Star Chaser- The Traveler

by Reiter

  “What would have happened had I reported the fact that those boys had arranged a Grenbi trap for me?” he thought as his view returned to young Dungias. “Or did I already have some idea and did not want to bring suffering on my sibling through such measures?”

  The movements of the female became soft and swaying once more as she smiled. “That is the one we have come to know. The one in whom we have invested great hope. The one we will help trek his Star if he will but take to the task.” The female took another step forward. Now she was within Dungias’ reach, but she felt no fear for her well-being.

  “You have yet to tell me where I am,” Dungias said, looking around at the others who were beginning to swim closer to him again. “Not in any way that I can understand. Might I presume I would receive the same level of transparency were I to ask of your name?”

  “No need to make presumptions, Dungias. There are reasons why I am in the place of knowledge and you are not. But I will make with you this simple pact: take up a quest, one of knowledge and therefore challenge, and see it through until the end. Take note; I am not demanding success, nor will you be punished should you fail. But if you see it through, your reward will be more than the answers to these simple questions.

  “But mark this and mark it well, noble soul,” she added as she started to ascend, and Dungias somehow knew that his time in this undefined place was growing short. “… that which is regarded as a boon in a present may indeed be the bane of a future… and vice versa.”

  “Perhaps she and I should have covered the all-too typical cliché characterizations in the same fashion that Nugar and I did,” Dungias thought. “Because how could I expect a clear directive?”

  “The quest is already about you, throughout you… and should you find your way back to Nugar, you will know of what quest I speak. Finish with him and start up the quest, Dungias. And remember your timing, child. Even at its most innocent, it has always served you well. Remember!”

  “I will,” Dungias said as he could feel a slight pull on his body. He returned to a horizontal position and relaxed his shoulders. “And… thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked and Dungias smiled, feeling the pull increase.

  In a moment he was moving away from the swimming star-people and passing through another aperture. It tickled him to believe that he had given her something of a riddle to solve, but the joy of the moment did not hold as the answer to a riddle was made suddenly clear to him.

  “A place within me,” he thought. Iro-forms started passing around him and they held both light and warmth. “A place within my mind!” he concluded. “With our words exchanged at the speed of thought, it would have taken only an instant, a blink of an eye. I am still passing through the aperture!”

  Dungias’ body collided with a floor, a padded floor, and he was grateful for the softer landing, though there was not enough padding to keep the sudden stop from hurting and the young Malgovi moaned.

  “Now that is what I call a bad landing,” a voice remarked before Dungias heard someone sucking his teeth. “You have no form at all, do you?” Dungias reached for his satchel. He felt a slight breeze whisk around his face and torso. His hand reached to his hip, but the satchel should have prevented the contact… had it been there to do so.

  “You looking for something?” the voice asked and Dungias pushed up from the floor. He felt another soft breeze, followed by a powerful gust that lifted him up from the floor and flipped him twice before dropping him back to the floor on his chest. With the wind nearly removed from his lungs, Dungias did not move much upon landing. He gasped for air as his body registered the pain the impact had caused. He could not feel the lower left side of his face, and he put his head to the padded floor in an attempt to focus.

  “Who said anything about you getting up?” the voice asked as Dungias lay still. Surprising himself, Dungias opened his eyes to see a four-sided room dimly lit by hanging torches that did not hold much fire in them. The way Dungias had landed he was facing a wall that was covered with devices he did not recognize. His body was in the center of the padded floor area, which seemed to be one hundred square trams. The weapons were approximately fifteen trams beyond the edge of the padded area. “And now you’re eyeing my weapons?” the voice asked before Dungias felt another soft breeze.

  With a loud grunt, Dungias pushed off from the floor and felt something pass under him. He landed and the soft breeze fluttered and returned. A ducking forward roll prevented the landing of another blow, but Dungias twisted his back trying to stop his forward momentum suddenly. The honed edge of a sword rested against his throat and he could feel blood rolling down the side of his neck.

  “Now that could have been embarrassing,” the voice said.

  “I mean you no harm,” Dungias quickly stated.

  “I suppose that’s a good thing, seeing as how you wouldn’t be one to deliver if you did.”

  “I am confused,” Dungias stressed.

  “That much is certain,” the voice agreed.

  “Why are you attacking me?!”

  “Why are you in my dojo? Uninvited! Are you a Tiger? Are you one of those blasted tigers?!” the voice asked as the blade suddenly grew heavier.

  “Master, I do not even know what a tiger is!” Dungias said, falling to his back. Without error or seeming as if it was touching anything but Dungias, the blade moved with him.

  “I’ve taught my share of people… but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever taught something that looks like you. Still, not even knowing what a tiger is hardly makes you one of them. Though, the way most of them fight, I’d swear they don’t know what a damn tiger is either! Get up!” As Dungias rolled over to get up he heard a soft hissing sound. A streak of golden fire passed over the torches and they were made to burn ten times brighter. “You have a name, whelp?”

  “Dungias.” He stood up to see a slender hominoid form, though he could only see its left shoulder and back. A soft gasp escaped from him as he looked at the figure’s face. “I’ve seen you before. In my dreams!”

  “Ho boy, I think I might have hit you too hard, Junior,” the master said, cutting a curious glare over at Dungias. His eyes were steel and they flared with power. His long, wavy, black hair swung around his shoulders as he turned to face Dungias. “I appreciate the honesty and all, but I don’t go that way!”

  “You’re a Founder!”

  “A what?”

  “A Founder. You traveled with Zeu Rex!

  “And when did I dream that?” Dungias thought, not remembering the occasion.

  “Wow! We’ve been called a lot of things, but never something so la–” the Terran put his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “You know what, the name’s Nexeous.” He stepped toward Dungias and offered his hand.

  “You’re the Red Dragon!”

  “Didn’t know I got that much play,” he replied. “But, yes, I am, and it’s Red Dragonne. Everyone keeps forgetting that,” Nexeous muttered before looking back at the awestruck youth. “And you are Dungias. Where do I know that name from?”

  “Dungias Preltan?” Dungias guessed, trying to recall his History lessons and his own research into the origin of his name.

  “Oh yeah, good ol’ Prel!” Nexeous smiled, recalling the name and the person that went along with it. Dungias was relieved that one of the fathers of iro-forms was known by one of the Founders. “But I thought the first name given was the family name with you Malgovi?”

  “You would be correct in that assessment, Master,” Dungias replied. “But I wonder if you are the real Nexeous.” The short Terran man turned and looked at Dungias before all expression left his face and his body went rigid.

  “He is not!”

  Dungias turned to see what first looked to be a green Radient, but there was something noticeably different about him. Dungias could not see through him as he could the other Radients. There was also an essence to him; thoughts and feelings that Dungias could feel. The Radients all seemed to be empty s
hells of light.

  “Elder!” Dungias whispered.

  “Unfortunately, no, I am not he,” the green figure said as he approached. “But like the Nexeous you’ve been speaking to, I am a facsimile of Elder, a doppelganger if you will. And since you did not know that, you can’t be the one we’re waiting for… yes, very unfortunate.”

  “I apologize,” Dungias replied, not knowing what to say or do.

  “For what?” the Elder copy asked. “For being you and not the one we were told would come for us? I’m just glad you’re not another Destroyer.”

  “Destroyer?”

  “Yes,” the energy creature replied, touching his finger to the face of the Nexeous copy. Life returned to the form, but he said nothing as he turned to walk out of the dojo. “We were attacked not long after our masters departed. That engagement was brief and there was nothing of importance lost. But there were three others, each increasing in power and capability. When we lost Red Bear, Forrell and Arrjeeh, I decided we needed to find a place of refuge. That is why Chiaro created this sanctum.”

  Looking around the dojo, Dungias started to make his way to the sliding doors. “Is that where we are now?”

  “One of the many chambers within it,” Elder answered. “This way we could keep the High Lord’s word and maintain our existence.”

  “The High Lord’s word?” Dungias asked and he could see that the question did not register well with his host. “I only ask because it seems that there may be a number of misunderstandings occurring at this very moment. For instance, do you know what I am?”

  “You are Malgovi,” he said, looking around the room. “And you are alone.”

  “I was not awa– No, that isn’t entirely true,” Dungias said, remembering what his Teacher had given him as truth which flew in the face of what he had been reading all of his life. “The Vinthur that is supposed to be with me did not make it through the aperture.”

  “Why not?” the Elder copy asked, looking quite concerned. “Was it my Radients?”

  “I am afraid so,” Dungias replied. “They are quite disagreeable. Perhaps they too have been affected by the attacks. It is hard to say, but with the way you, and your Nexeous, have presented yourselves, I have to ask you a question: when was the last time you saw Preltan?”

  “Going on what you would call an orbi-term,” the Elder copy answered. “One year to us.”

  “I know you are guarded against the fact that I might be another attack,” Dungias said, moving to keep his hands in full view and away from his sides. “… which tells me it’s been the Malgovi coming to destroy you, but I am going to ask you to engage the reason I know you possess.

  “My family name is Z’Gunok. I was given the name Dungias and I was named after Dungias Preltan, since his Houseline is no more. How do you think one my age could–”

  “Be named after one who was last in our eyes a year ago?” Elder asked, dumbfounded at the concept.

  “How are you keeping in touch with what is going on outside the aperture?”

  “My Radients,” Elder replied.

  “Then there is something that is greatly the matter,” Dungias concluded. “The Radients under Flavicia’s command are aggressive, much like their mistress.”

  “And the others?” Elder asked.

  “You mean the other,” Dungias corrected. “… the one who now calls himself Sai-Eg.”

  “No,” Elder stated definitively. “I speak of the one called Berylon and the Radients under his command; maidens of light and grace.”

  “Now this is beginning to make sense,” Dungias said softly. “I can tell you, Elder, a great many things have gone wrong, but your protectors are still with you, though they may not necessarily know they are with you. I believe that if I can get out of here, I can reach Sai-Eg, Berylon, and perhaps set some things to the right. The only trouble would be in surviving being blasted with various iro-forms.”

  “You could use what the last attackers used,” Elder offered. “Their resistance to directed energies is what made them so formidable. Had it not been for Nexeous and his brother, we would have been lost.”

  “What did the last attackers use?”

  “I am not sure, but we have yet to dispose of the bodies,” Elder advised. “Come with me.”

  “I am your eager shadow, Master,” Dungias said, opening the sliding doors. “Let us be away!” The sentient energy form flew and Dungias ran, engaging Pax’Dulah whenever and wherever he could. He could hear the Elder copy laughing as he looked up at Dungias.

  “Not bad for a beginner! Alphexeous could help you correct your form. Either he or his brother Nexeous.”

  “Let me guess,” Dungias said jumping from perch to perch. “… they were the ones who taught Pax’Dulah!”

  The Elder copy smiled in the midst of pleasant reflection. “Ahh, little Paxie!”

  A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots.

  Marcus Garvey

  What had started as a quick touch to the wall soon became a near-permanently extended arm as Dungias followed the Elder copy from the dojo to what appeared to be some sort of workshop. It seemed that each room simply fed into another room; there was no corridor to speak of, and the diversity of the rooms was incredible. From the dojo to what was clearly a computer engineering laboratory where an android worked on the construction of a fairly complicated looking computer system. The Elder copy made his apologies for barging in, though Dungias could not make out to whom he was speaking, and the two pressed on.

  From there they entered into a gymnasium that was far too warm for Dungias’ tastes and smelled of sweat and musk. The equipment was slightly worn and a lone figure stood against the wall, opposite of the door the two had entered through. The dim lighting prevented the view of his face, but what Dungias could see of the body, he knew the equipment had been put to good use The Elder copy looked as if he were about to speak when the figure held up his hand as if to suggest he stop. When the Elder copy closed his mouth, the figure pointed to the door along the wall to the right. After a nod in appreciation, the Elder copy turned and moved through the door there.

  The dining room appeared to have been, at one time, lavishly decorated but had fallen into a state of disarray. Dungias could also smell rotten food coming from the serving trays and was doubly motivated to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Between his weakness and dizziness, the nausea only added to his woes. Leaving the chamber, Dungias stumbled into a short hallway. When he looked back, Dungias was not surprised to see a blank wall blocking the way they had come. He placed his hand on the wall and kept it there to keep from falling from the weight of his own body, but he did not lose a stride on the Elder copy and felt a sense of relief as he looked at the end of the corridor. With the double doors wide open, Dungias could see into the room and the board on the far wall and an assortment of tools arranged on it. Most of the tools he did not recognize, but he could clearly see that each one was well cared for and maintained.

  “With Arrjeeh no longer with us, we will have to call upon another one of our brethren to get you the information you seek,” the Elder copy said as he stopped at the threshold of the room and allowed his head to lean into the room. “He hasn’t been with us for long, but he’s quite capable.”

  “Will you stop embarrassing yourself?!” a young voice shot out as a large hand of white light grabbed the Elder copy and pulled him into the room. Dungias rushed to enter and see if he could be of any assistance. Two strides in and his face bashed into a hard red wall that had not been there a moment before. The impact to his face was hard. Dungias had been struck with lighter fists, and he pressed his hands to the wall to remove his face from it. He shook his head and started to take a step back only to have another wall prevent the movement. In turning to look behind him, Dungias could see that the red wall had somehow wrapped around him.

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” the voice suggested in a sarcastic
tone. “… you know, if you’re one of those that goes in for sloppy guesswork. If you take a moment, you’ll see that you didn’t hit a wall… you’ve just been trapped inside a gem. That was Arrjeeh’s thing: he was a MaGem!” Through the red wall to his right, Dungias could see through to a young Terran male who was taking a seat in a high stool. “A lot of them were something, before packs of your kind showed up.”

  “I know not of the ones you speak,” Dungias started before the pinky finger on the left hand of the youth lifted up and the walls of Dungias’ prison began to glow, sending iro-forms through his body, but only for a moment. Dungias was still screaming long after the glow had faded. He had never felt such a delivery, and though he was still standing, he had lost all feeling in both legs.

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” the young man said, wiping his nose quickly before hopping down from the stool. “The name’s Beta-JoBe, and of all the Beta Forms walking around here, I’m the only one that even comes close to remembering that he is a Beta Form, and not the thing he sees looking back at him in the mirror. Elder comes close, but you might have noticed his trouble with keeping time. If it helps, you can call me BJ.” Dungias stammered, but could form no coherent words. “Yeah, I know, it is a sweeping moment for me too.

  “And just to let you know you’re not in the company of a savage, let me explain myself. If you were here to finish the job that so many others had started so many years ago, it’d be a smart play for you to claim ignorance of the multitude of blue-skins that preceded you.” BJ walked up to the ruby walls and placed his hand on the gigantic gem he had suspended off the floor. “But that little sting I gave you looks like it really hurt. And you didn’t take it as well as most of your predecessors. Add to that mix the fact that you look a bit on the young side to be a Mal-Vin.”

  “I can assure that I am not,” Dungias struggled to say, not sure what to think of the reference. BJ nodded for a moment before digging into his pocket and producing a small blue stone. He held it up beside his face and a small hologram started to form in front of Dungias’ face. He could clearly see the golden-haired young boy with crystal blue eyes. Dungias wondered how accurate these Beta Forms were to the source material. The boy had the frame of a youth, but in the short walk from the stool to the surprise imprisonment stone he had demonstrated a metered rhythm and length of stride. That was the sign of a stringent training regimen. The glare in his eyes was hardly one of a naïve youth, but rather that of a gambler and a courageous warrior.