by Tyson Jordan
“You are an oddity,” the figure spoke in a low, soft voice marked by great age, “and you have been found wanting.”
“Wanting?” I looked up at him, only for a moment, to see the faint glitter of two white eyes staring down at me, unblinking.
“Why did you come to this place?” His words were plain, yet somehow they shook me to my very foundations.
“I … I was sent here.” My words were meek and simple, and the light of the sun intensified upon me. I closed my eyes, finding it difficult to breathe.
“And yet you remained. Why did you stay?” I glanced at the dark man’s eyes as they twinkled in suspicion before I bowed once more.
“I had to.”
“No. Speak again. Speak honestly.” The light of the red sun turned orange, then white, and I felt my skin and flesh begin to sear, then burn. I cried out in agony, and the light diminished.
“I chose to stay! I chose to fight!” I called out, and the light turned red and suffused anew. Breathing heavily, I could feel the strength in my arms and legs returning, and I lifted my head again, able to face the shadowy figure.
“And why do you fight?” There was an intrigue in his voice then, one that had not been before, and my answer was both sure and immediate.
“For my father.”
“You and your answer are incomplete.” The intrigue in his voice evaporated then, replaced by doubt.
“Incomplete? What … what do I need to do, then?”
“Rise.” The man extended a single hand to me, wrapped in black leather, that I took. I gasped at the contact, suddenly feeling an impossible strength in his grasp as he pulled me to my feet, and I saw that the legendary strength of my father was only a pale imitation of what the shadow possessed.
He pressed his hands into my back and chest, and I felt warmth in their palms that spread throughout my body. My shoulder blades began to burn. I folded my arms across my chest, doubling over in pain and new awareness. I could feel them, phantom limbs growing from my back, twins that had awakened. Drawing newly cold and invigorating air into my lungs, my senses came alive. For only the briefest instant, I saw the Spheres not around me but within me, glittering in golden joy, waiting to receive their master at last.
My first impulse was to wrap these ghostly arms around myself, and they gave me power, a sense of feeling charged and truly alive. Every tissue in my body tingled with excitement and I smiled, looking at the dark man before me, who stood in mute observation. He seemed to smile ever so slightly, then turned, vanishing in the trees. The sun above me rumbled and began to fade to black, its light extinguishing, and the clearing was no more.
The gaudy, insufficient lights of the material world pushed their way through a lifting veil. I stood in the gathering hall once again, carrying a new feeling of life, of possibility within me. A broad smile spread across my face.
I was wearing the armour.
It was a golden yellow half-plate that had wrapped its way around my torso, light but nonetheless durable and mobile. The chains, golden and heavy, hung from my shoulders, crisscrossing my body and meeting just above my sternum where the Guild Emblem newly rested. My body’s remainder had been covered with a pitch black and flexible material unlike any I had felt or seen before. It offered no resistance to my muscles, but it was protective all the same. My hands were wrapped in golden bracers, while I wore heavy greaves, held in place by locks like those I had worn in the Coliseum.
It was the sound of weeping that shook me from self-admiration, and I looked around, seeing many armoured Sentries in green and blue, red and gold, while many others, nearly a third of us all, had sunk to the floor, cradling their faces. They cried loudly in confusion and sorrow and shame, not understanding what they had seen or what they had been denied. They would be given their duty not as soldiers but wherever their talents found the most use; for the sake of the War, they still had a part to play.
Other Sentries and even inactive Sentinels who had held their vigil during the convocation filed through our ranks and led the more distraught away without speaking. I wondered if they had seen what I had, that nameless and dark figure that spoke to my soul. Who … what was he?
The ceremony had come to its close. Rhodon, proud and tall, congratulated us new Sentries in Armor, while Iren, calm and sad, stressed our responsibility to protect once more. We soon turned on our heels and marched in procession, long and colourful ribbons of green, red, gold, and blue that flowed, bringing life to the barren and cold corridors of the Guild.
22
Departure
Janus and I met soon after, naturally, and he was more than eager to discuss what we had experienced. We stood together in our usual atrium, and he was quick to demonstrate the donning of his own armour, a brilliant blue scale mail that was lined with brown fur at the neck. The links of foreign metal sang harmoniously as they spread across his body, and he flashed his teeth in excitement.
“So this is what Gareem was getting at when I was a kid … Feeling given Substance, huh?” He smiled, and I nodded in agreement, knowing that he spoke the truth. We made our conversation as always, yet there was the weight of a new question pressing upon both of us, and it was one that had to be asked.
“What did you see?” I asked my friend, and his orange irises danced nervously for a moment before he replied.
“I didn’t know at first, but … my old man helped me with that. We saw Him, Zircon. We saw Drakannas, and He passed His judgment upon us. I guess we passed His test.”
“I don’t know if I did or not,” I replied, thinking back to the shadowy man’s words in confusion. You and your answer are incomplete.
“You’re wearing the armour, though, Zircon. That’s the measure, or at least, that’s what Gareem told me.” There was uncertainty in Janus’s words, despite his good intentions.
“He said I’m incomplete, and I didn’t know what he meant. I still don’t.”
“Not to be completely blasphemous, but the Gods don’t exactly have a reputation for being forthright with us. Just … give it time. He had His reasons, after all.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose, my frustration building, and we left the conversation at that. It was clear to us both that we were meddling in something that we simply were not meant to understand. Janus was at peace with it, at least at that time, and I was not.
I returned to my room. What few possessions I had were organised and neatly placed within a glossy, black trunk by hands unseen, and I knew what had come. I had known, of course, that my deployment would rapidly follow my instatement as a Guild Sentry, but the sight of my belongings so neatly placed left me apprehensive.
My terminal began blinking and ringing in unison with my chronopatch, and I walked towards the screen, finding one final template.
Guild Sentry Zircon Fortuna,
In the short days that have passed since your convocation, caretakers have identified, arranged, and assorted the possessions that you will require for your upcoming assignment. On the basis of instructor recommendation and computer analysis of your prior experiences, we have released to you the great sword, Demonbite , that you fought with in the Coliseum, complete with its sheath. Likewise, the combat boots and bracers you wore at that time have also been granted to you. You have also been issued a standard sidearm that can and should be configured to your liking.
As you already know, you have been assigned to Grand Ocean to monitor and quell the activities of the Malinvicta. In accordance with Guild policy, you are required to submit a report detailing any and all findings of interest. These matters will be addressed on the basis of their importance and credulity.
Please report to the docking bay for your departure as soon as possible. You will meet with your counterparts and report to Guild Sentinel and Chief Mechanic Gareem Baskervor.
May Kyrosya watch over you.
I stepped away from the computer as I had done so many times before and took one last look at the cramped living quarters; they were u
ncomfortable, to say the least, and offered little beyond the bare essentials. It was not a home for me, but it did offer some small sentimental value that I would miss nonetheless.
The mirror beckoned to me, and I looked hard at my own reflection. I was not gallant and heroic as so many had viewed my father and those who came before him, but tired and afraid. In a moment of loathing, I called my armour and let the golden light sing as it turned to mass, wrapping around my body. It was a part of me that I had not known before, but one that had nonetheless always been there.
I looked again at my reflection, feeling more alive, yet unconvinced by the image that stared back at me, the sight of a boy and a pretender. I scowled, letting the armoured plates retract into nothingness once more, and paid no more attention to my reflection.
I set my future before me and walked to the docking bay with my few possessions. Demonbite ’s weight was no longer reassuring to me, but cumbersome and frustrating as I struggled to manage the sword with my trunk in tow. The halls were buzzing with the excited clamour of new Sentries, some of whom were still wearing their armour. Many, as I expected, had been sent to the endless campaigns of Rck’ Hara, and far fewer had been sent to the relative peace of Grand Ocean.
The maze of halls and quick shafts soon faded behind us until we reached our destination, and I stepped onto a catwalk. Far ahead, I could see Gareem wiping his hands of the grease and sweat that defined his work as he yelled something unintelligible at Janus, who had arrived first and appeared even more comfortable than before, having exchanged his Initiate’s uniform for loosely fitting attire that hung from his body in blue and green.
Next to them rested the outline of a veiled ship that I had seen only once before, or at least its frame, and I smiled. I hurried down the steps, working my way past the countless engineers and their endless, furious work, and I struggled to make out further details of an overbuilt chassis beneath a tattered tarp.
With her arms folded and an impatient glare in her eye, Argenta emerged from beneath the ship and glanced back in irritation. The faded bruise on her cheek was still apparent to a discerning eye, although it offered little compensation for the deep scars in my upper arm. I sighed at the sight of her as I joined the others, offering no greeting.
Her chains wrapped tightly around her hips, forming a simple sword belt that neatly divided her appearance into two halves. Argenta’s pants were formfitting and tan, while her upper body had been wrapped in a rich violet that left her arms exposed. With a gloved hand, she tightly grasped Engeltrane and held the curved blade at her side.
“Hey, you must be Arg—” Janus’s kindness was cut short.
“Is it not enough to assign me to so inglorious a world as Grand Ocean? Must I also be assigned with a talentless recluse and a delinquent?” There was no sneering derision in her tone; she merely spoke as if there was no one present, and I began to seethe immediately. Janus gave a sharp shake of his head in my direction and grinned, nonchalant at the sound of his immediate dismissal.
“Like I was saying, Argenta, I’m Janus and this is, well, you two have already met.” Argenta and I locked eyes for a moment and said nothing. I frowned, and she turned her eyes to the newly functional ship before us.
“I am aware of who you are, Janus Baskervor and Zircon Fortuna. Your records as Initiates were made available upon our assignment together. Did you not read them?” Argenta’s gaze was unbroken as she examined Gareem’s handiwork critically.
“Friendly sort, huh? Try not to overwhelm us with kindness, all right? I’m not used to people being so overwhelmingly sociable!” Janus chuckled alone.
“I can see the three of you will get along as expected.” We looked at Gareem, who was hunched over and weary, sitting on a nearby chest of tools. Janus was soon to quip about Gareem’s age getting the better of him.
“Shut up, you goddamned brat. Just come over here and see the fruits of all my labour, some legal and some … less than legal.” The uncle and his nephew laughed loudly. The resemblance between the two was as striking as ever.
“If you’re wondering about the tarp, it’s because I’m sentimental and a ship like this shouldn’t be scratched or get dusty or even get hit with so much as a stray spark. But being that my bones are aching,” Janus nearly interrupted again with a smile, but was intercepted by a playful slap on the side of the head, “the assistants can handle it. Come here, you grunts!”
Four technicians, three of them Ocean Dwellers and one of them a Erdeson, quickly seized the tarp and began to heave. It fell from our ship smoothly, revealing glowing white skin lined with silver and golden trim.
“I give to you the Destrier ! She’s old, sure, but she’s fully restored and upgraded all the same. Striker class, if that suits you. I can’t think of a better piece of work. It’s been equipped with a new Irenicium-drive that gives it a much longer range than most small craft, and it’s damned fast to be sure.” I smiled broadly at the sight of the craft, no longer bothered by the presence of Argenta next to me.
I stared in awe at its unapologetic and angular form that arched sharply from the floor and suddenly fell again at the back, ending in four overbuilt and jet-black pillars, the engines of the craft that piqued my excitement. The ship’s profile conjured the image of some monstrous steed on an ancient battlefield, charging forward into havoc and uncaring for danger. It was a testament to symmetry and power.
“You won’t find any of that unnecessary and unreliable photonic construct garbage on here; it’s much more durable that way. It has to be, for that core I threw in—you know, the less than legal part.” My enthusiasm grew with Gareem’s every word. Before me, I could see the open hatch that doubled as landing gear, narrow and steep stairs that led into the ship’s dark and promising recesses.
“But hell, I’m rambling and you have places to be, don’t you? You’ll discover all the toys that I’ve incorporated here—she’s my finest!”
The time that I had spent with the engineer in the patchwork had led to this. He cast me a knowing wink as I smiled at him, thanking him deeply, before I turned and climbed the stairs. Argenta gave a nod of quiet gratitude and followed me on board.
There were three seats inside, tightly fitted but not uncomfortably so, each accompanied by a specialised terminal. The two seats at the front of the Destrier , those of the pilot and navigator, were perched close to the ship’s open eyes, narrow slits that polarised the light from outside. After stowing our cargo via one of few hatches in the floor, I wasted no time finding my place in the pilot’s seat.
I leapt over the back of the chair, swinging my legs to the side and landing heavily in the chair. Twin control sticks rose from its armrests in response to my weight, and I grasped them tightly, savouring the moment. The ship’s systems burst into glittering life and the engines began to whine, straining against their confines and taunting me with their promises of power and freedom.
I was snapped from my excitement, if only for a moment, when I saw Janus standing with his uncle on the deck below. They were speaking, casually as always, and Janus gave a sarcastic salute. Gareem made a fierce grab for his nephew, holding him tightly in a warm and lasting embrace that could not last long enough. My friend returned the affection.
“Take care, my boy. Take care.” He said no other words.
Janus smiled broadly at his uncle, and replied, “Don’t worry, old man. I will.”
Janus soon plopped down in the navigator’s seat next to me, fidgeted for a moment, and propped his feet on his console. He laughed halfheartedly. “All this work and he can’t even be bothered to install comfortable chairs. To hell with this place and his senility! Let’s go!”
I instinctively started the ship’s engine with a deft keystroke. The Destrier roared alive with thrumming, low-pitched power, and I could feel the ship, its speed and ambition, daring me to take control. The soft vibration intensified and traveled throughout the hull, and I squeezed the short, sleek pillars before me.
A
loud hiss of pressurisation followed as the Destrier sealed itself away from the outside world. I breathed in deeply, bathing my senses in the sounds and sights that the ship offered me appreciatively.
“That smile on your face … Zircon, I’ve never seen that before. I don’t … I don’t like it.” Janus’s voice was torn between sarcasm and genuine concern. I looked at him, showing my teeth in a broad grin as his eyes revealed more than a little uncertainty.
Below us, Gareem and the other engineers fled to safety. The wall before us began to shift and turn as the engineering bay transformed under the immense pressure of grinding gears and counterweights. Klaxons sounded loudly, and an automated voice repeated, “Imminent departure. All personnel evacuate to the nearest safe zone.”
A strange humming tingled my ears, and I recognised the work of magnetic docking clamps that suspended our vessel in the air, rocking us gently from side to side. I could not help but test them, pressing forward on the controls and hearing the engine scream in delight. We felt the lurch of inertia as the clamps compensated, keeping us prisoner for a few moments more. Janus swore, Argenta protested, and I laughed.
The floor had been cleared, the recycled air of the docking bay had been removed and stored, and ahead I saw the broad yellow wall slide open at last, revealing the gorgeous black and starry void I yearned for. I pressed the controls once again, free of the clamps, and the Destrier ’s engines howled.
We plunged into the void.
23
Arrival
I pushed the engines harder with each passing moment, feeling the exhilaration of their power and all the possibility of the blackness before me. I was free at last.