Xen'tarza: Book Two of the Twelve Dimensions

by Paul Centeno

  Seconds later, an explosion ignited from within the statue. The blast sent Praetor Ghenim to the floor. Mere meters from the crumbled stone, Her Eternity stepped forward. The populace had never liked her, but millions of them gawked at her in disbelief while others lowered their heads out of respect. She sneered at the audience, approaching the praetor.

  “Feya, you’re alive!” Ghenim said, scrambling to his feet. “It is a miracle. But how can this be? Our ancestors warned us time and time again that the dark magic of a wyrekar’s petrification is irreversible.”

  “Behold!” she shouted, raising a hand to the heavens.

  When the xyimorphs gazed up, Vokken replayed a recording of Teiga entering House Morgesis before dawn. They watched her unleash the wyrekar whose coat of sharp spines ejected venomous quills around the chamber. Teiga hid behind a column while several servants tried attacking it, only to be struck by the fatal needles and turn to stone. Finally, when she believed herself to be the last xyimorph standing, she unsheathed her enchanted sword and emerged with a glorious strike, beheading the beast.

  “So it was Teiga after all,” the praetor said, crossing his arms. “Yet this doesn’t explain how you’re alive.”

  Feya finally made eye contact with him. “Unsatisfied?”

  “Of course not,” he said, forcing a smile. “Today was supposed to be your ascension to the Solar Throne.”

  “And it shall be.”

  Without hesitation, she lifted him by means of telekinesis and hurled him past the bridge. The praetor bawled as he fell into a golden void that teleported him over to Fury’s Judgment. His Radiance materialized before the sun, disintegrating in an instant. The populace witnessed his death, their faces contorted.

  “Hear me now, xyimorphs!” she bellowed, her voice echoing throughout the immense chamber as she ascended the stairs and sat on the solar throne. “I am the chosen one! I am Eternity! Bow down before me or join your former praetor in oblivion!”

  One of the guards stepped forward. “Your Eternity, can you at least explain how you survived against such dark magic?”

  Feya extended a finger, unleashing a glistening bolt of lightning that obliterated him. “A most fascinating question, but the answer will be revealed when I choose. No one shall question me. No one shall oppose me. Everyone will bow down to me. I am the Solar Throne! I am Fury’s Judgment! I am Eternity!”

  The populace bowed their heads.

  “So much for being politically correct,” Yarasuro commented.

  Shirakaya struggled to maintain a straight face.

  “Guards!” Feya called out, hearing the mutant’s remark. “Release these deplorable vagabonds from bondage and return them to their toy of a vessel. I have little use for them and wish to never see their like again.”

  Origins

  My soul sisters and brothers, life is a voyage amid the elements of nature. Through the forces of Order and Chaos, you shall embark on myriad journeys without measure. Yet no matter the distance of such a trek, even I have returned to my origin. Just so, allow yourself to release the obstacles at hand. If need be, crawl beyond each and every loophole—beyond the cosmic voids that negate us—and arrive at the inner source. Blessed be those who seek not what is innately within their eternal spirits; for the celestial umbilical cord has yet to be severed from our one true parent, and She will graciously await our return to the infinite arcane.

  Aphorisms of Yun’sara 14:37

  Chapter Three

  Interstellar Skirmish

  I

  Regrouping

  Shirakaya and her crew returned to their battleship, shocked but nonetheless alive. Before they could plot a course out of Star City, one of the xyimorph’s who had released them approached Myris and gave her back the sìsô. The young oracle was so surprised that she had no words for the guard who promptly exited Marauder. She kissed Xeza’s little snout and hugged her so tightly that she grew anxious, jumping off and scuttling away. The renegade watched Xeza scurry to a corner and laughed.

  “What’re you laughing at, dumbass? I was worried about her.”

  Dojin didn’t respond. He merely smirked and then headed to his quarters. Meanwhile, the others aboard the craft spread out and kept to themselves, wishing they could forget everything that had just happened. Even though Shirakaya called out to her sister twice, she ignored her and swiftly made her way over to the medical wing, gathering her personal things. The freelancer sighed, following her sister.

  “Radesha!” she called out again, louder.

  “What the hell do you want?” she snapped, her voice shaky. “I’ve had enough! Even when I stayed on the ship, they came inside and took me. I nearly died!”

  “I am so deeply sorry, sis,” Shirakaya said, tears in her eyes. “Please listen to me…”

  “No!” Radesha shouted. “Just shut up! I’m tired of your pseudo emotions. I’m tired of your indifference and competitive ego. I am leaving. Find some other nurse or doctor who’s willing to die for you.”

  Shirakaya stood silent, shocked by her sister’s words. She painfully watched Radesha pack up and storm out—vowing never to return. Guilt overwhelmed her. Wiping away tears, she rubbed her throbbing head and went back to the ship’s entrance, deeply depressed. Forgive me, she said to herself. Shirakaya watched her sister from a distance as she got aboard a civilian transport ship. For the sake of the mission, Shirakaya forced herself not to breakdown, bottling her emotions. After sealing Marauder’s main door, she ported from the cargo bay to the bridge.

  “Vokken,” she began, “where’s my broth—”

  Before finishing her sentence, Shirakaya found Khal’jan sitting on the flight deck with the sandstalker.

  “Hey,” her brother said gloomily.

  Shirakaya managed to contain her tears, relief in her heart. It was awkwardly quiet for a moment, but Khal’jan soon got up and embraced his sister. For a while, he let the silence linger. Even though Rah’tera was happy for them, he felt the need to look away from the siblings’ show of affection.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right,” Shirakaya said, relief in her voice. “When we were on the run after getting set up, all I did was worry and hope the xyimorphs didn’t find any of you.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” he said in a troubled tone.

  Still looking distressed, Shirakaya eventually added, “Radesha’s gone. She’s going home…”

  “Shira,” her brother began, “it’s for the best. She’s not like us. Heck, I’m surprised she even came aboard in the first place.” Gazing at her and seeing how depressed she looked, he went on, “I have something to show you.” Backing away, Khal’jan lifted his hand and revealed the glowing artifact. “The enchantment is replenished.”

  The freelancer gazed at it with wonder. Strangely, she didn’t reach out for it. Khal’jan saw her blank expression and decided to place the relic in her hand. His sister took a seat in her armchair, breathing deeply as she held the radiant Eye of Soth’yugon. Shirakaya shook her head in awe, wondering if the enchanted artifact could truly help.

  “I hope you didn’t go through anything close to what I had to endure,” she said.

  “We heard about what happened,” Rah’tera replied. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to prevent that trap. We ran into our own problems. In fact...”

  “We lost Narja,” Khal’jan intervened miserably.

  Shirakaya froze. “That’s not possible. No. This must be a sick joke.” Her brother lowered his head, at which point she went on, “Things were just starting to change. We had hope on our side.”

  “We still do,” Rah’tera responded. “But the reality is that until this struggle is over, all of us will experience some measure of tragedy. It is impossible to escape it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Khal’jan said.

  “Sorry?” she muttered. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I should’ve known better. If I was smarter, I would’ve had Narja stay with Radesha.”

  “How were you supposed to kno
w?” Khal’jan said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “Narja may have been a pilot,” Rah’tera began, “but she was also a soldier. She fought and died with honor. Regardless of what happened, we must look on the bright side. Everybody else is alive. Most importantly, the relic is rejuvenated.”

  If anyone else had told her to look on the bright side, she probably would have snapped at them. On this occasion, though, she was dealing with a cold-blooded assassin who barely knew Narja. She felt sick to her stomach, curling up in her seat. Despite his heartless words, something rang true: she was also a soldier. The freelancer could hardly believe Narja was gone—another original member of her crew—yet she had no choice but to accept it.

  “Rah’tera is right,” the archeologist said. “And even though you fell in a hole of political crap, you climbed out of it.”

  “Correction,” intervened a strong, feminine voice coming from an area between the helm and a terminal revealing Ensar’s map. To the crew’s surprise, the being used magic to uncloak herself. By all appearances, it was Feya Morgesis. “I climbed her out of that hole.” She sneered at the gawking mercenaries and, with a devious smirk, added, “That is twice you owe me.”

  Shirakaya got to her feet, mystified. “Is that really you? Have you truly possessed Her Eternity’s body?”

  “Isn’t she magnificent?” Vokken said, appearing on the screen.

  The xyimorph gazed deep into the freelancer’s eyes before responding. “Eradicate that title from your mind. She was everything but eternity. I am the Queen of Death, and if you are expecting me to aid your cause, you will all worship me.”

  “On this ship, everyone is equal,” Shirakaya said, standing toe to toe with her.

  Eladoris gave out a wild cackle. “Is that so?” At the freelancer’s confident nod, the witch stepped around her as she whispered, “We will see about that.” She smelled the freelancer’s neck from behind as if ready to bite her. “I’ll be dwelling in the cosmodrive chamber…for now.”

  “So long as you don’t cause trouble.”

  The witch licked Shirakaya’s ear before teleporting. Though she was a lesbian, sexual thoughts involving Eladoris made her feel nauseous.

  “Creepy,” the sandstalker said.

  “And disgusting,” Shirakaya said, rubbing her ear clean.

  “You guys took the words right out of my mouth,” the archeologist said. “Anyway...on to better things. Let’s get the heck out of this city, sis. We can also study that arcane book of yours and start looking for real clues as to how we can get your magic restored in full.”

  “Right…but first I need to notify the others about what happened to Narja.” She paused for a moment. “Vokken, can you fly our ship?”

  “Affirmative.”

  II

  Primeval Legends

  As planned, Shirakaya gathered her crew on the bridge and informed them of Narja’s demise. To her surprise, Dojin appeared as downhearted as the mutant. Shirakaya wondered, perhaps they felt such melancholy because they understood that Narja was an original member of Celestial? As she thought more about it, she realized that only the three of them remained from when the journey had first started. With this thought, the future seemed rather bleak to her.

  “I will notify Narja’s sister,” Yarasuro said.

  The freelancer gave a weak nod. As he exited the bridge, a not-so-loud bleep resounded. Shirakaya was about to ask who was hailing them but then fixed her eyes on the empty helm chair and found she had lost her voice.

  “In case you were wondering,” Vokken began, “Xethren is attempting to hail us. Shall I initiate the telecommunications frequency?”

  “Yes,” she managed to mutter.

  Xethren appeared on the screen, sitting in a limo. “I must say, Shira, you are truly starting to impress me. Not a single guild wanted to be a part of this mission, and yet a lowlife freelancer such as yourself succeeded.” Seeing her glower, he added, “Well, I suppose you’re not much of a lowlife now. Anyhow, as promised, you are eighty-five thousand reons wealthier. Until next time.”

  The transmission ended.

  “It won’t be long before that douche bag gives us another mission,” Dojin said.

  Shirakaya let out a heavy sigh. “I know.” Clicking her kinetic link device a few times, she ported Her Eternity’s necklace as well as Medeix Et Victum into her hands. Walking over to the ghensoth sitting at the vessel’s weapon terminal, she handed him the enchanted amulet. “Sell this at the sca’vezi black market for half a million reons, would you?”

  Xorvaj gawked at her in disbelief.

  “By the way,” Vokken intervened, “I thought you should know that while you were all gone, I noticed a star disappear from the map.”

  Like the others, Shirakaya grew pale. She felt the urge to vomit, which was the only reason she didn’t scream.

  “That is some serious fucked up shit,” Dojin said.

  “Where?” the sandstalker asked.

  “Not far from the Drift Void,” he answered.

  “As if we weren’t hit with bad news already,” the mutant said. “How are we going to handle this?”

  “I say we take this bad boy straight to those evasive buggers and kick them right in the arse!” Myris said.

  “We can’t,” Shirakaya responded flatly. “Not yet, at least.”

  Xorvaj grumbled, “We can’t just sit here and idly let those koth’vurian scum consume—”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Shirakaya snapped. “The last time I rushed to investigate a star, it costs me my ship and crew. I refuse to let that happen again. We will continue focusing on getting my power back.”

  “We have the Queen of Death at our disposal,” Vokken said.

  Shirakaya frowned at him. “Eladoris is not reliable, and we do not stand a chance without a dependable source of magic. This is not a debate. We’re sticking to our current objective.” Refusing to wait for any snippy responses, Shirakaya approached the exit. “Khal, let’s go to the conference room.”

  “You got it.”

  “And where should I take this ship while you deliberate?” Vokken asked before Shirakaya and her brother left.

  “Anywhere but here,” she said, leaving the flight deck.

  The pair remained quiet as they strode through a corridor, past a couple of X-Phasers, and entered a spacious briefing room on the left. Inside the conference chamber consisted of multiple telecommunication screens placed in each corner, as well as an elongated table at the center with sixteen chairs around it.

  Shirakaya pulled out two seats closest to her and sat down with her brother, revealing the book to him. He held it with care, laying it on the table. At first, he squinted at it. As if hesitant to open it, he placed a gentle hand on the cover and pressed his fingers against the embossed title. Swallowing heavily, he turned his attention to Shirakaya.

  “This is a fake, right?”

  “What?” she said, her expression forming wrinkles on her face. “Of course not. It’s the property of the Ruzurai. Owendar borrowed it from the Grand Library at Iyonji Palace and gave it to me before he…passed away.”

  Khal’jan gawped at her. “Do you have any idea what this book is?” he said, utterly stunned.

  “Medeix Et Victum.”

  “That was a random name a scholar gave it millennia ago,” he said, his eyes reverting to the book. “Do you know its true purpose?”

  “It’s supposed to be the key to helping me regain my powers.”

  Khal’jan finally opened the ancient tome. “This isn’t just any compendium, sis. It contains a blasphemous legend.” As gently as he could, he flipped through its pages while scanning all the words. He gave out a startled laugh. “I barely even understand this language. Goddess, this is not real. It can’t be.”

  “Ugh, for Maz’hura’s sake tell me already.”

  “If by a miracle this is the real deal, only one person in the known universe can possibly translate it. His name is Wyneim Del Vayso.
Have you heard of him?”

  Shirakaya shrugged. “I could have sworn a teacher of mine once said he was a loony.”

  “Of course. Just like the temple of the fifth moon conspiracy theory.” Khal’jan paused a moment, examining a set of symbols that were legible. “He called this compendium The Twelve Dimensions. Whether that is the actual translation of Medeix Et Victum, I don’t know. What I do know is Del Vayso claimed that the origin of this book derives from an inter-dimensional being once thought to be a god…Xen’tarza. In other words, this book supposedly comes from another universe.”

  “That...that’s not possible.”

  The archeologist raised an eyebrow while tilting his head. “No one has ever been able to leave Ensar without our knowledge. If so, none have returned to tell the tale. Demons aside, who’s to say no one breached ours? The multiverse theory has yet to be disproven. For all we know, this book may contain a secret to opening a portal beyond the twelve dimensions...leading us into an alternate universe. In fact, it might be the only way for you to reclaim your magic.”

  A chill ran up the freelancer’s spine. “That’s crazy, Khal. Even if by some insane chance there’s some truth to this, the clock is ticking. It’s only a matter of time before Koth’tura returns. And somewhere out there right now, Ashkaratoth is consuming protostars. I need a genuine solution. Fast.”

  Khal’jan shook his head. “If you’re looking for a quick fix, you’re going to be extremely disappointed. I cannot singlehandedly decipher these symbols. I mean...look at this.” He showed her a few pages, revealing complex pictograms, formulas, and a language neither of them knew. “Have you even glanced at this book?”