject of scorn by his father’s many followers. Tonight, he was going to prove once and for all that he was the true heir of Yashvir. Tonight, his destiny would come to fruition.

  Chapter 17

  Beatrix’s jaw set in a hard line as she laid her eyes on the tents that had been erected in the middle of nowhere. The tarp structures moved slowly, caressed by the delicate winds.

  “Which one is this Xalen character in?” asked Beatrix.

  Sophic’s face was that of granite. “One of the smaller tents, no doubt.”

  “Do we search one by one?”

  “No. Our target won’t come quietly. We will create havoc, and in the midst of the turmoil, it shall become much easier to defeat our foes.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Simply follow my lead.”

  And then with surprising agility, the older woman erupted into a maddening dash. She was screaming at the top of her lungs. It wasn’t a normal scream. More like a screech that resembled the sound of thousands of birds dying all at once.

  The woman turned. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth. She looked at Beatrix with a what are you waiting for face.

  Beatrix shook herself out of her shock. She drew her rapier and followed her master. It was only when Sophic shot a gust of fire from her metaton, that Beatrix realized what the woman was up to. She was planning on luring the Alioths into their waiting clutches. The wave of flames was the thickest Beatrix had ever seen.

  Even from behind her master, Beatrix felt the intense heat as the fire rushed through the tents, consuming them in seconds. A short, stubby lady was the first to emerge from the largest tent. Behind her, followed a young female Krington. They were both coughing so violently, that they didn’t notice as Sophic brought her metaton over them. The large metal arm slammed into both women. They faceplanted on the floor.

  Two other Alioths, both males, poured out of the smaller tents.

  These are mine, mused Beatrix. With a rush of excitement, she lunged at them. The fight she was expecting never came. One boy went down with a swipe of the knee. He slammed the back of his head against the ground and remained motionless. Her second foe, who had the longest forehead Beatrix had ever seen, took a look at Beatrix’s rapier and, wide-eyed, took off towards the dark desert.

  She opted to let him go. Her concentration was much better suited on finding the silver-haired boy she was tasked with capturing.

  “Where is he?” asked Beatrix after the boy failed to emerge from the tents. She moved the tarp and glanced inside.

  Empty.

  “He’s not here,” called Beatrix.

  Sophic frowned. She leaned down and picked up the chubby woman by her collar. “Where is the specimen?”

  Specimen? Beatrix didn’t have time to ponder on the words, for her master had begun to shake the small Alioth.

  “Whatever are you talking about?” asked the woman.

  “Don’t play with me, Sensei Wize,” said Sophic. “My people and I are not to be jested with.”

  “Ahhh,” said Wize understandingly. “I see the Black Sanction is finally making its move. I was wondering when you cowards were going to come out of hiding.”

  Cowards! Beatrix’s blood boiled. The Black Sanction was her family now. They’d given her hope for getting Palek back for her people. They were the ones fighting for the betterment of the galaxy. And this Alioth dog had the audacity to call them cowards?

  Beatrix brought her rapier to Wize’s neck. “I’ll teach you to speak of—”

  “You shall not harm the great Sensei Wize!” threatened a screechy voice.

  Beatrix looked over to the Krington girl. With her rapier, Beatrix kept her at bay. Despite the young Alioth’s obvious struggle to breathe through the smog that had mad its way into her lungs, she stood on wobbly legs. The fuzzy tail that emerged from her rear shot upwards, rattling in rage. Had it not been for the seriousness of the situation, Beatrix would have burst out in laughter. The sight of the pathetic Krington girl, hissing through clenched teeth, was almost comical.

  “Don’t waste your breath with these people, my loving apprentice,” called Wize. Her eyes remained locked to those of Sophic’s. “The Black Sanction understands nothing but murder, lies, and prejudice. Nothing you say will make the blind see.”

  “You’re the murderers!” cried Beatrix, surprising even herself by how much she cared what was said against the Black Sanction.

  “Really?” challenged Wize. “Who ambushed who? It is not I who is holding a weapon to someone’s throat.”

  Beatrix gulped. She looked down at her sword; stared at the tents that were now almost completely engulfed in flames.

  “Enough!” said Sophic. “I didn’t come here for a philosophy lesson. Where’s the specimen?”

  Again, Wize’s face was one of loss. She said, “We are here on an official scientific Alioth mission. The only specimens were dirt samples. The same dirt samples that you just burned along with weeks of valuable research!”

  “I care not for your pathetic experiments. I only care for the boy.” Sophic pressed her metaton against Wize’s chest. “Either you tell me where the boy is, or I end you.”

  If Wize was scared, she didn’t show it. “No. I don’t think you’ll be finishing me off today, Sloe Grimm.”

  For the briefest of moments, a flash of surprise registered on Sophic’s features. It was quickly replaced by a grin. “I see you’re well informed, Sensei Wize. And seeing that you know my monicker, I’m certain you’re also fully aware that I don’t bluff. Where is the boy known as Xalen?”

  “So that’s what this is all about?” Strangely, Wize didn’t seem the slightest alarmed. “Did you actually think that the Bastion was not aware of the traitors planted within the Alioth ranks? Did you believe that you were going to be allowed to leave here?”

  “I think we both know that you’re no match for me,” said Sophic, challenge in her voice.

  “Me?” Wize’s voice was still conversational. Beatrix didn’t like it. Something was definitely off. “Who said anything about me?”

  As the sensei finished speaking, a loud screech filled the air. Then a bright blue light. Sophic barely had enough time to let go of Wize and cock her head back. The blue light of energy passed so close to her head, that it lifted her dry strands of hair up into the air.

  Beatrix turned to where the volley of energy had come from. There, holding a the longest sniper she’d ever seen, stood a white-skinned woman. Her eyes were a light orange. Her face determined. She threw the sniper over her head. The gun twirled in the air. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, it broke into thousands of blue crystal pieces. The fragments flew to a bracelet the newcomer wore around her wrist. There they converged into a single square piece that couldn’t have been la
rger than a small stone.

  Beatrix didn’t have too much time to wonder how the woman had managed to convert such a long weapon into a such a miniscule item, for the Feehan jumped down from atop the rock she’d been perched on.

  “Are you and y’ur appre’tice well, Harka?” asked the snow-skinned woman.

  Wize gazed down at the Krington girl. “Yes, Junia. She appears to be somewhat weakened, but she is well. Thanks for coming.”

  “Of cr’se. I’ve w’nted to f’nish the Sloe Grimm for quite s’me time now.”

  “No Alioth will ever finish me,” challenged Sophic. Her voice remained steady, but Beatrix could tell that she was not taking this new challenger lightly. She saw it in her master’s determined gaze. In the way her full attention was now on Junia.

  Beatrix scarcely even saw her master leap into action. The speed of her vicious kicks was so staggering, that Beatrix was certain that whoever this Alioth was, she was doomed.

  But the Alioth woman held her ground. She intercepted the kicks with leg attacks of her own, sprinkled with precise hand blocks.

  Seeing that the woman’s concentration was fully engaged on her master, Beatrix swiftly rammed her rapier toward the Alioth’s lower back. The Feehan, however, without bothering to turn, swung her hand to the side to grab the rapier’s hilt in mid-attack. A lightning-fast palm to her hand later, and the rapier fell from Beatrix’s hand. Instinctively, she dove after it. She grabbed it and staggered to her feet, but before she could launch another attack. The Feehan, still locked in a battle with Sophic, slammed her foot into Beatrix’s forehead. She fell to the ground, and through groggy eyes saw the two, lightning-fast figures of the woman locked in a dance of parries, counter-attacks, and feints.

  Sophic skidded back. She brought her metaton up. A black substance shot out from it and landed on her opponent’s feet. The Alioth tried to escape, but the sticky material held her in place.

  Beatrix’s mouth had closed, but her mind was still reeling in shock. Tar? Oil? A combination of both? Whatever it was. She had never seen anyone use the dark energy that Sophic wielded.

  Junia seemed less impressed. Looking quite bored, she flicked a green bead from her bracelet into the air. The bead morphed into a duo of translucent handguns. She pointed them at the tar, which dissolved when the bullets lodged into it.

  The bead made its way back to the bracelet. A flick later and the Feehan was holding a blue shotgun. The luminous weapon shot rays of lapis lazuli.

  Sophic created a wall of black tar as a shield. She grunted as Junia’s extreme barrage forced her back a few steps. She dissolved the shield and threw herself to the side. She was still in mid roll when a wave of flames shot from her metaton.

  The sound of blaster fire stopped, followed by a loud screech. A single blue ball, the size of ten fists, emerged from the shotgun. It ripped through the air. Both attacks met in a loud cacophony of explosions.

  This power is unreal, was the only thing that ran through Beatrix’s head as she was launched twenty feet through the air to the hard ground. Wize and the Krington girl landed beside her. Besides their loud breaths, they remained unharmed. Not for long! Beatrix stood and reached for her rapier. She brought it up high into the air. Then, with the thoughts of her father etched in her mind, she brought it down at the Krington girl’s neck.

  “For Palek!” she cried, invigorated by the promise of taking her first Alioth life.

  ΩΩΩ

  The scent of dried meat had filled the small cave by the time Nandi’s soft taps landed on his shoulder. Xalen opened his eyes, rubbed his temple, and closed his eyes again.

  “Hey, get up,” called Nandi. She shook his shoulder, this time harder than the first.

  Xalen opened his eyes once more. It was still dark out. A cluster of dim stars adorned the distant skyline. Which meant it wasn’t even dawn yet.

  “Why are you up so early?” asked Xalen. “I’m still sleepy.”

  Nandi did not seem particularly annoyed by Xalen’s less than upbeat morning attitude. She pointed at the food. “There’s dried meat and black Lohosh to wake you up.” She handed him a mug of the black liquid. “And to answer your question. We went to sleep really early last night. We need to make up for the lost time and get back to the others. So stop your complaining and get your butt up, Whiz Spark.”

  The corners of Xalen’s mouth turned up. She hadn’t called him that in a long time. He took the small blue mug, inhaling the scent of strong Lohosh. A sip later, his sleep was chased away by the warm liquid.

  “Let’s go,” ordered Nandi once they had finished eating their small breakfast.

  They spent the rest of their trek in deep conversation, which made Xalen realize just how much he’d missed speaking to the young Mordered girl. But the lighthearted conversation came to an abrupt end as soon as they emerged one-hundred feet away from their camp.

  Xalen knew something was wrong when he noticed the thick tower of smoke rising from Sensei Wize’s tent. Half of it was charred, while the other side had collapsed into itself.

  A few feet away, Sensei Barteau was locked in a fight with an elderly woman. The old lady moved around Barteau’s shot with surprising agility.

  At any other time Xalen would have questioned Sensei Barteau’s presence. But his gaze had traveled beyond her now, to the sight of a young girl wearing a white blouse and skirt. She stood over Ifi with a long rapier in hand.

  “She’s going to kill her!” cried Xalen. As he rushed towards the girls, he knew that there was no way he would be able to reach them in time. Ifi was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  ΩΩΩ

  “She’s going to kill her!” Nandi heard Xalen shout. He took off towards her.

  Nandi felt a lump on her throat. Ifi and she weren’t exactly the best of friends, but she was still a companion. A fellow Alioth.

  With that in mind, she raised her metaton. The blaster in it opened and shot out a line of yellow lightning. The girl’s swing was still in mid arc when she noticed the attack. She moved her rapier, blocking the lightning in a clumsy parry. When she recovered, her eyesight travelled to Xalen. Her gaze remained locked on him as she eyed him with great interest.

  Nandi shot another gust of energy at the girl. It wasn’t meant to kill, simply to buy Nandi enough time to reach her. It worked. The girl weaved between attacks, giving Nandi enough time to catch up to Xalen.

  Having parried the last of the lightning, the girl looked toward the dueling masters, and then at Xalen once more. Hunger filled her eyes.

  “You’re mine!” she snarled as she dove toward Xalen.

  ΩΩΩ

  Beatrix’s knees tensed at the sight of the silver-haired boy. She turned to Sophic. Her mentor was firing black energy at Junia. The Feehan, flipping in mid air, unleashed a volley of shots from her weapon. They were locked in a stalemate, which meant it was up to her to capture their target.

  Determined, she turned back to the boy with the silver hair.

  “You’re mine,” she called out as she went after him.

  Before she could get to him, three jets of yellow lightning whizzed past her ear. She stopped mid sprint. She’d been so consumed with her target, that she had hardly paid the boy’s companion any mind. But now, she was becoming impossible to ignore.

  “Stand back, Xalen,” ordered the purple-skinned Mordered girl. “She’s mine.”

  Xalen raised a finger in protest. “But, Nandi—”

  Nandi cut him off with a raise of her hand. “But nothing. I’m a Mordered. I only duel on terms of one against one. It’s a matter of honor.”

  “Honor!” jeered Beatrix. She’d hears enough of the Mordered to know that they were a group of traitors who would betray their closest friend in the name of their kin’s greater good. “What would a Mordered know about honor?” She stepped forward and stared into Nandi’s eyes. “Dignity. Lineage. Heritage. Fealty. These are things you can never understand.”

  “That’s
rich coming from a Black Sanction terrorist,” countered Nandi.

  The girls exchanged looks of hatred. The time for words was over. The Mordered moved against the Palek, both determined to end the other.

  Beatrix blocked the first kick with ease. The second, however, came much harder than she’d expected. Her wrist ached, but she ignored it as she drew her breath, only releasing it as she moved up with an uppercut.

  Nandi hissed as she flung her head back. Another hiss later, and the Mordered was launching a barrage of punches and kicks.

  Beatrix grinned. Typical Mordered strategy. Overwhelm an opponent with a mass of fierce attacks.

  That might have worked on a lesser foe. But Beatrix was a Palek. The calm, analytical style that her father had drilled into her would be enough to conquer this wild, unprecise method of fighting.

  She just had to wait. Wait. Wait.

  There!

  The Mordered had overcommitted, throwing a simultaneous metaton punch and a kick.

  Beatrix caught the kick and pushed her leg up. Once Nandi had lost her balance, she tripped the second leg. Nandi fell, face up.

  Nandi recovered quickly. She rolled across the ground, firing balls of lightning as she went. The air sizzled and cracked as Beatrix sidestepped one attack, only to have a second one ram her chest. Every hair on her body stood straight as the current coursed through her. She fell down to one knee, thankful the attack hadn’t been fully charged.

  There was no time to recover. Nandi opened her next series of attacks with two ripples of her lightning energy. These ones were much thicker than the last set. Beatrix brought her sword up to deflect the blows. The cold steel of the blade wasn’t enough, so she channeled her own energy into it to hold. It was a Palek ability that she was certain the Mordered had no knowledge of.

  The slightly confused look on Nandi’s face confirmed her suspicions.

  Despite Beatrix’s success in stopping the attack, the sheer force of it knocked her back a few steps. She lost her balance. Nandi came toward her, ramming her elbow into her chest.

 

‹ Prev