by J Hawk
As Pavio continued to standing there, Razvol wheeled towards the window again, feeling a new rush in his veins. There was absolutely no mistaking it. No mistaking what this meant. And why those two had come here. He slowly strode back to his desk, and punched a security code into the digit pad. A small container unlocked itself from the surface of the desk, the two lids over it opening outwards. And inside the secret vault, carefully hidden for so long now, undisturbed … lay the object.
It resembled a splintered glass shard, no larger in size than a prick. But its size was a deadly illusion that concealed the true depths of the power, and the madness that lay within it. This, Razvol realised with a slow sinking in his stomach, was what the two Nyon had come here for. And for that one reason itself, they could not be allowed to leave the village from them. Because if they now carried the knowledge of this object’s presence here, then things were far worse than they appeared. And the Xeni certainly wouldn’t be happy…
Zardin certainly wouldn’t be happy…
Hands trembling slightly, he placed the object back in the desk. Then he raised his gaze back to Pavio and barked, “Well, have the two of them subdued and brought back.”
Pavio’s eyes contracted in a focussed frown. He gave a salute and said, “Not to worry, they’re as good as ours, now. I’ve got something up my sling that they’d never see coming.”
__________
Qyro felt his bronze hair blasted backwards at the force of the wind as the bike raced forward over the unlevelled, rugged terrain.
They must now be miles from the village, having rode across the lands beyond it for more than five minutes now. They had streaked forth in a wild, unhindered speed, throwing glances back every few seconds. To ensure that the rebels had left them alone. And it seemed they had.
“They’ve given up, then.” came Vestra’s voice, slightly uncertain. Her head was turned back towards the village, watching nervously.
Qyro nodded. “No way they’re catching us now, anyway.”
He gave the bike a little more throttle, and felt the tug of inertia pull him back slightly as the bike jumped forward, faster. They kept on for what seemed like a few minutes, the bike’s high speed flow unhampered. Qyro cast a final glance back. They had clearly traversed many miles from the village, which had now faded, merging into the line that made the horizon.
“I think we’re safe now.” he concluded, letting the bike’s throttle fall.
The bike came to a steady stop over the unlevelled ground, hovering a feet over it so that the two of them slowly climbed off and stood by either side of it.
“What now?” asked Vestra, her gaze still fixed on the horizon behind them, as if anticipating another attack from the rebels.
Qyro shrugged. “Nothing more we can do.”
Vestra looked at him uncertainly. “It was crucial that we retrieved that crystal object … and we failed.” She sighed. “I guess the masters really overestimated us, eh?”
Qyro gave a short laugh. “No. they underestimated the rebel village we were attacking. Nobody could’ve attempted breaching a place so tightly guarded. And hoped to get out alive, that is. We were lucky we did.”
__________
The electric buzz of the ship’s large engine was faint inside of the hull. Pavio stood with his fists clenched behind his back. About a dozen of the rebels stood ready behind him, clutching Sparklers with both hands. They were all in the hull of his ship, a large black machine, which had served him in his brutallic ventures for a decade now. Pavio had called in a dozen other of his men into the ship, and had set off after their two prized targets. This ship was no ordinary one, and Pavio saved it only for the biggest of hunts and pursuits. Pursuits that he would not fail in, no matter what. There was no way the two kids weren’t getting away from him this time.
The lone pilot of the ship sat behind the control desk, looking sideways at Pavio. Awaiting the green light.
Pavio nodded, and the pilot turned back to the control desk.
__________
Qyro and Vestra stood by the hover bike, still watching the horizon behind them. As though expecting the rebels to come soaring at them with a giant battle troop.
“Well, they really have given up, then.” said Vestra, turning to Qyro.
Nodding, Qyro drew his eyes back in front of the bike, preparing to mount it. “Guess they have.”
The ground ahead of them exploded: an air splitting blast blew out a large crater in the land, giant chunks of the earth tossed outwards. And hovering out of the crater was a large black ship, perching itself dead ahead of them.
The two of them, hiding behind the bike to shield from the chunks of earth soaring at them, looked up and froze at what they saw. The ship hovered on the spot, its canons aimed right at them.
“Run!” bellowed Qyro, leaping to his feet. But it was too late: the canons fired. A beam of red leaped out of it, shooting right towards them. The two of them flung themselves behind, to no avail: the canon’s beam hit the ground ahead of them with a violent blast. The force of the blast sent the two of them soaring backwards, as though hit by a crane. Qyro felt himself fly backwards. He smashed to the ground over the unlevelled terrain, the impact making pain explode over his back which took the full weight of the landing. The speed of his landing left him to spin on over the ground in a whirl of sand and dust.
As he lay crumpled and half broken on the ground, he felt his vision dull, and blackness closed in on him slowly. His limbs seemed to burn with the pain of the heavy, crashing landing. With all the effort it could cost him, Qyro fought off the onsetting unconsciousness. Breathing slowly, he craned his head up and looked about. He saw Vestra lying in a small, unmoving heap of blue a few metres to his right. She whimpered in pain where she lay.
Qyro’s trembling hand reached for his sword. But before he drew it, the thudding of multiple footsteps came closing in from ahead of him. He looked ahead to see more than a dozen masked rebels surrounding the two of them, every pair of hands aiming a Sparkler at the two of them. One of them took a step forward towards where Qyro lay in a crumpled heap, and held his Sparkler an inch from his face.
“Play time’s over, kid.”
15
Pavio flew the ship right over Razvol’s tower, landing over the roof. Razvol’s room was at the topmost floor. He exited the ship with five of his men who escorted the two bound Nyon, and together they strode down the hallway leading to Razvol’s room.
Taking five of his men with him, he stormed down the corridor towards the door at the far end, the door to Razvol’s room. The two bound Nyon trailed behind him. They had their hands clasped with iron shackles, and had five rebels walking by them, ready to freeze them at the first sign of resistance.
Drawing in a deep breath as they arrived before Razvol’s door, Pavio pushed it open. The eight of them walked inside the room, stopping before Razvol’s desk.
Razvol sat on his chair behind the desk, facing back so that they couldn’t see him. And his lone bodyguard stood beside his desk. Pavio glanced at the bodyguard nervously, partly worried if he had interrupted Razvol in one of his bad tempers. The guard gave a nod, and Pavio cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry for the delay, lord Razvol.” he said. “I have the prisoners here.” He glanced back at the two Nyon, surrounded by his five men.
“Well, so long, kids.” he said, pulling out his z-com. He typed a verbal message to the Xeni, informing them of the two Nyon they had captured for them. Sending the message, he slipped the z-com back into his robe pocket.
“The Xeni will be here anytime now,” he declared, turning to the two of them behind. “Imagine how pleased they would be when we hand them two members of the Nyon, their most ancient foes.” He gave a harsh chuckle. “Oh they’ll squeeze out everything they can about your brotherhood from the two of you. They have long awaited the opportunity to know the location of the Nyon temple, and attack it. And it seems like today, it is finally here.”
He enjoyed the sight of the two youngsters flaring with rage.
“You’ll never win.” The Redling boy whispered, his face a mirror of anger and contempt. “The Xeni will never win.”
“They already have.” said Pavio, smiling. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve sent a message to them, informing them of the two of you. They’ll be here anytime now.”
He turned back to Razvol, who continued to sit with the back of the chair facing them.
“This will be one glorious day indeed.” said Pavio, grinning. “The Xeni would be most pleased in what we’ve got for them. Won’t they, master?”
He gave Razvol’s chair a mild prod from the back … and it turned over to reveal the dead body of Razvol lying slumped over it. A long, thin slash cut through his torso - a sword slash. But the slash glowed in a mild orange colour, and wisps of steam emitted from it. It was no ordinary sword which had done this … and no ordinary attacker. A mystic…
The guard standing beside the desk suddenly produced a long, thin sword and raised it high. There was a crisp orange flash, and the sword’s blade was shining in bright orange … And in that fragment of a second, Pavio realised that this was not Razvol’s bodyguard. It was an imposter. A mystic imposter.
Before he had even begun to process his next move, the mystic dressed up as the guard came lunging at him, fist clenched. Pavio felt himself fly backwards at the force of the mystic’s knuckles on his chest. He smashed into the wall behind him and slid down…
In front of him, his five men stared for a mini second, before reality broke over them. But by the time they had raised their Sparklers at the mystic, he had already launched over them…
In two swift slashes, the man had struck an arm off two of them, and they collapsed in pain. Within the next second, he smashed another two’s heads together, and then rammed his sword’s hilt into the last one’s face. And all of them hit the floor, unconscious.
The two captive Nyon stood at the corner of the room, watching with their jaws wide open.
Dousing his blade and returning it to its sheath, the mystic slowly walked towards where Pavio lay, bearing down on him through the rebel’s mask he wore.
“Who are you?” Pavio asked in a bare whisper, as the mystic slowly bent over him.
“I’m Ion.” he said. “And believe me when I say, I’ve just come back from hell…”
He peeled off his mask to reveal the face of a boy in his late teens, with spiked red hair. And eyes of a burning orange colour. Ion clenched and drew back his fist, and released a mindjolting smack upon Pavio, who felt the world around him fade to black…
Two hours back
The Heligor slashed through the heavy waves, the ship’s old mechanical engine loud and booming.
Steering the wheel upfront on the deck stood a man with pitch black fur all over his body. A Blackling. He was biting his lower lip and shaking his head to himself, giving any stray viewer the appearance that he was having a conversation with himself. Selvox had been the captain of this shipping boat for twenty years now. But in all his twenty years, he had never experienced something this … insane.
A knock on his door, and a voice came from behind him: “Sir –”
“What’s the latest update?” Selvox cut across the man.
The man slowly walked into the room, facing Selvox from his right. “He says his name is Ion…”
“And what does he say as to exactly how he dropped from the sky?”
Selvox turned to look at his crew member, who gave an ironic chuckle.
“He says we’re better off not knowing.”
“He’s bloody right we are.” agreed Selvox, shaking his head.
Just a few minutes ago, as he steered his ship down the raging waters, Selvox had wondered for the meanest moment if his eyes were functioning properly: because he caught sight of something dropping from the cloudy skies into the raging ocean below … But a closer look told him that it wasn’t just something. It was a body. Dead or alive, it was hard to tell. Selvox’s black fur rippled with chills as he gaped at what he was seeing: a body, appearing to be chained up, crashed into the middle of the ocean less than a mile ahead of him. He had the slightest suspicion that it wasn’t a dead body … Somebody was being left to drown at the bottom of the ocean. Right now.
Abandoning everything else, the crew had set the ship to where they had seen the body drop. They had set their divers in, equipped and armed. And in less than ten minutes, the divers had re surfaced with a body that was chained up and unconscious. They had laid it on the ship’s floor, cut the chains and found that it was a mere boy. No older than eighteen for sure.
And he was alive, though with a few minor broken bones that they were able to mend. They were lucky to have been close to where he had fallen into the ocean. For if not, he would have been left to drown painfully. As the boy came around, he was seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he had just escaped a gruesome death: all he wanted was to borrow one of their emergency ships and leave instantly. He seemed to have to attend to a direly important task of some sort.
Selvox had never been more intrigued in his life.
“Where does he need to go?” he asked, letting go of the steering wheel and turning to the crew member. “He seemed to be in a rush from the moment he woke.”
The crew member gave a lazy shrug. “He says that we wouldn’t believe him if he told us anyway.”
Turning back to the wheel, Selvox muttered to himself. “This is one strange day.”
“The rest of the crew think so too. And,” The crew member’s voice reached an edge of hesitancy. He took a step forward. “he’s carrying a sword.”
Selvox needed a second for the implication of the sentence to reach him. He whipped his head about at the crew member, frowning. “What?”
The man gave a shrug, but his eyes were slightly wide, apprehensive.
Selvox held the man’s gaze for a long second, both of them now feeling the rising tension in the air. Then, Selvox broke the tension with an easy laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He gave a wave of his hand. “It isn’t only mystics that you find carrying swords.”
The man looked relieved at his captain’s dismissal of this theory, which he had apparently allowed to breed. He also gave an airy chuckle, his posture now relaxing.
“Of course,” he said. “I just … we just thought it was strange, though.”
Like we’re gone find a mystic falling out of the sky! thought Selvox. He looked at the man and said, “See what the kid needs. He’s just been through something hell traumatic … for whatever reason he isn’t telling us what it is, it probably only makes it worse. He needs rest and some tending to.”
The man’s face split in a mirthful grin. “Sir … the boy seems anything other than traumatized. And he definitely doesn’t want rest or tending to. Whatever reason it is, he wants to leave right now and fly off for something important – and he’s begging to borrow one of our escape ships for it!”
Selvox scowled as he continued to steer the ship through the treacherous waters. He was feeling almost humoured at this strange character they had found, and everything surrounding him.
“You know what,” he said finally. “let me go talk to the boy. He needs some help to make a recovery from this incident. And I’ll help him through it until we get to shore.”
“Sure.” said the man. “He’s in the first room in the left corridor.”
Selvox nodded, set the ship in autodrive, and then strode off down the corridor. He pushed the door open to the room where the boy was.
But it was empty.
As he stood there, wondering where Ion had gone, the thudding of a pair of running footsteps came forth from the other side of the corridor. Another of his crew members came to a stall before him, panting.
“What is it?” asked Selvox.
“C-Captain, one of…” panted the man, hands on his knees. And then, he straightened up and sh
ook his head. “One of our emergency escape ships … have been stolen.”
Selvox blinked at the man for a second, feeling the impact of the words land over his head slowly. He looked around, gazing into the empty room where Ion was. He was staring into the empty room for a long series of seconds, before shaking his head slowly.
“This is one strange day.” he repeated.
16
The present
As Ion broke the iron bindings of the two Nyon with his sword, the two of them stood there, rubbing their arms absently. For a long, quiet second, they were both gaping at him, as though wondering if they were seeing correctly.
“You’re welcome.” he said, dousing his sword and sheathing it. His gaze flitted between the two of them, both their faces mirrors of the same confusion and shock.
Inwardly, this was a moment in Ion’s life that seemed to outweigh the beauty of all others…
