by Reiter
“Yet you knew I was coming,” Dungias returned.
“Never doubted it for a moment,” Nugar smiled. “That suit looks familiar, but the growth you have on the back there is new.”
“I had to make a few… alterations,” Dungias said, reaching to his back and producing Nugar’s Osamu. “You dropped this before you left.”
Nugar took hold of it and seemed as if he had received new strength. “Well, I am getting old, Dungi. There’s simply no telling where I will leave this thing!” Dungias merely nodded in acknowledgement and started for the door. Nugar extended his perceptions and knew the door was suddenly no longer a viable exit plan. He shouted his warning, but Dungias had proven to be too quick for his own good. Isak touched his hand to Dungias’ chest and hurled him back across the room with electricity cooking into his screaming young body. He slammed against the far wall before falling to the floor.
“Not so fast,” Isak whispered as he walked into the room. “So very close. I bet you could taste the victory as much as I could detect your presence as I was leaving.” Without looking, Isak blocked the iro-form stream that came from Nugar’s Osamu. “And you are far too weak and too well-traveled to delude yourself into thinking you can stop me.” A thrust came from the blocking hand and Nugar was surrounded by a body frame of pure energy. It outlined his body perfectly and any movement, other than breathing, would burn the Master Traveler. The thickness of the frame told Nugar it was too strong to chance moving, believing he could stand the pain while bringing his Osamu to bear. All he had access to were the firing controls and he needed to get to the formation grid and change the type of energy the Osamu could manipulate. The energy frame, however, had entrapped the rod as well as its master.
“Poor, old, delusional Traveler,” Isak said as he made a gesture and did away with the table, hurling it into the far corner. To his surprise, his mystery guest was getting up. “Then again, perhaps there is reason for hope!”
“You know what I am, Invoker,” Dungias said in a deeper and growling voice. He slowly drew his black rod and twirled it as he readied himself. His sudden shift in tone, demeanor, and word choice had been fathered by his time with Liorr, and the facts he had gained during their conversation.
“I don’t have the first clue, actually,” Isak replied. “I had hoped you were the object of my searching efforts–”
“Aahhh, but you’re not the only one who knows the old Traveler is the only one who can find him.”
“You and your people have grown desperate,” Isak stated. “Before I kill you, I will vent my frustrations on your bones!
“I suppose as an Invoker, I am supposed to be without combative skills.” Slapping his hands together, a flash of red and gold light sparked from the impact. Isak then drew his hands apart, creating an iro-form Osamu.
“Without skill… minimal skill – they are the same in the Light!” Dungias said, tilting his head. He closed his eyes and embraced what it was to fight Kynsada, Onkorro and Guyn. He combined that with what he had gained from the Shadow Corps and decided to keep his eyes closed.
Isak moved forward and Dungias bolted to meet him. The glowing rod sparked as it met with the black metal, and both rods were above the heads of their wielders. Isak knew better than to engage in a test of strength, and spun, hoping to draw his opponent off balance. As the black body-suited man stepped forward, Isak spun to strike for the back. His spin was quick and his attack was fierce. Another spark flared when his attack was blocked by the black rod that had been moved to his opponent’s back. Dungias leaned and pushed against Isak’s shoulder, receiving an electrical shock as he made contact. He grunted in pain and staggered away from Isak who stepped back three strides from the push.
“You’re a strong one,” Isak concluded. “And your suit is obviously designed to deal with directed electricity, so I doubt I will get that surprise again.” Taking another step back, Isak allowed the rod to fade. “But let’s try this one!” Dropping to his knee, Isak slapped both hands to the ground. The room shook for a moment. Dungias activated the stealth field as he jumped up from the floor. Giant spikes shot up through the floor panels and pierced the ceiling. Isak took a moment to recover from the effort he had been forced to mount quickly. He opened his eyes and found reason to suspend his normal recovery methods.
“You are a clever one,” Isak remarked as he saw no one, not even blood. The Invoker lifted his hands, the sides of his index fingers pressed together, and separated the stalks of stone as he parted his hands.
“Interesting compliment, since you know I am not affiliated with the Throne,” Dungias whispered and his voice echoed. “Give us the Traveler and you can live to see another star-term.”
“Speaking of,” Isak said as his eyes flashed with white light. He turned to face Nugar with his left hand already aflame with white fire. The trap for the Master Traveler was still there, but nothing was inside of it. “You are very good!”
“Let us be finished with this. I ask of you only one favor,” Dungias said, dropping the stealth field just before his foot stamped against the side of Isak’s knee. The Invoker yelled as his leg gave, but his outcry was cut short by a haymaker that landed squarely on his jaw. His opponent, however, had only struck the shielding the Invoker had prepared before he reentered the chamber.
“And what would that be?!” he asked, lunging for Dungias’ face with his blazing hand. The hand missed Dungias’ leaning body, but the wrist of the Invoker was quickly grabbed. Dungias spun and thrust his hand forward. Both of their hands passed into the wall, but Dungias quickly removed his grip and Isak screamed in pain as his hand integrated with the bricks and mortar. Dungias then removed his mask.
“Tell Sryla she need not send anyone after me,” Dungias said before kicking Isak at the shoulder of his free hand. He could feel it separate from the joint and he started for the door. “… I will be at Quantia Prime as soon as I am able!”
As soon as he was outside the room, the façade of coolness and control faded. He looked down the corridor and both teacher and student could hear footfalls approaching. “Perhaps we should try this way,” Dungias suggested, donning his mask again. Nugar broke into a run.
“My ghost suit?!” Nugar asked. “You broke into my personal vault?”
“None of your locks were maintained after your departure!” Dungias reminded his teacher.
“That intangibility field eats up quite a bit of power!” Nugar pointed out.
“Thus the growth on my back that you mentioned” Dungias replied. “It is a battery, and it afforded me an easier entrance. I dropped down through the ceiling.”
“These walls are thick.”
“And iro-form shielded,” Dungias added.
“Which means you needed to use the ‘full power’ setting.”
“Seventy percent. I set the suit to the same parameter changes I made to your stealth field before coming here. Plus, the stealth field also helps with the phasing process.”
“Even that size of battery would be next to dead after such a feat. What recharged it?”
“The Great Arch Lord’s propensity for electrical fields.” Nugar shook his head and chuckled, remembering how Isak had made his entrance back into the room and Dungias’ push.
“And the scream?”
“All the more reason for him to increase his amplitude,” Dungias answered as he touched his teacher and powered up the stealth field. He ran faster and urged his teacher to keep pace. “He does so love to flaunt his power. Well, his display affords us this!” Dungias touched his rod to Nugar’s Osamu and the two of them jumped through the wall to land in the back alley of the Invoker College of Tremulan City.
“They brought me to Tremulan?!” Nugar said, recognizing most of the architecture. “No wonder you took as long as you did. This, however, does not bode well for our escape, boy. We are running toward the center of campus, and I don’t have many strides left in me.”
“Then we shall make what you have remaining co
unt for the most we could hope for!”
The wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but deliverance from fear.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
With his arm wrapped around Nugar’s waist, Dungias moved quickly and quietly over the grounds. The Invoker College was only one section of the massive Tremulan Annex of K’Dalkian University. Each capital city hosted an annex. Two of them were dedicated to civilian pursuits: Tremulan City was the central complex for the sciences, and Haldi maintained the liberal arts college. The third major city, Founders Pointe, was where one could find the military college. Dungias carried his mentor for over one hundred trams when he stopped in the alley of a church. Nugar was beginning to weaken and started shaking his head.
“You have done more than I dared to dream,” Nugar started. Dungias’ hand quickly found his master’s lips and held them still.
“I thought we addressed the use of overly used teacher-student clichés,” Dungias whispered as he looked around. The campus was certainly abuzz in the quadrant dedicated to the Invokers. He smiled underneath the mask at the result of his handiwork.
“And what would you call this so-called escape mission?!” Nugar projected.
“A teachable moment!” Dungias shot back before lifting his hand and leaning in close to his teacher. “There are two ways I can carry you, Kwinsoah, and only one of them leaves you conscious!”
“Striking your teacher? Well, that’s hardly cliché,” Nugar commented.
“Only outside the mind of the student, my Teacher. Only outside.
“We must wait a moment longer,” Dungias directed as he removed his waistpack.
“What are we waiting for?”
“The morning service,” he answered, opening a pressure pocket on the inside panel of the pack. Cloth expanded rapidly as air hit it and Dungias unfolded two hooded robes, donning one himself and helping Nugar into the other.
“This church is of no listed denomination,” Nugar pointed out. “We could be walking into a sky-clad ceremony.”
“Not this star-term,” Dungias replied, suppressing the laughter at his mentor’s humor. “This star-term’s service is Light-claimed.”
“The Followers of the Stars!” Nugar whispered. “Never lose your sense of expression, Dungias. There is a beauty to your poetic perspective.”
“I loaded a dose of sealant and healing ointment into your Osamu,” Dungias advised. “Take it and focus on what you need to in order to remove your essence from the ones who will soon be hounding us.” Placing a small cylindrical device in the ground, Dungias took hold of his rod and stood up.
“What have I done?” Nugar thought, looking at his Osamu. Stated as if it were something entirely casual, Nugar had never heard of someone safely tampering with another’s Osamu. Though he was taken aback by the statement, he knew he would receive no answers unless this escape attempt proved to be successful. He took the medicine and braced himself for the jolt that often came with the blend.
The wearing of the robes was quite helpful to Nugar’s objective. Already somewhat cloaked, he allowed what he felt physically to be broadcast from his mind. As Dungias stood up, Nugar suddenly felt lighter. He was not floating, but it was of negligible effort for him to stand.
“Did he doctor the doctoring?!” Nugar thought as he started to walk for the doors of the church. He kept his head down and his strides even. Dungias reached the double doors before him and opened them.
The two walked inside and Dungias ushered his mentor to take a seat on the front row. They had not been seated for ten tonki when other practitioners entered the main chapel and started taking their seats. That process took another twenty-seven tonki, and the two could hear the alarms coming from the Invoker College. All in all, seventeen people were seated when the priest walked in and stood in front of the congregation. He was also wearing robes, but his hood had been pulled back to allow his face to show.
“Greetings, children,” he said, extending his hands. A loud popping noise from outside the building made him jump and lose his train of thought.
“That’s our signal,” Dungias whispered as he stood up.
“I don’t feel anyone detecting either of us,” Nugar said, standing up. The half s’tonki had really given the medicine a chance to take hold, and Nugar knew he was not feeling his best, but he would also be less of a burden on his student.
“I doubt that you would,” Dungias said, taking the lead of their two-man procession. “My suit guards against leaving genetic material… you did not have much of a choice with bleeding wounds. Still, we were given more time than we needed.”
“And that popping noise?”
“A bit of a surprise to anyone using a tracking device,” Dungias answered as they reached the back door. “The popping noise was meant to mask the localized electromagnetic pulse.”
Taking a moment to look back, Nugar could see that the doors of the church had yet to open. “I sure hope no one was charging a weapon.”
“We bring only what we feel is required,” Dungias remarked as he opened the door. “The intent to use the weapon means you should accept responsibility for the lives you take or the life you lose when fate and skill supersede aim and will.” Nugar could easily tell the words had been taken from some exposure Dungias had encountered. He only knew he had not taught his student such a belief, and he doubted such an opinion would be offered by any of his training assistants.
“Did you learn that from the Shadow Corps?”
“No,” Dungias answered, looking in all directions before leaving the church. “From the Malgovi mercenary at your domicile.”
“I did not think the two of you would ever enter into such an exchange.”
“Neither does he,” Dungias replied before walking outside. Nugar was made to pause for a moment, wondering if his student had purposefully chosen the wrong form of the verb ‘do’.
“Another answer to be gained,” Nugar whispered, following behind Dungias. He could hear the front doors open just after he closed the back door. “And they are getting close.”
Dungias removed the robe he was wearing and sheathed his Osamu. “Can you run, Kwinsoah?”
“How far, Dungi?” Nugar asked, taking off his robe.
“Three hundred sixty-three and one-quarter trams,” Dungias replied. “But I doubt we will have to run all of it.”
“Good! Because my limit is three hundred sixty-four!”
“Then follow behind me, Kwinsoah, and no matter what you see or hear, do as I do.”
Dungias started with a slow jog and Nugar smiled at the sense of it. He was establishing a rhythm for Nugar. “He is going to make me eat those words,” he thought, going with what he felt, not what he saw. They had only run thirty trams and Dungias’ form remained unchanged, but the feeling coming from him changed and Nugar could sense it. “Now this is different,” he thought as the two fell into the Star-Stride. Normally the movements of the Martial Art were limited to a single action. One lunging stride was common… or at least, that was the common application of the ability. The speed was not as great as it could have been as Dungias was now taking some of that energy to apply to the next movement. Nugar felt the burdensome labor of running fall away from his body and his healing wounds no longer sniped at his sides and chest. He sighed as a wave of relief passed through him.
Nugar almost allowed the sight of the buildings passing by distract him, but he kept eyes and focus on Dungias who jumped up and allowed the speed they had attained to carry him. Nugar had never traveled so far without the aid of device or iro-form. He mimicked the action and landed just behind Dungias on the top of a large conveyance. It was a student carryall, on its way to pick up students as they rose from their beds to engage in their studies. Their landings were soft and apparently went unnoticed as the driver continued down the path.
“That was exhilarating!” Nugar exclaimed.
“I am so glad you feel that way,” Dungias replied. He turned to look back
at his teacher but then looked up over his head to see pursuit in the form of a female Vinthur… a Traveler. “Because this is going to be a highly contested issue.” Nugar looked back to see what had drawn his student’s attention.
“Her name is Talkurra and she is the Grandmistress of my Order,” Nugar informed.
“And she aids in this?!” Dungias stated, very amazed that Nugar could make out the figure atop the hovercraft at their distance. He could not even tell if it was male or female. Nugar, however, could feel the disgust in his student’s tone. “If you have the will to see her survive this, do not contact her until after we’ve left.”
“And if I feel otherwise?”
“Tell her now to leave us alone,” Dungias stated.
Nugar was happy his student was wearing a mask. He was not sure he wanted to see the face accompanying that cold voice. It was clear to the Master Traveler that Dungias had mapped out the campus quite thoroughly. Making it to the conveyance was no coincidence. He looked back once more at one he had trusted with the partial truth of his history. She might be acting in a manner he did not approve, but she had yet to betray that trust, and she had been given ample opportunity to do so. Surely those who had been friends for so long could survive a disagreement. He put his eyes on Dungias.
“I miss my domicile,” he said softly. “… and I don’t think you’re done impressing me just yet!”
Smiling underneath his mask again, Dungias nodded. “Then set yourself for another run.”
“That was a very short ride!”
“We only needed to get to the side of the facility,” Dungias replied. “Going straight from the church…”
“Would have taken us through the recreational area,” Nugar stated as he looked over the grounds. “Too many innocents might have gotten involved, even at this s’tonki, eh?”
“Follow me, Kwinsoah,” Dungias said, turning himself to face the left side of the conveyance. He looked at the building that was his target and returned his mind to the thought necessary for the rhythm of the Star-Stride. Nugar mirrored him and was three steps behind him after he jumped from the conveyance.
