“What do you mean?”
He places his pipe in his trench coat and stands so that the moon is directly above him. I almost snort. It’s like he understands the effect of the dramatic lighting.
“It was civil war that caused the Mavens to collapse,” Abrax says. I pay close attention as he grasps his arms behind his back. There’s always a hidden meaning in these lectures.
“Younger Knights, those with more devotion to their creed of order, rebelled,” the old man narrates as if he had been there in those years. “Se’baus fought Suzerains and obliterated many of their old fortresses and training grounds. Millions died. The younger Knights even sought to stop the Ones of Aster on their own. But the conflict merely ended with the utter annihilation of the Mavens. The conflict of ideologies erupted this civil war, and it turned them into the very things they fought against. They lost their true focus.”
There it is. He ties the history neatly into the lesson of the day. I praise him slightly for his consistency.
Abrax approaches me with a questioning look upon his face. His lips are a thin line under his beard before he asks, “Do you understand the importance of guided focus now, Tálir?”
I regard him without expression. It’s a bit frustrating, having him hammer home this concept of focus. But I realize the deeper implications of it. The Mavens fell because of misguided focus, and the same could happen to me if I let it.
“Focus keeps our true goals in sight,” I say in a reflecting manner. “My focus needs to be true if I’m to remain guided. It makes sense.”
The old man gives no expression, but he nods in approval before he examining his right gauntlet. “Misguided focus is what led to the extinction of our culture. Distractions, doubt, fear, and corruption dug in like parasites and turned them against one another. You must be better than that, lad. I must as well. Despite the Ending, the Mavens are slowly returning. But only in the shadow of the Ones of Aster. So our focus must remain strong against the many enemies we’ll face.”
I gulp at this undertaking. The many enemies we’ll face? I repeat. This is more dangerous than I thought. With awkward unease, I comment, “Now I’m not so sure I want this responsibility.”
“Be serious, dammit!” Abrax snaps, furrowing his brow. “You don’t have a choice in any case, you have a heritage that will attract the same enemies even if you discard the armor.”
“My father,” I piece together, caution snaking through me. “What in all the Hells happened, Abrax? What did he do?”
The old man looks at me indifferently, and he strokes his tangled beard. “That’s a story for another time, lad,” Abrax says quietly, turning and approaching his perch. “Our current lesson stands: Focus and flow.”
Picking up another stone, he tosses it in the air a couple times before calling, “Focus true!”
He hurls the stone at my face. My mind goes blank and my attention turns into a haze around the stone spiraling towards me. Almost moving in slow motion, the stone rotates towards me as I raise my hand. Energy springs from my fingers towards the stone. It hits! The helmet isn’t even activated to assist me. Although the blast hits the stone, the energy isn’t strong enough to halt its trajectory—and it hits me in the forehead.
Grunting in pain, I hear a soft clap emanate from Abrax before he says, “Some progress. A bit better. There’s hope for you yet, se’bau.”
Chapter 20: Tálir
The Mission
FREEDOM RISES IN ME as we journey out of the Flames—a weight lifts from our shoulders both physically and metaphorically. There had been a sense of claustrophobia in the Flames. The gorges constantly surrounded by high walls while the ravines themselves narrowed. Even the air seemed thicker in comparison to our newest environment.
Grassy savannas and rolling plains are filled with tall weeds that flow with the wind. Wildflowers clumped near sections of colorful bushes in the patches of lemon, red oat, and star grasses. Palm and acacia trees sprout from the damp soil, their canopies nearly twice the size of their thin trunks. The savannas stretch hundreds of kilometers as we enter the nation of Z’hart. Water springs and oases dot the plains as various long-necked quadrupeds flock together. The creatures are large enough to carry a few hundred pounds’ worth of meat and bone, much more appetizing than the kodragon.
However, the creatures are rather skittish and bound across the plains faster than we can devise a plan to hunt them. Still, I’m absolutely ecstatic about seeing new variations of terrain after living in the desert my whole life. The Flames provided some small samples of new terrain, but it was still a part of the desert. Here though, grass is all kinds of colors and the trees aren’t lifeless. Flowers are supple and healthy, and the breeze carries a sweet smell through the air. It’s miraculous to behold.
This is my first time traveling anywhere near an established nation. I rarely ever wandered out of a few kilometers from Erron’s Ville. I’m growing slightly more nervous as we approach a place so lively and full of danger. I’m also apprehensive because I’ve barely started on the Shield Form. My Stream Form is becoming adequate, but I’m still in the beginning tiers of Maven training. And Abrax wants me ready for something. I’m glad no one notices my anxiety as I pull the repulsorcart.
Another three days pass as we venture north, and I can vaguely sense a shift in the weather. The air is cooler and the sun isn’t as intense. Clouds more frequently block out the sun and provide shade to the world. It’s mid-afternoon on the third day when we hike over a massive hillside. Taller than any dune in the Pyrack, this beast of a hill takes almost twenty minutes to hike over. But when we reach the top, that’s when I see a truly magnificent sight.
Kilometers in the distance is a vast expanse of charcoal mountains. The jagged mounds of rock and ore are punctuated by sharp peaks which rise into the thin clouds above. The mountains overlook a rather plain landscape of tan grass and sporadic acacia trees. A massive lake rests near the western side of the mountain range. Carved out from the center of the mountains and expanding into the plains before us, is the capital of Z’hart City.
Nearly twelve kilometers in diameter, the city is consolidated within high walls. The parapets seem to be a combination of modern technology and Domain materials. Repulsor vehicles buzz in and around the city like bees around a hive. Steel structures line the inner districts of the city, skyscrapers sport flashy holoprojections and advertisements. Smaller apartment complexes, workshops, landing platforms, and factories make up the outer districts. At the center of the city is a grand cathedral flanked by a number of sentry towers and nobility suites. Azure banners drape from each tower while a massive violet curtain hangs from the parapets of the cathedral. Each banner bears the crest of House Z’hart: a black oreing within an open, silver palm.
“Ah, the grandiose capital of harvesting and shipping turd ore,” Vyck comments as we pause to observe the landscape. “Seems just like yesterday that we were here getting our asses boned by those silver-armored pricks.”
“Now I know why Z’hart is always in a food crisis,” I say. “There are no farms.”
“Not many farmers or fishermen here, Tálir,” Devin affirms. “The rainy season also prevents adequate harvests. O’ran has always been much better at food harvesting than these people. Block headed miners.”
Sarina sniffs with derision, eliciting a quick response from Devin. “Meaning no offense to you, m’lady,” he says trying to placate. It’s peculiar seeing Devin trying to mind his comments with Sarina.
Her expression eases as she steps forward. “There’s some measure of food industry here. But the ore within the mountains is what Z’hart prizes on harvesting. Why farm when you can pay others to do it for you?”
Vyck’s expression turned to vague acceptance as he comments, “Well, when you put it that way…”
I let the cart rest at the center of our group atop the hillside before stepping forward. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover during our time here,” I say. I turn and face eve
ryone, and their eyes watch me. “We’re going to need rations, survival gear, oreings, and a few repulsorbikes. Abrax and I also need to search for this Tome device to help us get to Providence.”
My eyes find Sarina and I address her, “Sarina. You know the lower connections within this city. Where might we be able to acquire everything?”
She gives me a slight nod for acknowledging her expertise. Her blue eyes reflect pondering thought before she says, “Most of what we need can be purchased within the outskirts of the city itself.” She points and we all look.
Bordering outside the perimeter of the walls are hundreds of smaller, shabbier looking buildings. Shacks, garages, shops, and food vendors can be seen even at our distance. It all looks substantially shady, but I trust in Sarina’s judgment.
“Repulsorbikes normally go for a thousand oreings a piece,” she continues. “We’ll need to find a merchant to sell our treasure gems to and seriously haggle a price. But other than that, everything else should be easy to get without even going into the city.”
Her voice betrays some sense of longing, like she’s disappointed we may not enter the city. Saddened that she can’t return to her true home. However, Abrax chimes in and says, “You all may not have to enter the city, but Tálir and I will have to. The location of the Tome can only be accessed through the city. And we may need someone else to accompany us.”
“Sarina knows the city best; she can accompany us into the city,” I comment and nod to her, eliciting a weak smile from her. Perhaps this can be her chance to see her true home. And gain some answers to her past.
Abrax’s voice is stern and uncompromising. “No. There’s a chance she could attract unwarranted attention in the city. She must stay in the outskirts.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, old man!” Sarina spits. “I know the districts! I can help—”
“The answer is no!” Abrax asserts loudly, his voice echoing atop the hillside. We shrink in response to his authority. “You’ll be safer with the others. However, I wouldn’t mind having someone with combat experience tag along.”
While I’m expecting Vivían to jump at the chance at danger, it’s a surprise when Devin speaks up. He takes a step forward and says, “Speaking as an individual with said experience, I’ll volunteer to go with the wizards. Are you expecting trouble?”
“It’s best to be prepared,” Abrax says cryptically.
“You’re sure about this, Devin?” I ask giving him a look of concern.
“Who do you think I am? Of course I’m sure.”
I look to Abrax who in turn gives a nod of satisfaction. While not my first pick, I accept Devin’s expertise and willingness to accompany our mission. I sense that he isn’t bluffing about his experience, and that leads me to trust him.
“Welcome to the mission, Devin,” I say, clapping him on his armored shoulder. He cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t dismiss my gesture.
I address the others. “So here’s the plan: Abrax, Devin, and I will head into the city and locate this Tome device. The rest of you will stick to the outskirts and round up the equipment for the quest. Is everyone in agreement?”
Their heads nod in approval even as Vivían comments, “Dammit. You guys get the exciting part of the mission while we get to go shopping.”
Abrax approaches the cart, shuffles through one of his metal cases, and retrieves two wristbands. Each has a metal chip at the center of the band. He hands one to Aida and one to Sarina.
“Use these comlinks to contact us if anything goes wrong,” he says before gesturing to himself. “Their signal is linked to each of our helmets. We’ll also give updates on our progress. Press the red button to talk.”
The signal is linked to my helmet as well? Interesting. I can only guess that Abrax meddled with it when he first constructed it for me. The two regard the comlinks quizzically as they strap them to their wrists. We all glance at one another as a pause hangs in the air. Like they’re waiting for a cue.
I speak up once again. “We have our missions. Let’s try not to get into any more precarious situations, eh?”
Their nods and grins signal the start of our missions.
Chapter 21: Tálir
Z’hart City
BARELY AN HOUR PASSES before Abrax, Devin, and I draw nearer to the gates of the city. The others split from us almost immediately when we entered the outskirts. Hundreds if not thousands occupy the shacks, garages, and kiosks bordering the walls of the grand city. Despite my faith in my companions, I still feel a tinge of worry even after we separated. I don’t want anything untoward to happen to any of them.
We pass along dirt streets while most of the shacks and kiosks were made of cheaper metals, wood, and brick. None rise above three stories, and shoddy holoprojectors display flickering images on their roofs or balconies. The static projections show broadcasts detailing the inflated prices of food, increased military traffic, and Insurgent violence. The commoners and impoverished reside in this part of Z’hart City, and their clothing matches the ragged state of their society. Despite having grown up in similar conditions, I nonetheless feel a degree of pity for those who trot shoeless through the dirt streets.
The streets wind around for nearly half a kilometer as we pass various shabby homes, dumpsters overflowing with garbage, and garages stinking of oil and lubricants. Heads constantly turn to watch us pass by. Their expressions range from awe to disdain. Abrax and I still wear our cloaks now to prevent drawing attention. Yet, it’s like they can almost see through them. The stench of rotting food and body odor hangs in the air like an invisible mist.
I try to divert my attention from the miserable lifestyles I see here. Abrax walks ahead of me while Devin follows alongside me.
“We are nearing the gates,” Abrax says over his shoulder, gingerly taking a kryo from his pouch and placing it into the battery chamber on his right bracer. “Follow my lead, and don’t do anything suspicious.”
Devin snorts as we push through a group of commoners. “Please, this isn’t my first time infiltrating a city.”
“Infiltrating? I guess we can add that to the infinite skills you have,” I reply sardonically. Devin shrugs innocently. “And Abrax, I think our magic is less common in cities than in the outskirts. Don’t you think it’ll attract attention?”
The old man looks back at me with a slight grin on his face. “Just follow my lead.”
Though confused, I brush it off. I trust in his ability to get us in. Still, I can’t help but feel everyone’s eyes watching us. Pushing through a crowd of merchants, we enter an open courtyard situated in front of the ten-meter-high gates. The walls and fortifications are made of an amalgamation of technology, giving it a silver and pale shade. The gates, however, are carved out of the dark ore the mountain provides. The twin doors are sleek, burnished, and engraved in sigils that represent old forms of spiritual protection from the Sage God. The doors are a stark contrast to the metallic walls; the silver metal has been worn and washed over the centuries.
Since the Arc is the most common religion, it makes sense to see holy symbols of the Sage God engraved in the ore for security. Father taught me to obey the Arc and avoid retribution in the Hells, but I’ve never really delved too much into its worship. Perhaps one day I will.
As we walk across the cobblestone courtyard, I spot four guards perched in front of the gate—bowrifles clutched in their hands. But as we get closer, I’m able to vividly see the details of their armor and gear.
They’re wearing pieces of Maven armor.
Astonishment and anger wash over me all at once. Only their right arms and shoulders are covered by the Maven armor. The rest of their attire is of the same silver material the Imperials wear. Spiked helmets that seem almost avian obscure their faces. I’ve seen this style before. During the raid on Erron’s Ville, the soldiers wore the same armor type. These must be the foreign soldiers Lady Sahari summoned weeks ago. Stoppering my bubbling hate as one corks a bottle of wine; I realize I
mustn’t draw their unwanted attention.
We approach the gates and two of the guards spot us, their grip tenses on the bowrifles. They move to intercept us when we’re a few meters from the dark gates.
Devin casually stops as they approach and opens his hands in a friendly gesture. “Ey good day, boys,” he says in an innocent voice. “It’s great to be home! Been away from this place for almost five years.”
The guards brandish their weapons and stop a meter from Devin. “State your business within the capital,” one of them commands. “Or else be on your way.”
“No worries, gents. I’m just stopping by to visit my parents with my companions here,” Devin lies through his teeth and gestures to us. I look at him with bewilderment. “I’m Devin of the lower House Nova. My family’s words are: Reap what you sow.”
The guards pause in confusion for a moment. I think all of us do. What’s Devin playing at? Will family mottos really get us into the city?
The Maven Knight (The Maven Knight Trilogy Book 1) Page 17
