Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1)
Page 24
“Good mornin’,” the Dirsalian said. “Sleep well?”
“Well, I—”
“That’s good,” Spaide continued, pulling out the contents of the bag. “Here’re some fresh clothes, a pair of shoes, and breakfast. Get cleaned up, eat, and meet Duell in the pavilion behind the west portion of the castle.”
“That’s great… thanks, but—”
“We’ve a long day ahead of us. I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be at the airstrip not too far away. We’ll catch up at lunch.” Spaide left Vincent without any explanation and stormed out.
Vincent yawned, got up, and proceeded to take a long shower, standing under the running water deep in thought. What am I going to do? He was lucky he didn’t get killed on the Nomad, but from the sound of it, he was surely going to die here. I am not… not a warrior… One thing was obvious: Duell brought him here to die. He began laughing at the idea. If only Alex could see me now…
He found it convenient that the soap, toothpaste, and the rest of the toiletries were identical to ours. The towels were soft, made of a peculiar fabric that instantly absorbed the moisture. He then noticed his stubbly face in the mirror; he needed to shave. He started searching for any device similar to a razor but then gave up, remembering that the Urtans didn’t have any hair.
The silk clothes were identical to a Kung-Fu uniform and hung freely over his body. Spaide also brought him a pair of soft boots with split-toe soles.
The breakfast tray contained something that resembled a mixture of eggs and potatoes with oatmeal-type bread, some vegetables and a bizarre fruit juice.
Vincent quietly ate the food and exited the room.
Much to his surprise, the castle was very calm. He must’ve been one of the few who awoke at this early hour, probably because most of the Urtans didn’t rest the previous night and had just gone to bed. He walked (or rather, wafted because of his new gear) down the marble stairs to the main gallery and headed to the other end. Several Urtan soldiers passed by and bowed before him. He returned the custom, thinking of the utmost respect Urtans showed to off-world strangers. It seemed that evolution took a big leap on this planet, for instead of being carnivorous, aggressive reptiles, the Urtans were humble creatures and—on top of all things—vegans.
He found the exit and stepped outside.
A trail between trimmed hedges led him to a big hexagonal gazebo made of cherry-colored wood. It was located in the middle of the royal garden, its elevated position providing a view of the magnificent sea of plants.
Vincent ascended the steps and set foot on the padded floor of the pavilion. Duell stood akimbo in the middle, his back turned. He wore a white sleeveless jacket and a hakama skirt—similar to those of the Samurai. Not so far from him was a wooden chest.
“Did you rest?” the Xenian asked.
“I’m all right,” Vincent replied. “I stayed up mostly, toying around with the encyclopedia robot and learning the history of Pantegonia.”
“I see…” Duell turned around. “Your mind’s expanding.”
“I’ve never felt like that before… like I want to learn everything.”
“The endless desire to learn. That’s the secret to the brainpower of the Warrior Sage.”
Vincent rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’ve also been having these terrible dreams,” he said.
“What kind of dreams?” Duell asked, his serious face showing signs of interest.
“Nightmares in which I’m a Xenian man… visions of war.”
“Those are memories, Vincent,” Duell said with a sigh. “Oryon’s memories.”
Vincent gulped. “What…?”
“Oryon had a dark past. He was one of the men who helped the Xenians conquer most of the galaxy. During those years, he had witnessed and committed horrible things, things that he could never forget…” Duell paused. “He swore that he will redeem himself of his sins and undo the horrors he unleashed on this world… I guess the task remained unfinished.”
“If I only knew what they mean… or what he’s trying to tell me…”
“I would say that he wants you to realize you have the power to succeed where he has failed. That it is up to you to undo the horrors I spoke of.”
“But how?”
“You must accept this power. Don’t fight it.” Duell began circling around Vincent. “If you keep vacillating, you’ll only confuse yourself.”
“I just…” Vincent raised a hand to his forehead. “I don’t understand…”
“He’s trying to tell you something—something you don’t want to believe.” Duell sighed. “We don’t have much time, but still, I’ll teach you what I can.”
“I’m not ready…” Vincent wavered, swiveling in place to follow the Xenian. “It’s too much.”
“Oh, is it? Will you fight to live, Vincent Saturn? You’ve been bestowed with a power far greater than you can possibly imagine, yet you falter! Why, Vincent, why? Did you not finally realize this isn’t a dream? Do you think the Order will spare your life when they get here? Or are you under the impression that the Republic will help you find your way home?”
“I didn’t ask for this!”
“You have no choice!” With those words, Duell kicked Vincent in the left ankle, sweeping him off his feet.
Vincent looked up at the Xenian with hurt and surprise.
Duell smiled wryly, looking down. “Get up and hit me.”
“Are you serious?”
The Xenian’s smile turned into a line. “Yes, I am,” he said and hid his hands behind his back.
Without getting up, Vincent lunged at the Xenian’s feet in hopes of tackling him.
Duell moved out of the way, and Vincent embraced the mat.
“Is it so hard?” Duell taunted.
“Damn,” Vincent fussed. He got up, jumped in place several times, stretched, and got into a fighting posture: left fist forth, the other under his chin. “I know martial arts myself,” he said.
“Good. Come on, then.”
Vincent stepped forward, swinging a hook with his left, barely missing the Xenian, and then threw a massive right, but the latter jumped away laughing. Taking the opportunity, Vincent swept around with a roundhouse kick.
Duell grabbed Vincent’s ankle and twisted him down to the ground.
“Okay… you got me,” Vincent said, catching his breath.
“That’s it? On one try? Get up and hit me.”
“Ugh…” Vincent got up, bowed to the Xenian, and retained his stance. “Okay.” He began approaching by taking little sidesteps.
Duell remained motionless.
Vincent threw a jab with his right hand, but Duell leaned to the left. He then came back with a left, yet the Xenian managed to dodge the punch and ended up behind him. Vincent spun in hopes of striking Duell with the back of his fist, but the Xenian ducked. He then tried to kick him on the side of the knee but missed again, and Duell pushed him lightly.
Vincent fell down once more. He slammed his fist on the floor. “Dammit!”
“Do it again,” Duell said severely.
Vincent attempted to punch the Xenian, kick him, or even graze him, but failed every time—Duell was obviously toying with him.
“You’re too… fast… I can’t do it… okay?” Vincent said after about a dozen tries, panting.
“Giving up so easily, are we?” Duell chuckled. “Well, let’s lower my odds.” He waved his hand, the chest in the corner opened up, and a wooden sword flew towards Vincent.
Vincent caught the stick.
“Now, you’re armed,” the Xenian said.
“Come on…” Vincent hesitated.
“Strike me!” Duell yelled out, once more placing his arms behind his back.
“Oh, well.” Vincent rushed at his intrepid teacher.
Duell leaned to the right, evading the stick at an inestimable speed.
Vincent quickly swung across.
Duell bent his body backwards, fractions of an inch below the sword.
<
br /> Vincent struck down at his target, but the latter appeared behind. He then twisted and swung over his shoulder in a stabbing motion.
Duell jumped over the strike and kicked Vincent in the chest. “Is that all you got?” he mocked as Vincent collapsed.
Fire in his eyes, Vincent arose and charged once more, thrusting the sword forward.
Duell whirled away from the attempt, appearing behind Vincent.
Vincent turned around and started flailing the stick.
The Xenian was impossible to strike. Every effort by Vincent resulted in failure—as if Duell could somehow ascertain where the stick would be at any given moment and move ahead of it.
Before Vincent knew it, he was on the ground again.
Duell stared down at the exhausted human. “Why can’t you hit me?”
“You’re… just… too fast,” Vincent sputtered, gasping for air. “I can… barely see you… much less hit you.”
“Oh, am I? Or is it simply because you assume that? Or perhaps you lack the motive?”
“I’m confused,” Vincent said, arising. “You’re starting with the philosophical babble again.”
Duell glared at him for a second and then said, “You cannot strike me, yet under pressure you fought against one of the deadliest members of the Tel Kasar.”
“I don’t know how—”
“I told you… he’s weak.” Exander’s voice resonated from behind.
The twins stood behind them: Damocles in a blue uniform similar to Vincent’s, and his brother in black sweat pants and a tank top.
“He doesn’t deserve this power,” the blonde continued. “His petulance clearly signifies it.”
“Exander…” Vincent began.
“Well, prove me wrong then,” Exander said, stepping into the middle of the mat.
Vincent looked over at Duell. The Xenian master walked away and stood next to the big guy.
“Okay, then,” Vincent said, throwing the wooden sword aside and clenching his fists. “But how’re we going to do this? Only hitting the torso or what?”
“No.” Exander reached down into the chest. He pulled out two pairs of thickly-padded, fingerless gloves and hurled one to Vincent. “I must say, Vincent Saturn, I’m rather going to enjoy this.”
Refusing to listen to anymore banter, Vincent strapped on the gloves and pounced at the youth.
Exander leaned out of the way and struck Vincent in the rib cage with an uppercut.
Vincent gasped and took a wild swing, grazing the blonde Xenian with his glove.
Exander bent down and jabbed Vincent in the chest with a straight left and smashed him in the chin with a right cross.
Vincent rocked but didn’t fall.
Exander jumped up and struck Vincent with both feet.
Vincent managed to block the kicks, retaining his ground.
Exander then punched Vincent in the kidneys and threw a right hook that sent the human down. He winked, bowing to his fallen victim.
Vincent was infuriated. “You little punk.”
“You have not even attempted to strike him,” Duell said as Vincent got up. “Stop concentrating on his moves. Trust your instincts and retaliate.”
“Come on.” Exander smiled.
Vincent jerked forward but didn’t move.
Exander idly swung. His smirking face turned into a grimace, for he didn’t like to be humiliated. Before Vincent could enjoy the moment, he rushed forward with a mêlée of punches and kicks.
Vincent blocked and backed away, but the hits were coming in too fast. He got struck in his ribs and his sides, kicked in his shin, and finally, took a straight punch to the face. He felt something warm as blood began pouring out of his upper lip.
Exander stopped for a second, looking content and retaining his bluster.
It’s because you assume, Vincent remembered Duell’s warning. He had to believe—believe that this youth was not faster than him, not stronger than him. He had to remove all doubt.
Vincent wiped away the blood with his forearm and bowed down, taking his stance again.
After several seconds, Exander jumped forward.
Trust your instincts.
Vincent dodged under three punches, blocked the Xenian’s kick and stepped away.
Exander was irate. He jumped at Vincent with a flying kick.
Vincent moved out of the way and threw a punch once the Xenian landed.
Exander crouched under the blow and hit Vincent in the loins.
But the Xenian didn’t seem that fast anymore: Vincent struck the youth with a hook, then connected with a cross, and finally kicked him on the side of his leg, sending him down.
“I don’t believe it…” Damocles said in awe.
“Damn you,” Exander grumbled. He grabbed Vincent’s ankle, twisted it, and—before he knew it—Vincent was on the ground with his leg at the mercy of the youth.
“Exander, enough!” Duell said, breaking the scuffle.
Exander let go and got up. “Next time, I won’t take it easy on you,” he said, helping Vincent to stand up as well.
“That was amazing, Vincent Saturn,” Duell said, faintly clapping. “You’re a fast learner, I must tell you that.”
“Beginners luck,” the blonde commented.
“No, I think not. All the secrets of the Troeve Paliermo are in his subconscious mind, and only under pressure is he able to bring them forth.”
“Troeve Paliermo?” Vincent asked.
“It’s the fighting style of the Tel Kasar,” Duell explained. “Created by Jarek Bane himself and advanced throughout the years by the Warriors of late, the Troeve Paliermo combines the most sacred and dangerous fighting styles of Pantegonia.”
“So, I know all this stuff?”
“Yes. But unlike the twins, who were born with this power, you only had it for a few days. So you have until tomorrow night to remember as much as you can.”
“Reassuring,” Vincent said, taking off the gloves.
“What shall you teach us today, master?” Damocles asked.
“You? Nothing,” Duell said. “I was only going to teach Vincent for today, and I was hoping you could do the same.”
Exander and Damocles remained standing, puzzled.
Duell smiled. “Very well, then. I’ll make time since we’re all gathered here.” He brought up a hand and caressed his chin. “Spaide speaks of your dauntless performance on Corsair, and I was amazed at how you managed to rescue me. Now, I want you to show me what you got.”
“What?” Exander asked.
“Both of you, and Vincent, pin me down.”
Exander was the first to charge.
Duell stepped aside and tripped the youth.
Damocles charged next, attempting to grab his master in a bear hug.
Duell bent down and threw the giant over his shoulder, dropping him atop his brother.
Vincent managed to grab a hold of the Xenian’s leg and tried to flip him over. Instead, Duell picked him up and slammed him upside-down.
“Pathetic,” Duell said, looking down at the toppled trio. “Again.”
Exander dropped down, trying a leg sweep.
Duell somersaulted over the kick and tackled Damocles, throwing him over again.
Vincent grabbed Duell around the waist and picked him up.
The Xenian twirled, and Vincent ended up on the floor.
Exander caught Duell by the wrist, but the latter twisted his arm, and the youth was on the mat again.
Damocles then appeared from behind and wrapped his massive arms around Duell’s shoulders.
They almost had him.
Vincent and Exander dashed ahead. Duell jumped up and kicked them both in the chest, and as they fell, he bent and flipped the big guy over.
“Better,” he said, straightening his outfit.
The elder Xenian’s fighting ability was par to none. He moved with such agility that he could’ve easily dodged blasts.
Damocles puffed. “Enough of this,” he s
aid after their fifth attempt. “I’m going to waste all my energy. I might as well go work out.”
“Great,” Exander said, taking off his torn shirt. “I’m going to join you.”
The twins excused themselves, bowed to both Vincent and Duell, and left.
“Troeve Paliermo,” Duell explained as he and Vincent remained alone, “is mostly hand-to-hand combat. But don’t forget that a Warrior Sage’s main weapon is the Palermius sword.” He picked up the stick, handed it to Vincent, and then reached into the chest for another one. “This time, I’ll have a sword as well. Try to strike me now.”
“Take it easy on me,” Vincent said and dashed at the Xenian, chopping down.
Duell sidled and swung back.
Vincent managed to thwart the strike, but before he could retaliate, the Xenian struck again and again and again. Vincent barely managed to parry the relentless hits, backing away.
After a dozen strikes, they locked swords. “Good,” Duell said, pushing Vincent back. “Blocking’s essential, but you must know that even during a swordfight, the sword is not your only weapon.” He then raised an open palm and added, “You are the weapon.”
An invisible wave sent Vincent flat on his back, forcing him to drop the stick.
“What happened?” Duell extended his hand.
“You cheated,” Vincent groaned as he got up.
“Did I, now? You have this power too.”
“Let’s just do one thing at a time.”
“We have no time, Vincent. Now, pick up the stick.”
Vincent made a step towards the sword.
“You don’t have to use your hands to pick it up.”
Vincent turned. “Telekinesis?”
“Pick—it—up.” The tone in Duell’s voice confirmed his seriousness.
Vincent looked at the sword—a simple piece of wood lying a few feet away. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. No vacillating. Opening his eyes, he extended his hand. He concentrated on the stick with every essence of his being, but it simply didn’t move. He sighed after a while and lowered his hand. “I can’t.”
“Because you don’t believe,” Duell said.
“I can’t accept that it’s possible,” Vincent replied.
“You must clear your mind,” the Xenian said after a long pause. “And will it to move. There’s an energy source within your body more powerful than you can possibly imagine. When you’re in danger, when you’re near death, even when you’re in love, you slightly feel it, you feel that power, that instinct.”