by Tyson Jordan
“The Favour is the only reason. She’s power-hungry.” My answer was simple, but Janus remained unsatisfied. He leaned against the wall and turned his eyes to the ceiling in growing thought.
“Yeah, but power for its own sake doesn’t make any kind of sense, at least not to me. Why power? It’s not meaningful unless there’s a reason for attaining it, so what does she want it for?” We puzzled over the problem for a short while before realising in frustration that we knew nothing of Argenta or her motivations.
Janus bade me farewell shortly afterwards, seeing plainly that I was uninterested in conversation at that point. I gathered what personal effects I had and returned to my room, barefoot in the halls but nonetheless grateful that I had been able to remove the combat boots. It was not a far journey to my room, thankfully, and I arrived in my living quarters without delay. The next day would come in indifference to my defeat, and I slumped into my bed, deeply dissatisfied.
20
A Gift Bestowed Upon Us
I wanted nothing more than to put the insanity of the past weeks behind me. The trauma of the specimen laboratory, the strange voices in my head, and my confrontations with Ferric and Argenta all brought me constant misery, so I recommitted myself to the basic and unchanging routine of life in the Guild. What little free time I had was spent in conversation with Janus or alone in the docking bays, watching what few ships we had depart, only to be replaced by even fewer devastated and smouldering frames.
There seemed to be ever fewer Initiates in the corridors, and my time in academic study revealed much of the same. Many of them had no doubt left to find some semblance of a life on the archipelagoes of Grand Ocean, and I paid them little mind. My father’s contempt for them was obvious.
My fresh commitment to militaristic order was effective, if only in forcing the remaining few days as an Initiate to pass quickly and without incident. My bruises healed in the same fashion, and the tightness in my arm faded, although the scars remained permanent. Further physical conditioning and study awaited me each day, and although I did not sleep peacefully, I was nevertheless grateful for the simplicity of that time.
I arose early one morning, shaken from uneasy slumber by my terminal’s blinking blue screen, and took notice of the template message that had appeared. Staggering from my bed, I wondered at its contents as I accessed the document.
Guild Initiate Zircon Fortuna,
Commendations are in order. You have achieved that which few others can. Through years of dedication and training, you have prepared yourself for a lifetime of service in our timeless War. On the basis of your displayed aptitude in flight simulation, you will be designated as a pilot and will be granted all of the rights and privileges associated with that role.
What hold my sleep had over me then was broken, and I leaned closer to the display, the realisation of success spreading through my mind. I read and reread the word “pilot” excitedly, and carried on.
As you may already know, computer analysis of your recorded social interactions with peers serves as an effective basis for determining which Guild Sentries will be assigned to each unit and, by extension, world to protect. As such, you have been assigned with the following new Sentries:
Janus Baskervor, designated as a navigator.
I smiled broadly when I read his name. I was more than glad that he and I would not be separated, cast to opposite ends of the void of space.
Argenta Behemot, designated as a tactician.
I blinked slowly at the sight of her name, and began rereading the notification from the beginning, thinking that my eyes were simply tired, or that my mind had wandered back to my earlier humiliation.
Argenta Behemot, designed as a tactician.
It was not a trick played by an overworked mind and tired eyes, and I swore in loud infuriation. Why she and I would have been assigned to the same service was simply beyond me, and I shook my head, muttering under my breath in frustration. There has to be a mistake , I thought, and exhaled sharply, realising that the Guild had not and would not entertain complaints made of this or any other nature.
You and your fellow Sentries are to report to the Guild Convocation Ceremony this afternoon, which will be followed by the bestowing of the armour and your assignments.
May Kyrosya watch over you.
My frustration subsided then, pushed aside by a quiet and welling pride. I had taken one step, albeit a small one, closer to standing with my father. I read the message again and smiled slightly, despite Argenta’s undesirable and upcoming presence in my life.
I turned to look at my small quarters, its uncomfortable bed and cramped living space, its humming lights and antiquated computer. I realised that these tiny quarters were the closest thing to a home I had ever had. I sat on the bed, placing my hands at my sides, and thought of the world beyond my door, feeling suddenly nostalgic for the chamber and its predictable confines.
The mere hours between then and the ceremony were short. I pulled on my dress uniform, a rarely worn long-sleeved jacket with formfitting black boots and pants, trimmed in silver and white, and examined myself in the mirror. The attire did not suit me whatsoever, but it was required. Naturally, the headband remained, and the Guild’s proctors would not see me remove it. I straightened my shirt, turned on my heel, and left the room.
Rivers of us filed together, always combining with others into greater masses as we moved through the halls. Some were silent and disciplined, while others were smiling and laughing. I said nothing. We came to our close near the older and darker centre of the Guild, and moved through towering doors, emblazoned with the Guild Emblem, that golden and battered shield forever chained to a singular, spherical world.
The hall was massive and circular, bearing no resemblance to the cramped lecture halls or living quarters with which we were so familiar. At the entrance were stationed four Guild Sentinels, respectively armoured in red, blue, green, and yellow, who stood rigid and without emotion. They offered no congratulations or speech of any kind, and my eyes drifted to the heavy green plate worn by a grim woman with a shaved head. Her cold eyes met mine and promised no sympathy. I walked forward.
At the far end of the ceremonial hall was a set of doors etched with the same golden symbol that we had seen so many times before. They towered over us, polished in foreboding black, and above them was a triangular balcony upon which stood three individuals, immediately recognisable and backed by a long line of armoured Sentinels. Camera drones and holographic displays revealed their features to us in greater detail.
The first was a tall woman of some forty years, clad in bright yellow plate and standing proudly, her sabre at her left side and a dagger at her right. Her platinum hair was long and flowed down either side of her face, and she bore a look of quiet satisfaction. She was Rhodon Erubim, Prime Guild Centurion and the second in command of the entirety of the Guild. She was a war hero with no living rival, an unbending leader who commanded great respect from all of us. She wore her scars proudly.
Next to her stood another woman, stooped and haggard beneath the weight of more than her age. Hushed murmurs surrounded me, and I stared at her intently. Few people alive had ever seen the Guild Regent, leader of the institution itself, in such close quarters before. Her name was Iren Monos. She wore a simple charcoal suit and a pair of thin spectacles that seemed only to magnify her tiredness. There was no pride in her stature or weary face, but a calm patience instead. She had no scars to show.
Between the women stood a short pillar draped with red velvet. I could distinguish the outline of a sword, long and straight and without any defining feature, that rested there.
We stood in the chamber, an immense and bright space, ranked wide and long by the thousand, and watched as the Prime Guild Centurion marched forward. She stood at attention, giving us the same respect that we all owed her, and with a voice full of duty spoke. “Today you have all achieved much greatness in your lives, and now you stand above and before all others as soldiers,
protectors, Sentries of this Guild.” An eruption of applause and cheering soon followed. I remained silent.
“You have proven yourselves to your Instructors, your Sentinels and Centurions, and to each other time and again, and for that you are to be commended.” Rhodon’s words were both deliberate and passionate, and she undoubtedly enjoyed the accolades offered to her by the crowd.
“However, know that your true test remains. Know that the threat is ever present and looming on every world, waiting to destroy all that we hold dear.” A deep, brooding silence fell over us. Despite the long fourteen years since, Erasure was all too fresh a memory for far too many of us. I grimaced as my eyes drifted downward.
“But do not lose hope! Do not lose your strength! We fight with our weapons! We fight with our armour! We fight with our hearts!” A few murmurs of approval were heard, which grew as the audience trembled with anticipation.
“Today is a great day for the Guild. Today is the day you join the ranks of many in defending our worlds, in making them resolute and proud once more!” Cheers began to break out as Rhodon’s voice filled with pride.
“Today is the day when we Sentries stand ten million strong! Today is the day that our vengeance for Erasure begins! Today is the day that our Guild rises, resurgent and glorious once more!” Rhodon unsheathed her blade, lifting the pale blue sabre high into the air, and the room exploded in applause. I looked around at the wild and cheering masses, sharing no joy with them. They don’t know what’s coming. They don’t know what’s there.
“You have all honoured yourselves and our Guild with your accomplishments, but there is one among you who has distinguished herself beyond the rest.” Rhodon pressed on, silencing the crowd with ease.
“This Initiate has displayed great aptitude in all of her pursuits, much like her older brother. She has given herself to this Guild fully, and for that we thank her.” I grimaced in solitary annoyance as the crowd chanted her name.
I watched Argenta’s slow approach as she moved towards the blade on its short pillar at Rhodon’s side. She was graceful and entirely composed as she bowed her head in respect for the golden Centurion, who returned a small nod in acknowledgement. Rhodon retrieved the weapon, sheathed in glossy black, and held it firmly with both hands.
“This sword will never dull, and it will always take the form of the user’s ideal. Argenta, do you accept this Engeltrane , not only as our gift to you, but as your oath to us? Will you accept the charge and the duty of this blade?” The sword, as many of us knew, was more than a rarity in the world, a relic of some long-forgotten battlefield where the Erzengel of the Third Plane once clashed with the Malinvicta. The Guild possessed only a few, naturally, in spite of its many efforts to find and retrieve more.
Argenta reached forward and grasped the hilt firmly. She gripped the black, polished sheath and smoothly removed the sword. The blade rang as she held it in the air, commanding immediate calm from the chamber. Amazed, we watched as the nondescript long sword shimmered with an eerie and silvery blue light, curving into the striking form of a nodachi. The sheath, too, followed suit, and housed the sword soon after. Rhodon beckoned, and Argenta stood at her side, holding the weapon close.
The Prime Guild Centurion turned back to the dutiful line of soldiers and officials behind her and made brief eye contact with the Guild Regent herself, who walked forward tentatively, her every step deliberate but cautious beneath an unknowable weight. Her voice was soft and small, ravaged by age, as it crackled.
“Know that you are here to defend each other, and those who cannot fight for themselves.” Immediately, the contrast between her and Rhodon was complete. There was no great pride in Iren’s voice, and no morale to be given. The crowd hung in silence.
“Our War has raged for thousands of years, and though we may now stand stronger than we have known for fifteen years, know that arrogance will bring the end of us all.” The Regent cast a barely perceptible glance at Rhodon, who looked back, bemused.
“Never forget the purpose of this Guild, of our service to the worlds around us and to our Gods. See yourselves not only as Guild Sentries. See yourselves as people, as living and breathing people, with the same needs and fears. Look at the faces around you and know that there is great loss to be seen in every one.” A few heads turned, to friends or to strangers. Some nodded in slow agreement, while others shook their heads in disappointment. My eyes drifted to the floor.
“You are all shields, shields that will protect others. Do not fall into vanity; do not fall into old hatreds that consume from within. We must be united, now more than ever, if we are to prosper once more.” I noticed the divisions in the crowd between the Erdechildren and the other races, the Bra’ Hca and the Ocean Dwellers. We were already fractured, and Iren’s words carried little weight.
“We stand here today for justice, for peace, and for a better tomorrow. This War has taken far too great a toll, and it will only continue to do so unless we rally together and face it. May Kyrosya watch over you all.” A weak smattering of applause followed her sobering words, growing louder and erupting in cheers as Rhodon stepped forward once more, looking more than satisfied.
“It is by the power of this Guild, by the power it has placed in me, that I now deem you all Guild Sentries, worthy of the privileges and responsibilities of this great service.”
The room erupted into applause and cheering, and Rhodon raised her head, smiling. Iren looked down at the throngs of youth before her, frowning slightly. With the raising of a single hand, the Centurion quieted the room in an instant.
“You are Sentries all, but the armour is not merely given as some title or status. It must be earned through a test that our mortal hands cannot give.” A wave of confusion spread throughout the hall, breaking its prideful joy in an instant.
“Forgive us, for what follows will be with you forever.” The Regent solemnly walked away from the crowd towards a small panel that had been hidden from view on the far wall. Triggered by the press of a single key, the sound of immense gears could be heard as they turned, grinding slowly against one another. The far wall began to slide away, splitting in its middle and revealing only widening blackness.
The room darkened in strange and frightening fashion then, as if the lights were drained away, swallowed whole by a gentle blackness. I heard gasps of surprise and panic that soon muffled and then vanished altogether in the spreading shadows, and what few Sentries turned to run were consumed. Shadowy tendrils filled the air, creeping along the ceiling and floor, and I yelled in sharp but futile objection as they grasped my legs, rooting me to the spot as they spread upwards and over my face.
21
Darkness Beyond the Gate
I opened my eyes and stood, alone in oblivion, seeing nothing, and felt no sense of gravity pulling me towards the Maw of the Giant as Innatus had once done. I turned my head from side to side, seeing nothing and no one, feeling no need to breathe, a numbing coolness throughout my body, and wondered if this was death.
The blackness of the ceiling grew lighter and reddened, revealing clouds like streaks of ink that hurtled over me, and I stood on a grey beach, staring out at a vast ocean that shone calmly with the reflected light of a dimming red sun. Despite the rhythmic crashing of waves and the growing warmth of the air, there was something terribly wrong to be felt in that place. I felt as though I had been pierced, judged by something knowable only by its unforgiving wrath.
I heard the shrill cry of a child behind me and turned, glimpsing a small boy as he vanished into a row of alien trees. I called out to him and heard a series of demented shrieks pierce the air. I ran after him.
Leaves and branches whipped across my arms and face as I crashed through the foliage, calling out to the child. Further shrieks followed, these louder than the first, and I followed their sound, breaking through branches that resisted my pursuit.
A clearing revealed itself, circular and grey, and I saw the boy’s small, tear-streaked face as he cried lou
dly, his back pressed to an impassable band of rock. His pursuers were nearly on him, one a green, twisted tortoise and the other a golden, fanged arachnid, and they moved closer, shrieking in glee.
I intervened, my outrage immediate, and charged at the bizarre creatures. The golden monster turned to me first, gnashing curved teeth and snapping its pincers, and I offered a violent greeting. My fist collided with its misshapen head, breaking its exoskeleton, and it fell stupidly to the ground, spasming. I grasped one of its pincers forcefully, grunting loudly as I jerked it free from a newly bloodied arm, and turned my attention to the tortoise.
The green beast rushed at me with surprising speed, its head low, and I held the pincer before me as I ran forward. At the last moment, I stepped deftly to one side, letting the crude weapon pierce one of the monster’s eyes and sink deep into its head. There was a spurt of liquid heat that coated my arms, and the creature fell dead.
I stood before the child then, soaked in liquid heat, and he looked up at me. His eyes were wide and grey, and there was no gratitude to be seen in them, only sadness instead. I offered my name to him, and asked his in turn, but he did not answer. He left me then, wordlessly, and looked back to see me in further shame before he vanished into the trees once again. I did not follow him, and stood in the clearing alone and dissatisfied.
The light of the red sun crept over the tops of the trees and shone down on me, and I turned to face it, a growing sense of unease spreading through me. Feelings of judgment washed over me as its light grew stronger, and I covered my eyes ineffectively. All at once, I felt my father’s absence and his disappointment, my loneliness and guilt, flood my being. I fell to my knees and wept.
The star above rested in the centre of the sky, pinning me to the grey grass of the clearing, and I could not rise. Cracking branches and rustling leaves ahead bade me to look ahead, and from a small gap in the twisted trunks emerged a tall figure wrapped entirely in black and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. I could not see his eyes or his face, or even his hands, as he approached, the long coat trailing softly on the grass behind him. He was not armed in any way, yet when his gaze fell upon me I felt only the compulsion to bow my head in fear.