Xen'tarza: Book Two of the Twelve Dimensions

by Paul Centeno

  Taking a closer look at the vehicle, Shirakaya confirmed its specifications.

  “Forty thousand reons,” she said, revealing her KLD’s debit screen.

  The sca’vezi focused on her available funds, rubbing its cone-shaped head. “You first trader in solar cycle to have that many reons. You have deal, humyn.”

  “Excellent,” she said, clicking her kinetic link device a few times until initiating a balance transfer with the vendor. “Vokken, port the ZX-9000 tank I just purchased into Marauder’s cargo bay.”

  Without responding, the arcane intelligence locked onto the craft using its serial number on the digital contract found in the freelancer’s KLD. Before long, Vokken dematerialized the combat-ready vehicle. As commanded, he then transported it into the cargo bay of Shirakaya’s battleship.

  “Enjoy!” the sca’vezi said ecstatically.

  Shirakaya nodded, moving forward with her companions. The mutant didn’t show much enthusiasm about the purchase, but the ghensoth appeared impressed. Passing a few more stalls, the freelancer realized there were fewer weapons for sale. Coming across a great many artifacts for sale, she fixed her gaze on expensive ornaments and jewelry.

  “Here,” the ghensoth said, halting near an engrossed vendor.

  The freelancer examined the merchant’s items. At first, she wondered if the peddler was selling worthless junk. Upon further observation, she realized one of his rings had a subtle glow. She reached for the sparkling accessory but stopped short before touching it, hesitating. Simply being near it filled her mind with a warm feeling of hope.

  “Why do I feel at ease when I shouldn’t?” Yarasuro asked.

  “Because you’re weak,” Xorvaj answered.

  “It’s...so calming,” Shirakaya said. “My anguish. My resentment. My fears. It’s as if this ring washed it all away.”

  “Temporarily,” the ghensoth added.

  Shirakaya gave a brief nod. “Yes, I imagine so. I’m already starting to think of that stupid idiot who’s so gung-ho about getting himself killed. I suppose I’d have to wear this to truly be at peace.” She managed to step away from the enchanted accessory. “Despite the beautiful feeling it gives me, I know it’s just an illusion. Such a ring would ultimately destroy me and our mission.”

  “True,” the mutant responded in a reflective tone.

  “You’re even more strong-willed than I thought,” Xorvaj said. “That is, except for you concerning yourself with the only humyn who’s capable of killing me.”

  “I hate him and yet I can’t help it,” Shirakaya said, troubled. “Never thought I’d think twice about such a scumbag after putting him in the brig. But here I am, worrying about his wellbeing.”

  “Pathetic and pointless. Like me, he was a creature bred for—”

  “Xorvaj?” the ghensoth vendor called out, his voice coarse. “No. It cannot be. He died over one cycle ago while trying to reforge Urvantak.”

  The former terrorist smiled manically. “It is I, O’dekras. Those who were against me are now mine to command.” He nudged Shirakaya before she could speak the truth. “All we need is Saliek’s blessing...and an armada of battleships.”

  Mouth agape, the vendor gazed at Xorvaj’s amulet. “How much?”

  “Half a million.”

  O’dekras grumbled. “Does it have an enchantment?”

  “Considering it belonged to the praetor of Star City, I’d say yes. But such secrets remain unknown to me. That would be for you to discover.”

  “Hmmm...a gamble,” he said, snorting. “Two hundred thousand.”

  Xorvaj scowled. “Urvantak’s sake, half a million. It is the only way to restore Zieksar and reclaim our dignity.”

  “I am no warrior,” O’dekras snarled. “I accepted our fall decades ago. Two hundred.”

  Gritting his fangs, the ghensoth mercenary pulled the shimmering necklace away. “Four hundred thousand.”

  “One hundred.”

  The mercenary grabbed him, ready to claw his face off. “Four hundred thousand! Nothing less!”

  “Kill me and you die,” the vendor said as patrol drones approached.

  “Don’t do it,” Yarasuro said. “We’ll all end up in prison.”

  Shirakaya pressed against his powerful arms, struggling to lower them. “Not everything needs to be solved with brute force.” She focused on the vendor while Xorvaj brought him back down to the ground. “I’ll reveal its charm.” Pausing for a moment to see if her words piqued his interest, she added, “Its enchantment is submission. Everyone who is close to it surrenders their will.”

  “Even if that were true, I’m no longer inter—”

  “Mine!” shouted a sca’vezi in hysteria. “Mine! Mine!” Leaping over a stall, the sca’vezi reached for the amulet. “Mine!”

  One of the patrol drones scanned both mercenaries. “Reveal your sales permit.”

  “What?” Shirakaya said with a hint of laughter. “This is a black market where everyone sells illegal merchandise and you care about a sales permit?”

  “Any further attempt to resist shall result in aggression.”

  The freelancer gestured at her comrade to conceal the amulet. “Understood. No need to threaten us. We’re leaving.”

  As soon as they turned to leave, the drones hovered away.

  “What a complete waste of time,” Shirakaya said, letting out a heavy sigh. Not a few seconds after stepping away from the scene, she felt a tug. “Huh?”

  “Underground,” the sca’vezi muttered. “Sector V-57X. Thirty-four hundred hours.”

  Yarasuro watched him scuttle off, perplexed. “What was that about?”

  “We might be able to make a sale after all,” Xorvaj said, unintentionally patting the freelancer on the back so hard it caused her to cough. “That is a zone in the mining facility. I have heard rumors that insidious deals take place there. Usually slave trade.”

  “Despicable,” the mutant said.

  “Whatever. I’m done policing random people. I don’t want to know anything about that. Just get me down there so we can sell this damn amulet.”

  III

  Unresolved Mysteries

  Wide-eyed, Xeza sat atop a table in the tent while she and a group of people watched Myris perform a reading on an alien known as a fhen’da-re whose undernourished body revealed natural markings that resembled tattoos. The alien’s multihued eyes shone like rainbows trapped in gemstones. He gazed at her in awe, an expression of hope on his face. Rolling the patron’s sleeve up, she traced a couple of fingers along the outlines of an armband-shaped birthmark that started on his wrist and ended at his pale-red bicep. Midway up the native mark, she closed her eyes and smiled.

  “What do you see?” he asked anxiously.

  The oracle didn’t respond until she finished tracing it. “Not every fhen’da-re is able to find their kindred lover. But it’s really important for you.”

  “Yes...”

  Faint gasps and whispers could be heard as the oracle continued, “You’re very, very lonely. All your friends have moved on. Your family too. It is critical for the fhen’da-re to find a kindred lover. Yet you haven’t been blessed. At least until now. I sense her.”

  “What? You do? Where is she? Who is she?”

  “The question is: What is she?” Myris posed. “She is not a fhen’da-re.” Her words made him flinch. “Your people are against mating with another species. Though, if you truly desire to be loved—genuine love—then you’ll find a kindred spirit far from your homeworld. Open your mind. Reveal your heart without discrimination. If you follow this, you will discover a beautiful love not many experience in the universe.”

  “But where is she?”

  Myris opened her eyes. “There is only so much the signs can reveal. She’s out there. Not home on planet Astao. But she is waiting for someone like you. Keep exploring other worlds like Pravura. You will find her.”

  “I see,” he muttered, taking in her words. After a moment, he lit up. “Thank you!
Thank you so much!”

  Spectators clapped while a couple of women gave a resounding Awww. Xeza let out an excited, long-winded urp. Standing some distance away, Eladoris raised an eyebrow. The fhen’da-re gave Myris a tip of two hundred reons and rose to leave. The young oracle bowed her head and accepted the gift, beaming at him. As soon as he left, a couple put down fifty reons. Myris gestured for them to be seated.

  “What can I do for such a lovely couple?”

  The woman anxiously responded, “Can you tell me the worst and best thing that will happen to us?”

  At first, Myris tilted her head with an expression of slight skepticism. Realizing she had a crowd to please, she waved a hand over her dalikonium orb that hovered in response. Eyes widened as patrons whispered among one another. Mist formed beneath their feet. Candles floated around the table. Silence descended when the orb glowed.

  Despite such astonishing occurrences, Myris didn’t receive a vision or witness anything within the magical sphere. Pulling out a dozen divination runes, she tossed them in the air. They remained suspended, surrounding the orb. As their dark etchings illuminated, Myris closed her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled heavily before reopening them.

  “Your love is wondrous,” Myris said, making the couple smile. “It is pure. Neither of you have ever betrayed each other.”

  Again, a few women sounded Awww in unison.

  “But what’s the worst to come?” the man asked.

  Myris tightened up. Looking deeper into the hovering sphere—runes heightening her senses—she channeled her divination and communed with a vision that made her paralyzed body shiver: A bearded, middle-aged man attired in a suit adorned with military medals approached a kilometer away from the tent. Every customer from the tent lay dead around him. Narrowing his eyes on a sign above that read The Magical Wonders of Myris Sye Eianvok, he advanced.

  “Run!” she cried out, spooking Xeza as well as her audience. “Run! We’re all gonna die if we don’t leave! Save yourselves!” Many of the patrons shrieked, all of them obeying her as she sized her wheelchair. “Elly! Help me!”

  “What is this nonsense?”

  “They found me...they found me,” she said, lips quivering. “How? Another oracle? No. I was their only freak. It’s not possible.”

  “Explain or I will leave you to whatever pathetic drama you’re jabbering about.”

  “No time,” she said, climbing into her wheelchair and grabbing the little sìsô. “You must get us out of here,” she added, collecting her runes and orb. “Please!”

  The trio heard horrific screams from outside. Sounds of firearms were within earshot, causing Myris to flinch and hover backwards. Eladoris couldn’t help but reveal a maniacal grin as she heard what sounded like people being harmed. Waving her hands, the necromancer blew the tent away.

  Corpses of patrons lay before her, pieces of a roller coaster blanketing the ground. Fire roared, engulfing several tents in the vicinity. A group of white-suited militants approached the duo, surrounding them. The young oracle hovered beside Eladoris, refusing to look directly at the attackers.

  “Greetings, Princess Eianvok,” said the coarse-skinned man from Myris’ vision. “It’s rather impressive that you managed to hide for this long. Even after paralysis, you somehow managed to evade us. But the running stops now.”

  “I stopped four cycles ago and started a new life here in Copia Deiga. Sorry to break it to you, Command-Minister Iska, but I’m protected by the Tal’manac Order,” she said, lying. “My father, the last true Prime King of Benetar Lojaria, didn’t die in vain. So, tell your crazed prince and his zealots to forget me or else the wrath of the Ruzurai will rain down on Zesga’De Xanam.”

  “I’m afraid twelve primitive cultists aren’t going to change anything. Science will always prevail over magic. It is only a matter of time before we take control of Copia Deiga and put an end to freaks like you.”

  Furrowing her brow at his comment, Eladoris stepped forward. “You remind me of a pompous king whose holier-than-thou kingdom became cursed. It’s better to flee now before I kill all of you and add your corpses to my undead army.”

  “Elly?” the oracle said, startled.

  Without wasting further time, one of them threw a grenade. It exploded a few centimeters away from Eladoris, her mana shield absorbing it. Expressionless, the necromancer conjured scrambling bolts of lightning that penetrated the force fields of three zealots, electrocuting them. They were knocked off their feet in an instant and lay dead on the ground.

  “Kill that witch!” shouted Command-Minister Iska.

  The other seventeen zealots fired a mixture of incendiary rounds and fusion beams. Eladoris rose into the air to avoid the salvo and used telekinesis to slam a soldier against a ruptured roller coaster rail, breaking almost every one of his bones. Then, using the current around her, she conjured a tempest that cut through the skin of a man who was about to shoot her.

  Flying in the air, Eladoris summoned an enchanted battleaxe and swooped down, striking a zealot’s torso. After he had been split in half, she ascended and hurled a fireball at a soldier who disintegrated. Avoiding a bombardment of lasers, the necromancer raised the dead around her. As several corpses rose once more to do her bidding, she threw her axe at a cringing zealot’s chest.

  With the exception of Command-Minister Iska, the remaining benetarians attacked their undead comrades. Rifle in both hands, Iska aimed at the witch and fired a devastating thermal beam. For the first time, her mana shield dissolved. Descending toward the remaining soldiers, Eladoris conjured a barrage of icicles that jabbed at the scrambling zealots. As they attempted to take cover, the witch grabbed Myris and flew toward the heavens.

  “Stop running and kill that evil bitch!”

  Wings gliding, Eladoris flew past a multitude of police vehicles that advanced toward them over the enflamed fair. The oracle glanced down at the ruined festival, breathing heavily. Holding the distressed sìsô with one arm while clinging on to Eladoris with the other, Myris checked her body to see if she had any wounds since she couldn’t feel her lower half. Not noticing any injuries, she calmed down a bit—at least until she spotted a battleship approaching them.

  “Watch out!”

  Eladoris glimpsed the ship’s cannons from the corner of her eye and narrowly dodged a barrage of plasma torpedoes. Flapping her blackish wings madly, she dived down headfirst, focusing on the command bridge with a deathly gaze. Several soldiers aboard gasped at the sight of her, seeing something that could only be described to them as a devil.

  Reaching the interstellar craft, she roared like a banshee while unleashing a steady bolt of lightning. It was so powerful, it disrupted the vessel’s barrier and weaponry. The zealots aboard screamed in hysteria. Without showing any remorse, Eladoris used arcane kinesis with all her might. Denting and collapsing inward, the ship’s hull crushed every soldier inside. Once the vessel exploded, Eladoris extended her wings and flew skyward.

  The oracle closed her eyes, still sensing the revolting presence of Command-Minister Iska as well as a few of his wounded soldiers. She saw them through her unseen eye; they were stranded at the abandoned fair, gazing at the flying witch with rage. Distancing herself from them, her vision blurred and faded.

  “Princess Eianvok?”

  Myris shook her head. “I gave up that title and life a long time ago. I’m just an oracle trying my best to start over. You mustn’t tell Shira or the others. Promise me!”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late,” Vokken said, eavesdropping.

  The oracle sighed. “This is turning out to be a horrible day. I didn’t want anyone knowing about my miserable past.”

  “What’s done is done,” Eladoris said.

  “Correct,” the AI responded. “More importantly, I need the two of you out of there before Iska finds you again. This means contacting Shirakaya and informing her that you’re in trouble. And you don’t need me to inform you that next time he’ll have a legion of benetarians
to kidnap you. Not even the glorious Eladoris can take down that many soldiers.”

  “Do not doubt my power.”

  “Arrogance can be destructive, my dear. Believe you me, it was my worst enemy when I fought against the fleshling leader, Shirakaya of Aarda.”

  The witch remained quiet, respecting his advice.

  “Despite my gift of divination, for the life of me, I can’t sense why you helped me,” the oracle said. “Why?”

  “It wasn’t pity or goodness, if that is what you’re thinking. That lousy cur reminded me of a pathetic scoundrel of a king who ended up betraying himself, his people, and me out of sheer ignorance.”

  “Sounds like he let fear control him,” Myris said.

  Eladoris gave a nod. “Why hide your nobility?” she asked, flying farther away. “Why hide who you truly are?”

  Clutched in Eladoris’ arms while looking down at the planetary city, the oracle replied, “I didn’t want people treating me differently. Also…I’m ashamed of my past. I refused an arranged marriage my parents established for me to keep peace between Lojaria and Benetar—my home world. By denying the prince, I betrayed Lojaria. For this, my mother and father were murdered because they both respected my wishes.”

  “That, my dear child, is true evil,” the witch said.

  “Of course, and the asshole prince who thinks he’s a king still wants to marry me. But in truth, I’d just be his slave.”

  “Shadow Mercs must know the truth,” Vokken said.

  The oracle’s face turned melancholy. “I understand...”

  IV

  Internal Struggle

  Shirakaya and her comrades returned to a tunnel leading to the mining facility on Qyon’tog. At a fork, they walked through the left passage. Stripped of its jewels and precious stones, the once-mined pathway now appeared dull. Advancing a couple of kilometers, they reached an abandoned shaft that contained an elevator. The mercenaries stepped inside and descended into the asteroid’s enriched depths.