by Marc Mulero
She touched an illuminated pad located at the corner of her stand, reducing the spotlight on Derek to darkness.
Biljin sat in the shadows with a smirk for no one to see. He crossed one leg over his knee, careful not to spoil his formal form-fitting attire which was otherwise pressed flat, wrinkleless. And a quick adjustment to one of the precious gems used to hold his overlapping garb in place kept him pristinely in order. He was dressed for a show, one that was becoming thoroughly entertaining. Bald head freshly shaven, dark complexion complemented by apparel of deep blue, he was a calm wave in the moonlight. Patient, brooding, ready to crash onto shore when the time was right.
The former Champion of the Dactuars takes her role quite seriously. I feel somewhat sorry for the poor soul that took her leg. I wouldn't be surprised if she bit off her enemy’s head.
Biljin laughed at the image he conjured in his mind. He then surveyed his surroundings and noticed that most of the leather-bound chairs were filled with a variety of formally dressed Vacal citizens.
Judging by the seat assignments and the pattern of previously rejected candidates, I'm next. My short-lived participation as a Vacal will be used against me, but is hopelessly outweighed by the knowledge I’ve bestowed upon them. At a glance, we sitting here are all uniform. How wrong such a first impression would be. This should be a walk in the park, much like my previous ascension. Should I underestimate the Champion? I think I will.
"Biljin Dráco," a voice echoed in a proper tone, pronouncing his name articulately.
The undercover Sin commander slowly rose from his seat, readying himself to influence the minds of those he felt were inferior.
"Approach the panel," the voice called again.
Biljin strolled to the center of the judgement circle, the tapping of his heels disturbing an otherwise silent hall. He was invisible, peering high to the five tall mahogany podiums towering around him, each with a floodlit set of critical eyes above them. They looked as though favored angels had beamed down from the heavens, rays of artificial light painting a mural as if they were the chosen ones. If only they knew what was going through his mind. Then suddenly, to dispel any further suspense, a spotlight blinked to life above him, illuminating the controlled face he’d lifted to the panel and casting the rest of him in darkness.
An ornamented man to the left of Biljin rose from his seat to start them off. "You have not sustained the proper length of time as a Vacal to be considered," he sneered.
Biljin gazed up at the condescending speaker with a stern look upon his face, despising the pale blue judicial cloak he was draped in, the excessively decorated pair of thin straps that looked like resting whips folded over his shoulders. Slaver, he thought, feeling sarcastic pity for the accomplished Tribunal member who had nothing better to do but glare down through his perfectly trimmed, long white beard.
She will stop him for me.
"His résumé is stellar, Gul," the Champion interjected. "A man who can swoop in and flip the table on the laws of physics we thought we knew, is a man that knows we will consider him nonetheless."
"Thank you, Melissa," Biljin said, bowing his head.
Disrespect her, to give her the opportunity to showcase her authority.
"Do I know you, Biljin?" Melissa asked.
"No, madam."
"Then please, refer to me as Madam Brink," she snapped.
"Yes, madam. My apologies."
Melissa put Biljin's résumé aside and grabbed another stack of papers to her left. She exchanged a look with Gul before shifting her eyes to her surrounding Tribunal.
"Do you have any shortcomings to admit to this council?" Melissa leaned forward with her fists firmly planted on the desk, looking boldly into Biljin's eyes.
They have nothing on me. Anything brought up would be a shot in the dark.
"No, Madam Brink, my conscience is clear," Biljin stated, clasping his hands behind his back.
The judges flipped through a thin booklet while Biljin stood quietly. This was the part where anticipation would nearly cause a candidate to buckle on the spot. But not him… this one was a calculated, precise, prepared candidate, who would have never shown up if he hadn’t already won.
Gul rose from his seat. "Your attendance to assigned meetings is spotty, Mr. Dráco."
"Yes, I suppose I'm guilty of sleeping in once in a while."
The furtive audience chuckled at the response, leaving Gul to boil with rage. The sound of mockery, in his court? This was ludicrous. Preposterous. And it would not stand.
"Do you see this Tribunal as a laughing matter?"
"I wouldn't be standing here if I did," Biljin replied, shifting his body to face the judge. "May I ask your name, sir?"
"Sir Gulwin Anderson," the man stated haughtily.
"Sir Anderson,” Biljin spoke out, pacing around the judgement circle. “I understand your position and the position of the rest of this Tribunal, which is to do your due diligence and assure that I'm worthy of ascension. But I implore you all to consider substantive inquiries, if there are any, so that this trial doesn't devolve into a mockery."
Silenced and furious, Gulwin slowly sat back into his seat.
Melissa put the booklet down and spoke, "A man this arrogant is a man I must meet face to face."
She descended the spiral steps set beside her podium. Her metallic leg emitted subtle noises with each stride. Long, thick brown locks were tightly braided from the nape of her neck, and fair, freckled skin shimmered like porcelain in the spotlight.
"There was an instance when you went dark a few months ago," she prodded.
"I recall," Biljin responded immediately. "I was scolded even though my assignments were complete and flawless."
"This is true," she admitted while rounding the final steps, her own dim spotlight following her. "But it seems you may have some issues with protocol."
Biljin leveled his eyes with hers as she drew closer.
"You speak as if I'm a Sin, with little freedom."
Melissa waved her hand dismissively while the other councilmembers watched her approach the judgement circle.
"Where were you that day?" she asked with a smile, locking eyes with him.
She doesn't know. I was careful…
"I'd rather not say," Biljin replied.
"Oh, but you will." Melissa stopped just a foot away from him.
Based on what Blague had explained, this woman is nothing like her brother. She's focused and relentless. But still, she knows nothing.
Biljin looked down, feigning insecurity. "If the Tribunal must know, I was attending a drug convention," he falsely revealed.
Melissa retained her smile, but didn't say a word.
"I'm attracted to altered states, and it is my right to pursue the study of that, if I choose."
Melissa gave a nod and her hand.
As I thought, she knows nothing. Giving a smug look like she knew that was my secret… what a fool.
Biljin gave his hand to take hers.
She whispered, "Welcome to the Dactuars." Melissa then projected her voice to a fellow judge, "Maria, proceed to list out Biljin's accomplishments, so we can bring this to a vote."
The undercover Sin primly folded his hands behind his back, letting the praise of the lessers shower over him. Gulwin was his only rejection.
A wall spanning the width of a football field blocked entry to the Bulchevin fortress. It wasn’t built on garbage and scraps like the one in Senation. No, this one was far different. Bulchevin was less of a wasteland and more of a gold mine: rich with resources, potential - with a higher donor count, a surplus of Cryos, and even findings of Ayelan. Who could argue with the Hiezers’ need for a war base here? But along with its plentiful bounties also came the roughest of Sins - hot blooded ones from the wars of old. And now, the only thing that separated the Sins from their oppressors was this grand wall, which was more of a symbol than anything, really. Or at least that’s what they’d hoped.
It kept the Hiezer
s out of reach for decades. Who would dare attempt to overcome it? And for what? The amount of organization that would be needed, the manpower, weapons, coordination. Who would be crazy enough to try and compile all of that?
An explosion rocked the slab of metal shielding the Sins, and all of the fighters bracing behind it. Everyone huddled close and silently prayed that the Hiezers’ trajectory was off, for one properly lobbed mortar would be their end. But if the Bulchevin Sins were scared, they had an odd way of showing it.
Oscin watched a cheering maniac at one end of the steel plate stick out his fist in excitement.
"Fuck the Hiezers!" he yelled, louder than the rest.
The whistle of a soaring bomb ended with a thud against their shield, creating a vibration like a struck gong. All of the Sins ducked behind the construct while another explosion sent a wave of heat over its edges. Shrapnel flew in every direction. One piece slashed into the maniac's arm, almost slicing it completely off. He let out another menacing scream for all to hear.
Oscin felt increasingly woozy from the constant banging and shouting. That, combined with an overarching fear for his life, made for a miserable experience.
He tapped Lito on the shoulder. "Hey, uh, boss. I think I'm gonna head back to the jet. This isn't really my scene."
Lito rolled his eyes. "Huevos, hermano. ‘Ju need them."
"Is that a ‘no’?”
Lito ignored him.
Brower pointed into the distance and spoke, "The builder and his crew are on the opposite side of the fortress. Great man, that Uldan is, building a mobile tower and this rolling hunk of metal. A large ‘sword’ and ‘shield,’ he calls them." He pushed through the crowd to get a peek through a hole.
"And the tank?" Oscin asked.
Brower looked back and smiled. "That, my friend, is the work of this ambitious lot." He pressed past the riled Sins to stand over the two newcomers. “All we had before the Senation triumph were the mines that we used as hideouts, and a fleeting culture that we tried so desperately to hold on to. Now, Commander Lito, you bring us hope, and fire.”
Oscin raised his eyebrows and took a swig from his flask.
Lito, on the other hand, felt his chest rise and fall faster, overwhelmed by the angst of their shared past, yet excited by the opportunity to avenge it.
"The builder must have shot first,” said Brower. “Now they're retaliating. What do we do, boss?"
"Position the tank to blow a hole in the protective wall of the fortress. We're storming in. I'll be right back," Lito said, walking away from the noise. He took out his radio and plugged one ear with his finger. "Blague, Uldan, you both there?"
"Copy," came two simultaneous responses.
"Did you fire first, Uldan?" Lito asked.
"No, they did," he responded. "But my tower is retaliating. I'm reinforcing this beaut as fast as I can."
"We have their leader, so the tone at the top may be shifting,” Blague warned. “Protecting the Ayelan might not be the highest priority for them right now."
"Would their whole endgame really change just because of one man?" Lito asked.
"It's possible," Blague responded. "I sense unrest within the Hiezer ranks. Operate under the assumption that they will bomb on sight. Stay safe, gentlemen."
Puto, we have to move now.
"Uldan, rapid fire, mijo. We're going in!" Lito shouted and shoved his radio back into his pocket.
The tank rumbled from releasing a high-powered round. A clash of fiery shell and flat stone shook the barrier denying their entry, cracking it, but not enough to invade. It stood defiantly: a literal wall that reminded the daring exiles of their figurative one. But that was okay, because although it still stood, there were now faults in its structure, proving that the Hiezers, in all of their glory, were not indestructible. Lito was riled at the thought, feeling the same strive he once did in Senation, knowing that this could be his win… with him at the helm. For his people. He snagged a handful of dynamite from his backpack and kicked Brower lightly while he tied the sticks together by their fuses.
"Tell the tank to fire where I throw these, eh?" Lito said.
The goofy man nodded and jumped onto the stolen weapon, smashing his big fist down on its top to get the operator's attention. He pointed to Lito holding up his make-shift explosive; the tank driver acknowledged and shut the lid.
“Here we go.” Lito wound up and cursed before hurling the swinging fan of tied dynamite at the cracked wall. He turned away and plugged his ears in animated fashion.
"Get ready, everyone!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "We’re storming this shack!"
Chapter 2
“You are not in charge!” Alek roared through video conference. “Your and Mulderan’s lust for risk almost got us all killed. What were you thinkin-” he scoffed, interrupting himself. “Why do I even bother… the point is, the highlords will vote on all matters from this point forward. Your dictatorship is at an end!”
Eldra watched the British highlord shake with fury, and then fall to an even, flat tone, like some führer of the Old World. How he was so emboldened with toughness behind the protection of a screen, how he presumed the Ice Queen would just fold without her husband at her side, under the pressures of politics. As if she wasn’t a ruthless war general, as if she couldn’t snap his neck with one hand, as if her wit hadn’t shadowed his for decades…
She stared long and hard, frigidness in her demeanor, tenseness in her silence. Purposely so. All while the rest of the participants focused upon the two at odds. Alek’s outburst was meant to hang in the air.
“Tell me, Alek. Do you honestly believe that bickering over whom has ultimate authority is what we should be wasting our time on right now?” Eldra watched him cock his head jeeringly. “While our enemies are about to capitalize on a perfect opportunity? The Sin rebellion, the Templos uprising, both stand to gain more ground out of this folly. And you,” she pointed, “trying to undermine me, while our Bulchevin fortress is about to be stormed. Hmm? While the Templos Rogues target the Dactuar Estates in search of the hostages. While our leader is chained by the exiles!”
Alek slammed his fists down in protest. "He's chained because of his arrogance! We could have postponed the me-"
"Sometimes I wonder how you ascended to highlord," Eldra slid in. "The only past that should be brought up is the years of exemplary leadership that Mulderan has provided. Now, with that out of the way, let's deal with the present, shall we?"
The highlord tried to interject, but Eldra spoke over him. "We must unload additional troops in Bulchevin to storm the Sins from behind. This is the most imminent threat."
Alek reluctantly sat back, tightening his already thin lips in frustration. He pushed waves of thick, black tresses out from his face, fidgeting until he was allotted his next chance to speak.
"Agreed, Lady Grenich," Veer spoke up. "Shall we take guards off patrol to end the situation? That would undoubtedly be the fastest way."
"Unfortunately, we need more than just a few guards to end it," a female highlord retorted, holding up a digital map to the camera in front of her. "The red blinking areas are contested with hostile Sins. And as you all can see, there is plenty of unrest in the region."
"Mulderan's brother is rallying the animals," another councilman said.
"We must stop them, now," Eldra demanded. "Deploy troops from Old Brazil."
"No," Alek interrupted. "Bomb them."
Eldra looked up from the electronic map upon her desk, her long black hair draped over her patched eye. "The Ayelan, we must-"
"No, we mustn’t," Alek snapped, attempting to take the reins. "That was Mulderan's agenda. Ours will be to end the madness."
Alek, the only highlord who lacks respect. Daring to interrupt decades of progress… trying to usurp the throne as soon as your leader is captured. Poor display of character. Pitiful. Here are your true colors I see, biting your tongue all that time. Who else, then? I challenge you to speak up and force my hand
, ladies and gentlemen… I dare you. Devolve my decisions into a necessary evil if you must. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve started fresh.
“Allow me to echo words of greatness – we have a duty to ensure the survival of the human race, and we can only accomplish such a feat through preserving our best and brightest. Protecting the remaining Ayelan is a priority,” she ordered, staring down Alek first, and then tracking to the others. “I propose an ambush from behind to thwart the Sins in Bulchevin. Does anyone oppose?”
Now. Try me.
Alek’s hand went straight up, and after a moment of suspense, another highlord raised his. Eldra took a minute to observe each one of the other participants, boring into their eyes like a panther selecting her prey. Her meal would be plentiful, if she so chose, or sparse in exchange for loyalty. Eventually, she rose from her seat and rested two clenched fists between the Hiezer symbol upon her marble desk. The majority of the Hiezers cast their vote in silence, looking back at their Queen from the concave wall that housed their projections. Victory.
"The matter is settled, then," Eldra declared while taking her seat. "As for the Rogue uprising, Renna, I want a message filtered through the appropriate channels. Let it be known that the price for an assault on any Dactuar Estate will be a Templos hostage's life."
"If the Templos movement can prove to the people that we're threatening execution, it will undoubtedly lead to more social unrest," Veer mentioned. "We aren't meant to be tyrants, Eldra. We should find another way to protect our way of life from these terrorists."
"How about, instead, we leak false news of an execution,” Jeck suggested. “If the story goes public, then we will reveal it was a lie. It will serve the dual purpose of scaring off the Templos Rogues and preserving our image if word gets out."
"Now that is a great idea," Alek said, shaking his finger at Jeck.
He tipped an invisible hat back at his associate.
"Agreed," said Eldra. "Does anyone oppose?"
The remaining participants fell silent.
"Another matter concluded. Now, let's move on to the extraction of our leader," she continued.
