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

by David Roman

  “Fools,” Spaide commented. “What are they doin’? Don’t they know what’s gonna happen to this city?”

  “Like insects,” Exander added.

  “Odd, isn’t it?” Duell commented. “My admiration for these people is increasing with every moment.”

  Exander raised an eyebrow. “I guess Gaia got her wish,” he said sardonically.

  Their destination was several blocks away, a tower made of black limestone, rising over seven stories tall, its walls cracked, peak shattered. The building was an eyesore that tainted this lively city. The ground around its base was scorched from a recent fire. Two columns topped with an entablature were at the entrance that once hoisted a pair of double doors. There were posts surrounding its premise, connected by red caution tape to prevent anyone from venturing into this cursed place.

  “It gives me the shivers just by lookin’ at it,” Spaide said.

  “What does that say?” Vincent pointed up at the hieroglyphics on the entablature.

  “Only the Faithful Ones may enter.”

  “That’s some decent advice,” said Damocles.

  Duell moved aside the tape, and they proceeded further. A vapid sensation filled them as they stepped indoors. They were inside a round shrine. Far to the left and to the right were two partly-damaged stairwells spiraling up into the darkness that dwelled over their heads. The walls were flanked with niches which had statues of hideous robed creatures. Ahead was a stone pulpit over an altar with two tall posts on either side, their tops shaped in a trident—the holy symbol of the Order. The altar and the floor were stained in blood, and some intuition told them that it was not from fighting.

  “It’s one of many,” Duell said, looking about. “They have one erected in every city across this planet… although they did have a hard time converting followers here.”

  “Come on… we’ve seen enough,” Spaide said after several minutes. “Let’s get outta here.”

  “Very well, then.” Duell turned around. “Galadan provided us with a copy of the Order’s holy doctrine, The Creed of Cosmos, a book he spent years translating. Let’s peruse it while Vincent learns to shoot—and please, let’s leave this forsaken place.”

  They hurried out to the vivacious nature of Urtan. Duell then led them to a pasture on the outskirts of the city where stood another pavilion.

  “It’s so peaceful,” Vincent said, looking at the distant mountains.

  “Anything’s peaceful after that ghastly place,” Damocles said, setting down the bag. He pulled out a sniper rifle, several blasters, a belt with daggers, a small metal box, and the tome that Duell mentioned earlier—a thick book with a black cover. Damocles then passed the belt to Vincent and said, “Put this on.”

  Spaide began tampering with the metal box, which turned out to be a remote-controlled robot resembling an oversized insect. He maneuvered it down the grass, stopping it several hundred yards away.

  Meanwhile, Duell instructed Vincent on the art of throwing knives. They began practicing on the posts of the gazebo.

  “When throwing a dagger, there are three rules you must follow,” Duell started. “First and foremost is the point of gravity: the placement of the knife in your hand; if you hold it farther, the center of gravity will cause it to spin faster; if closer, it’ll spin slower. Second is the force of the throw, how you throw it and how fast you throw it. And finally—and most importantly—telekinesis.”

  “Telekinesis again?” Vincent grunted.

  “When you hurl something, your mind will help it locate the target. But you have to be confident because doubt is your biggest enemy. It’s as if you should see your object struck before the impact.”

  “Well, I’ll try.” Vincent pulled out a dagger and took aim.

  “Don’t try,” Duell said. “Just do it.”

  Vincent heaved the knife. It hit the post but didn’t stick, falling to the grass. “I didn’t aim,” he said, shrugging.

  “Yes, but when you threw it, you knew you might miss because you didn’t aim, and that thought alone—that uncertainty—is the basis for your failure.”

  “What…?”

  “This.” Duell reached over to Vincent’s belt, chose a pair of daggers, and threw them at the gazebo, all without taking his gaze off Vincent. The knives lodged deeply into the posts.

  “No doubt,” Duell said.

  “Awesome.” Vincent was shocked. “Okay, I’ll try again.”

  “Remember… trust your instinct and believe in yourself.”

  Vincent threw the first dagger, which stuck. He smiled and heaved another, once again with success. He then threw the third one, but Duell caught it in midair.

  “Good, but slow,” the Xenian said. “You think too much.”

  “I think too much?”

  “Like I said, trust your instinct. You cannot stop to think; just act upon it, and you’ll be able to successfully throw a blade, even while you’re airborne.”

  “I… don’t understand.”

  “What’s so complex not to understand?” Duell asked as he went to the post to retrieve the daggers. “You witnessed your own actions on the Nomad. Were those not based on instinct? When you’re in battle, you cannot have doubt, Vincent. You just throw, shoot, and hack. You don’t stop to study your surroundings because unlike these posts, the enemy will not be motionless.” He stopped and put the blades back into Vincent belt. “Now, do it again.”

  “Do I really need to know this?”

  “You already know it. Now do it!”

  Vincent agitatedly looked at his teacher, and then threw three daggers in tandem. He had no thought, nothing on his mind at all. He just knew, knew that the blades would find their way.

  All three daggers lodged into the post, fractions of an inch away from one another.

  Duell’s eyes broadened. He looked over at the twins, who stopped their practice due to the human’s mind-boggling feat.

  “How quaint,” Exander scoffed. “Now that he learned how to throw daggers, can we please start reading?”

  “I don’t know how I did it,” Vincent said.

  “You had no doubt,” Duell replied. “You and the blades became one. You mentally ordered them to hit the target, and that was it.”

  “Telekinesis.” Vincent smiled. “Wow. I’m beginning to believe this entire superpower thing.”

  “Of course you should. I won’t teach you this skill any longer. From now on, you’ll further expand it on your own.” Duell began heading to the gazebo and on his way said, “Now, you’ll learn how to shoot. In addition to the Palermius sword and the daggers, a Warrior Sage carries a blaster; hence, he must be a sharpshooter.”

  “I’m not such a bad shot myself,” Vincent said, following the Xenian. “You do know that I was a… a constable back on Earth?”

  “Oh, really?” Exander intervened. “Here.” He extended a blaster to Vincent.

  “Show us,” Duell added, gesturing towards the field.

  “Here we go,” Spaide said as he produced a remote and pressed a button. The insect robot in the field discharged three clay pigeons.

  Vincent raised the weapon, waited as the pigeons were at their zenith, and opened fire. After half a dozen shots, only one of the disks fell apart.

  “Well?” Exander mocked. “Constable?”

  Vincent shrugged. “I’m just not used to these blasters. We only use pistols that shoot bullets.”

  “It’s okay, Vincent,” Duell reassured. “Practice is what you need, that’s all.”

  “Do I have to mentally control that too?”

  “No. Unfortunately, we can’t really control energy blasts, so this precise skill must be self-taught. I, for example, am a very bad marksman because I use a dual blade.”

  “Then who’s going to teach me?” Vincent asked, looking over at Exander in displeasure.

  “Our teacher, of course,” the blonde said. “Oryon’s best student.”

  Suddenly, the robot released five pigeons.

 
As Vincent looked down the field, several shots thundered and all of the pigeons exploded. He turned around to see the shooter and—much to his surprise—saw the Dirsalian with the blaster. “Spaide, you’re their teacher?”

  “I told you,” the Dirsalian replied proudly, “Oryon instructed me in weaponry.”

  “I… I didn’t know to what extent,” Vincent said, sighing in relief he was not going to be taught by Exander.

  “I’ve always said I could shoot a bug between the eyes if there were bullets small enough,” Spaide said, whirling the revolver on his finger.

  “Ah, don’t get him started,” Damocles said.

  “Come.” Duell entered the gazebo, motioning to the twins. “Leave those two alone. Let’s learn about our enemy.”

  “Several key factors play role when it comes to shootin’,” Spaide began. “Aimin’, of course, is the most critical, but then you must also pay attention to the motion of the object and outside interferences such as wind.” He hit the switch, and the robot released one pigeon. He raised his revolver, carefully following the movement of the disk. “You must remain stationary and know precisely where the target’ll be in the next fraction of a second…” He pulled the trigger; the disk blew up.

  “Okay,” Vincent said, taking aim. “Let’s try again.”

  The robot released two disks. Vincent followed their curving path, trying to anticipate their position. He opened fire. The first shot destroyed one pigeon, the second missed, as did the third, and only on the fourth did he take apart the second pigeon.

  “That’s much better,” Spaide said. “But just like Duell implied, you got too excited as you struck the first target, thus jeopardizin’ the other shots.”

  “They’re just too far,” Vincent said. “Can you bring the robot closer?”

  “Closer?” Spaide exclaimed. “Do you think the enemy’ll crawl up closer so you can take better aim?” He began maneuvering the robot further down the pasture.

  “What are you doing?”

  “No time for play.” The Dirsalian stopped the machine nearly a thousand yards away.

  “I can barely see it! How do you expect me to shoot the marks?”

  “With this.” Spaide reached for the sniper rifle. “It’s a lead-firin’ weapon, perfect for target practice.” He then handed Vincent a small pair of binoculars and the remote. “Hit the switch,” he said as he hunkered down and took aim.

  Vincent looked into the binoculars and pushed the button. The robot discharged a disk. There was a thunderous blast as the Dirsalian fired, but the disk remained intact.

  “I think you miss—” Vincent couldn’t finish his words as the pigeon blew up. He turned to the Dirsalian in disbelief. “That was amazing, Spaide.”

  “Timin’, precision,” Spaide said, “and breathin’ are all game when you shoot. Here.” He extended the rifle. “Your turn.”

  “I don’t think…” Vincent hesitated for a second, but then took the gun.

  “I’ve taken heads off from more than three thousand yards away,” the Dirsalian assured. “This shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

  Vincent crouched down and put the scope to his eye. “Ready.”

  Spaide hit the switch. “Don’t breathe. Be still and anticipate the target’s next position.”

  Vincent pulled the trigger. The disk jumped up in midair as if some unseen force pushed it and fell on the grass. Vincent got up. “What was that?”

  “The bullet passed by the disk so close that it caused it to veer off.”

  “Man…” Vincent looked down in glum.

  “I think that was awesome,” Spaide said. “And on the first try! Come on, let’s do it again. Trainin’ you is a cinch.”

  As Spaide instructed Vincent, Duell began reading the doctrine of the Order inside the pavilion. “’The Creed of Cosmos,’” he read the title. “Let us see these crazy beliefs Galadan speaks of.” He opened the book. “‘In the beginning, there was Cosmos, He the Almighty, the Creator, the Father of the heavens and the stars. For a million years, He was in solitude, alone in the vastness of the universe that was created upon His Will, and good His Will was. Then He breathed upon the planets, creating life with His numinous might… And his children loved and worshiped Him, and He loved them as well. And those that loved Him He blessed by taking into His everlasting Kingdom of bliss, where love is eternal, for Cosmos is Great and all-loving…’”

  “Starts out like regular sacred books,” Duell said as he flipped through several pages.

  ‘“…and there were those that did not show love for Cosmos. Because they could not enter the kingdom of the heavens as would the Faithful Ones, they began to hate those that loved the Almighty, and to defy Him… and that enraged Cosmos, and He punished them by scattering them throughout the numerous planets of His universe, erased their knowledge, and closed the Gates of His Kingdom from them…”’

  Duell paused, shaking his head.

  ‘“…but Cosmos still loved His creation, and knew that deep within they loved Him too. So He gave them a chance to find their path back to His eternal side…’” Duell stopped reading because Spaide began to laugh hysterically.

  “Do they actually believe this crap?” the Dirsalian asked.

  “They believe Cosmos is God, and nothing can change their minds,” Duell said. “Billions of them. They’re so devoted to this faith that they’ll take arms against anyone who contradicts it.”

  Vincent set down the gun and asked, “Who, or what, is Cosmos?”

  “Cosmos is the name given to him by his followers. In reality, he’s the last remnant of an Ancient race from planet Genova. He’s tens of thousands years old and has powers beyond comprehension.”

  “And we’re here to stop that?”

  “Enough!” Spaide barked. ‘Come on… shoot the disk!”

  Vincent realized he was starting with the questions again. Presently, he picked up the rifle, and Duell went back to reading.

  “Galadan has outlined certain passages,” the Xenian master said, turning over the pages. “Here’s one: ‘Eternal damnation will come to those who question His Divine Will, for nothing is greater than His Will, and good His Will is. All the creatures are His creations, and sinners are all they… to fall on their knees before Him, to show Him love and gratitude, and to beg forgiveness for the treachery of their forefathers is the only way to His kingdom, the only path to atonement…’”

  He flipped several more pages.

  ‘“…it is the fate of the Faithful Ones to sacrifice their life in His name, to die fighting those who defy Him, for the Kingdom awaits the martyr… Death is too just for the nonbelievers, they must pay full penance with their very soul, and then they shall eternally suffer in the Abyss for—’”

  Exander cleared his throat. “What does that mean?” he asked. “The part about death being ‘too just’? I mean, how does one pay with his soul?”

  “They believe the soul’s within the heart,” Duell said. “They cut the victim open and extract it.”

  “That’s madness! And the Imperial Republic claims that they are not aware of this?”

  “The Order controls some of the planets with the richest resources. As long as they obey the Republic and share these resources, their atrocities will be ignored.”

  “More evidence of the Republic’s hypocrisy,” Damocles muttered.

  Duell continued to read. ‘“…the offspring of the heathen must be taken under the wing of the Faithful One and instructed of His path, for His path is virtue. And if the offspring of the heathen is aware of the sinister poison spoken against Him, if he is a sinner already, then he too must suffer the fate of the heathens.’”

  “Brainwashin’, child murder, forced conversion,” Spaide said—he and Vincent both stopped shooting and were listening to the odious scriptures. “We’ve got a classic cult on our hands.”

  “Corsair,” Damocles whispered. “That’s what happened on Corsair. You should’ve seen it, master—the entire planet und
er their spell.”

  “Now that you’re readin’ this,” Spaide said, “I’m glad we were in and outta there. I can’t imagine what’d happen if we were caught… Damn these animals!”

  Duell read for an hour, different excerpts, one more appalling than the other, describing the unthinkable beliefs of the Order. Spaide paced back and forth in the gazebo, cursing, while the twins sat in silence, preparing for the biggest battle of their lives—the battle without Oryon.

  Vincent crossed his arms and leaned against the post. His concentration was instead on the nature of Urtan, at the peacefulness that stood opposite of the horrors Duell described. Some inner feeling urged to him to run through that pasture, fall in the grass, spread his arms and stare into the sky to watch the clouds form shapes. They will not scare me, he thought. Because I don’t care… I don’t care anymore.

  Duell closed the book and swept the gazebo with his eyes. “You’re now aware of what we’re facing: the most twisted, dogmatic cult in the galaxy. Being a vassal state of the Republic, they couldn’t fully exterminate the Urtans because of people like Gaia. But now, due to Galadan’s mutiny, they have been granted the right to do just that. They’ll kill every Urtan and reduce this planet to shambles.”

  The twins did not respond. They looked at each other.

  “This enemy will not bargain, will not show any compassion or mercy. They have no fear, for they believe that Cosmos is on their side. But in my experience, fanatics like that understand only one language—violence.”

  “Unfortunately for them,” Spaide said, “it’s a language we excel at.”

  The Xenians laughed.

  “Oryon would’ve agreed with you,” Spaide said, placing a hand atop Duell’s shoulder. “Something must be done about this… and we will do it.”

  “Yes, we will, my brother.” Duell stood up. “Have no doubt. Now, let’s head back to the castle.”

  Spaide and the twins went ahead, trying to clear their minds while Duell and Vincent followed behind, engaged in a conversation.