When they entered, the doors were swiftly shut behind them by two higher Peacekeeping Centurions.
The room, a little livelier than the daunting stillness of the hall, was equipped with a small bonfire in the centre of the foyer. Stairs lined either side of the far walls, of the spacious room and climbed to the upper level where the Elders sat. Often, lined in books of ancient languages, delicate pieces of art and lost artefacts.
The black marble floors were the same everywhere. Often, well waxed, smoothly mirroring Gothalia’s and Anaphora’s form as they glided across the floor.
Gothalia glanced at their moving reflection, coloured in a golden and crimson glow from the bonfire.
Readily, she tore her eyes from the likeness beneath her boots and climbed the marble stairs aware of the voices hollowing throughout the upper level. When she entered the open room and stopped beside her mentor, they gazed upon the Grand Elders of their secret society. The Masters and Generals of the two Elite Excelian Battalions.
These twelve members between them passed or ended laws, advised the Royal family of the Fire reserve of appropriate action, judged those who committed crimes and guarded the land of Fire by continuing to carry the wards. The members of the Grand Council were never voted in, they were always descendants of their bloodlines, but the selection process was strict. Only those who were worthy of the title as Grand Elders could become Grand Elders.
Each member of the Council sat high on a balcony lining the entire room, curved into the balconies before their seats, were the first twelve letters of the Greek alphabet. Beneath it, were Hieroglyphics, each representing elemental techniques, their clans were known for.
At the base of the balcony were their Elite guards, the Cratians. Their powers were rumoured to hold no bounds while some who displayed tremendous valour and bravery were etched into the walls of the hall of honour. A reminder for the many generations that will follow, to uphold their commandments on the battlefield and anywhere else they may walk.
“I see you and your pupil have returned home unharmed. Well done,” proclaimed Lord Michalis Drakeus. The head of the Grand Council. He was an old man, with a neatly trimmed short beard peppered in red and silver. His dark gentle gaze held wisdom and power as they assessed the women before him. “As for the mission, Lady Regan?”
Both Anaphora and Gothalia kneeled. Their curled fists steadied their weight as they dropped their heads in respect. “The mission was a success. Lord Drakeus. As predicted, the enemy is assembling around the Southern Hemisphere. No doubt, to give the rest of the world a false sense of security.”
“What about their Scouts?” he questioned, his eyes observing both women with calculating curiosity.
“They’ve all been eliminated. By the upper Centurions. All that remains is the one that is scheduled to be assassinated tonight. As our informants discovered their appointment is with an unknown contact.”
“I’ve read the report Lady Reagan. This unknown contact, it’s not someone that we’ve encountered in the past, is it?”
“No, my lord. It’s been confirmed that this contact may not be Human but rather a fellow Excelian.” Gothalia glanced at her mentor, horrified by the idea of a member of her race working alongside with these creatures, aliens who intended nothing more than to wipe everything and everyone off the face of this planet.
Silence blossomed in the council chambers before Michalis Drakeus spoke, eyeing Gothalia, “I recognise that expression you wear Gothalia. Where does this surprise arise, child?” His voice was one of artful speculation. Then, softened a little under her genuine confusion.
“Forgive me my lord. I just... Never expected our enemy to be like us.”
“I’m aware you are young Lady Gothalia. I’m also aware of your difficult upbringing; its struggles and the horrors that accompanied each feat you’ve endured. However, I had hoped from all these trials in your short life you’d understand one thing: we may all wear the same name as Excelians but not all Excelians; like all Humans, are allies. There will be multiple times when either race will betray each other or will work to aid each other. Human nature, including Excelian, is often unpredictable.”
No words were uttered by Gothalia, until, “Forgive me. I must have lost sight of that.”
“It’s not unexpected. It happens from time to time. Even your own commanding officer had a similar reaction when she found out.” He glanced at Lieutenant Colonel Anaphora Reagan before returning his attention to Gothalia. “We’ve all been created from the same need to survive. Just because our transition from Human to Excelian was necessary at the time, in order to adapt, it doesn’t mean everyone who was created from this or any similar source are going to fight for the idea that no one else should suffer as we did. And in some parts of the world still do. Some people will be ring masters and will not care who they abuse or kill. This is why it is necessary to take heed of the doctrine. I hope you never lose sight of it, again.”
“Of course, I’ll work not to.”
“If that’s the case. I hereby sanction you Lieutenant Gothalia Valdis to return to the surface world anonymously. Find this Excelian man or woman. Assemble the necessary perspicuity of their intention and their connection to the Xzandians. Than eliminate the source without arising suspicion from the Law enforcers. You are dismissed.” Both women climbed to their feet, with a final salute; a cupped hand over their heart with a slight bow and exited the room.
Down the stairs they strode and out of the Grand doors, that reminded any and every person who entered that every action conduced was judged and recorded.
Gothalia turned away to prepare for her mission before Anaphora’s words stopped her. “You’ll be expected to carry out this mission alone, but you’ll be tailed by two Excelian officers, should anything go wrong but they’re not to interfere unless you’re dead or close to death. However, work as if they’re not there. Your final test.” Surprised by Anaphora’s before composing herself and accepted the computer chip she handed to Gothalia. “This has all the information you need. Arthur has all your tools, weapons and transportation prepared. You leave in half an hour for the surface world.”
When Gothalia arrived at the Artillery and Combat Zone, the tranquillity of the air calmed her anxiety. Often, whenever she was here, the place would buzz with activity of other Centurions walking back and forth carrying car parts, weapons or gadgets. An aspect that only had a habit of peaking her anxiety and her fear that with each passing day she knew the curse she bore would become unendurable.
In the background, she’d hear the grinding of metal, the explosion of a tested grenade in the back room. Sometimes she’d hear the pulsing of electrical drills as they manufactured or repaired vehicles or gadgets.
During those times, there was always be a member of her clan nearby to ensure the fire from the explosion of the grenades, wouldn’t spread or cause a dangerous explosion that would ruin the entire foundation of the building or the lives of those within close proximity.
“There you are!” a cheery voice called, through the clatter of noises. Arthur Cicero’s assertion pealed with vociferously like the call of a servant bell against a busy room of impatient guests.
His brown eyes shone with admiration, stirring Gothalia’s movements to him.
He was a man much older than her but without a doubt he was the smartest man she knew. “Surely you can move faster than that.” he taunted and Gothalia’s smile dropped. It had been a while since she’s seen him and she’d almost forgot about his unusual sense of humour.
There were times, Gothalia knew, when his dry humour and sarcastic remarks, would almost get him burnt by members of her clan or buried alive by the quick-tempered, Earth elementalist of Regalis blood. After all, for as long as she could remember, he was smart but not that smart, at times to know when and when not to speak.
Gothalia hastened her pace, frustration reinforcing the folds of her youthful features. Rude as ever I see, she thought.
“I’ve been told you have my gear
and transportation ready?” Gothalia inquired, not bothering to comment on his last words. Once she reached his work station, she watched him quickly return to a gadget he’d fiddled with when she entered the room.
His workstation, covered in gadgets both complete and incomplete. Including those he was currently repairing. This was the same with the guns, rifles, prototype digital swords and any other weapon every created.
A computer assembled behind Arthur, was refurbished with a stack of paper piled off to the side next to a printer, often forgotten and unused. Unless, necessary.
Whenever Gothalia arrived, he’d be behind a three-dimensional screen with algorithms, shapes and words. It was something, Gothalia couldn’t begin to describe how it worked but still it was interesting to her nonetheless.
After all, it worked like any computer just faster. “I do. Including your outfit.”
“Huh?” Arthur’s brown eyes glinted in mirth at her comment.
“Didn’t they tell you, you’ll be infiltrating a club to get to your target. So, you need to look the part. You can’t show up looking like you want to start a fight.” he conveyed, as he examined the gadget under the light before his attention befell Gothalia, obviously entertained. Her dark eyes glanced to the side, avoiding Arthur’s beaming smile at her awkward countenance.
Gothalia didn’t speak, grateful Arthur held back his bubbling laughter.
“Here it is.” he acknowledged, readily changing the subject. He held up the dress she was expected to wear and Gothalia walked around the bench. Immediately, gripped the ends and noticed the purposely unstitched sections in the dress. Enough so, it’d reveal her stomach and back and one shoulder.
“I’m supposed to wear that?” Gothalia questioned, her eyes unenthusiastically roaming over the dress while her mind crossed out the weapons, she won’t be able to take with her into the club. “Where am I supposed to put my weapons? Why this dress?”
“Like I said you have to look the part and there’s black heels over there to match.” Gothalia internally groaned.
Regardless of how times she told her self it was to blend in, she couldn’t rid herself of the irritation she felt carving into her chest. “Well, how am I supposed to get to my target if I’m fighting off weirdos?”
“You’ll find away. Women always do.”
At that comment, Gothalia’s irritation, only intensified. Holding Arthur’s gaze, she questioned, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Arthur’s smile curled dangerously along his slips and Gothalia fought the urge to send him across the room but then attempted to keep her cool, as she knew he didn’t deserve it.
“Yes, and you won’t be unarmed but you’re expected not to draw your weapons on the humans. Ones you’ll be wearing underneath.” He glanced at the short sword, two knives and an ear piece.
“That’s all?”
“Yep but no one said you couldn’t use your flames just don’t burn the entire city down. You’ll be transported by the usual light beam, but you’ll leave from here with a standard Centurion bike. I’ve packed the rest of your weapons on there. Along with your uniform and armour should you need it. And this—” He tossed Gothalia leather jacket. “To cover the big fire emblem on your back when you ride to the arranged hotel room to change.”
“Why didn’t you just let me use one of the cars?”
“Can’t they’re all currently at the disposal of other Centurions, and Anaphora said a black bike. She chose the dress. The weapons and gadgets are prepped and ready to go.”
“Do I have to wear make-up too?”
“If you don’t mind it’s been set aside.” he voiced then smiled. Gothalia snatched the dress and the jacket from his hand before collecting the make-up and striding to the assigned bike.
Placing all her items on, she mounted the bike and started the vehicle, it roared throughout the lower levels of the garage. Then guided it to a large teleportation pad and glanced at Arthur who stood behind the controls. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Gothalia confirmed.
“Good luck,” he said, earnestly. Before Gothalia knew it, she arrived at Lust-us after leaving the hotel room she checked out from behind. This club expected was to have the Xzandian contact but she knew by the bouncers lingering at the door and the many people that wasn’t all it was going to have.
Gothalia’s black heels touched the ground as the engine ceased, adjusting her balance she demounted her bike. Ensuring no one was around. The last thing you want to do is show too much right, she thought, disgruntled by the tight dress and its habit to inconveniently rise.
She paused noticing two figures, one stationed on the roof that provided a perfect few of the parking lot and the another lingered down the road would watch her walk into the club. If she hadn’t knew they were Centurions, she would have found them very creepy with potentially dangerous motives. That’s unnecessary, she thought and parted ways with the bike.
Gothalia knew even after she managed to make her way inside, her comrades would be limited to interfere. Too much interference would be a mission fail, something she and her comrades aimed to ensure never happened.
Examining the items within the bag, she acknowledged their average appearance, the usual items to carry. Perfume, roll-on deodorant, lipstick, lip balm, foundation powder and a wallet with money. She knew the money was the only thing that was real. Something she knew she had to use wisely, Anaphora wouldn’t take to well to the idea of her having a little too much to drink while on a mission.
She felt the weapons discretely lining her body and trembled a little as apprehension ran through her, she feared she’d be caught. Then, feared even more if she wasn’t. “Then they’d have dodgy security,” she muttered to herself.
Taking a deep breath, Gothalia joined the end of the line, listening to the drunk-like jokes of the men before her. Then ignored them when they tried to catch her attention.
She glanced over her shoulder when another group joined the line behind her. Before training her eyes ahead and on the bouncers; mentally counting the amount present, then observing their builds and estimating weight.
The line moved slowly but not too slowly she’d get too bored. Showing her ID with a charming smile, the bouncer allowed her to pass than payed the entrance fee before heading inside.
She heard the buzz in her ear of the ear piece hidden beneath her thick hair. She noticed more bouncers lining the club and mentally counted their numbers, taking in their builds before estimating their weight and moved to the bathroom. She smiled at the drunk men and women around her as if she was having the time of her life.
When she reached a cubical. She heard, the earpiece ring to life, “Do you read, Lieutenant?”
“I read.” she replied with utter discretion.
“Your co-ordinates are on track. Identify the Contact.” Danteus said on the other line.
“That’s easier said than done,” she remarked. “What if he or she hasn’t had anything to drink or worse...”
“What’s worse than being sober?” Danteus joked.
“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny.”
“I know right?” Danteus muttered equally sarcastic. “Stay on mission.”
“Sure.” Gothalia uttered, with equal sarcasm then didn’t speak on the matter any further, aware Danteus was done with the conversation. The first question that slipped through her mind was where to find him let alone, figure out what he looked like. “A picture would have been nice,” she grumbled than fell silent the moment the door opened revealing more women entering the bathroom. Fixing her makeup and hair, she vacated the bathroom without a glance back.
4
EACH WORD STRAINED HIS LUNGS.
The muscles around his neck burned. With each passing second, his dizzy mind made the image of the woman before him, fuzzier and more unrecognisable. Regardless, if he fought to stay conscious.
The pressure of her hand tightened, before it stopped, her intention to harm was interrupted by his question wh
ich one he didn’t know.
He felt the hesitation behind her grip at this his desire to live flickered a little in his chest. She regarded Noel-Len closely and ignored Mike’s persistent barking. Noel-Len was still surprised the dog hadn’t attacked her yet.
As the blood rushed to Noel-Len’s ears Mike’s baying merely hummed in the background. With a raised brow, “You’re her ... progeny?” He held her gaze as she studied him, searching for deceit. Taking him in, she briefly recognised Natalia’s features and immediately she released him.
Swiftly, the woman’s attentiveness narrowed on the back door. She caught the sound of Xzandian trackers footfalls treading over the grass in the backyard, something she had hoped she had evaded. Before Noel-Len had a chance to catch his breath, she vanished. Noel-Len felt Mike lick his face and whine before Noel-Len managed to crawl to his feet and push the dog away.
“I’m alright, boy.” he managed after sucking in many hefty breaths of air and his concentration returned. Decisively, he moved to the kitchen and yanked out a knife that he had secured under the table and began inspecting his house for the stranger.
Every room he scanned was empty, to his frustration. However, it wasn’t until he heard a thump from the backyard and Mike running to the door, growling at the noise.
Noel-Len leaned against the backdoor frame, waiting before opening the door. To his revelation, the backyard was empty and the woman—his attacker—was nowhere to be seen.
A knock at the front door permeated the house and pulled his attention from his backyard aware his shed was a perfect hiding place. Unbeknownst to him, the woman had dumped the Xzandian inside.
Frustrated with the timing, Noel-Len closed the door and locked it and knew that wouldn’t stop her.
When she vanished, confusion clouded his mind and uncertainty settled within his stomach, it was something he hadn’t expected but when it had, he knew it was dangerous.
Her odd visit, the man at the prison and the unnecessary sacrifice of Phillip. Images of the prisoner stumbling towards Noel-Len, lit up a new sense of fear one he hadn’t felt for years. A fear he hadn’t felt, since the initial invasion.
Midnight Eclipse Page 4
