Tales of Talon Box Set

by A A Warren

  A row of soldiers stood at attention in front of the far wall. Talon eyed their force pikes and rifles as he was led to the table.

  Zobo and Avra sat in ornate chairs, feasting on pink roasted meat of some kind. The red-haired woman gulped down a goblet of purple wine, then looked up at Talon and grinned.

  “There you are," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I was afraid the gravity sickness would take you down for the whole night.”

  Zobo’s powerful jaws tore a fist-sized hunk of flesh from an enormous bone. “Sit, boy. Eat!” He threw his legs up on the table, knocking over a platter of blue vegetables. “We won’t feast like this again any time soon, I tell you.”

  “Welcome,” said a young man sitting at the head of the table. He stood up and gestured to an empty chair. “I am Lucian Tygon, rightful heir to the Tygon Dominion. Won’t you join us? I’m told you were a gladiator?”

  Talon eyed the young man with surprise. The prince was a young human, just a boy, really. It was hard to believe he was the heir to an empire as powerful as the Dominion. He appeared to be a few years younger than Talon, at least. His skin was pale, his hair the color of straw. His green eyes regarded Talon with serene curiosity. But there was something haunting about his stare. Talon knew the look well.

  This boy has witnessed death, he thought. Up close and personal.

  A pair of doors hissed open behind the prince. An older man stepped into the room. He wore a crisp white military tunic, with a row of medals pinned above his chest. His grey hair was swept back from his furrowed brow, leaving a sharp widow’s peak. The skin around his eyes winkled as he gave Talon a suspicious glance. He bent over and whispered something into the boy’s ear.

  Talon remained standing. He turned to Zobo. “Where is Salena?”

  “Listen to you,” the smiling alien growled between mouthfuls of food. "You sound like a love-struck pup!"

  “Someone’s got a crush,” Avra said, laughing. “You know, you really should be thanking me, instead of pining away for Sal. Here…”

  She reached behind her back, slid a metal rod from her harness, and tossed it through the air to Talon. He caught it with one hand, and hefted it before his eyes.

  “I told Salena,” he grunted, examining the controls on the rod, “this won’t work outside the—”

  As his fingers touched the controls, the orange blade of his plasma axe blazed to life. The arc of fire sliced through the metal chair in front of him. The furniture fell apart with a loud crash. A droning hum emitted from the weapon, as power coursed through its circuits.

  At the sight of the plasma blade, the older man stopped whispering to the prince, and stood at attention. “Protect the prince!” he shouted. Two armored guards yanked the young man away from the table, blocking him from the others with crackling force pikes. The other men raised their rifles, and began stalking towards Talon.

  “Drop the axe,” the man in the uniform bellowed. “Now!”

  Talon spun around, sizing up the men as they advanced towards him. He held the glowing weapon in a defensive posture. He turned and glared at the younger man with his red eye. “If you really are a prince, you’d best call off your dogs. Or the servants here will be scrubbing their blood from the floor for days.”

  Zobo dropped his hunk of meat, and slid his hand towards a carving knife. “Damn. Look’s like dinner’s over,” he growled.

  “Well, I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to turn it on here!” Avra hissed. She stood up and backed away from the table, raising her arms in a defensive position. She glanced left and right at the men surrounding them.

  Talon watched her from the corner of his eye. He recognized her crouched legs and raised arms as the first stance of Fera K'ral. It was one of many martial arts he had studied in the arena, although he was not an expert in the discipline. Her eyes met his, and he gave her a nod.

  “Enough!” a woman shouted from the far end of the room. A wall of blue energy shimmered in the air. The barrier separated him from the soldiers charging towards him. The wall surged and rolled like a wave, driving the armored men back towards the wall.

  Talon whirled around. Salena stood in the entrance to the room. Her eyes blazed so bright it hurt to look at them, and an invisible breeze whipped through her cobalt hair. Her arms twisted and spun in the air. Talon blinked… at first, he thought he saw glowing blue symbols hovering in the air around her swaying fingers. But then, at the exact second he looked at them, they seemed to fade and disappear. The strange wind died down, and her eyes returned to normal.

  “Talon,” she said, crossing the room towards him. She ignored the astonished stares of the cowering soldiers. “I give you my word, no one will hurt you here. You do not need your weapon.”

  Talon eyed the armed soldiers, then turned towards the younger man. He slid his thumb over the controls, and the weapon extinguished itself with a loud hiss.

  “My apologies Your Highness,” he muttered. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Avra slinked back to her seat, a sheepish grin on her face. “I removed the inhibitor chip. You’re welcome.”

  Talon kicked the destroyed chair out of the way, and pulled up another seat. Salena settled into a chair across from him, near the prince. She poured herself a glass of wine, and smiled.

  “Now then. I believe there was talk of a briefing?”

  The older man narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. The prince took his seat at the head of the table.

  “Please, forgive Commander Javis. As my royal advisor, he and his men have vowed to protect me with their lives.

  The man named Javis clasped his hands behind his back, and stood at attention. “And I’m sorry to say, we’ve have had to do so on numerous occasions.”

  Talon reached across the table, and grabbed a rack of meat. He gnawed at it as eagerly as Zobo did. The wolf-like alien gave him an approving grin, and returned to his meal.

  “I was told you were a rebel agitator,” Talon said to the prince, swallowing his food as he spoke. “Back in the arena, Rufa Omdura said your father wished to transfer power to the republic. The people elected General Kyr, and you coveted the throne for yourself.”

  The prince slammed down his cup of wine. His green eyes flashed with anger, and his lips curled into a snarl. “That is a lie! I was there when General Kyr seized power. I was just a child, but I will never forget that day. I was in my father’s throne room, playing with my toys… I dreamed of adventure then. I imagined myself a soldier, or a gladiator, like yourself.” The prince shook his head. “Childish fantasies.”

  Javis gave him a concerned look. “Your Highness, these are painful memories. There’s no need to—”

  The prince shook his head. “No, I want him to know. I am not the man Kyr claims I am. It was he who seized power. And it is he who now oppresses my people!”

  Talon looked into the prince’s eyes, then nodded. “Rufa told me many lies. It would seem this was another.”

  Lucian gave him a brief smile, then continued. “Kyr’s men stormed the palace. They gunned everyone down. Women, children… everyone. Everyone except my father, that is. Kyr ordered him to be captured and bound. As my guards dragged me away, I looked back over my shoulder. I saw Kyr draw his blade… I saw him cut off my father’s head.”

  Death, Talon reminded himself. Up close, and personal.

  The prince took a deep breath, and drank more wine from his goblet. “I was forced to go into hiding. I watched in secret as Kyr held his sham elections, and drove the kingdom my father built into ruin. He reduced our people to poverty, handed entire colonies over to slavers and criminals. And now he wages endless wars of conquest against nearby territories. All to fill his coffers with chips and precious metals.”

  Talon swallowed another bite of meat.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. But Your Highness, as you said, I am a gladiator. A slave. I still don’t understand why I’m even here.”

  The boy nodded. “Recently, I made a decision. I c
ould wait no longer. I have formed a coalition. Dominion troops, who remained loyal to my father, and his ideals. And rebel factions, fighting against Kyr’s tyranny. We began plans for a military strike, a coup to reclaim the throne. Our staging ground was the planet Hadros, on the edge of Dominion space.”

  Zobo set down his goblet, and uttered a quiet snarl. “Kyr’s spies must have infiltrated our ranks, Your Highness. It’s the only way he could have struck so quickly.”

  The boy shook his head. “Captain Zobo, I appreciate your input, but I refuse to believe any of my men could be disloyal.”

  Javis cleared his throat. All eyes turned towards him. “Be that as it may,” he said, “Somehow, Kyr discovered our location. Before we could set our plan in motion, he attacked. Our losses were catastrophic. In the blink of an eye, we lost half our fleet.”

  The prince nodded. “Zobo and Avra barely got me out in time. And Hadros is simply… gone.”

  Talon looked up from his food. He stared at the prince, then turned to Salena. “What does he mean, gone? This High General Kyr has the means to destroy a planet?”

  Javis waved his hand over the table. A hologram rose up in the center.

  “See for yourself,” he said quietly. “This is Hadros now.”

  The image before them showed a splintered, lifeless chunk of rock, drifting in space. Half the planet’s mass was ripped away. A trail of rocks and debris led to an enormous, spinning vortex… A red hole, torn in space, just above the ruptured atmosphere of the devastated world.

  “Like I said,” Zobo muttered. “A massacre.”

  Salena stood up. “In his lust for conquest, Kyr has allied himself with a man far more dangerous than himself. His name is Lyko Sartarus.”

  Talon gulped down a sip of wine, and narrowed his eyes. “The nobleman who purchased me by contract from Rufa?”

  Salena nodded. She slipped a silver disk from her belt. The rim was studded with colorful gems. “Sartarus is no ordinary nobleman. He is human, but he is very old. He was once a great general himself. Now he is a religious fanatic. He follows the cult of Daizon, an ancient being, once worshipped as a god of death and destruction. For Sartarus, every life he snuffs out is a symbol of his devotion. And this weapon, whatever it is, may be his ultimate tribute.”

  She held out the disk in the palm of her hand. Her eyes began to glow once again. An image came into focus, hovering in the air above her hand.

  Talon squinted. He saw giant metal pillars, obelisks of some kind. They looked to be hundreds of meters tall, at least. Giant hauler mechs carried them across the cold metal surface of a vast cargo bay. The pillars were marked at regular intervals by rows of carved symbols. A man in crimson robes stood on a metal catwalk, before a curved panoramic window. Behind him, a swirling nebula painted a violet glow over the machines as they loaded the obelisks onto the ship.

  The man turned… Talon saw gleaming highlights reflecting off a monstrous, golden metal mask.

  The image froze.

  “Our intelligence operatives believe that Sartarus has acquired an ancient artifact of some kind. A weapon, with vast destructive potential. These obelisks are part of it, but we know nothing of its capabilities, nor how it operates. None who remained on Hadros survived to report on its effects. All we know is that it is very powerful. And very old.”

  Salena waved her free hand above the disk. The image played in reverse, and froze on one of the strange, metal pillars. It zoomed in, displaying the markings carved across the metal’s dull gray surface.

  “These symbols are not random. Similar markings have been found in temples, scattered across dead planets throughout the galaxy. Sensor scans of these sites have determined that they pre-date the arrival of human colonial ships by thousands of years.”

  Avra clenched her fist, and glared at the image. “So whoever made this weapon, they weren’t human. What do the symbols say?”

  Salena shook her head. “No one knows. This language is older than my people as well. I recognize a few markings, but most of it is unreadable to me.”

  Talon grunted, and shifted in his chair. “Ancient weapons, exiled princes, fanatical cults… You said you needed my help, in exchange for my freedom. What good is a gladiator’s sword against dark energy strong enough to destroy entire planets?”

  Salena moved her hand again, and the image zoomed closer to one of the symbols adorning the metal pillars. She began to circle around the table. Her silken gown fluttered about her shapely legs, as she paced towards Talon with a slow, measured stride.

  “I cannot say for sure. But my spies noted a symbol, a special mark. It appears multiple times, on all of the artifacts gathered by Sartarus.”

  The group peered closer… the image showed a triangle, with three lines converging in the center. The lines met at a star burst in the middle of the triangle. A tiny chip of emerald crystal was embedded in the carved metal, and it glinted in the light.

  “What is that?” Talon asked, squinting at the glowing image.

  “That is the eye of R’Kur. It is the symbol of another god, the great dragon of earth and sky. Do you remember when we first met, Talon? I asked about your tattoo?”

  He nodded. “Yes. But as I told you, I have no memory of where it came from.”

  She stood behind him. Her fingers slid over his shoulder, then caressed the skin of his chest. As her nails moved over the emerald green claw, the image hovering in the air shifted and warped… it now showed his chest. As she touched him, the design inked into his skin began to glow.

  “I recognized the technique used to mark you. It is very old, a lost tradition known as Azazumi. What appears to be a single design is actually made of many smaller patterns. Each part is too small to see with the human eye. But look closer…”

  The image zoomed in, and expanded. The green tattoo became a mosaic of tiny dots. Then closer still, the dots resolved into symbols. An intricate mural of tiny patterns, stretching across the rocky canvas of his magnified skin.

  Each one was the same triangle, surrounding a green starburst. The Eye of R’Kur, copied millions, perhaps billions of times across his flesh.

  “Iberon’s harem,” Talon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.

  Avra pulled back her fiery red hair. “The same symbol. But what does it mean?”

  Salena let her arm drop. The image faded away, and her eyes returned to normal. “I don’t know. But one thing is certain. Talon, somehow you are a part of all this. The mark proves that. Sartarus sent his fleet to the outer reaches to find you. To kill you. I believe he fears you for some reason.”

  The prince stood up. “Talon, I can’t pretend to understand how Salena found you, or what part you have to play in all this. But I trust her judgment. And I make you this promise. If you can help us destroy this weapon, my forces will rally behind me. I will reclaim the throne. And when I do, I will have the power to erase your files from the blood scan archives. You will no longer be a slave. You will be free.”

  The prince stood, and raised his glass as well. “A toast, my friends. Talon, as they say in the arena… Victory, or death.”

  Avra stood and joined the toast. “To those who died fighting on Hadros… victory or death!”

  Zobo sighed, and stood with them. “My people don’t make toasts… Bad luck, if you ask me. But let me offer Talon a word of advice. The galaxy is a tough place, son. It’s not a bad thing to have a prince owe you a favor.” He winked one of his yellow eyes, and cocked his head towards the young man at the head of the table. “And it’s even better if he’s the emperor.”

  Salena’s eyes glowed bright. They were like twin stars, and her face was difficult to see in the glow of their combined brilliance. She gazed down at him and smiled. “Well? What say you, warrior?”

  Talon was silent for a moment. Then he stood up.

  “No.”

  Zobo cleared his throat. “Beg your pardon, boy? I don’t think I heard—”

  “My answer is no.” Then Talon tur
ned, and stormed out of the chamber.

  The prince gave him a confused look, but said nothing. Zobo and Avra sat back down in their chairs. Salena frowned, and remained standing.

  “Excuse me, your Highness. I’ll go talk to him.” She hurried off, as the prince slumped back in his chair.

  Zobo reached across the table, and grabbed the slab of meat from Talon’s abandoned plate. “Well, no sense letting this go to waste.”

  He licked his lips, and began to gnaw on the bone. Avra kicked him under the table. His ears pulled back, and his yellow eyes glanced over at her.

  “What?” he snarled, as bits of meat fell from between his fangs.

  “Talon, wait!”

  Salena called after him, but he paid her no heed. He felt her hand grab his shoulder, and he spun around to face her. He glared at her, rage simmering in his eyes… one crimson and blood red, the other as black as the cold depths of space.

  “Talon, please,” she said. “We can’t do this without you.” Her fingers slid down his arm. “We need you—”

  “Enough,” he snapped, and flung her hand away. “You think because I am a mere slave, I am also a fool?”

  “You know I don’t think that,” she replied.

  He shook his head. “I’ve had my fill of your honeyed words. I was a fool to trust you. First you seduced me. Then you lied to me. All to bring me here, to join this fool’s errand.”

  “Seduced you?” Her eyes opened wide and flashed brighter. She thrust her head up and straightened her shoulders. “I’m not going to apologize for enjoying a night of pleasure in the midst of this war. And as I recall, you seemed to enjoy yourself as well.”

  Talon said nothing. He glanced out the long windows that ran along the corridor. Outside, the green haze of pressurized gas was as dense and impenetrable as ever.