The Rising Sun: Episode 2

by J Hawk

  Mantra nodded slowly, his smile growing. “Yes, Ion. We were the ones who had sent Vestra to where she had met you. And the mission we had sent her for, was to bring down the Zelgron warlord, Carcasar.” A quiet darkness crept into his voice. “It was a point of time when we learnt that Carcasar had turned into a very deadly nemesis. He posed a new danger for us, and we knew we needed to stop him for it. And so, we sent one of our own for it. And for the reason that she had undertaken that mission … you are still alive.”

  “But she didn’t take down the Zelgron warlord.” Ion pointed out. “He’s still alive.” Tragically.

  The maroon haired man shook his head. “Yes, she didn’t take him down. And the reason for that would be you. Vestra was sent to take him down as a stealth mission, without getting their attention. She was meant to secretly slip into their group and bring them down. And she would have done so if she had not decided to instead have an innocent person they were brutally attacking saved. By doing so, she gave her position away. It was a choice she took at that moment.”

  “Galinor’s right.” said Mantra. “She decided to abandon the mission for the sake of saving you. The mission had been lost, but we had gained something else. Vestra accomplished something else from her failed mission: she found a stray mystic whom she thought might prove to be a good ally for us, someone she thought may be of great aid to us sometime in the future, if given the right input. And so, we decided to keep a tab on him, to see if we would be able to bring him around to join us.”

  “But you said that you then lost track of me,” said Ion, frowning.

  “We did.” said the Iveling, Galinor. “And it’s not at all out of the usual. Our contacts and our intelligence slips past us in the weakened state we’re in: we can’t do much in the heavily prosecuted state that we’re now in.”

 

  “So how’d you find me now?”

  “It was an event that might have been seen as a curse by you,” said Mantra. “But as a pure blessing be us.”

  “What?”

  “If you’d remember,” said a Brownling with golden hair, who stood among the four others behind. “earlier on, the Naxim had discovered you, and tried chasing you down. In the planet Sacrogon.”

  Ion nodded. “They had.”

  The Brownling smiled. “Well, after that chase, you had somehow caught the attention of the Naxim’s high council, and their leader Evander himself.”

  Ion, who was completely unaware that he had invoked such a high scale of seriousness in the Naxim, was slightly thrown. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, you had.” said the Brownling. “The Naxim found you in their radar, and managed to get a track on you … and through them, we too, did. This seemingly disastrous event had proved to be a blessing in disguise.”

  “You got a trace on me through the Naxim?” Ion felt his eyebrows rise. “How could you known stuff going on within the Naxim?”

  “Because master Dantox here,” Mantra said, holding his thumb out to point to the Brownling, “has underground contacts with the Naxim, which give us a small insight into whatever’s happening with them … with the high council itself. It’s a very small insight, but enough for what we happened to find today: you. The Naxim’s discovery of your location had been a great boon to us, when we chanced by it.”

  “The Naxim’s high council was alerted as to where you were,” explained the Brownling named Dantox. “They had a trace to your location. And we picked up that trace as well. And we realised that we had jut found a stray mystic whom we had lost track of earlier on. As soon as I had heard of the discovery, I had rushed to relay it to Galinor.”

  “And we knew we needed to reach you as soon as possible,” said Galinor, nodding. “before you slipped out of Sacrogon’s neighbourhood. Because we knew the Naxim had placed a rigged state of alert around Sacrogon, its moons and its neighbours. And that gave as a faint idea as to where you could be, within this small region. And after force one attacked you, we knew you were here on this planet. After that, finding you wasn’t going to be a problem.”

  Ion took a moment to chew all of this, before rounding his thoughts back to the initial, unanswered question.

  “All right,” he said slowly. “So what exactly do you need of me?”

  The six of them were silent for a moment, all their eyes fixed steadily on him. Mantra heaved a deep breath and then spoke in a tone of heavy seriousness.

  “At this hour, we face a threat like no other. A storm is gathering. And if unleashed, it will devastate the entire spectrum in its relentless rampage. The feeble peace that our world has survived in for eight thousand years is now threatened. And as the last surviving fragment of the age of Elderon, we, the Nyon, need to act fast to stop it. To stop the Xeni.”

  That one word registered in Ion’s mind with a smoting impact.

  “Xeni…” he breathed. And his mind raced two years back, to recall everything he had heard from Jedius. About the war that tore apart the empire … and the group of satanic mystics who were responsible for it. The Xeni, led by Redgarn …

  Feeling his expression turn horrified, he slowly looked at Mantra, who stood watching him just as calmly, as though waiting for the effect to take place.

  “But, they’re gone.” he said, shaking his head slowly. “The Nyon destroyed Redgarn and his empire.” He looked from one face to the other, among the six cloaked men standing before them. “The Xeni … are supposed to be gone.”

  “We wished they were,” said Dantox, giving a dry chuckle. “But evil does not erode from the world so easily.”

  “As we have lingered in the spectrum, hidden, scraping off a bare existence,” said Mantra. “So have they. But while we tried to continue our brotherhood’s teachings and serve the world however we could … they have been biding their time, waiting for the ripe time to rear up and strike again. And that time’s now here.”

  “And time has come for us to do what we must to stop them.” said Dantox. “To make sure they don’t finish what they started eight millennia back.” He drew in a slow breath. “Which is where you come in.”

  “And exactly where do I come in, here?” asked Ion.

  “At this grave stage,” said Mantra. “There is something we need to have procured. An object of dire importance, that may prevent whatever disasters await, in the making of the Xeni.”

  He drew out his z-com and pressed a button on it. A holographic screen appeared over the device, showing a small pin like object. It seemed to be made of pure crystal.

  Mantra lowered the device, speaking from over the screen: “We need to get hold of this object here before anything else.”

  Ion was positively clueless: the object in the screen looked like some kind of glass splinter. How could it carry such a massive importance? “What in the world is that?”

  Mantra held his gaze from over the screen, unblinking. “We’ll let you in on everything … after we’ve successfully gotten hold of it. You have my promise on that. But we can’t tell you anything now.”

  He closed the screen and pocketed the z-com again. “Anyway, we need to acquire this, to put a stop to whatever madness is brewing in the hands of the Xeni. And this is what we need you for, son.”

  “I’m pretty sure this is something any of your members could have accomplished.” said Ion. “Why’d you specially hunt me down for it?”

  “Because this most certainly is not something any of our members could have accomplished.” said Mantra.

  “The object is kept under the secured hold of this man known as Razvol,” explained Galinor, stepping forward beside Mantra. “He is a rebel and a terrorist leader, in control of a village that his forces have overrun, in a planet known as Radioc.” A shade of darkness came into his voice. “And this is where we need you.”

  He stopped with that, but Ion managed to find a thread of clues to lead him on with this.

  Radioc…

  He felt his brow tighten in a thoughtful frown. That’s the
planet that’s number one in the Naxim’s priority list … It’s the most dangerous planet for a mystic to head into.

  He looked at Mantra and said, “Let me guess … The Naxim has your entire brotherhood and all its masters marked in its hitlist. And it wouldn’t be sane for any of you to try entering the planet?”

  Mantra nodded. “Precisely. The Naxim had found us in a raid they conducted many years back,” He spread both hands, gesturing to the five others standing along behind him. “All of our members were found and stamped in their major hitlist. And as you rightly said, if we tried entering their most deadly controlled planet it would be nothing short of suicide. As a result, we need to employ someone who may have a wider avenue of chance … even if it’s not too wide. We had two young students. These two had joined us recently, and thus, were not caught in the Naxim’s raid conducted years back. And so, we had sent them for this mission … but they didn’t come back.” A heavy sigh came between his words. “Now, there is nothing left within us. None of us can dare to accomplish this task, and we’ve lost the only two who could. And as a result, we now stand before an outsider and ask for his help. You may be a mystic, but you are not marked by the Naxim as we are. You are not in their hitlist as we are. We stand no chance at all. You do.”

  Ion looked from Mantra to Galinor, to Dantox and then at the other three of the masters. He was inwardly bursting with shock and confusion.

  He knew that he had arrived at a turning point in his life: he was standing before messengers from the brotherhood of Nyon … and being asked to join them.

  He didn’t need to think much … He had his answer ready right from the start.

  “No.”

  The word caught in the air, hovering there for a long second, before letting its effect drain.

  The masters slowly looked at each other, their faces reflecting the same shock and disappointment. But Mantra watched Ion with the same calm look on his face … almost as though he had been expecting this.

  He nodded slowly. “If that is your choice.”

  The other five threw Mantra a surprised look, clearly expecting him to press Ion.

  “Ion,” said Galinor quietly. “The spectrum’s facing a threat like nothing else before. A disaster like nothing else before. Are you going to stand by and watch as it swoops in and claims us all?”

  “Son, we don’t pretend to know what your reasons are.” said Dantox. “But if we don’t stop them … if we don’t stop the Xeni now, whatever’s keeping you from joining us won’t be worth much to you at all.”

  Another of the six masters, a thin elderly man, stepped forward. “If it really must cost you, then we would be willing to pay for your -”

  “If it was money that kept me from doing the right thing,” cut across Ion. “then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

  “All right,” said another of the masters, holding his hands up. “Maybe not money, but we can get you to change your mind with something else in exchange-”

  “Enough,” Mantra held up a firm hand, stemming the flow of pleas and negotiations from the other masters instantly. They fell back to respectful silence as their senior most member made his decision.

  “Ion has made his choice, and we would do well to respect it.” Mantra declared, his hand still raised. “Besides, forcing him to give us a half hearted favour would be no better, and of no better use than not having him help at all.” He gave Ion a warm smile. “Son, we understand that there are things in your life that none of us would be able to comprehend, and the reason for this is your own…” He turned to the five others. “Masters, I think we should leave.”

  They all left their lingering stares on Ion for a moment, while he stared back, completely unperturbed. Then, without another word, the group of them turned and marched back to the open balcony behind.

  Mantra stood on the spot for a moment, his white eyes pinned over Ion for the meanest of moments. Then, he too turned and strode off. As Ion saw him walk off, he gave in to the impulse he’d been holding back all this while.

  “The girl you told me of…”

  Mantra halted at the balcony door, slowly turning to face him again.

  “Vestra … that was her name, wasn’t it?” Ion could sense the brush of emotion in his own voice. “What’s become of her?”

  Mantra turned fully, and Ion thought he saw something flicker in the depths of those calm white eyes … something dark. It made a sudden tingle of concern awaken within Ion.

  “She’s still with you guys, right?” he asked, feeling his voice lower worrisomely. “She’s … fine?”

  While the rest of the masters collected outside the balcony around the hover car, waiting, Mantra stood at the door, his eyes frozen over Ion. The two of them stood with their gazes locked for a passing series of seconds.

  “There is nothing I can say which can make you change your mind?” Mantra asked finally, his voice strangely quelled.

  Ion gave a firm shake of his head.

  Mantra watched him for another quiet second, and then smiled. “She’s fine.”

  And with that, he turned and headed out into the balcony. He climbed into the back of the hover car, along with the five other masters. The car’s engine gave a soft growl as it slowly floated a few feet off the ground. Then, with a swift, leaping motion, it had turned and soared off.

  __________

  The nightly streets hung with a faint layer of mist, one that immersed the entire city in an aura of gloom. The partially inhabited city had a dozen or so completely torn down, abandoned buildings for every locality. The silence of the soulless streets was interrupted by occasional brushes of wind, which came howling feebly into the night. The structures lined against both sides of the street, rising into the misty air, were all varying in their size. Some of them were small, stout and humble. Others were large and intimidating, climbing to more than ten storeys. All of them were of concrete build, but with a long eroded glamour.

  Through the clear silence, a pair of footsteps could be heard carrying down the misty lane in a deliberate, slow pace. Then, the silhouette of a thin, tall figure formed over the curtain of mists. His outline grew clearer through the mists as he approached. It was a young man with unkempt red hair, and a meek tinge of orange upon his skin. He had his hood drawn, his hands tucked deep in his pockets, his head facing the ground before him as he slowly walked forth.

  As he continued his deliberate, slow stride, his face lowered to the ground below, something in his thought absorbed gaze drifted with a mixture of pain and emotion. His orange eyes were in a state of far off thoughtfulness. Ion had deposited the hover bike that he’d stolen back to the parking lot, and had then walked this remaining distance to reach the apartment he’d left earlier on. As he reached the side of the building, he turned and headed in without bothering to look up.

  Pushing his way through the flight of stairs, he climbed to the fourth storey, and headed down the long corridor. At the end of which lay a room door leading to his room. The entire building felt eerily lifeless and still, but nothing found his attention as he slowly walked down the dusty corridor. Reaching the door at the other end, he wrenched the door open and stepped in. Closing the door behind him, he turned and faced the small one roomed flat, with the table and the broken cot … His eyes wandered across the small, dark space that made the room. The only illumination came from the faint rays of starlight from the balcony door at the other side, which created a small, well lit space across the end of the room.

  He stood there in the darkness, wandering the depths of his memory, the chambers of his past which lay locked within him … And something almost seemed to shift in the darkness ahead. Ion had refused to join and help the Nyon. But his reason for it was his own.

  Absently, as though waiting for this moment all through, he stuffed his hand into his robe pocket. And drew a familiar piece of rolled parchment. He unrolled the poster with the deadly murderer. Ion looked into the face in the poster, feeling wounds of his
past dig deeper into his soul.

  And there was the reason.

  That face in the picture was the reason for refusing the Nyon.

  After leaving Jedius, Ion had devoted months to finding and bringing down various criminals, terrorists and mafia lords. Targets in the world of crime to which he owed much. But among all of them, there was one final target he had … The darkest and most dangerous target, whom he now needed to focus on. And he knew that he would never rest … he would never be free, unless he brought down this final, prized target. And that target was the face he saw in the picture. The man with the glowing red eyes, whom he shared a dark history with.

  As much as he yearned to, Ion knew he would never be able to live with himself unless he settled his past with this murderer in the picture … his struggle would never end until and unless he brought down this one man. Until he had his revenge against him. For if he didn’t do this, the guilt would be unbearable. And he wouldn’t bear this pain at any cost … even at the cost of turning down the Nyon and whatever noble mission they had for him.