The Xenoworld Saga Box Set

by Kyle West

  “No,” I said. “But I think we need to go this way.”

  “Why?” Valan asked.

  “Just a feeling,” I said. “Like there’s something there.”

  Isaru frowned contemplatively. “What?”

  “If these priests are Elekai...it’s possible that Mithras is as well.”

  Isaru immediately saw what I meant. If Mithras was Elekai, that could very well give him license to come in here. And if he was Elekai, then that meant he could be detected by another Elekai with Insight.

  “Do you feel anything?” I asked Isaru.

  He was quiet for a moment, looking down the lane. “Maybe,” he said. “But we might as well go that way as any other.”

  “What is this nonsense about feeling?” Sarien asked.

  “It’s something Elekai can do,” I said. “Some of us can detect the presence of another Elekai, if they are close. I have a suspicion that this Mithras might be Elekai.”

  “Impossible,” Sarien said. “If he’d had the talent, he would have been taken by the priests long ago.”

  “Maybe he was missed,” Isaru said. “What do you know about Mithras? From what I understand, it’s very little.”

  “It’s true not much is known about him,” Valan conceded. “It’s hard to imagine the priests passing him over as a child. They are...very thorough. All children are tested, even ones brought in from outside the Ruins.”

  “Is it possible that he moved to the Ruins as an adult?” I asked.

  “Hard to imagine that,” Nael said. “No one would follow an outsider.”

  “Even if that outsider proved himself very capable?” Isaru asked.

  “This is pointless talk,” Sarien said. “Do you think he’s that way, or not?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “If my hunch is right...then he is.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Valan said. “Lead on.”

  I walked ahead, trying to appear more confident than I felt. Now these men expected me to find Mithras, and I definitely wasn’t sure about my hunch. Instead, I cleared my mind, finding Silence.

  And to my surprise, there definitely was a feeling, a tugging at my mind. As I continued walking, the feeling grew stronger – so much stronger that it almost took me aback.

  “I think he is this way,” I said. “Do you feel it, Elek?”

  I had nearly called him Isaru.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  There was a note of skepticism in his voice; Isaru was particularly gifted in Insight, so he was probably perplexed as to why I felt something, and he didn’t. Even so, I couldn't doubt my intuition.

  I went up a set of steps leading to the next level, the pull only growing stronger. I led everyone ahead confidently, completely sure that I was going the right way. I went up another set of stairs, and upon arriving at the new level, I noticed that the turns in the walkway were becoming more pronounced. This had to be because we were getting higher in the Sphere, and without a doubt, I knew that Mithras – or whatever it was that was pulling at me – would be at the very top.

  I drew my sword at yet another stairway, feeling that I might need it by the next level. Everyone else followed my example.

  And then, we were going up a long set of stairs that curved around and around in a tunnel of green vegetation. We kept going until it was a proper spiral stairway. I was starting to wonder how high it would go when it finally ended, depositing us on a platform on the very top of the Sphere, with the night sky high above. Below, I could hear the sounds of battle – swords clashing, men screaming and dying, the thundering of what might have been a battering ram. The wind blew cold, and carried with it the acrid smell of smoke.

  The platform was large and circular, and completely ringing it were some dozen white-robed men, staring eerily inward toward us with glowing eyes. We quickly formed a circle, facing out, and I realized that the thing that had been pulling wasn’t Mithras at all, but these priests, who were somehow pooling their power, connecting their minds with Telepathy – another Gift of the Elekai that was so rare as to be almost unknown in modern times.

  But one of the men stood out to me, for he was the only one who displayed any emotion. An amused smile stretched across his thin lips. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and high, regal cheekbones. His body was well-built, and he was clearly very strong physically, a stark contrast with the nearly skeletal priests. But like them, his blue eyes glowed, and were even brighter than the others.

  “I’ve sensed your coming,” he said, slowly. “And I have foreseen your deaths, just as I have foreseen the deaths of anyone who challenges me, the Herald of Elekim.”

  “Mithras,” Valan said.

  Mithras chuckled. “That is what my enemies call me. But here I am simply the Herald, or the Prophet. The Red Suns are my chosen, those who are to cleanse the Ruins of heathens – to make the Ruins a city of the light. Hyperborea will rise again!”

  “What do you mean, Hyperborea?” Isaru asked. “Are you Elekai?”

  “I am...something else,” Mithras said. “What has been revealed to me cannot be revealed to the world...not yet. Such are the sacredness of a Prophet’s dreams. But Elekim intends to use me to kill those who refuse to help me prepare the way for his return. When he returns...we will not fail.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that,” I said.

  “And who are you, to know such things?” Mithras said. “A heathen who dares to challenge the Herald!”

  And suddenly, he had drawn a blade – a katana, no less. Unless he had forged it himself, he could have only gotten it from the Red Wild or from the Hunters

  Following his example, every priest drew his own blade, staring ahead with glowing, yet vacuous, eyes. They, too, bore katanas. Apparently, the weapon was more widely used than I had originally thought.

  “A priest is not allowed to bear a weapon,” Valan said, unbelieving.

  “Outside the Sphere, yes, but inside, you will find a different place. A different world.” Mithras took a single step forward.

  And then, I perceived the truth. I didn’t know who this man was – not really, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was Elekai, and he could have only gotten that blade from one place. Furthermore, he claimed to be a Prophet.

  “You trained at the Seekers’ Sanctum,” I said. “Don’t deny it.”

  The man’s lips twisted, and I knew I had hit the mark. “I see by your blades that you are Sanctum-trained as well.” He gave a cruel smile. “But you are not Seekers. You are far too young. You will make easy prey.”

  “Your mind has been twisted by Aether,” I said. “You have forgotten who you were. What were you called, Prophet? If I described you, would Elder Isandru know your name?”

  The man positively spat. “Don’t mention him. Don’t...you don't know of what you speak.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “You say you have followed prophecies, but they are false prophecies. Something has grabbed hold of you. Something evil, and Aether has convinced you of it.”

  “I have seen the truth!” Mithras shouted. “The world shall burn, and any who don’t stand with us will be destroyed!”

  Something about what he said bothered me, more so than his obvious derangement. It went beyond his insanity. I believed that he had prophesied, or at the least, he believed he had. If someone had spoken to him, then it couldn’t have been Elekim, but perhaps something posing as Elekim.

  I couldn’t be sure, but Mithras was obviously convinced of the truth of it.

  “Who were you before you became known as Mithras?” I asked. “You’re right about my friend and me. We have trained at the Sanctum, under the tutelage of Elder Isandru himself. I need to know your name.”

  Mithras dropped his blade, and I noticed that the priests mirrored the motion. Was he controlling them directly?”

  “I lived in darkness,” he said. “Why I was chosen...I can never guess. Elekim, though I do not presume to know for certain, has taken the lowest of men to achie
ve his aims...”

  He wasn’t even listening to me, which was obvious by how he had gone off on his maddened rant. I saw then that he would never answer the question, and it was only something I could ask Isandru later...assuming I ever saw him again.

  The tension in the air only grew. Mithras was about to call the priests to attack me – I felt it in my bones. But waiting outside my consciousness was the pull, same as before. It wasn't coming just from Mithras, but from the circle of priests.

  And to my surprise...I found myself joining that energy.

  As soon as I did, there was a moment of psychic shock. I became privy to their thoughts, and there was a feeling of panic. At first, I thought the panic was my own, but in an instant I recognized that it was Mithras’s.

  Somehow, some way, I had taken control of the circle. I saw what the Aether had done – Mithras had somehow used it to gain control of these Priests’ minds.

  You don’t have to follow him anymore, I thought.

  Right then and there, the priests’ eyes ceased to glow, and the circle of energy was broken. They blinked in confusion, as if coming out of a deep trance. They looked around in befuddlement, seemingly unaware of what was going on.

  Mithras looked around the circle, as if in disbelief that his hold had slipped. “You...what did you do?” He looked at me, his eyes wide with fear. “Who...who are you to do such a thing? What manner of power is this, and where did you find it?”

  I had no idea what I had done, but whatever it was, it meant Mithras’s power had completely evaporated. He grabbed his sword, his eyes glowing and mad, and his hands shaking. The priests now focused their attention on him, picking up the swords they had previously discarded.

  “There is only darkness in your mind, Mithras,” one of the oldest of them said, with surprisingly calmness. “Once, I might have forgiven you. The Sphere knows I have done that much.”

  Mithras quivered; tears had come to his eyes, but if anything, the grip on his hilt tightened. “Father Markas ...please.”

  As Markas advanced, in solidarity, the rest of the priests stepped forward. They did not lower their blades, even if some of them seemed uncomfortable holding them. I realized then that these men had known Mithras from before, that there was an unknown story, the conclusion of which I was bearing witness to.

  “And now,” Markas continued, “judgment comes. You returned to us in tears, begging forgiveness...which I gave, yet again. I had thought, in your time away from us, you had learned. At long last, I thought you had learned.” Tears now filled Markas’s eyes as well. “I esteemed you my son; even as others reviled you, I was blinded by the darkness that had taken you. Only I had faith in you, Mateya; I alone.” Markas shook his head. “Nonetheless...you have defiled the Sphere, and you have defiled yourself. You have inflicted your poison upon us all, in utter deception, to advance the darkness that clouds your mind. I don’t know how you found that darkness, but I believe that you sought it when you first left us. Were I to forgive you, even now, even after all of this...”

  Mateya lowered his head. He was now weeping openly, and I saw that the tears were glowing.

  “Even his tears are a deception,” one of the Priests said. “Let us strike now, before he finds some means to escape.”

  The Dragons shifted uneasily at that.

  “Do what must be done, Father.” Mithras looked up at the Priest, Markas, his eyes curiously cold, even as they shed more tears. The way he said “father” suggested a double meaning – both as the Priest’s title, as well as to ironically acknowledge the fact he had thought of him as a father in the true sense of the word.

  “You once taught me that forgiveness is a deep well with unending depths – that so long as the water was given, twice more would be returned to you.” He lifted his sword, and his hands steadied. “Thank you for this final lesson, Father. I now see the truth, and your previous deception. There is no well. There is no forgiveness. There is only pain.”

  “The deception is yours, Mateya,” Markas said. “I said twice more would return to you, yes. But you have also taught me a lesson, and about pain, you are correct. For the twice more you have given me, the ten thousand times more, has been nothing but that.”

  At this, Mateya screamed, and ran forward. I stepped forward to intercept, but aided by Aether, Mateya’s movements were like lightning. Markas’s movements were lethargic in comparison. It didn’t seem as if he would defend himself in time.

  But, instead of defending himself, Markas merely stepped aside, his face tear-filled and sorrowful. Only too late did the Herald Mithras, once known as Mateya, realize his mistake. He could not stop himself in time before hurtling over the edge of the platform, screaming in terror as he tumbled down its side. At the point where the Sphere began curving under itself, he fell through empty air. I could not see where he landed.

  There was heavy silence following this; none made a move. There was a sense of grief, if anything – not for Mateya, but for Father Markas, who, even after all the pain Mithras had brought him, still considered him as a son.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE SILENCE WAS AT LAST broken when some of the Priests began to talk quietly with one another. The whispering ceased as Markas broke from his thoughts, turning to face me.

  “Thank you for what you have done,” he said. “You cannot know the full story of what has happened here, but it would seem fate has made our paths cross, whatever the reason. To have broken Mithras’s hold on all of our minds, such as you did...” He looked at me, curiously. “Who are you, child?”

  “I am...simply Alara. An Elekai of the Red Wild.” I decided I needed to keep the focus off myself. “How did he take control of you like that?”

  “I don’t know what to call it, but it is not one of our Talents. It comes from the darkness in his mind...a darkness that has no place in our traditions or teachings. And it would seem Aether is an aid to it, or perhaps makes it possible.”

  That reminded me of Shara, who had obviously been given Aether – though to my knowledge, she was not Elekai.

  “Did Mithras have the Talent?” I asked.

  The priest nodded. “Yes. Mateya was strong – far stronger than any of us. But his tale, as you have seen, is a long and sad one. Suffice it to say, he craved power, and took control of the Red Suns, giving any with the slightest potential doses of Aether, which he was also able to control directly. These men became his lieutenants, and he has used them to do terrible things.”

  It was like the man I had seen on the rampart. As I had guessed, there had been others like him.

  “Now that he is...gone, are they still dangerous?”

  “When the Aether wears off, they will wake, as if from a dream. But they will continue to need Aether for the rest of their days.”

  “And what about you?” Isaru asked.

  Father Markas nodded, his face sad. “And us.”

  “There is a source of ichor here?” Isaru asked. “And I suppose a way to refine Aether?”

  “Yes,” the priest said. “Long ago, the city was part of the Red Wild. Many do not know that...but xen overtook the Ruins, and it was an enclave of the Elekai. It was during that time that the Sphere was built.”

  “By the Hyperboreans,” I said.

  “Yes,” Markas said. “Though not many remember the Hyperboreans – only the Sphere, a consciousness of its own.”

  “You say consciousness,” Isaru said. “You consider the Sphere a god, then?”

  “A god is a mind which is immeasurably greater than a man’s, to the point of being incomprehensible. Any who studies the Sphere quickly discovers this fact. And like a god, the Sphere cares for us and feeds us, without fail. Without it...we all perish.”

  “Is the battle over, then?” Isaru asked.

  “See for yourself.”

  Markas stepped out of the way, clearing a way for us to walk to the outer railing. Things had seemed to quiet while talking to him. Isaru and I, along with the rest of the Dragon
s, walked to the railing. Below, men milled within the inner wall, seeming to go nowhere in particular. Large groups appeared to be on their knees while others stood around them. And still, more of the coalition forces were climbing over the walls with ladders. An entire section of the second wall was in flames.

  “It really is over,” Valan said, his voice expressing his disbelief.

  “Though the battle may be won,” Markas said, “it is still far from over. But it is now time for you to leave this place, for I have much to say to my brethren in private.”

  “Of course, Father,” Valan said, with a bow.

  “Merely follow each set of stairs you come to, and go straight. You will find the entryway without fail.”

  Markas then looked at me, a curious light in his eyes. “I thank you again, Seeker. I have more to discuss with you and your friend, but that will have to wait. Go now, and may the eternal peace of the Sphere guard your steps.”

  WHEN WE ARRIVED AT the bottom of the Sphere, there was a large gathering of about a hundred soldiers. It took me a moment to figure out what it was they were gathered around: the body of Mithras. The crowd parted as we approached from the entry tunnel. There was no hiding it, now; everyone in the Ruins would know that we had entered the Sphere, and this was why everyone’s eyes went wide while their faces were white with shock and fear.

  Through the crowd, closest to the body of Mithras, stood Lord Avon, dressed in leather battle armor and a blood red cape, watching us approach with a calculating gaze.

  By the time we stood before him, he waited a long moment before speaking. At last, quietly, he said, “Follow me.”

  He led us away from the crowd until we were in the nearest open area. A contingent of some dozen guards followed him, whom he nodded toward. The guards then formed a perimeter around us, so that none could approach or hear what was being discussed.

  “Tell me,” Lord Avon said. “All of it.”

  And so, Valan explained everything we had gone through.

  “I don’t pretend to understand it, my lord,” Valan concluded. “However, the Priests have said it was so: Mithras was using this Aether to control his lieutenants, which allowed them to fight beyond the capacity of normal men. Even Mithras himself was taking Aether. I suspect that this is part of the reason for his success; and if the Priests were under his control, that made it easy for him to conquer the Sphere.”