by David Roman
Spaide looked down in guilt. “They’ll be executed… it’s my fault….”
*
Duell and Damocles were busy consulting Galadan and his generals—the Urtans were eager to hear the plans the Xenian masterminded the previous night. Vincent wanted to thank Gaia for the lesson and to share his bizarre dream, but she was nowhere in sight. Exander, being the loner he is, spent most of the day in solitude, avoiding the company of others.
It rained that afternoon, but instead of hiding, most Urtans ran out in the open and welcomed the rain with open arms. The planet was crying along with its children…
*
The last of the ships had exited hyperspace. The fleet of thousands of battleships resembled an ominous mass of insects marching together toward its helpless prey: a tiny blue planet.
At the very center of the armada was its flagship, the Basin—a massive saucer-shaped craft atop a long spiked shaft. Four metallic arms extended from the shaft, bending up halfway through their length and giving the ship an image as if it were about to be clasped by gigantic talons.
Damien Dark stood on the bridge—his black robes wavering around his ankles—monitoring his armada. A lopsided grin dominated his features as his lust for carnage was getting closer. Reparation was nigh, yes, it was. Soon, the man that fouled his name would be gone. He couldn’t wait to plunge a knife through Galadan’s heart, to see pain and suffering in his enemy’s reptilian eyes. I know you feel me, he thought. I’m almost there… you just wait, you green bastard… I’m coming, Galadan, I’m coming…
“Your eminence…” One of the monks skidded to the bridge, quavering. “There’s an urgent message from Xenon. It’s General Zeth.”
“Well? Run it through, you fool,” Damien grinded through his teeth.
The monk bent at the waist and hurried away.
“Damien.” Zeth’s helmet appeared on the big overhead monitor. “There is a task I need you to accomplish while you… visit Urtan.”
Damien bowed gently. “How can I be of assistance, my lord?”
“It has come to my attention that the Pantegonian Sons of Liberty are taking refuge on that puny planet in an attempt to aid its inhabitants. Senator Gaia’s with them.”
Damien bit his lower lip. “Whatever they’re planning will be useless,” he growled.
“Perhaps. But there’s a man with them—an alien of an unknown race. I want him alive.”
“I’ll do my best. As for Oryon and his cohorts?”
Zeth remained quiet for a second and then said, “Kill them and the Senator. And contact me once you do so; I want their swords.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Damien bowed again and the link ended.
The Sons of Liberty, he thought, and for the first time since the invasion began, Damien felt something rather strange—doubt.
Damien turned around and began pacing the bridge. Need I report this to Cosmos? But then he considered the repercussions... He straightened up, his face retaining the scowl. It’s weak—weak to have doubt. After all, Cosmos was with them.
*
The suns of Urtan set behind the mountains as if they were purposely evading the impending horror. The legions of troops stood in union, bidding them farewell. The ships and tanks were all in position. The armories were almost emptied—the last of the armament being handed to teenagers and any elderly capable of fighting.
Duell gathered everyone in Galadan’s chambers to reveal his stratagem.
Thanatos was clad in a metal cuirass, greaves, and spiked gloves. His upper arms were exposed, and he had no weapons on his person of any sort. It appeared as if the Dargonian was going into the battle with his very fists.
The Xenians seemed like they didn’t bother changing at all, still wearing their Urtan robes. People might’ve gotten the notion that they procrastinated until the very last minute, but Vincent knew better: it was the composure of the Tel Kasar.
Gaia was more serious than ever, overtaken by the warrior part in her. She was wearing her spandex catsuit with a belt full of weapons; her hair was fixed in a thick braid.
“Okay, men,” Duell began. “The armada has already entered the system, so we’ve little time left.” He turned to the King. “Are the troops arranged like I ordered?”
“Yes, Sage Duell,” Galadan said with a sign of perplexity. “More than half of my forces are underground,” he repeated the plan everyone deemed suicidal.
“Good. All of the tunnels are connected, so we’ll be able to assault them from different sections of the city and confuse their army. That’ll buy us precisely enough time. We’ll hide in the chamber beneath the flight of stairs that leads to the castle, waiting for the right moment.”
The Urtans traded silent looks.
“That is your master plan?” one of the generals said in frustration. “That’s why you told us to position half of our troops underground? That chamber’s is a fallout shelter! If we try to leave, they’ll take us out one by one!”
“That’s where Spaide comes in.” Duell turned to the Dirsalian. “Find some explosives and make me a bomb—one that’ll create a huge impact but will only detonate upwards. It shouldn’t take you long, so get on it immediately.”
“All right!” The news of creating an explosive excited Spaide; he turned around and hurried down to the arsenal.
“Blow up the Great Stairs?” The general was dumbstruck. “This man’s mad! Those stairs are several millennia old!”
“What are you willing to do to survive?” Duell came back edgily. “You need to trust me, general. I don’t know how many times I’ve mentioned that. I am certain those who built the ancient stairs would rather preserve lives if given the choice.”
The flustered Urtan looked over at Galadan who simply shrugged and continued listening to the Xenian.
“Thanatos, the twins, and I will lead the assault,” Duell resumed with the plan. “I will also require a division of your elite troops to assist us.”
Thanatos and Exander looked over at each other and nodded, ready to put their differences aside.
“I will personally help you,” Galadan said. “My men will fight better if I’m alongside them.”
“Good,” Duell said. “In addition, we’ll need a large force at the gates of the castle with Gaia in charge. They’ll defend the women and the children in the shelters below.”
“But wouldn’t that be unwise?” the general contradicted again. “I mean, won’t the castle be their first target?”
“No. From what I know of the Order, they’ll save it until the last minute. Damien’s plan is to slaughter everyone in here personally.”
The general swallowed.
“I concur,” Gaia said. “I’ll lead the company guarding the castle.”
“If all goes according to plan, that army shouldn’t even reach the gates,” Duell assured.
“It’s done then,” Galadan said, turning to his generals. “Tell the troops to man the stations and gather the Elite Guard in the underground chamber.”
The generals hesitated for a second and looked over at Duell once more, still uncertain if he were crazy or not. Nevertheless, they bowed and followed Galadan along with Thanatos.
The Xenians and Vincent remained behind.
“What of the human?” Exander asked. “Where is he through this?”
“Saturn will fight alongside us,” Duell said. He then went into the corner of the room and brought forth an object in a cloth. “With this.” He produced the very same sword Vincent used to defend himself from Na’ar.
“The Reaper!” Exander growled. “Are you mad?”
Duell threw Exander a cold glance.
Exander realized his mistake and looked down in excuse. Lowering his tone, he said, “Perhaps it’d be wiser if he were provided with a blaster?”
“Don’t question my logic, Exander,” Duell responded. “Deep within, Vincent possesses tremendous power. I believe in him, and so should you. He won’t let us down, for Oryon’s essence is guiding him.”
>
“But don’t you think it’s too soon? His second day as your apprentice, and he’s already given grandfather’s sword!”
“You must understand that these powers befell him under different circumstances, and consequently, they must be dealt with differently.” Duell extended the sword to Vincent. “Plus, if we fall tonight, won’t it be too late?”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” said the big guy, turning to face Vincent. “Make us proud.”
“I’ll do my best,” Vincent said, admiring the blade.
Exander approached Vincent and clasped the hilt over his hand. “Take great care of it, human,” he said. “It’s not a toy.” He then gave Vincent a forced nod and headed outside with his brother.
Duell also gave Vincent a belt with the throwing knives, the silver blaster they used in practice, and a scabbard that helped him secure the sword at his side. He then turned to Gaia, “Princess, the twins and I will go to the Serpent and get into our armor. Unfortunately, we don’t have anything for Vincent, so I’d appreciate it if you’d take him down to the arsenal, suit him up, and meet us by the ship.”
“Will do,” she said, winking at Vincent. She grabbed him by the hand and led the way.
Vincent barely kept up with Gaia amid the stirring chaos overtaking the castle at that last minute. Urtan warriors marched the hallways, escorting the flock of remaining women, children and the elderly down into the shelters. Cries of children, mothers saying farewell, and the shouts of commanding officers integrated together in an excruciating buzz.
The armory was located in one of the lower basements. An endless line of Urtans stretched all the way down to the area, mostly compiled of young men, some barely in their teens, their faces numb as if they knew they were about to lose their lives before meeting the joys of it. The soldiers were busy handing out blasters and vests to the crowd.
As Vincent and Gaia entered the armory, one of the officers approached them.
“Lieutenant Conridon,” Gaia said. “I need you to provide my friend with some armor.”
“Ah, yes… the man from the unknown planet.” The Urtan shook Vincent’s hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, sir. Now please, follow me.” He led them to a small room in the back that once had been filled with weapons, now empty except for a few blasters and several pieces of armor.
Conridon brought forth a breastplate and handed it to Vincent. “This should fit you.” It was as light as aluminum and skillfully engraved with odd hieroglyphics. “It’s Gerandian metal,” the Urtan explained, “one of the most durable metals in Pantegonia, capable of withstanding most blasts. Do you require a helmet as well?”
“No,” Vincent replied, inspecting the ornate breastplate. “But I could use those.” He pointed at the shining armbands on one of the statues.
The Urtan generously obeyed. “Anything for you, sir.”
Vincent bowed to the lieutenant. “Thank you.”
“May we see each other once more, sir.”
As Vincent strapped on the breastplate, Gaia found a small vest of her own, along with shoulder pads, greaves, and thigh-protecting plates. He found himself helplessly staring at her once more as she put on her armor.
“What?” she asked all of a sudden.
“You look… beautiful,” he blurted out.
She blushed. “Thank you… I guess…”
“I’m sorry.” Vincent realized that he spoke his feelings out loud. Idiot! “I mean you look great in that armor…”
“It’s okay, Vince. But I’d appreciate it if you would’ve told me that when I am wearing a different attire.”
He smiled. “Sure will… I promise.”
They slipped on the gear and left the arsenal.
“What about the armor being handed to the public?” Vincent asked as they passed by the long line. “Is it Gerandian as well?”
“No,” Gaia replied sadly. “Gerandian armor costs a fortune, and there’s only a limited supply.”
Vincent came to a stop. “So, how’s my life more valuable than theirs?”
“What?” Gaia asked in confusion as Vincent took off his breastplate. He halted one of the teenage Urtans that sped by. “Here,” he said, stretching the armor out to the boy, “I’ll trade you.”
“Wow!” The kid jumped in delight. “Gerandian armor! Thank you, sir!” He grabbed the breastplate and ran down the hall joyfully.
“What kind of a world is it where a child is happy to have armor?” Vincent sighed.
Gaia was stunned by his actions. “That was a very honorable thing you did, Vincent.”
“His whole life’s ahead of him,” Vincent said, putting on the other vest. “Besides, I’m not supposed to be here.”
Gaia showed a hint of a smile. “Remember, you’re here for a reason,” she said.
“How can I ever forget?”
“Okay, let’s go.” She took the lead once again.
As they exited the castle, things got more frantic. The Urtans screamed, pointing upwards at a huge bright star that appeared in the middle of the sky.
“The fleet,” Gaia said. “We have a few hours at most. Let’s hurry.”
They rushed down the courtyard between the tanks and the troops. The eyes of the soldiers were lifeless; their entire bodies trembling with unrestrained fear. At any point, they were ready to throw down their weapons and flee, but they had to face the sad truth: there was nowhere to flee to.
Duell and the twins awaited them at the ship.
The brothers were clad in black rubber-like armor. Exander’s suit enclosed his torso, neck and most of his face. His upper arms were bare, and vambraces enclosed his forearms. Across his chest were two yellow bandoliers holding cell packs for his gun and an assortment of daggers. At his left side was his blaster, and at the other, a scabbard with his sword.
Damocles wore a sleeveless shirt made of the same rubber material, thick leather pants and tall boots. On his forehead, he wore a headband with the logo of an upside-down sword—the symbol of the Sons of Liberty. A belt with daggers and the firearm was around his waist, and his sword hung on his back.
Duell wore the very same armor that he had during his rescue: the breastplate engraved with Xenian writings, left shoulder covered with a guard, black gloves up to the elbow, tall boots, and a belt that held his sword and daggers.
“Well, well, well, Vincent,” he said. “Look’s to me like you’re ready.”
“Where’s Spaide?” Vincent looked around for the happy-go-lucky Dirsalian.
“He should be complete with his task already. He awaits us at the rendezvous point beneath the castle.”
Vincent’s gaze went up to the bright star.
Duell stretched out a pair of binoculars. “Do you want to take a closer look?”
Vincent looked up and froze: the glistening lights making up the star were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of warships, headed straight for them.
“There are so many…” he whispered.
“It’s but a number, Vincent. Have no fear.”
Vincent lowered the binoculars. He tried to have no fear, but given the facts, it was kind of hard.
They gathered in a circle.
“Sons of Liberty,” Duell began. “This is the first time we fight without our father… and they believe we’re helpless…” He raised his voice and continued, “Let us rid the world of this cult and their demon. Let’s deal a blow to the Republic so they know we’re a force to be reckoned with. Let them know that the name of Oryon Krynne shall be long remembered! Let them know that penance is nigh!” He pulled out his sword. “After this night, every tyrant across the entire galaxy shall know that we’re here and that we’re coming for them!” He waved the blade over his head. “Warriors, follow me!”
Duell began running down the hill, followed by his students, with Vincent and Gaia trying their best to catch up. The Urtans raised their arms in praise as they passed by; Duell was their savior.
After reaching a structure to the east
of the castle, Duell led them through a set of hidden stairs that spiraled down into the depths of the Urtan underworld. Following a series of intertwined tunnels lined with thousands of Urtans, they reached the hall hosting Galadan, several of his generals, and a division of his top troops.
The chamber was round, the size of a small auditorium, with monitors extending from the ceiling that displayed various parts of the city. Crystals were imbedded in the walls, filling the chamber with a bluish light. Across the entrance, a narrow tunnel ran below the Great Stairs, at the end of which Spaide was setting up the contraption.
Duell approached the Dirsalian. “Ready?”
“Here.” Spaide got up, handing Duell the detonator. “It should do the job… just hit the button.”
“Great,” Duell replied, nearing the wall. He glanced about, then turned and said, “This chamber is on the level with the courtyard. The explosion will destroy the lower portion of the stairs and sever their access to the castle. That’s precisely when we storm out and make our stand.”
“All is going according to plan,” Galadan said. “I will make the final address, then.” Galadan wore his golden armor and was armed with a staff made of shimmering metal. His troops, the Elite Guard, wore gauntlet swords on their arms and were equipped with large rifles.
“Don’t say final, Galadan,” Duell corrected. “We’re going to win this battle.”
Galadan bowed but refrained from any response. He headed to the lectern the Urtans had set up in the corner.
Duell faced his comrades. “This is it, warriors. This will be our ultimate test, and we will succeed.” He extended his clenched fist forward. “For Oryon, for Urtan, and for liberty!”
“Aye.” Damocles clasped Duell’s fist with his big hand.
“Aye!” Exander shouted, his face boiling with adrenaline. “For the DRP!” He slapped his hand atop the others’.
“For freedom!” Gaia put down hers.
“Let’s do this, Sons of Liberty!” Spaide followed suit, and everyone turned to Vincent.
“What the heck…” Vincent put down his hand. “I guess we’re the Cosmic Six.”