“Tersik’s madness only grew, and he used his cunning and persuasiveness to scour the countryside of Troika and create discord. Sadly, Litore’s affection for his firstborn allowed the coup to continue for too long, and by the time he gave a decree to have Tersik assassinated, the rebellion was inevitable.”
The scenes behind him faded in and out faster and faster as he progressed through the story. Tersik appeared as a hulking silver-coated Andor with a matte-black mane. He wore silver-plated armor and helm, and his eyes were wide with madness. He stood atop a smoldering heap with his blade in one hand, clutching the garment of a Morak warrior whose body hung limp. His insurrecting force swarmed in raiding towns and cities, leaving smoke and ash blanketing the skies behind them.
Suros straightened his stance, looking upward as he finished his story with strength in his voice as if speaking to a crowd of many. “In the final battle, Litore and the youngest gathered the remains of their warriors, and two mighty forces collided in what would appear to be the end of Troika. At the end of the ensuing conflict, the last vestige of the nation of Troika was the highland temple of the Equus.
“Tersik was intent on destroying the last of the Laggorns, and he made a final push to take the sacred region. As the warriors fell, Tersik reached his youngest brother on the battlefield. Blinded by rage and jealousy, his unstoppable bloodlust incapacitated the youngest, and he prepared to give the deathblow with his curved blade. However, his blow was stopped by Litore’s blade, which pierced his armor and into his shoulder. Tersik fell only for a moment; however, his strength and aggression proved too much for Litore to defend. As the youngest regained his composure and came to his father’s defense, Litore commanded him to go to Equus. He did as commanded, and Litore eventually fell to Tersik.
“Temporarily content with Litore’s death, Tersik paraded his battered body in celebration, dragging him naked before his troops in a motion to degrade his image. During this celebration, the youngest sought Equus as his father commanded him. He found the being weak and its lifeforce waning. Equus observed that the youngest was pure in heart and a suitable leader for the Andors, so he bound with him, giving him much of the knowledge it held and its remaining life force.
“Before Equus expired, it gave a gift to the youngest to pass on to all future Andor generations. This gift would be the basis of its power, its beard of stone pillars. The pillars are what remain of the Laggorns when their power at last expires. What’s left in them dispersed into the beard, and when the other Laggorns of Troika passed, their beard essence was assimilated into Equus.” The sky rumbled above them, and Suros gave a casual glance upward, and then continued his story.
“A pact was struck between Equus and the youngest. They would forever be united, and through the remaining power of the Laggorn, the youngest would eradicate Tersik’s army and restore the lands of Troika. Equus gave the youngest the remains of its life, wisdom, and strength. It then collapsed to the ground; its body dissolved to where only the beard remained, implanted here always as you see them today, above Mothoa.”
The scenes turned to the young Andor; his body radiated with a blackish shimmer that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. He hovered above the great pillars as the approaching army of Tersik scaled the mountainous plateau. The youngest allowed Tersik’s force to enter the pillar forest, and he cast a dark barrier around them. When some of them tried to flee through the darkness, their bodies wilted, and their life pulled from them, leaving only withered, pale corpses. Their life force sucked into the surrounding pillars, trapped there forever.
Upon seeing this, the others fled inward to the densest portion of the stone forest. The youngest replicated his form many times until Tersik’s forces were outnumbered twenty to one. Each incarnation wielded two blades, and each swarmed in and massacred the remnants of Tersik’s force. Bloodied and shocked, only Tersik remained wielding his blade and was still driven with wrath.
“My brother,” the youngest said as he lowered himself down, phasing out his replicated forms, “I feel sorrow for you. You were given so much, but now so much is lost. Yet you still clutch onto the culprit of your losses, your jealousy and greed.” Tersik drew back his blade, grasping deeply with both hands behind his head in a readied attack stance.
“I don’t know what you’ve done with the Laggorn, but its power was to be mine!” he snarled with such loathing in his tone that his voice cracked. “Now, I will slay you and take from you what is mine.” The youngest looked down with regret, took one step back, then leaned forward and screamed a horrid shrill out at Tersik. Tersik’s body folded back and merged into the pillar behind him.
The scene faded, and Suros slowly stepped aside, revealing a pillar tinted in black. “Here lays my brother, his life fused permanently into the beard of the Laggorn as is his ancient army. When you touched it, his spirit trapped within shrieked out.”
“You? You’re the youngest?” Crix looked perplexed as though he was assembling the details in his mind.
“Yes, and you are uncertain because the truth was intentionally obscured. As you are now aware, the true story was concealed from the greater masses in an effort to trivialize the pillars and their importance, to keep the enemies of Troika from ever targeting them. If they were to ever be destroyed, Troika as we know it would be lost, as all our power and ancestry from our very beginnings rest here.
“I had lived and ruled over Troika for several generations before my own passing. The power of the Laggorn kept me unnaturally vital and strong. However, I could eventually feel the burden of this power taking a toll on my own morality. Such power will always corrupt any lesser being over time. It is in the pillar of my brother that I eventually stored most of the Laggorn’s power and knowledge. From this stone pillar, a crystal-bearing tree grows beneath, which is the reservoir that ultimately contains this all-important, life-bringing element.” The ground rumbled beneath their feet and whooshing reverberated overhead. Suros looked upward with a troubled gaze. Crix shook his head as if to gather his thoughts.
“I—I have so many questions.”
“No!” Suros stopped him. “There is no time. You must save the crystal and preserve Troika’s future, or it will be forever lost.” Suros pointed toward a small clearing in the forest. “Follow the path to a small opening that will lead you down into Mothoa where you will find the Inverted Forest. This is the forest grown from the stems of Equus’s great beard and is where all deceased Andors rest their souls. Take the narrow tunnel into the forest and look for the tree that bears the crystal that is shadowed. Use this, and only this, to cut away the crystal.” He pointed to a small, V-shaped cutter that lay on the ground near the base of one of the pillars. “It was made from the blade of Tersik’s own sword, and it’s the only thing that can release the crystal safely from its branch. Then, make your way to the grand chief’s transport to keep the crystal from this invading force.” The ground shook again but with more ferocity than before. Faint and distant voices steadily emerged . . . They were familiar.
“But I’m not Andor by blood. If I touch the crystals, won’t I die?”
“No! Do as I have commanded, and you shall survive. Do this for Troika.” Suros snapped his attention upward again with even greater alarm on his face.
“I will do it.” Was there any other answer he could have given? After all, this was his fault. His heart weighed heavily, but his mind focused.
“Now, go quickly. Troika is under siege; I will repel our adversaries as long as possible.” He faded out into the distance, and the nearby voices became loud and very close to Crix.
CHAPTER 11
W here in the backside of a droona beast have tya been?” Krath grabbed Crix’s shoulders, trying to get his attention. He was raw with irritation. “Troika’s under attack, and tya’re lolly poppin’ around like a trite kid in these forsaken pillars! Let’s get going to that transport now!”
Kerriah appeared looking slightly out of breath and fatigued behind Krath. “Oh,
good! Thankfully, you’ve found him! There is a massive line of Marck shock troops making their way into the Pillar Forest.”
“Yes, and by the sound of things, I doubt that the grand Andor’s Alca—pain-in-my-backside is going to hold out for very long,” Krath snarled.
“I know the way in. Come on!” Crix darted down the path that Suros directed him to with the cutter in his hand.
Above them echoed a thunderous crack chased by a shriek and ground vibrations. Debris and mangled Marcks clattered down sporadically from the sky. The shadow of Suros whisked above them, piercing the hover-disk-equipped Marcks with his saber as they swooped by, firing in his direction. The Marcks were unable to overcome his blinding speed. More and more of these metal adversaries found themselves at the end of his unleashed wrath as he skewered and dismembered their bodies with overwhelming precision.
Kerriah dashed to the side, avoiding the splash of scrap metal from a Marck hover disk that crashed nearby. “I don’t know who he is or where he came from, but I’m glad he’s on our side, or at least, it appears he is at the moment!” she shouted above the commotion.
Crix and company approached a path in the stone pillar forest that had a sharp downward pitch. It snaked around and ended at what appeared to be a steep wall. Crix stopped to look down the path. The sight puzzled him.
“He said it was here, but this leads nowhere.” Did I miss some important detail from Suros?
“What? Who said what?” Krath grumbled then looked over at Crix with a goaded expression. “Boy, tya may be the offspring of Corin, but if tya keep at these games, tya’re gonna end up with a knot on your skull. Now, I thought tya said you knew where tya were going?”
“Is this a joke?” Crix irritatingly kicked away a small piece of metal scrap. The metal piece tumbled down the steep path and appeared to pass through the wall. Crix took a couple of cautious steps from Krath.
“Okay, that was strange.” He then decided to slide down the path with one leg pressed forward into the ground while leaning back to keep his balance against the sharp decline. As he approached closer to the wall, he felt a sudden draft and a strong smell of turpentine mixed with a hint of mustiness beneath.
“Would tya hurry it up down there?” Krath yelled from atop the slope.
Crix tried to lean forward. His supporting foot caught some loose rock, and he stumbled, attempting to catch his balance against the wall. He felt a strange numbness course through his limbs as he fell through, helpless. He could hear Kerriah scream his name as he flailed down into blackness that emerged into a faintly lit chamber. His body took a cushioned bounce off an invisible energy field, which emanated directly above a circular formation of violet- and crimson-tinted crystals. He remained suspended facedown above the crystals. A tickling sensation went from his head to his big toes as though hundreds of fingers were gently twitching over every inch of his body. A subtle ringing felt like something was trying to worm its way into his ears. He pushed his hand down but could not penetrate this unseen field between him and the crystals. He rolled over until he fell away and landed on the floor.
Around him, giant stone figures of armor-clad Andors lined the perimeter of the circular chamber. A large archway led to a dimly lit area that was mostly indistinguishable. The ringing faded from his ears as he moved away from the center formation. The smell of turpentine was thick in the air, and close by, he could hear the sound of a strong exhale. Then, a cold, steel bar hugged his throat tightly.
Two armor-clad Andors emerged out of what appeared to be thin air wielding long, metal staffs with glowing, crimson crystals at each end. Their helms were majestic and tall, and their metal plates were cast charcoal black, which made them nearly invisible in the low light. The two Andors converged upon him as another restrained him from behind. An armored knee jammed Crix sharply in his spine, while the bar snugged across his throat with enough force to labor his breaths.
At that moment, a familiar voice from above howled louder and louder before it stopped right next to them. The Andors looked over to see Krath hovering facedown above the crystals.
“What the heck?” he grumbled while flailing his arms around as he tried to grasp something solid. He looked over to observe Crix. “Tya better be lettin’ my buddy go there ‘cause when I get outa this fix I’m in here, tya’ll be feelin’ the sensation of my fist on tya noggins,” Krath snarled.
One of the Andors turned toward Krath with his staff pointed in his direction. The attached crystal crackled and blazed. Krath popped off and belly-flopped squarely onto the floor. He slowly got up with one hand clenching his back in pain.
“Why you dirty—”
Another voice wailed from above and interrupted Krath. Kerriah stopped short of the crystal formation, and then the unfriendly Andor zapped her off the invisible field as well.
“Who are you? How many more of you are there?” one of the Andors questioned in a deep, stern voice.
“Now tya listen here,” Krath stormed at the Andors with his arms cocked forward and fists clenched. The Andor raised his staff, and a red flash filled the chamber, blinding them. After a few seconds, their vision returned to a chamber filled with Andor Morak warriors, who quickly restrained Krath and Kerriah.
“Stop!” a booming voice echoed from above as the room illuminated in a deep blue. Suros hovered above, and the Andors promptly snapped into a militant, upright stance upon seeing him. “Allow them to pass as I have granted them passage through Mothoa and to the tree of Tersik.”
The Andor warriors looked at each other in bewilderment before dropping the three from their vice-like clutches.
“Yes, my loyal servants, the most sacred of all our trees, the one that holds every vestige of power and knowledge of Andorian Civilization. We are under siege, and these mechanized foes are resolved to our destruction. They are many with more forthcoming in a continuous stream of marauding, and we cannot repel them all on this day, but we can delay them long enough for the Tolagon to keep safe our future.”
A thundering overhead gave way to dust and small rocks falling from the ceiling high above. Suros turned to illuminate the archway before them. Beyond it revealed a massive hall that appeared to have no end as the light dissipated into the distance. Glistening above the hall were great hanging vines clustered with crimson- or violet-colored, tetragonal-shaped crystals. As light passed through the crystals, they gave off a sparkling resemblance of the nighttime sky with dueling stars.
The Moraks stepped aside and gave way to the strangers. Crix and Kerriah walked cautiously into the great hall. Their eyes scanned the high ceiling, and their mouths dropped open in wonderment.
“Tya better keep tya grubby mitts off me,” Krath barked at the now passive Moraks in the chamber behind them. He followed his companions into the hall and casually dusted himself off.
Crix stared upward, his mouth wide open. “The Inverted Forest of Mothoa is amazing. It’s more than I had ever imagined it to be.” The childhood descriptions did not come close.
A soft and persistent whine came from a thousand different sources above them. “The noise is maddening in here.” Kerriah shook her head and rubbed her ears.
The cavern trembled with a thunderous boom from above. The ensuing vibrations caused crystals to rain down from the trees, creating a chorus of wind chimes tussling in a gentle breeze as they pinged off the stone floor. Out of nowhere, two modestly dressed Andors flanked in and grabbed up the crystals. They gently placed them into wooden boxes.
“The sacred crystals are pieces of our life spring, where all Andors relinquish their spirit upon death. The pillars above capture their spirits, and the roots of those pillars preserve them for all time. This is the last gift of the Laggorn.” The bluish light emerged again with Suros standing before them. “These fallen ones are quickly harvested and used in many ways to power Troika. Yet the one tree, the tree of Tersik, contains the mystery of our civilization. From its crystal, all questions are answered, and a rebirth of our speci
es becomes possible. This is from the power that created us. Hear me now: the Andor will once again be masters over their own world.
“You, Crix, will harvest this crystal and take it away from here until that time has come. For reasons that I cannot explain, I can tell you that taking the crystal will not be an easy task, for no one has ever attempted to approach it without a great loss to his or her inner strength. However, I have long known that it is you which would be the crystal’s harvester. Now go! We will hold back the intruders and see you safely to the Grand Chief Isomar’s transport.”
Crix and his companions hurried deep into the subterranean great hall that resided beneath the Crystalline Forest with their eyes trained upward, scanning for the mysterious crystal. It felt like a daunting task as the mystic trees were many and their vines intertwined into thickets in some of the denser sections. The glowing crystals dimly illuminated the subterranean great hall, which spanned as far as the faint lighting would allow them to see.
“There!” Crix pointed at one of the thickest parts of the vines that webbed across the high ceiling.
Kerriah and Krath looked deeply to pinpoint Crix’s find. They cautiously moved ahead to get closer to its proximity, finding it difficult to believe that he had found it so quickly. Hidden deep within the forest of inverted trees, the almost black crystal hung tangled amongst twisted vines from a crooked, grey trunk. The dark purple crystal was longer than the others were, and it had a faint illumination deep within its core. The vines cradled it as though they were protecting a child.
As they approached the tree that held the darker crystal, the whining sounds misted away into the distance. The grounds above shook violently, and the inverted trees rained crystals from their branches.
Kerriah impatiently paced back and forth, not happy about the delay. “I don’t really understand this whole crystal thing here, it seems to me that we need to be focusing on getting to that transport ASAP.”
Age of the Marcks Page 12
