Star Chaser- The Traveler

by Reiter

  “Yes!” Warseth said with great exuberance. “And it turned out to be a most enterprising endeavor for you, good Prince.”

  “It was a service to the Throne and the Malgovi,” SonBa replied and Sryla’s eyes softened as she looked upon her Vu-Prin. “I see no enterprise there save the preservation of life.” She had misspoken. No one was as loyal to the people as SonBa. Not even the Queen herself. Sryla blinked her eyes slowly and remembered how he had spoken at the time when the heir had to be named. For three generations offered to the Throne, the people had gone without a king, but SonBa spoke, it had been made clear it would have to go at least one more. SonBa had proclaimed his support of his Vi-Prin and her station before the decision of the Queen could be announced.

  “And what price can be put to that?” Sryla added, extending her hand toward her Vu-Prin. Without hesitation SonBa lowered to his right knee and took her hand, kissing the palm tenderly. She closed her eyes at the sense of it, for it was more than a kiss. “It would seem I am the one in need of reminding, my Vu-Prin.”

  “I serve you in all strides, Vi-Prin,” SonBa said before rising. Duke MarrZo smiled with only a prolonged exhale giving any sign that there may have been any tension in the chamber. He looked back to the arena as all the racers for the first heat had taken to the course.

  “It seems that this heat has already lost a racer,” Duke MarrZo noted.

  “What makes you say that?” the First Princess asked.

  “That one there, the would-be crowd favorite, of the Kith Z’Gunok, either something is wrong with his sled, or he chooses not to acknowledge you.”

  “Is that so?” Sryla asked, turning her attention to the slide-sled and racer in question.

  “I think not, First Princess,” SonBa stated. “He has given both his eyes and a salute. And as I recall, he is not required to do that.”

  Duke MarrZo Falo Warseth scowled down on the contestant in question. In truth, he had very little argument against the youth. But he knew the Z’Gunok Clan, and was well aware of their shay-spawn son. The fact he was allowed to remain in the family had always been of some concern to the Duke of the Sastra Region. While the parents were indeed anxious to present Gantee, Warseth had… misgivings about the lad’s potential. “He goes against what is customary,” MarrZo argued, releasing the squint from around his navy blue eyes. “Perhaps that is his intent.”

  “What say you, First Prince?” Sryla inquired. “Should he be removed?”

  “I fear that the good Duke counsels in and from the category of the unnecessary,” SonBa answered, taking as close a look at the sled as he could. He moved his blue hair out of his face to study the racer and his sled. The design of the chassis reminded him of something he had seen some time ago, when he was not an instructor, but a Gamesman. He remembered mostly how the craft looked from the rear. Though he was indeed an Iro-Gellvu and an Iro-Games Ishok, he had not won every event in which he participated, merely the majority of them. “Nay, First Princess, I ask that you allow the racer.”

  “My advice would not concur,” Warseth replied, feeling the need to be heard. “… but I give the decision freely to the First Princess.”

  Sryla looked at the racer once more and recalled the words of her Queen. “There are many things that are going about here this star-term. Some we will see clearly; and some will pass by the eye unchecked, for that is their nature.

  “And in speaking of such things, Duke MarrZo, you have yet to inquire why the Queen requested that I make this visit to Sastra.”

  “Such things are also not required, Your Highness,” Duke MarrZo quickly replied.

  “Then let us give this Gamesman matching berth,” Princess Sryla requested. “You are a trusted friend, good Duke. That is my opinion, and I have been given leave to advise you that such is the perspective of the Queen as well. Her words were simple and uttered to me as this star-term began: ‘Go to Sastra and watch’ she said. ‘Do not simply see for in seeing we miss much. This is a question of iro, so let the Stars guide as they will.’ I can assure you she is not normally so cryptic, but when her words are not clear, it is only because she does not wish to influence a perspective.”

  “The Queen is nothing if she is not wise beyond the Stars,” MarrZo stated.

  “I think it is safe to say my mother feels drawn to this time and place,” Sryla added.

  “Drawn, First Princess?”

  “Indeed, Duke MarrZo,” Sryla answered. “Will that suffice you?”

  “My trust is in the Throne,” MarrZo said, closing his eyes and bowing.

  “As is mine and my Vu-Prin’s. So let us watch and see what unfolds.”

  The announcer, after giving the last name of the heat, turned to face the Royal Viewing Chamber. As he gave a slow and deep bow toward the First Princess, he announced that the race would begin upon her word. It was an honor Sryla was glad to give to her Vu-Prin. SonBa smiled, accepting the gesture, and his body started to glow. He stepped up on the wall of the chamber and looked down on the racers and then to the announcer to whom he bowed. The announcer smiled and nodded, pleased that the Ishok remembered him. It made the loss his student had suffered at the hands of the Prince more justified, if only as a matter of grace.

  The First Prince then gave a warm smile and lifted his hand, waiting for the racers to come out of the last turn. In the very wide lane, each racer moved up to the side of another, forming a line across the noses of their sleds. With very little effort, a bright yellow burst of light flew from the First Prince’s hand and exploded high over the top of the arena, signaling the beginning of the race. All of the racers channeled power into the sleds, pushing for each vehicle to attain its greatest speed. To the surprise and delight of the crowd, one slide-sled lunged in front of all the others and Gantee took an early and sizable lead.

  “By the Stars!” MarrZo gasped. “Is it possible for a sled to move that fast?” The Duke had only spoken what many were thinking, including one of the judges who immediately ordered a scan of the sled in question. As the judges sat below the Royal Chamber, the First Prince overheard the request and he looked down, intent on viewing the results of the scan.

  “I am reading two fully charged capacitors,” the judge announced. “Foul!”

  “Before you post your findings to the arena,” SonBa spoke in a stronger voice, ensuring that he would be heard by the judges. “… might I ask that you consult the scans that were made before the race began… just to see if the capacitors were charged then.” Taking the directions given to them, the scans were reviewed. Gantee's sled did indeed possess two capacitors, but neither of them had been charged.

  “There, you see,” the First Prince said with a smile. “While all the other racers were expending power to make sure they were seen and heard, that young Gamesman was charging his sled.” SonBa turned to face Duke MarrZo and smiled. “And unless I'm mistaken, the only prerequisite for the format of the sleds is that they be powered only by the contestant.”

  “Still, that borders on cheating, wouldn't you say?” MarrZo asked.

  “It borders on a once-used and seemingly forgotten Vinthur tactic, but I see no foul in his actions. Let the race continue… though it seems unlikely that anyone will catch the young man in front!” As the First Prince turned to take his seat, the nose of Gantee’s sled finally settled in its normal position. He made his turns well, pressing his sled for speed in every straightaway. His lead only increased as Gantee never looked back and crossed the finish line with a bright smile on his face.

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  Dungias stood with his back against the wall, still contemplating the impasse to come. His father came from the staging area, almost in a panic, and the moment he laid eyes on Dungias, he ran toward him with anger mounting for every stride he had to take to reach him.

  “What did you do?” he asked Dungias. “What did you do to your Vu-Prin's sled? It did not show like any of the others. And how is it that his sled can travel at such speeds? What
did you do?!”

  “I made a few alterations, customizations if you will,” Dungias answered, preoccupied with the Blaxidurn Family issue. “Gantee should have no trouble with placing in the top two positions, provided he does not win handily.”

  “Well, he did win handily!” Jorl’Lassor exclaimed. “I'm waiting for them to brand this all a foul!”

  “Whatever for?” Dungias asked before his Vu-Zai took harsh grasp of his shoulders, only to realize just how solidly built his eldest son was. But before Dungias could speak, the sound of the cheering masses brought them from their moment and Jorl’Lassor turned to run back and greet his son.

  Gantee was still smiling and waving to the crowd when Jorl’Lassor joined him. Vu-Zai looked at Vu-Khan, then the crowd, then to the judges, who were saluting Gantee, before allowing a smile to appear on his face. He was not about to press the issue. If the judges were calling Gantee's victory legitimate, Jorl’Lassor was not about to give argument.

  “I suppose the placement you had in the race was not as important as we might have thought,” Jorl’Lassor said to Gantee as he smiled. It was an expression that faded as Gantee walked right by him to embrace Dungias.

  “I don't know what you did–”

  “I made a few simple changes,” Dungias said, returning his Vu-Prin’s embrace. “I am sorry if it cost you a few points of presence.”

  “I am not sure, Vu-Prin,” Gantee said as he looked at the crowd. “But it would appear that I have all the presence necessary to reach the next Round.

  “Now tell me more about attacking one's demeanor,” Gantee said as he ushered Dungias into his stall. “We have plenty of heats in which to prepare.”

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  Without the presence of Nugar, it would have been quite a challenge to see who could have broken from their stupor first. Many contestants walked by on their way to and from the track. The chattering of the merchant fell on deaf ears as Danatra witnessed the exchange between her siblings. Only Laylaria was spared too great a length of time before she was stirred from being awestruck, and she had the aged Master Traveler to thank for it. She would not ask again if the old one had received his sign. The time since she had last been in the company of the Travelers was before Danatra had been born, but her mind had not forgotten them. The fact that Nugar was at the arena, and had chosen to remain at said location, meant he had found what he was looking for; what the Stars had led him here to find. It was no longer a matter of if; Laylaria knew enough of the Vinthur, and even more of their mysterious Travelers, to realize all that Nugar was looking for was the proper when!

  You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back.

  Anonymous

  Z’Gunok Viora Laylaria thought the cheering would never stop as pride swelled inside her. The second and third heats of the slide-sled race had been run, but she could still hear so many voices cheering the name Gantee! She allowed her deep rust-colored eyes to sweep over the audience. She could see the gaiety had transcended the social barriers as Iro-Gellvi and Gellvu shouted Gantee’s name right along with others of lesser capability and position. The space that was normally given was nowhere to be seen, yet no one complained or struck out against the insult of being touched by one who was not in the embrace of the Stars.

  The Vi-Zai of the cheered gamesman held her left hand inside of her right with both pressed against her stomach as she stood near the glass of the booth, looking out over the arena. Her vision sharpened as the she noticed the large video monitor begin to change. With two of the four rounds completed, the remaining gamesmen were now listed. Specifically speaking, the order in which the contestants were listed meant nothing, but it came as no surprise when the name of Z’Gunok Tel Gantee appeared in the first position and the cheers somehow managed to increase in volume.

  Laylaria jumped, as no touch received could be soft enough, despite Nugar’s best intention. “You are a Vi-Zai, and I would dare to say a very good one,” Nugar whispered as he moved closer. “So forgive me if I press my place too far into the workings of your family. Still, your concerns, and more importantly your fears serve no one; least of all, yourself.”

  “There is no intrusion, Traveler,” Laylaria said as she sighed and the tension in her shoulders was removed. “Your counsel is well received, and I am grateful to receive both your attention and your intention.”

  “Then this course has brought us both to a better place,” Nugar smiled as he ushered Laylaria back to her seat. “Let us then drink in celebration of your Vu-Khan.”

  “You mean my Vu-Khani,” Laylaria corrected.

  “Indeed I–”

  “Why would anyone make mention of Dungias?” Danatra asserted herself as she lifted her glass and chuckled. “How preposterous! He is simply doing what he has been told to do, and that you can expect from a drone. But then again, given the subject, perhaps a celebration is indeed in order.” Nugar's eyes were fixed upon Laylaria, reading every characteristic of her reaction. He could see the muscles in her neck had tightened, the sort of sequence necessary to turn one's head quickly; but just as quickly he could see the concerned Vi-Zai restrain herself. Nugar also noted the sting in the woman's eyes. She did not care for her Vi-Khan’s commentary, but she chose not to respond to it. Her mouth opened to say something, but no words fell from her lips. She stammered, looked around her immediate area and then returned her attention to the arena crowd and the Games.

  “Curious,” Nugar thought, moving his gaze to the floor as his left hand pulled at the hairs on his chin. It was time for him to return to silence and simply observe. Perhaps he had already engaged himself too deeply in the circumstances surrounding him. But he had been given ample opportunity to withdraw and return to his perch; there was no reason for him not to take advantage of the moment.

  A hush fell over the ground as the announcer for the Iro-Games returned to his podium. Though it was widely known what event was to take place in the Third Round, the anticipation of the announcement embraced the mob and there was a silent stillness in the arena. He cleared his throat and looked out over the crowd before speaking.

  “The first half of these Iro-Games has been concluded,” he announced. “… the worthy have been posted and stand ready to proceed. The next event will take the remaining eighty-four contestants down to five. I speak, of course, of the Wailing Road.” The attendants of the Games did not cheer, for that was not the custom. They took to their seats and started to stomp the floor.

  The Wailing Road was an obstacle course of considerable length and even greater difficulty. Contestants were expected to negotiate obstacles of many different natures as well as opponents strategically placed along the path. Gamesmen would compete four at a time while the ones who waited for their opportunity could only view the progress of their competitors on a tactical holographic display. Since the entire course was made up of force fields and holographic projections all derived by a computer at the beginning of each heat, it served no purpose to study the map during the races as the course changed between heats. With the last of the qualifying competitions done, the remaining contestants were drawn by way of lottery. Still, Dungias was not surprised to hear his brother's name called out for the first heat.

  Jorl’Lassor spoke to Gantee, trying in earnest to give him greater hope and confidence; but the hopeful parent did not have the young combatant’s attention as he turned to receive Jorl’s words. Gantee was looking for the masked contestant, the current entry in these games from the Blaxidurn Clan. He did not have to search long.

  “Hail to my fellow gamesman,” Gantee called out, waving at the stout, young individual. “What are we to call you?” The normal chatter that often rattled on between the rounds of the Games was suddenly brought down to just above a whisper as all eyes sought the object of Gantee's attention. “The mask is… dare I say quaint?” A few chuckles carried over the crowd and Dungias pressed his lips together, forcing himself to remain silent. His younger sibling had moved too soon!


  “I wonder why you wear the mask,” Gantee continued, taking a broad stance and placing his left fist on his hip. Suddenly he was possessive of too much space, and an assumed authority that his amplitude and skill could not substantiate. “Are you trying to be considerate of our eyes? Or perhaps it is a symbolic gesture: the mask hides your face as your incredible amplitude masks your ineptitude!”

  Dungias put his hand to the back of Gantee's left shoulder and delivered the slightest suggestion that his Vu-Prin should proceed to the starter's platform. Gantee quickly shrugged his shoulder, shedding Dungias’ touch as others allowed a soft and low growl to escape from their mouths, signifying the weight of Gantee's insult.

  “You seem to be one who likes the sound of his own voice,” the masked contestant replied and Dungias was even more unsettled. He was disturbed by the softness of the young Malgovi’s voice, the choice of his spoken meter, and the way he chose to speak over his shoulder; signifying that Gantee deserved only the merest proportion of his attention. His performance in the Games had kept to the way of the family name. His temperance, however, was unexpected and much more guarded than that of Kinjass. “We will see what you have to say when these Games are complete and I stand above you.”

  “If that is the situation,” Gantee quickly retorted, “then I fear I must ask to see your arena pass. For the only ones that stand above me paid good wage for their seats! The last thing we need is a booth-swiping vermisar.” Calling his fellow contestant a worm drew another chorus of groans as those who stood immediately between the two quickly sought other ground.

  “What are you doing, child?” Jorl’Lassor finally decided to speak in a very low voice, taking hold of his youngest child’s wrist. “Your mind needs to be focused on the deeds that lie ahead of you. This is not our way!”