"He's calling for the others," shouted Twain, as he blasted up at one of their faces.
Willow looked up at the roaring beast; his head was tilted back sending the roar up into the sky. She threw her arm back, launching her sword at his throat. The blade pierced through his neck and the call was muted with a sputter of ingested blood. Willow ran. Jumping up the legs and climbing the chest of the pure black structure, she reached the neck and held on to a tuft of fur as she twisted her sword at a sharp angle further into the beast's wind pipe and slid Skull free to make her back to the ground. The giant dropped to its knees, clutching its blood pouring throat. Willow jumped down as the beast fell flat. Twenty tons of muscle landed on top of her with a crushing blow. She lay underneath the suffocating weight with one arm free and clawing for escape. There was no escape. Her scraping hand gave up trying and came to rest on top of the grass.
Another rampant sanga ploughed through the trees. It was bigger, stronger and louder. Twain knew instantly, that this was the mother of the three children. She saw one of her babies lying still on the ground. She stomped across and rolled its body over with a gentle shove. It was dead and so was Willow. The mother roared with a call for help that brought four more sangas storming through the forest. Jonas and Twain came together back to back surrounded by seven angry sangas closing in on them. Their weapons were useless. Jonas's strength was no match, he knew that from the dents these things were putting into the ground with their fists.
"We need to get out of here," said Twain.
"I was just starting to enjoy myself!" said Jonas, firing at the eye of a closing sanga, who blocked any further pain by shielding his face with his mighty arms. "Keep them busy, I need to help Willow," he blurted out to Twain.
"Keep them busy?" Twain shrieked, panic-stricken at the thought of his impending death. This wasn't quite how he expected he might die. In battle maybe, though he thought he could outsmart most enemies. It's why he looked forward to Guard training so much, he couldn't wait to start fighting the dydrid, perhaps building some gadgets and weapons that would make him a legend of the Guard. But these things were unstoppable with the weapons they had. His thoughts turned to his mother as he watched Jonas running over to the princess, leaving him alone to fend off seven sangas. His mother's kind face popped into his mind, he wouldn't leave her, he couldn't. Twain pushed all thoughts of death aside, stood strong and shot at eyes and nostrils and any other sensitive part that delayed the sangas approach for more than a second. He ran at one, rolling beneath its legs. He ducked and bobbed to avoid the numerous claws that came at him.
Jonas made it over and took Willow in his arms, shaking her. She was lifeless, her metal skin felt as cold as frosted stone. Jonas laid her down flat, pounding his fist into her heart, watching her face for any signs of revival. There was nothing.
"Try the blaster," Twain shouted over, yielding a stupid look from Jonas.
"What is wrong with you!?" Jonas shouted back, thinking that Twain had only wanted to make sure she was dead instead of save her life.
"Set it to stun," he shouted back.
Jonas got it. He swivelled the dial on his blaster to a soft stun. He placed the gun over her heart and pulled the trigger. She curled outwards with life, filling her lungs with gasps of air and coughs. Jonas pulled her across the ground to rest her dazed head up against the arm of the dead beast beside her. She was barely conscious but she was breathing. Jonas told her to stay where she was, gulping with the thought of returning to battle the sanga.
Mad man Twain moved in-between and around feet and buried fists, not taking his finger off his blaster once. Eighteen shots a second ploughed into different parts of the beasts bodies. Then his blaster energy ran out. He was helpless. A beast clawed down, bringing two hands hard in towards Twain. Jonas tackled Twain to the ground, his blaster flew out of his hands away to the side, and the follow through of the claw scraped past the upstanding hairs on the back of Jonas's head. Jonas rolled over and the boys lay there next to each other, weaponless, motionless, and about to die. The mother sanga rang out another howl. Her children moved aside as she raised a giant fist to the sky and closed in for the kill. Jonas and Twain, deafened by the noise, shut their eyes and waited for the blow. The roar got louder. The boys braced for the impact, but the blow didn't come. Jonas opened his eyes and nudged Twain's arm. Twain's tightly squeezed eyes peeled open with caution one at a time. The two of them began to laugh. A cytherean fleet of light-propelled helicopters hovered above and shot the flesh off the mother sanga with a beating of laser cannons and missiles. The sanga retreated to the forest in seconds.
The choppers landed in the field, Hawk jumped out and retrieved Lynk's body while Twain collected the head of his droid. Jonas ran over and gently shifted his hands beneath Willow's body lifting her across to the safety of the helicopter. He handed her over to the medics. She was in shock, icily cold but still alive.
Jonas looked over to the battle-scarred face of Hawk. "How did you find us?" he said, over the noise of the swooshing light-propellers.
"An old dekapod appeared on our radar. We figured you had something to do with it," Hawk told him, talking loudly. "Wherever you run to kid, your father will find you!" he said, with a telling tone. "Now let's get you home, he wants to see you!"
Chapter VIII
A History as Unclear as the Future
Witakker walked into the Guard training centre to speak with Calyx's protectors. He watched as Menace held a sniper blaster hard into her shoulder, shooting away at a holographic jungle scene where enemy soldiers came out of nowhere for her to assassinate. Spectrum was wired into a running machine, sprinting at pace, the rate on the reader measured a heart defying fifty beats per minute. Cortex held his hands out loosely, standing over a topless Goldheart who bench pressed with a metal bar that began to bend under the weight piled onto each end. Witakker stopped besides the heavy metal plates, watching as Goldheart strained for one more repetition, filling his muscles with overstrained and bursting veins.
"Why don't you try running sometime Procto, you never know when you'll need to run?" said Witakker.
Goldheart forced the weight up and onto the rest. Sitting up, he looked at Witakker with confusion. "I'd rather fight than run," he grumbled.
"I have seen bigger men than you running from things your imagination could never conceive," said Witakker. "Now gather around please everyone I need to speak with you."
Menace placed her weapon down. Spectrum unplugged his monitor wires, slowed his machine and dropped off the end of the running mill to join the others.
"Jonas has been found," said Witakker. "Your new orders are to protect him."
"We don't like the kid. He can't be trusted," Cortex blared. "We have to rescue Calyx!"
"Lucas, watch what you're saying," Spectrum told him with a sharp edge. "This is an order, how many times do you need telling!?"
Cortex turned away in annoyance.
Witakker was used to Cortex talking out of turn; he would not need to add to Spectrum's dressing down. "Regardless of whether you like him or not, you will protect him, is that understood?" Witakker confirmed.
The protectors nodded.
"We need this boy a lot more than he needs us. He just doesn't understand yet what it is we ask of him," he said, looking into each of their eyes. "There are circumstances here that you do not know. Do not let me down!"
"Should we not be made aware of the circumstances?" asked Spectrum.
Witakker looked at the leader, giving thought as to whether or not it was wise to let the truth be known. "Goldheart, Cortex, Menace, leave us will you."
The three of them groaned for being left out.
"All right, but Spec will tell us anyway!" said Cortex.
"He will not tell another soul," Witakker said, staring hard at Spectrum. Spec nodded and the others left the room.
"I cannot tell you what the circumstances are, it is not my place. But what I will say is that Jonas, as you know i
s half dydrid and half cytherean. He is identical to Calyx in almost every way, and the fate of our race and many others depends upon him," said Witakker.
Spectrum sighed, it was unlike him to question any orders but he felt he had to. "Why can't we get Calyx, Witakker? This Jonas, he's not got what it takes. He's had no training, he doesn't know what we're up against—he's been a ship-spider his whole life, if that isn't enough not to trust him!"
"He has a long way to go, agreed. But we cannot reach Calyx without risking his life and Jonas is here now, he will learn."
"All right," said Spectrum. "But he'll probably get us all killed, so don't expect us to like it."
Witakker smiled. "I didn't expect that you would!"
*
Outside in the palace gardens Uly waited, standing alone in the cooling afternoon air. Cleaned up and changed into one of Calyx's stretched-cotton outfits, Jonas walked out through an opening to the gardens as four brilliant blue eyes full of uncertainty met for only the second time. The sight of seeing his father again brought sadness to Jonas's soul. His wounds were raw, his heart was sore. This man had no love for him but Jonas had no choice. He could not run away from this place as easily as he had hoped for two reasons. Firstly, as Hawk had said, the king would find him it seemed, no matter where he went, and secondly, Willow and Twain. In the very short time that he had known them, they had become important to him; he didn't know why he just had that feeling.
"You didn't mean it, did you?" said Jonas, keeping a close eye on Uly's reactions.
"I will not send you back to Kroyto, no," Uly said, bowing his head in an unspoken apology.
"Even if I still refuse?" said Jonas.
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Then the answer is still no, even if you do still refuse," said the king, smiling at Jonas's sternness. "Walk with me. I have something I wish you to see."
Uly and Jonas strolled side by side down a stone path through the palace grounds. Calming water features and shapely hedgerows lined their walk. They both placed their hands behind their backs at the same time without even noticing. Jonas had never walked alongside his father, in fact everything they did together would be a first. He decided not to over think his current situation. Jonas had no idea where it was leading.
"Is our prisoner recovering well?" Uly said, filling the silence with small talk.
"Prisoner?" said Jonas, having not thought of Willow in such a light.
"She will stay with us until Calyx is released unharmed."
"She tells me Calyx is angry," Jonas said to his father, in the hope that he would begin to see sense and consider rescuing his other son.
"He will understand," the king said. "Just be careful."
"How careful?" asked Jonas.
"Willow owes you her life. I am sure she’ll not forget that. But she is still the enemy," Uly said, with an annoying tone of righteousness in his voice.
"She is not my enemy," Jonas replied.
Uly stopped and turned to his son as Jonas stopped and turned to his father. Jonas stood still waiting for more advice that he wouldn't listen to. "Do not trust her so easily," Uly said, looking down at his son with unease.
Jonas didn't want to get into it. He turned his head to the side and looked up at a temple that stood a short way in front of them. The entrance was guarded by a line of open pillars wrapped in creeping vines. The king took the hint and dropped the conversation. He walked on to the temple and Jonas followed. They climbed a few stone steps and beyond the vine strangled columns Jonas saw two rows of rectilinear statues facing each other, carved with realistic detail from a clean white stone.
"The line of Krestwell," Uly said. "From the first king, Valdoor, up to your grandfather, Shardwey," he added, pointing out to the statues.
Jonas moved to stand in front of the statue marked "Shardwey Krestwell". He gazed up at his grandfathers tired old face. "My grandfather? What was he like?" said Jonas.
"An honourable man, and a story for another time perhaps."
Jonas moved along the line admiring the faces of kings before him, "These are all my ancestors?" he asked.
Uly was pleased that Jonas was taking an interest, "Every king for over a thousand years that has protected the Elementis from the Zohr and other evils."
"Others?" Jonas said, finding that he wished to know more of the history of these men.
The king walked past a few statues along from where he stood and looked face to face at a striking warrior king, "In the reign of Krow, the 8th king of Enterra, an entire race of draka attacked and were destroyed. One of the bloodiest battles our history has seen," Uly said, turning to Jonas, whose face was full of intrigue. "The protection of the Elementis grows an ever more important task as the story of the stones power filters amongst the galaxies." He paused to make his final point. "Evil will forever seek this power. However, the greatest threat remains on our own doorstep."
Jonas looked down to the ground, the intrigue on his face turned to remorse. "I cannot do it, Uly," he said, realising that this was all about persuading him to play along.
Uly looked down into nothingness, towards the ground, "Yes, I had a feeling you’d say that." He looked up and gazed at his sons handsome face. "There is so much pain in the eyes of these men. I do not blame you for refusing. Who would really want such a life, if it were a choice? But call me, Father, won't you?"
"Okay, Father" said Jonas, staring into the eyes of the man before him, accepting that there may yet be a chance of his father not being as terrible as he had first thought.
*
Calyx stood beside the Zohr, looking out over a stone seated amphitheatre filled with thousands of fantoms cheering for blood. On the sandy floor of a central arena, several beasts lay dead with their blood surrounding their inferior souls. Three beasts remained standing, prowling in a circle, eyeing up the next attack.
General Mutus approached from behind. He presented himself with a bow of his head. "My Zohr, the princess has been captured. She is being held at the palace."
The Zohr looked around to Mutus and lifted an evil top lip with the thought of the cythereans having a little more leverage over them. "Exactly where I need her to be," he said.
"I want her back," Mutus told him.
The Zohr turned his old neck back to the death match, "In good time," he said. "They will not harm her while we have young Calyx. Their games will only assist us in our struggle."
The battle of beasts continued in the arena stirring excitement from the crowd. A brown, long-furred creature picked up a war hammer that lay buried in the dirt, swinging it down intent on killing a black-skinned, tusked beast. He missed as the black beast twisted away from the strike. The Zohr watched on expressionless. Calyx, had no idea why he had been brought to watch what he saw as the pointless blood sports of the Zohr's pets. Once again he was amazed by the level of excitement the fantoms showed as they cheered on the murderous aggression down in the arena.
Mutus waited for the crowd to quieten. "There is another matter; a boy, the twin brother of the prince. Willow tells me he has been brought here as the protector."
Calyx twisted his head to look at the scowl on Mutus's face, "I don't have a brother!" he stuttered in all sincerity.
"Your father is not as honest as you assume," the Zohr drove into Calyx. He waved Mutus away. "It is of no matter. This boy, whoever he is, will be of no use to the cythereans."
Mutus bowed without a word and left the arena.
The Zohr leant closer to Calyx. "It seems you are no longer of any importance to your father," he said.
"My father will do what is best for our people," said Calyx.
"And that means forgetting about his son?"
"Whatever is necessary," Calyx replied.
"You are obviously not necessary… Not to him," the Zohr snarled, placing a gauntleted forearm around Calyx's shoulders. "But you are to me," he said, with a tone of ugly sweetness.
The brown, long-furred creature knoc
ked down a larger white-coated beast with his war hammer. He lifted the hammer with two strong arms above his head intent on finishing the white thing off and roared with power. He swung the hammer down with speed. The white beast stretched out an arm, grabbing a ring-sword that lay hidden in the sand by his side, moving it in front of him the arms of the brown-haired assassin sliced off and fell to the ground. The dark, tusked animal struck the killer blow from behind, sinking a spiked mace into the skull of the armless beast. The crowd roared with joy as the bloodied brown animal fell heavily to its death.
Calyx looked up to the grey face of the leader beside him. The Zohr's words may have carried some truth. It was possible that his father didn't care about him anymore. Calyx wasn't sure if he'd ever cared about anything else but protecting the stone. Was it true? Did he have a brother that his father had never told him about? It couldn't be. Why would his father do that to him? But then why would his father leave him in this place? Confusion raged in the boy's eyes.
The Zohr looked only at Calyx, watching the fight in the arena through the eyes of ten thousand soldiers. "Mark my words," he said, with a hideous silver stare, "the dark beast will win!"
Elementis 1: The Heir to the Stone Page 8
