by Aaron Hodges
Shivering, Rydian tore his eyes from the view. It was nothing he hadn’t seen from the ships that had transported the gladiators between the cities and their training complex. Instead, he turned to regard the room in which he had been placed. No prison this time, but a suite richly furnished in leather sofas and loungers. Lines of gold formed patterns upon the white walls, twisting, turning to form orbs and triangular shapes. The carpet beneath his feet was soft, though stained now by the dirt from his sandals.
Rydian had never seen such riches. Why had the Alfur brought him here, of all places?
What were they doing now, as he waited in this room?
The anger pressed again at the edges of his mind, and he clenched his fist, the warmth gathering there, the power of the Light within. Where had it come from, that power? He’d lost his Manus reader, the device that gave Alfur and humans power over Light. It shouldn’t be possible, the things he’d done. Unless…
“It is quite the view, is it not?”
Rydian spun as a voice spoke from behind him. A brilliant Light lit the room as his hands ignited, a shield and sword forming in each.
Across the room, a dozen Alfurian guards ignited their Manus readers, the steel gadgets crackling with energy. However, it was not their weapons that drew Rydian’s attention, but the singular Alfur in the room that did not raise its hand.
Rydian frowned as the Alfur stepped forward from his guards. It wore long, flowing robes of silk, their golden colour matching the great globes of the creature’s eyes. The sight brought a frown to Rydian’s face. He hadn’t realised the strangeness earlier with Rotin, but this was the second Alfur with golden eyes he’d seen today. Usually, they were silver.
“You will have to forgive the nerves of my guards,” the Alfur said softly, waving for its followers to lower their weapons. “We cannot be sure how…in control you are.”
“Who are you?” Rydian asked shortly, still crouched in a warrior’s stance behind his shield.
“I am Aiden Levaanton, Prince of Goma,” the Alfur said simply.
Rydian blinked, shocked at the creature’s admission, before the rage bled through. This was the creature responsible for all his suffering, for the deaths of his mother and father and every Goman to pass through the complex, for the suffering of every soul in the city below. He clutched his weapons tighter, temples throbbing as he contemplated the guards…
No, he thought. No, you defeated Rotin. Perhaps…perhaps if the prince is here, there is truth to the legends.
Exhaling, Rydian forced himself to calm, and dismissed his weapons. They faded like a lantern extinguished, and he was relieved to see the guards finally obey their master and lower their Manus readers.
“Why am I here?” he asked, struggling to keep the anger from creeping into his voice.
“Because I wished it,” Levaanton replied simply.
Rydian clenched his fists at the Alfur’s arrogance. Because it wished it? How arrogant this prince must be, to think Rydian could not have resisted, that even now he could not slice through its guards, could not cut out its cold heart.
“You’ve been controlling us,” he said instead, returning to his thought before the prince had entered. “Manipulating us all this time. The Manus readers, they do not grant us power, they suppress it, smother our own Light.”
“Yes,” Levaanton answered to Rydian’s surprise, “and no.” Ignoring Rydian’s frown, it crossed to one of the loungers and lowered itself onto the cushions with a groan. “You must forgive me; even we Alfur grow weary through the centuries.”
Rydian clenched his fists, anger still pressing at the edges of his mind. “Why should I not kill you?” he asked harshly. “Why should I not break free of this place, bring news of this to the city? I could free my people, grant them the power to fight back.”
“You could,” the Alfur answered simply, “and in doing so, you would doom them all.”
“What?” Rydian hissed, stepping closer. “You think you could defeat us, with Light on our side?”
“I make no such claims,” Levaanton replied softly. “I only speak in truths.”
Rydian frowned, sensing more behind the words. “What are you saying?”
Levaanton offered a smile and gestured to the couch. “Please, Rydian Holt, would you take a seat?”
Rydian started at the mention of his name, eyeing the creature with even greater suspicion. What did it know of his life, if it knew his true name? His heart pounded as he thought again of his mother, the secrets this creature might possess.
Exhaling finally, Rydian crossed the room, passing the multitude of guards, and sat opposite the prince.
“Good, good,” the Alfur said softly, leaning back in the pillows, regarding Rydian with the overly large eyes of its species. “You can feel it, can’t you? The Haze?”
Rydian’s heart skipped a beat, memories rising from the depths of his mind, of Aureli on the beach, his dying words. The Light rose with the memories, its pain, its rage pressing against him, screaming for him to kill.
“What’s happening to me?” he whispered finally.
“The madness that affects every Light possessed being, that drives every mammal on this planet into a murderous bloodlust,” Levaanton said softly.
A shiver ran down Rydian’s spine. “What are you talking about?”
Letting out a sigh, Levaanton intertwined its fingers as it regarded Rydian. “Humans are a level two Light possessed species,” it said matter-of-factly, “most other mammals fall around level one, but the effects are the same whether the host is human, hound or feline. The Light you absorb, that burns even now in your veins, destroys the mind, drives you all mad.” The Alfur paused. “Eventually.”
Rydian shuddered as he looked into the creature’s eyes and felt again the Light, the pain pressing against his mind.
“If that’s true,” he said finally, “why does it not affect the Alfur? You use Light in everything.”
“We are not Light possessed beings,” the prince said simply, the hint of a smile tugging at its lips. “That is why we must consume Light, why we use the Manus readers to manipulate its power.”
Rydian frowned, sensing something wrong about the creature’s words. “If the Manus readers focus your Light, why do they suppress ours?” he growled.
“Because it was the only way to save your species,” the Alfur replied. When Rydian only stared at it, Levaanton sighed and went on: “When my species arrived on this planet, we discovered the madness that affected so many of the species here—your kind in particular. Though you appeared to be merely another savage, uncontrollable species, there were those amongst the Alfur who saw potential in humanity, in your Light. They wished to find a way to cure your madness, to free you from the grips of the…Haze, so that you might build a civilisation of your own.”
“What?” Rydian hissed, then shook his head. “No, that’s…not true. There are legends about our past, about the time before your arrival, of our own great cities…”
“Tell me, Rydian Holt,” the prince interrupted. “In your travels across Talamh, have you seen any sign of these great cities? Any ruins amidst the vast wilderness of your planet?”
Rydian opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to understand the creature’s words. When he did not speak, it went on.
“The legends you speak of were started by the Alfur, as an aspiration for your species. But I am afraid there is no truth to those tales. There was no humanity before us. Only a species of wild animals, hardly more than the apes that still haunt the treetops, that scream for blood at the slightest provocation.”
No, no, no.
Rydian wanted to deny the words, to scream that the creature lied, but…he could feel the Light pressing against his mind, his own madness within, threatening to consume him. He slumped into the cushions, fists clenched, trying to process what the Alfur was saying, the lies amongst its pretty words, but he could see no flaw to its arguments.
“We adjusted o
ur Manus readers,” the Alfur continued finally, “the Great Experiment, they called it. When inserted into the first humans, they suppressed your Light, yes, but they also gifted you consciousness, freed you from the madness of the mammalian species.”
“Then why can I still think?” Rydian whispered, looking at his glowing hand.
Levaanton hesitated, then bowed his head. “There have been many, over the years, who lost their Manus readers, either through malfunction or interference. Each kept their sanity for a time, even years. But always, in the end…” The prince trailed off, but Rydian did not need the creature to finish to see the truth in its eyes. “Even amongst those whose Manus readers still function, there are many that are too strong, too powerful for the devices. Amongst them, the rage eventually creeps through. That is why…why the games were created, as a use for those who could not control the Haze.”
Rydian’s head jerked up at that. “My friend would beg to differ,” he snapped, recalling Johanas’s story. “No, speak your tales of saving humanity all you like, but don’t try to justify your awful games to me. Too many good, kind men and women have died on those sands.”
Levaanton regarded him for a long moment, eyes unreadable. “My daughter has said the same for many years,” it said finally. “She claims we have become monsters, tyrants over your species. That is why she fights in the arena, against my wishes. To show the Alfur that we are no better than humanity.
Rydian blinked. “Rotin…is your daughter?”
“Yes,” Levaanton murmured, before inclining its head. “Thank you, for sparing her life.”
Rydian swallowed, mouth suddenly parched. He could still feel the rage bubbling within, but another emotion had appeared at the creature’s words, a sudden hope.
“It is true then?” he gasped. “The legends the people speak of: That you will grant us our freedom for defeating her?”
A frown creased the perfect features of the Alfur. “That’s…that’s not…” It shook its head. “I’m sorry, I cannot do that.”
Its words shattered Rydian’s fragile hope. The rage streamed through to replace it, and suddenly he was on his feet, fists burning with searing energy. The Alfurian guards reacted instantly, their Manus readers springing to life as they pointed in his direction.
Teeth clenched, Rydian stared down at the prince, waiting for him to give the command. The instant the creature moved, Rydian would slay them all, burn them to dust. If he could.
“I am sorry,” the prince said again. Hands raised, it slowly rose to its feet. “I cannot free an entire city. You will not understand, but I cannot.” It considered him, eyes shining in so much Light. “You are a problem for me, Rydian. I cannot kill you, for you spared by daughter. But nor can I return you to the rest of your kind. The secrets you bare, the danger you pose…”
It shook its head, lips twisted into a frown. “There is only one thing for me to do.”
Rydian tensed, expecting the command for his execution to follow, but Levaanton’s next words surprised him.
“I cannot free your city. But I can free you, Rydian, son of Rafael, of the hero Jasmine.” Levaanton bowed its head as it spoke, eyes closing. “You, alone of all the humans, will have your freedom.”
Epilogue
Rydian stood before the ramp to the Alfurian ship, looking up into its glowing Light, and wondered whether Levaanton had decided to betray him after all. Only hours had passed since his meeting with the prince, but already he cursed himself for the questions he had not asked, about Light, about Talamh…
…about his mother.
Maybe it was because he didn’t want to know, to confirm the truth everyone else had accepted. Even the prince himself had named his mother a hero. And Hazel claimed she’d witnessed Jasmine…turn against the resistance with her own eyes. So long as he did not ask, there was still a part of him that could deny, that could run from it.
Though he had greater concerns now.
Behind him, the Alfurian guards stood in a line, Manus readers at the ready, waiting for him to obey their command. Rydian stood fixed in place just to draw their ire. The Light still pressed against his mind, screaming for him to kill them, to burn them for daring to command him. It seemed to fluctuate, turning with his mood, one moment almost idle, dying away until he could almost ignore its presence—then roaring back to life at the least provocation.
He clenched his fists, one flesh, one Light, still eyeing the hangar of the ship. He hadn’t seen anyone since meeting Levaanton. It seemed Rydian wasn’t to be given any goodbyes this time. Not that there was anyone left for him to farewell.
Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes, wondering what his freedom would be like. Levaanton claimed the beasts would not bother him, not now his Light had been unleashed. Humans had been alpha predators amongst the creatures of Talamh, before the Alfur had come. The other creatures still retained their fear for the Light that burned in Rydian’s core.
A feeling he well understood.
If only he could understand anything else. Recalling again Aureli’s words as he lay dying, about his Manus reader, and the Haze, Rydian wondered what the man had known, the secrets that had died with the strange weapons reader. He had tamed a hound of Talamh, had known about the Haze?
How?
Distractedly, Rydian looked to the sky. Night had fallen, but in Goma the stars remained obscured, hidden. He would see them soon though, Aureli’s infinite possibilities. If only they could answer the questions that went unanswered.
Shaking his head, Rydian turned his back on the guards and started towards the ramp. It was time he left this place. Maybe the wilderness would hold the answers he needed…
“Wait.” Rydian paused as a voice called him back, glancing behind him.
Then frowned in surprise as he glimpsed the face of Rotin approaching through the guards. Her scarlet hair tied back and great golden eyes staring, she moved across the landing pad and came to a stop before Rydian.
“What do you want, Rotin?” he asked finally, his voice coming out hard, edged by the rage that had risen at the sight of the Alfurian gladiator.
The Alfur said nothing, only stood watching him, as though by studying she might finally learn some secret about his species. Her translucent lips glowed with a faint Light as she pursed them.
“So you did it for fun?” he asked suddenly, taking a step towards her. Behind the Alfur, the guards lifted their Manus readers in sudden fear. “Because you could?” Rydian continued, ignoring the Light directed in his direction. “Because you knew none of us could defeat you?”
“No,” Rotin asked, her voice surprisingly warm now she wore no helmet. “No,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I did it because what we do is wrong, because it was the only way to show my brethren their evil.”
Rydian frowned at her words, struggling at her explanation, but she continued without waiting for his response.
“I knew one of your species would defeat me, someday,” she murmured, then looked away, golden eyes falling to the floor. “That one would discover the Light. I thought I would be ready, but…” She shook her head, looking at him again. “I am sorry my father will not free your people. He should. But I am glad he at least spared you.” She hesitated again, glancing at her hands, at the glint of the Manus reader in her palm. “Thank you, for sparing me. It is more than I deserved.”
“You’re right,” Rydian replied bluntly. The Light swelled within him, the rage building, but he gripped it tight, refusing to give in.
“The Haze…” Rotin started, then trailed off.
Rydian’s heart lifted at her words. “The Haze?” he pressed, taking another step towards her. “What is it?” he demanded. “What are you not telling me?”
But the Alfur only shook her head. “You must look to the sky for your answers.”
Rydian gritted his teeth at the cryptic words. “What are you saying?”
But Rotin did not answer. Silence fell between them as she stood watching him.
<
br /> “You don’t seem to like your own people very much,” Rydian found himself saying as he watched her.
The Alfur said nothing at that, then: “I love my father and my people,” she murmured, “but that does not mean I cannot disagree with how they have treated your species.”
“Then give me a way to defeat them!” Rydian snapped, the Light pressing against his emotions, demanding he finally act. He pressed it back down, fearing what it would mean to unleash it once more, what would become of him. “Please, tell me their secrets,” he said finally, his voice falling to a whisper.
A sad smile appeared on Rotin’s lips at that. “You are to be dropped in the middle of a remote jungle, hundreds of miles from here,” she replied. “I do not think secrets will help you, Rydian.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Rotin paused at that, a strange, unreadable look crossing her face. “Very well, Rydian, son of Jasmine,” she said finally. “Your mother was not a traitor, not to your people here,” she continued. “There was something in our temple that night, something she discovered that your people can never know about. A weapon that could destroy us all.”
Rydian’s heart pounded in his chest at her words. “What is it?”
“That I will not tell you, Rydian Holt,” Rotin replied. “You will have to discover the truth for yourself.”
With that, she turned and left the landing pad.
Rydian stared after her for a long moment, until finally his guards grew impatient. Then, turning he marched up into the empty hull of the Alfurian ship. He watched as the doors swung closed, as the ship lifted off, as it swept upwards, passing buildings and towers and walls. Until finally the city was left far behind, and the sky was revealed.
Looking out the window at the infinite tapestry of stars, Rydian swore himself a new oath.
That wherever they took him, he would return.
And free his people from the Alfur.
HERE ENDS DEFIANT
