The Voyage of the Cybeleion: A Rawn Chronicles Interlude (The Rawn Chronicles Series)

by P D Ceanneir

  The Blacksword formed a Fireball and threw it towards his opponent, but the Sentinel batted it away with a flick of his hand. A second ball of flame was thrown; this one was caught by those long white fingers and literally torn apart. Red tinged embers fluttered away like angry fireflies.

  The Blacksword roared and charged his future self. The Sentinel dodged the run and slammed a fist into the Blacksword’s gut, he then twisted on his heal and kicked the Blacksword in the chest, so hard that he flew backwards at speed and careered through a two foot thick wall, obliterating it on impact.

  The Sentinel chuckled as he walked towards his younger self, ‘I have at least three thousand years on you, youngling. My strength has grown and so has my speed.’

  The rubble of bricks shifted and the Blacksword stood shaking his head. He formed another Fireball and quickly threw it towards his opponent. The Sentinel caught it and threw it back. Shocked by the quick reactions of the Sentinel, the Blacksword had to summon up a gust of wind to deflect the missile. It struck a pillar behind him and he had to leap to avoid its crash to the ground. As he rolled, the Sentinel appeared before him, he threw a punch, but it was blocked. The Sentinel’s grip was like iron, he twisted his arm hard, but the Blacksword moved with it and spun in a full circle through the air. When he landed, he kicked the legs out from under the Sentinel and thumped him hard on the side of the head, denting the golden skull helmet. The Sentinel released his grip and moved out of the way of another punch, yet two landed on his chest, crushing his armour there into deep dents and forcing him to breath out in a rush, his forearm blocked another right hook and he swung upwards to land a damaging uppercut to the Blacksword’s chin. The Blacksword sailed backwards, landing onto his back.

  ‘As you can see, my ability to use the Rawn Arts far exceeds yours. The Dragon Lanes on this planet are nearly non-existent, only here, in this shrine, are they concentrated enough to use to any degree and it has taken me years to tap into their matrix,’ said the Sentinel. He grabbed the Blacksword’s foot and spun him in the air making sure he collided with a wall or two before releasing him. He watched as his younger self smashed through several more walls and landed in a heap in an open section of the castle room about fifty feet away.

  The sentinel walked through the smashed sections, his armour repairing itself with every footstep. He watched as the Blacksword tried to get up, but he fell back to his knees.

  ‘Why?’ hissed the Blacksword, ‘why kill me? I’m your past, you’ll be killing yourself.’

  ‘Not necessarily. I have created a temporary Time Paradox. I can return to the past inside Havoc and undo the mistake that caused all of this.’

  ‘Then tell me what needs to be done?’

  ‘Tsk, tsk…I’m afraid not. You see, it is all about trust and self-sacrifice, something you’re incapable of.’ The Sentinel grabbed him by the upper arm and threw him high into the air. The Blacksword soared over the broken ruins, bounced off another partitioning wall and landed hard on the uneven flagstones of the courtyard. He groaned as he tried to stand, but it was an effort to heal the broken bones in his body. Havoc was urging him to stand and fight.

  Suddenly, the Sentinel loomed over him. He lifted a foot to bring it down on his head but the boot embedded itself into the flagstones as the Blacksword moved out of its way, quickly. He reared up and delivered two scathing uppercuts to the Sentinel’s leering face, which brought a burst of blood from his mouth. He then grabbed his body and lifted him up, end over end, to slam him hard into the ground. The flagstones buckled under the weight of the impact and the whole castle shook.

  The Blacksword then reached out his hand and the Sword that Rules, embedded in the ground some twenty feet away, flew into his grasp. The Sentinel did the same as he summoned his own black-bladed weapon from the Gredligg Orrinn. The blades of both swords collided as each of the protagonists swung.

  Then the air around them exploded.

  17

  Vlaren watched the battle unfold. She desperately wanted to help, but now seemed unsure. Both the Blacksword and the Sentinel were the same person, only age and time separated them. The fight was one-sided, even though both men were fast and strong, the Sentinel had the edge.

  The fight was destructive. With every bone-crunching bout, the walls of the old castle shook, with every use of the Rawn Arts the residual energy washed over her as she dived for cover. Her Tactical Suit absorbed most of the ambient effects, but it had no protection from flying debris that hailed around her. Several small stones pierced her suit and her flesh, one cracked her visor and the heads-up-display warned her of the imminent oxygen depletion. Her PDU was chiming a warning of residual energy spike reading as the struggle continued unabated. When she next dared to pop her head above her sheltered screen of rubble, she saw both Blackswords with each of their swords in hand. The collision of both blades caused a huge burst of energy that sent both beings flying backwards at speed. The golden Blacksword, now calling himself the Sentinel, dug his feet into the flagstones to slow his velocity and created a deep scar as the stones smashed under his armoured boots. The other, black clad, Blacksword struck a supporting pillar with his back and slumped to the floor.

  And then time stopped.

  That was Vlaren’s first assumption. The Sentinel froze in place, slightly crouching as if ready to pounce. A bubble of bright dust particles hung in the air about twenty feet in circumference around him. From the centre of the mass, thousands of silver-grey motes coalesced and formed into a small humanoid shape. The shape was a human female, young, about fourteen in human years and she wore a pristine blue dress. She carried a soft doll by one leg in her left arm and her light brown hair wafted behind her beautiful smiling face.

  The whole scene was angelic, however, her eyes of red burning orbs was a little disconcerting.

  ‘Verna,’ said the Blacksword by the pillar as he stood and walked towards her with a slight limp.

  ‘Champion,’ said the child in acknowledgement. She looked towards Vlaren, ‘please do not skulk in the shadows Vlaren of Plettra, it is most unseemly of you.’

  Vlaren stood and dusted herself off. She approached the girl cautiously and gave the Blacksword a wide berth.

  ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ said the girl, ‘we are the My’thos, but in this form you may call me Verna.’

  ‘The My’thos? The actual gods of the Realmworld?’

  Verna raised an eyebrow and this caused a puff of smoke to lift from one flame wreathed eyeball, ‘indeed.’

  ‘I wondered when you would show up,’ growled the Blacksword.

  ‘The extraction of the Sword that Rules from the Gredligg Orrinn release us,’ she now pointed towards the sword, which had embedded in the flagstones once again. The Blacksword looked around for the second one but could not see it. ‘Take up the sword of prophecy.’

  ‘And the other?’ asked the Blacksword.

  ‘Both now share the same time continuum. They are now merged. The Sword that Rules can only exist in one continuous moment. That is the way of its design.’

  The Blacksword picked up the sword and slotted it back in its scabbard on his back.

  ‘Is this part of your “Great Plan”?’ he asked.

  Verna shook her head, ‘this moment does not feature in the plan at all. This event has been caused by a mistake in the past, your past,’ she said pointing at him.

  ‘Then tell me what I must do to rectify it.’

  ‘I cannot. The Timeline that we My’thos perceive is linear. Yet, the flux and weave of the pattern changes when the gravitational force of Bani passes through it. Events unfold, and then collapse to be replaced by new histories. Situations in time can be reborn anew; it is up to you to choose the right moment.’

  The Blacksword groaned, ‘as usual, you speak, but say nothing.’

  ‘Such is our will.’

  ‘What of him?’ growled the Blacksword nodded towards the still frozen form of the Sentinel under the sphere of glowing motes.<
br />
  ‘He is a product of a false event,’ said Verna.

  ‘No kidding!’

  ‘He will not exist in this form if you are successful in your task.’

  ‘In order to do that, I need to return to my own time.’

  ‘Take the Ring of Lorena and return to the tomb you arrived in. That is the only place it can be used. The Lifespan of the Earth Mother will return you to your point of origin via the Masterton Maelstrom.’

  ‘Lifespan. Masterton Maelstrom?’

  ‘Yes, the Lifespan of the Earth Mother is linear, like ours. The ring allows you to travel throughout the years of her existence, through the time conduit, known as the Masterton Maelstrom. However, I ... we cannot allow you to take it back with you, for you will discover it in the future and your memories of this event will be wiped completely.’

  The Blacksword glared at her. Vlaren spoke before he could vent his anger.

  ‘If he returns with no memory of all of this, how is he supposed to rectify the mistake he would make in the first place?’

  Verna tilted her head and regarded the alien, ‘you of all people should know of the dangers of Time Paradoxes. If the Blacksword returned with knowledge of this time, then it would no doubt be instrumental in causing the mistake in the first place. He must face the danger unprepared.’

  ‘Nothing new there, then,’ remarked the Blacksword.

  Verna shrugged, ‘that is why we created you; you’re our Champion. Your task is to succeed at all costs. Once the Dark Tanis is brought into existence then nothing can destroy it.’

  The Blacksword grunted and walked towards the Sentinel and reached for the ring on his future-self’s hand.

  ‘You will not be able to remove it,’ noted Verna, ‘it has fused to his flesh.’

  The Blacksword sighed, extracted his sword and lopped off the Sentinels hand with a downward stroke. ‘Let’s hope I succeed in the past, or I’m going to be very angry at losing my hand in the future.’ He picked up the hand, which turned back into its human form where he was able to pull the ring free and walked out of the sphere of motes.

  ‘And the Gredligg Orrinn?’ he asked.

  ‘You cannot take it because you have not found it yet.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ he said in a deadpan tone.

  ‘You must go now,’ urged Verna, ‘the Time Infraction we have created will not last long. Already he is fighting it. Return to the tomb and place the ring on the corpse. It is the only way it will work.’

  ‘But,’ asked Vlaren, ‘what about me, what about my planet?’

  ‘If the Blacksword is successful in the past then you and I will not be having this conversation,’ informed Verna.

  ‘I see.’ She looked at the Blacksword and nodded, ‘let’s get this over with, then.’

  18

  They fled the castle-shine at a sprint, keeping pace with each other until their injuries slowed them down. The Blacksword was weak, the lack of Rawn Energy around him failed to mend his bones successfully and he limped while clutching his right side where his broken ribs ground against his lungs. Vlaren limped also, her upper thigh leaked green blood down her leg from a large wound where stone shrapnel had embedded into the muscle. Another piece had grazed her shoulder to cut a groove through her suit and her blood ran in rivulets down her chest. The worst pain, though, was in her chest; with her visor cracked, she was not getting the right mixture of air and so her lungs burned with each stride.

  Rain drenched them and obscured their vision to such an extent that their surroundings seemed the same wherever they looked. Denizens of the ruins scuttled and scampered away from them as they passed beyond the walls of Baronstown. They slowed to a crippling stagger when they reached the high walls that separated the palace grounds and Oldtown.

  It was there they met the Brethac Korzac.

  ‘Ah, damn!’ cursed Vlaren as she shouldered the Kytor rifle and aimed it at the creatures that blocked their route to the smashed gates of the town. Some stood on rooftops, others perched on the walls. There were about a dozen in all, each staring down at them and growling menacingly.

  ‘I’ll handle this,’ said the Blacksword. He walked forward, the Korzac growling and baring their fangs as he approached. He stopped and scanned each of them with baleful black eyes.

  ‘You all know me!’ he shouted, ‘you all know that even in my weakened state I can still kill most of you before I die. Look at you! See what you have become, this is your life and your eventual extinction. Nevertheless, it does not have to come to this. I can change the past and rewrite the future.

  ‘Let us be on our way!’

  Vlaren watched as the Korzac continued to look at the Blacksword. One of them, the Alpha Male she presumed, barked several times and then the troop slowly disappeared into the rain soaked ruins. Only the alpha remained to watch them pass through the gates.

  ‘Ever decided to take up diplomacy?’ asked Vlaren, as she kept her rifle’s aim on the alpha.

  ‘They are sentient creatures and so know what hope is,’ remarked the Blacksword, ‘I have…arghhh…’ he fell to his knees. Vlaren went to help him up but stepped back in shock as he changed back into Havoc.

  ‘Welcome back,’ she said with a smile, ‘it’s been a strange day and I have many questions for you, but no time to ask any.’

  ‘Havoc looked up at her and smiled wearily, ‘he’s too weak to hold my will at bay. We must keep moving.’

  She helped him up, but just then a loud echoing roar reverberated across the smashed city.

  ‘He’s coming,’ was all Havoc said.

  19

  The Time Infraction disintegrated and the Sentinel roared as he gripped the bleeding stump of his arm. He immediately healed it into a hardened lump of skin and flesh. His anger boiled to the surface and it became more pronounced when the girl beside him continued to smile.

  ‘You just had to interfere, didn’t you!’ he hissed.

  ‘You used the sword of prophecy to trap us inside the Orrinn for three thousand years. Do you resent us having a little fun?’

  ‘I resent the day you created me!’ he looked about him. ‘He has the ring and the sword?’ he swung his good hand at Verna, but his hand passed through here incorporeal form. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Gone from here.’

  ‘Bitch!’

  ‘Tsk, tsk. That is no way to talk to your Gods.’

  The Sentinel growled at her and then moved into a crouch before springing into the air. He cleared the high walls at the south end of the castle and landed in the thick mud just beyond the moat. He took a deep breath and then broke into a sprint heading directly for the palace.

  20

  ‘Stop, stop!’ said Vlaren who was breathing heavily and seeing red spots before her eyes.

  Havoc propped her against a fallen trunk.

  ‘Where are we? How far now?’ she asked.

  ‘Not far, the bridge to Carras Isle is just beyond those walls,’ answered Havoc as he pointed north.

  Vlaren took out her PDU. She tapped the screen. ‘He’s getting closer, moving faster than we can. The Korzac know he is coming, they have fled from his path.’

  Havoc took our SinDex. ‘We’ll make a stand here,’ he said.

  ‘You’re no match for him.’

  Havoc remained silent, but agreed with her.

  ‘We have a mental discipline on my world called Jik’Pah. It’s a way of triggering memories with symbols, smells, sounds and events.’

  ‘We have a similar training in the academy,’ nodded Havoc, wondering where this was going.

  ‘Vlaren took off her backpack and opened it. She took out a medical pack and extracted a long grey cylinder. ‘This is a laser scalpel.’ She saw the look of bemusement on the prince’s face, ‘never mind. Take off a glove and give you your hand, palm up.’

  He hesitated at first but did as she instructed. Vlaren then pointed the scalpel at the fleshy area under his thumb and depressed a button on the side of the device. A nar
row red light shot from the cylinder and began to scratch thin burn marks in his palm. He felt nothing for a moment and then a slight burning pain registered. He gritted his teeth and hissed.

  ‘There, finished,’ said Vlaren.

  Havoc looked and saw a several angled lines, dots and even a triangle etched onto his palm. His natural use of the arts meant it healed quickly into white scars. Even as he stared at the lettering, and it was obviously lettering, the writing shimmered before his eyes as the translation ability in the Muse Orrinn on the Sword that Rules, took effect.

  ‘It is my language,’ said Vlaren, tell me what it says.’

  ‘It says “Vlaren”.’

  She nodded, ‘good. Now, commit this moment to memory, my friend, fix this in your mind and don’t forget me.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Good, now go!’ she stood up and checked the settings on her pulse rifle.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We will not make it together,’ she explained, ‘I will buy you some time. I will only slow you up anyway.’

  ‘This is madness…’

  ‘Ha! Madness is the watchword of the day, I think. Go Gillem or Havoc, whatever you call yourself, go and change the past.’

  Havoc nodded, ‘I promise I will not forget you. Farewell, Vlaren.’ He turned and sprinted through the ruins and over the bridge. In the distance sat the tomb’s barrow. He was just over the bridge when he heard the Kytor fire its first volley.

  21

  The curtain of rain parted as the Sentinel stepped through it. He scowled at the tall alien as she trained her rifle at his chest.

  ‘Where’s the brat!’

  ‘Gone, with any luck he’s already rewriting your past,’ she smiled back at him.

  ‘Wrong! He will not know the moment until it’s too late.’ He charged her. She fired off three rounds. The first he dodged, the second hit him the chest and sparked all over his armour, the third penetrated his left side and he roared as he struck out at Vlaren, hitting her in the chest. She fell backwards, dropping the Kytor. The Sentinel then slammed his stump into her face. Her visor shattered completely and she coughed up green blood. He then kicked her up against a wall.