Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1)

by David Roman

  “It’s impossible…” Vincent helplessly lowered his hand. “Simply impossible. The Republic has more of a chance of finding my planet and destroying and subjugating everything I know…”

  “You can’t give up so easily.”

  “I’m lost… forever….”

  There was a period of silence, and then Gaia said, “I’ve not been to my own planet for days, and even when I’m there on business, I don’t feel right.” She stopped, stared outside, and added, “Home’s a place where you feel safe. And when I’m home, I’m pretending to be someone I am not.”

  Vincent shrugged and began the search once more. “Well, if I at least knew Earth’s precise location, then perhaps I wouldn’t be as worried.”

  “Once again, I am sorry,” she said, heading for the door. “I showed you as much as I could. Now it’s up to you. Just give it time; if Duell’s right, it’ll come to you.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. “But time is something I don’t have.”

  She turned around. “Why? Do you have someone or something special waiting for you at home?”

  “What?” He stopped his search and glanced at her. “Of course… my life.”

  “No,” she said. “I meant family.”

  “Oh…” Vincent felt dumb. “No, no one special.”

  “Children?”

  “What? No, I’m single.”

  “Then what do you really miss?”

  “Well, nothing, really. It’s just…” He looked down, exhaled deeply, and spread his arms. “I feel like an animal here—an animal lost in a different environment.”

  She sighed and leaned against the door. “We all feel lost. We hang on so hard to the past that we completely neglect the present. Like me… I became so vindictive that I’ve misplaced all touch with reality… and because of it, I lost the man I loved to the same bastard responsible for the death of my father…” She began to think of the Duke, of that obese monstrosity she saw every time she visited Xenon. How he sat there, across from her, gazing at her with those beady eyes, salivating, completely unaware of her real identity.

  “I do wish I had Duell’s attitude,” she added.

  “I’m sorry…” Vincent said. There he was, crying like a little child when his other companions had lost everything. “I’m out of place.”

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “What I’m trying to say is, cherish the moment.” She looked up. “You’re in good hands.”

  Vincent smiled. “Now you’re starting to sound like Duell.”

  A smile touched her lips as well. “He’s a wise man, Vincent. You can learn plenty from him, if only you’ll try.”

  “Yes, but isn’t there a dark army headed this way? I believe I’m the least of his worries…”

  Her shoulders slumped. “It’s my fault. Everything is. I’m the reason we’re here. I just… I just couldn’t sit around and watch this peaceful planet die.”

  “Hey, come on, kiddo.” Vincent approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder. My big mouth, he thought. “Don’t blame yourself. I’ve never met anyone with such spirit.”

  She backed away with a baffled, yet curious look. “Kiddo?”

  “It’s a variation of ‘kid,’” he explained.

  “I know what’s a kid, okay?”

  Vincent swallowed nervously. “Look I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry… so inappropriate of me to refer to a… to a Princess like that...”

  She began laughing at his anxious face. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just messing with you.”

  Vincent was content at the fact he made her smile. He tried denying it, but talking to her was the only thing getting his mind off his current status.

  “So.” She straightened up and changed her attitude, taking a serious tone. “You believe we can win?”

  “I don’t know anymore,” he replied. “But from what I’ve seen and after listening to Duell, I’ll… well, I’ll believe in anything.” He then glanced at the palm of his hand and formed a fist.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” she said.

  “The Tel Kasar power? I still have a hard time believing that.”

  “Duell believes in you.”

  “I wish he didn’t.” He looked up. “I didn’t want this, you know?”

  “Yes, you did. Somehow, you did.”

  “Fate?”

  “Perhaps. But in Tel Kasar belief, in something they call Dellah, they believe that although destiny does play a major part, it’s the choices you make that carve your path.”

  He nodded and said, “Well, I better start believing this if I want to survive…”

  *

  The stars were visible through the oculus as the suns set, yielding to the approaching darkness. Hundreds of candles flickered throughout the shrine, casting long shadows of the four figures that sat cross-legged around a sword. They sat there for hours, saying farewell to the man who made them who they are.

  “…May his name be remembered in every corner of Pantegonia.” Duell spoke sorrowfully. “May his deeds be remembered in every place of honor, for if it were not for him, we’d never exist. If it were not for him, we’d never know the true meaning of the Tel Kasar.”

  Tears streamed down the faces of the twins as they said goodbye to their grandfather: Exander let out a growl through his tears, Damocles sat with his eyes closed.

  “He was a father to us all,” Spaide mumbled, wiping his face. “Even to someone like me.”

  “He sits beside us in the Netherworld,” Duell continued. “But in this world, his dream of justice lives on. Let us not forget what Oryon stood for, warriors. Let us swear today that death will come to his enemies.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” the big man wept.

  “We must carry on his objective.” Duell leaned forward and grabbed Oryon’s sword. “After we get back to our base, we have to visit Kienor and erect a small monument in his name,” he added, getting up. “He would’ve loved that.”

  “Zeth must die,” Exander grated.

  Duell looked down at his student, who—like always—was boiling with anger.

  “In due time, Exander, in due time,” he said, looking the youth squarely in the eye. “Every single one of them will pay, starting with Cosmos and Damien.” He then turned around and held the blade in his palms, holding back his own tears.

  The silence sustained for several more minutes.

  “Master”—Exander got up—“may I comment on our present situation?”

  “What is it?” Duell said after a moment of consideration.

  “We cannot win this battle. Even Oryon would’ve agreed that this is suicide.”

  “Well, my young pupil.” Duell faced his student again. “Then you’ll have to believe in the impossible.”

  Exander spread his arms. “But if we die, so shall Oryon’s dream!”

  “Then we should try to win, don’t you think?”

  Exander deeply exhaled. “There are too many of them! Drop this nonsense and realize what you’re suggesting!”

  “I do realize, young Krynne, believe me, I do. But I also don’t make promises unless I know they can be accomplished.”

  “But, master—”

  “Enough of this!” Duell raised his voice. “Wait until you become a Sage before you contradict me!”

  Exander bit his lip and became quiet.

  “What about Vincent?” Damocles asked.

  “I’ll begin teaching him the fundamentals tomorrow,” Duell replied.

  “What?” Exander barked. He looked over at his brother and at Spaide—both seemed to be agreeing with Duell. “Am I the only one who sees a problem with this?” he asked. “This is asinine!”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because—”

  “Because he’s not Xenian? But he’s obviously blessed.”

  “You’re breaking the rules!”

  “What rules? Think before you say something!” Duell then turned to the others and asked, “Do you have a problem with me tutoring Vincent
?”

  “Not me,” the big guy said, escaping his brother’s look.

  “We need all the muscle we can get,” Spaide said.

  “Very well, then. Gather in the dining hall within half an hour.” Duell headed for the door.

  “Master,” Exander called out.

  Duell continued down the shrine.

  “Master!” Exander repeated.

  “What is it?” Duell asked without turning. “I will not change my mind on teaching the human.”

  “No, that part I understand… no matter how absurd I find it to be. This is something different, something I’ve been meaning to ask you ever since we’ve escaped the Nomad…” Exander cleared his throat and blurted out, “Why did Na’ar spare me?”

  Duell turned around.

  Both of the twins stared at him in request. Spaide stopped at the threshold, looking back in confusion.

  “Why didn’t he kill me?” Exander rephrased. “He seemed to have no idea who we were.” He then grabbed his necklace. “This pendant… When he saw it, he lowered his arm, stopping the blow that would’ve ended my life.”

  Duell stood there with no answers. Like a landslide, the tragedies flooded them, one after another. One thing was obvious: he had to tell them the exact truth.

  “I concur,” the big man added. “He had never seen us before. Does he even know that we’re his children?”

  Duell sighed, looked up for a moment, and then said, “I believe you’re old enough to know… that Na’ar didn’t leave us when you think he did—it was much earlier than that.”

  “What?” Exander exclaimed, trading glances with the big guy. “What do you mean?”

  Duell sat down on one of the shrine’s stone benches and set the blade aside. Spaide sat beside him, but the twins remained standing. Duell leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands together.

  “Oryon was devastated when Na’ar left us,” he began. “And Isabella was just a child at the time—a child who loved him like a big brother—and was in tears for months. I guess those feelings never really died, because once the time came for her to kill him, she was unable to do so.”

  “What?” the twins asked in unison.

  “What do you mean kill him?” Damocles asked.

  “I’m getting to that. Your mother was a maverick, a trait that runs in your veins.” Duell gestured at Exander. “She was not just rebelling against the Republic, but against Oryon as well. Unbeknownst to us, she frequently took on solitary missions.” As he told the story, he glanced away, remembering the days of his youth, the final days of the Intergalactic War.

  “In one of those missions, she took it upon herself to infiltrate Na’ar’s personal army, the Solizar Squad. They accepted her, unaware that she was gathering information on the Republic’s doomsday weapon, the Mor’amer Citadel.

  “I was the only one who knew her whereabouts. She feared that once Oryon would’ve found out, he would’ve pulled the plug on the whole operation. So gullible a man that I was, I didn’t tell him. Unfortunately…” Duell paused, swallowed. “She got too close to Na’ar.”

  Exander opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Years had passed since she’d been gone. The war was almost over, and there were no signs of her. Finally, she contacted me and told me of her feelings for him and that she’d bring him back. She was young then—so young, just slightly older than you two.” He frowned and continued, “I told Oryon, and we set forth to find her, but by the time we did, she was fatally wounded. Her injuries were so severe that she couldn’t even utter a word…”

  “What about us?” Damocles interrupted. “How did…?”

  “She fought until the last minute to stay alive. In her hands she clutched the pendants you wear and the key to the cottage where we found you two. Now, I guess, the pendants were a gift from him…”

  “No…” Damocles sniveled. He looked at his necklace and then at his brother’s.

  Duell clenched his jaw. “It seems that she had the two of you without his knowledge. And on the day she tried to tell him the truth about herself, he… he killed her…

  “She died in Oryon’s arms…” He paused and took a deep breath. “Oryon didn’t hide from you the fact that Na’ar was your father, but he didn’t tell you the tragic truth.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Spaide mumbled.

  “I don’t feel so good.” Damocles clasped his stomach and sat down on the floor.

  “Liar!” Exander bellowed. “For over twenty years you hid this from us!”

  “Patience!” Duell lashed back.

  “Did you know about this?” Exander turned sharply to Spaide.

  “I’m as shocked as you are!” The Dirsalian shrugged.

  “He didn’t know we existed,” Damocles muttered. “All this time, he didn’t know. She never had the chance to tell him…”

  “I don’t give a damn! “ Exander turned to his brother. “He knows now, and I’ll personally kill him!” He then stormed out of the shrine.

  “It’s too much, master,” Damocles said, getting up. “You made us believe he left us when we were kids and that mother died in an explosion… but this…”

  “I know,” Duell responded. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It must’ve been hard.”

  “We should go now.” Duell got up and began heading away.

  “You loved her, didn’t you?” Damocles asked all of a sudden.

  Duell stopped in his tracks. “I…” He looked away. “Forgive me, I could not save her...”

  “Wow…” Spaide continued sitting with a dropped jaw long after the Xenians were gone. “This has got to be the craziest day of my life.”

  *

  The two moons of Urtan lit up the night sky with their silvery light as Vincent continued to browse the Galactic Map. He was so busy in his effort to find home that he didn’t see Spaide show up on his doorstep.

  “Any luck?” the Dirsalian asked, approaching with a bundle of clothes.

  “Nope.” Vincent exhaled, taking off the glove. “But I’m familiar with the map already.”

  “Come on… you can’t expect an outcome on your first try. Let’s go eat, have fun, get your mind off things. Here”—Spaide extended the clothes—“put these on.” It was a pair of riveted jeans and a camouflaged shirt.

  “Would these suffice?” Vincent asked, looking at Spaide who was wearing something resembling a changshan. “I mean, isn’t everyone going to be dressed formal? And here I’ll be, wearing the attire of a space pirate.”

  “Why… who…” Spaide stammered. “Oh, now you got jokes? Just go and change! We’ll fetch you one of these uniforms tomorrow.”

  Vincent proceeded to wash himself and swap the attire. He didn’t know what to do with his old clothes, so he threw them on top of the chair in the corner.

  “You’ll no longer need those,” Spaide said. “But you might wanna save the jeans. They’re nice, even though cavemen designed them.”

  Vincent could see how the manner of his new companions would infuriate others. Spaide, as a matter of fact, was not a Tel Kasar, but their impassive attitude had rubbed off on him. Here he was, trying to have “fun” amidst this time of peril.

  “What do they eat here?” Vincent asked as they headed out.

  Spaide shrugged. “Don’t know, and I’m really ’fraid to ask. But I’m hungry nevertheless. I’d eat a human right ’bout now.”

  Vincent shook his head. Indeed, the Dirsalian did have rather coarse jokes.

  They made their way to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard which was filled with hundreds of tents housing the Urtan men that gathered from every corner of the planet. Spaide then guided Vincent to one of the castle’s towers where succulent smells of bizarre extraterrestrial food filled the air as they went up the spiral stairs to the top floor.

  They entered a large dining hall. A long table was in the middle of the room, spread with all kinds of comestibles. Duell, Thanatos, Galadan, the ge
nerals, and several Urtan dignitaries sat at its head discussing further plans; several military personnel sat in the middle; and Damocles sat at the other end, farther from everybody else, distraught, but nevertheless ravenously swallowing the food before him and chasing it down with a decanter. Exander, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight. More Urtan nobles sat in cliques around other smaller tables: men dressed in yukata-type robes, and women in kimonos. There was a dais at the back of the hall, atop which several Urtan women played harps. The caterers took turns approaching the tables, making sure they were full of the surreal victuals and beverages.

  And then Vincent saw Gaia.

  She looked stunning—like bona fide royalty, shimmering in a black satin dress with a high waist. Over the dress she wore a square-cut bodice that exposed the top of her chest. Black evening gloves covered her lower arms, and a huge pendant was around her neck. Her hair was hoisted up with strands flowing down past her shoulders. It was amazing how she could switch her looks—a warrior one minute, a Princess the next. She sat at one of the tables, engaged in a conversation with an Urtan nobleman.

  “Let’s sit here.” Spaide sat down next to Damocles. “All this political jargon gets on my nerves.”

  Vincent distrustfully stared at the various combinations of food before him. He then looked over at his Dirsalian companion.

  “Don’t look at me,” Spaide said. “I’m just as surprised as you are. I’m just hopin’ none of this stuff jumps at me.”

  “Eat up,” Damocles garbled, his mouth full. “It’s good.”

  “Yeah, anythin’s good for you, meathead.” Spaide responded. “Not all of us consume ten thousand calories a day.”

  Being hungry as he was, Vincent began eating the weird chow and (much to his surprise) found it to be remarkably delicious. The food tasted like various combinations of vegetables, yet there were no meats of any kind. He didn’t care though—it was the best meal he’d ever had.

  “I’d like to make a toast!” Galadan arose. “To our new allies for joining us in this bleak hour and to our loved ones that have recently passed away...”