The Source- Origins

by A J Witt

  Pluto was awestruck. “Wow. Now that was a powerful scene.” Looking up to the sky, his buddy sighed. “Exactly, Joss … Marvis could take a lesson or two from that woman.”

  Sabine screamed not once, but twice, prompting more in the crowd to protest.

  “This young actress has to stop wanting to take over the show.” Pluto sniffed and grimaced. “They hate her. She’s tanking the performance.”

  The young woman attempted to wiggle her way out of Gorgios’s grasp to no avail, making the audience grow restless.

  “Enough!” someone shouted.

  The Overseers froze.

  “Yeah, enough!”

  “Enough of this!”

  Pluto needed to intervene. “No, one bad fruit shouldn’t sour the basket.” His announcement quieted everyone, yet nobody understood the meaning of what he had said. Pluto pointed at the Overseers. “Let them perform!”

  Many Fermantese disagreed.

  “Shut up, Temple boy!”

  “Yeah, shut up!”

  “Teach him a lesson!”

  One of them ran at Pluto. Confused, the Adept took a step backward, catching his foot on the edge of a cobblestone and falling. By a stroke of luck, his timing was such that it resulted in his assailant tripping over him and ending in Joss’s arm. The man collapsed on the ground.

  With a second of their own injured, the crowd went into a state of frenzy, attacking the Overseers as well as the Phaidrosian performers. Joss was hit in the back of the head by a well-targeted strike, joining the man he had accidentally floored. Pluto lasted a bit longer, then he too was knocked out. The Overseers, however, fared much better.

  Swinging wildly, Gorgios sent a handful of Fermantese sprawling across the pavement. He lifted a young man by the throat and slammed him onto his back. The boy coughed blood on the senator’s forearm, and the Overseer wiped it with a sweep of the hand. With no time to waste, he charged at another Fermantese, catching him under the collarbone and smashing him down. I know that sound … broken ribs. Gorgios surveyed the field. His Overseers were doing well, dispatching the belligerents with ease. The senator cocked back his arm and landed a terrifying punch in a passerby’s sternum. Without pause he put out a leg, impeding two audience members attempting to escape.

  “Please, just let us go,” one of them pleaded.

  Gorgios demolished them, but felt a sudden sting in his left flank. The Overseer saw protruding from himself a kitchen knife stuck there by a brazen Fermantese. A toy. The hulk plucked it from his flesh. Then, in one swift motion, he unsheathed the sword from his belt and cut off the man’s head.

  “Overseers, to me!”

  Gorgios spun toward the cry for help and watched as one of his soldiers fell to a knee, stabbed by an armed Fermantese. Roaring, the senator leaped and took a first swing that caught several limbs. It was too late, his man had already succumbed. Gorgios’s wrath was out of control. After finishing off any Fermantese in proximity, the Overseer stumbled to Hermits Fountain. He washed the blood from his face, watching in disgust as another companion lost a fight. Vowing to kill them all, Gorgios ran back into the melee.

  Sabine crawled away from the commotion and around the edge of the fountain. She stood up at its far end, dipped in cupped hands to cool her stinging face and pulled back, aghast. The water’s red! Like something from the Dread Days.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She came face-to-face with an Overseer. He was bald and had a long gash running along the side of his leg. Horrified, Sabine stepped backward but found herself cornered by the edge of the fountain which jutted out on both sides.

  The Overseer limped toward her. “You’ll pay for—” He never finished his sentence, on account of a thick saber poking out of his neck.

  The captain’s strike had been quick, accurate, and even merciful, depending on the vantage point. For an old sea master who rarely ventured off his ship, it was an exciting turn of events. After a short struggle retrieving his saber, the captain grabbed Sabine by the wrist. “Come with me.”

  They went around Hermits Fountain and down the nearest street. The young woman followed blindly, unsure whom to trust. This man just killed an Overseer. Then again, it had become clear in the last hour that any future at the Temple was no longer a viable option.

  “This way.” Rushing through the docks, the captain led her to Ocean Star.

  “A boat?” Sabine asked, panting.

  “My boat.”

  “Wait!” The young woman pulled back her arm. “Who are you? And what about my friends?”

  “What friends?”

  “Two Adepts, who—”

  “No time. Do you want to die?”

  “But …”

  “Shut your mouth and follow me!” Ushering Sabine up the gangway and on the ship, the captain led her to his cabin. “Stay here!” He turned the lock shut on his way out, then rushed to the deck. “Ten minutes to departure!”

  The sailors thought they misheard.

  “Ten minutes, Captain?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “But sir, some passengers are still on shore.”

  “Sound the horn, they have ten minutes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The frigid water felt refreshing against exposed skin. But within minutes, the temperature sent his circulatory system into overdrive, and he could sense tingling through his fingertips and face. While most in such a situation would be alarmed, Kyran found himself enjoying it. That’s how a geega must feel. The young Adept took another wide stroke before cutting short the agreeable albeit slow pace he had adopted. Cautiously breaking the canal’s calm surface, Kyran inhaled and dove once more.

  Every pull of his arms preceded a strong kick from his legs. Pull … kick. Pull … kick. The Adept followed a mindless rhythm, his breaststroke technique flawless. He had narrowly avoided apprehension by diving into the canal, just as the pursuing Overseers had turned the corner. Now Kyran wondered what had happened to Edvon and Sabine. And one disruptive concern was reoccurring. What if they’re together? He clenched his teeth as he recalled the way his brother looked at her. The younger Adept could have admitted defeat, for the girls always had their eyes on Edvon. Progressing through the widening waterway, Kyran cursed himself for expecting it would be any different with Sabine.

  He ascended to take in air. Does that cholee need to ruin everything for me? The young man made a fist. Why her? Just stay away. But what does she think? Does she even like me? You’re the one with her now. She’ll fall for you, it’s part of your plan. Kyran felt irritated, confused by his own thoughts and the wide array of unfounded conclusions he was drawing. And for a brief instant, the Adept altogether forgot he was swimming underwater in a Fermantese canal.

  The momentum of one too many intemperate strokes caused Kyran to hit the silty bottom and rub against a patch of clams. He slowed down and regained control. Let the water guide you. The young man thought of Marrek who had convinced him to start swimming as a therapy, hoping it might help solve his fits of anger.

  * * *

  “When we are submerged,” the preceptor explained, “our minds enter a meditative disposition. The movement of water is serene. The peacefulness of depth relaxes us, yet we are still required to stay alert enough not to drown.” The psychological state of mindfulness, as the smiling Marrek called it, helped enhance mental clarity and lower stress levels. “Just try it.”

  “No, I don’t want to.”

  The preceptor extolled the virtues of the sport until Kyran caved in to the pestering.

  Any reluctance lasted one session because the swimming worked. Once in the water, he was freed from his burdens, emptying his mind and focusing only on the serenity of the task at hand. Kyran looked forward to those secret nights spent in the Academy pool, more often than not empty due to lack of interest from the other students. Besides the occasional presence of a professor, leading to nothing more than a raised eyebrow, he had access to his own san
ctuary.

  The rectangular pool sat in the middle of a hall, with a second-floor balcony held up by magnificently carved stone pillars. Above, a ceiling of tainted glass allowed for light during the day. Come evening, Source-powered lanterns were ignited, though sometimes, and it had to be late at night, Kyran would turn them off. Then, he could swim under the starlight, bathing in its bright and mysterious aura.

  * * *

  Brought back to reality by a growing humming sound, Kyran floated to the surface. He eyed a boat heading straight his way. The Adept dove back in and waited for the small raft to pass overhead, letting air seep out of his lungs to stay below. It left behind a modest wake as the resonance of the engine faded away. I need to get out. Unable to resist the cold, Kyran scanned the sides for a way to dry land. A small dock with a ladder was up ahead, and he used it to pull himself from the water. Dripping wet, he aimed for a narrow alleyway.

  “Hold it right there!”

  Someone grabbed his arm, yanking the young man back several steps.

  “What the cholee!” yelled Kyran, trying in vain to pull himself away.

  “Will you cut it out?” The much stronger Aiden barely moved. “And watch your tongue in front of a female agent.”

  “Agent?”

  “Battalion agent. And we’ve got questions, primarily relating to why you were swimming in the canal.”

  Kyran spat out the first lie that came to his mind. “Oh, I’ve been doing that forever.”

  “Come again?” Aiden kept a firm grip. “You always swim in the canal?”

  “My friends and I, we’ve been swimming in them since we’re kids,” continued Kyran. “You must be from Phaidros?”

  Criss was sharper. “You swim in your clothes?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. Helps us … uh … it keeps us warmer.”

  The Battalion agents looked at each other.

  “Chief?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Candidly, I think this kid’s full of cholee, and—”

  “Hey!” Kyran exclaimed. “Why can she say that word?”

  “She can say whatever she wants,” replied Aiden. “And anyway, I agree with her.”

  “About what?”

  The chief did not hesitate. “Where’s your brother?”

  “My brother?”

  “Come on, kid. Enough of the cho—umm … I mean … excuses. We can help you. It’s better than being cut to pieces by some freak Overseers.”

  Kyran was impressed the two agents had connected the dots so fast. Though, I was swimming in a dread canal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then, we’ll arrest you,” stated Criss, “and we can have this talk at the Main Complex.”

  “Arrest me for what?”

  “Disturbing the Council of Five’s peace.”

  “What? How?”

  The agent walked up to Kyran, snatched his hands, and handcuffed them at the wrist in one swift movement. “I’ll tell you about it in your jail cell.”

  “Wait!” exclaimed the Adept.

  “Too late for that, now.”

  “Th—this is Battalion brutality!”

  “So you want to talk, then?” Aiden peered at Kyran. “You can start by telling us why—” Stopping mid-sentence, the chief tilted his head. “Do you hear that?”

  “Yeah,” responded Kyran, “sounds like—”

  “Shut up. Criss, that’s Ocean Star’s departure horn.”

  “I thought we had a few hours left.”

  Kyran cut in. “Wait, Ocean Star’s here?”

  “Will you keep quiet!”

  Criss was surprised by Aiden’s piercing retort. He looked more agitated than she had ever seen before. “Chief?”

  “There’s little time, it’ll be leaving any minute,” he replied. “We need to hurry.”

  They took off along the canal, forcing Kyran to keep up with them by placing him in the middle, each Battalion agent holding one of his arms. Ocean Star came into sight after a solid five-minute run. Without a break, Criss pushed the captive up the gangway and on the deck where she was accosted by the captain.

  “Who’s this?”

  “I’m—”

  “He’s in our custody,” Aiden interjected.

  The captain was unmoved. “None of that on my ship.”

  “Battalion matters require this, unfortunately.”

  “Unless I say not on my ship.”

  “Frankly, sir,” replied the chief. “I don’t give a dread what you say. I’m bringing this prisoner on board, or you can explain your insubordination to the Noble Assembly.”

  Criss raised an eyebrow, impressed by Aiden’s unyielding answer.

  “Insubordination?” The captain advanced and came face to face with the chief. “Be careful boy.”

  “No, you be very careful, Captain.”

  The tense moment was short-lived, interrupted by Ruan stomping up the gangway. The personal attendant observed the strange scene. “Why is the horn blowing?”

  “Because we’re leaving,” replied the captain, cutting eye-contact with Aiden.

  “What? How were we supposed to know? I mean … I just happened to be walking back here.”

  “You heard the horn, no?” challenged the old seaman.

  “Not from inside the town.”

  “Too bad. We were forced to push up the schedule.”

  “What’re you talking about?” asked Aiden.

  “There was a riot near Hermits Fountain. And that’s why we’re leaving, before the port gets shut down.”

  “A riot?” Criss repeated.

  “Group of Overseers captured some woman, and they were attacked.”

  “What!” Kyran broke loose. “What did she look like?”

  Criss pulled the Adept back, but the captain did not miss a beat. “You let your prisoners talk like that?”

  Aiden had already closed his eyes in frustration. “Not generally.”

  Then, the door leading to the passengers’ cabins swung open, and Neeta came storming onto the deck. “Why is the horn blowing?”

  “We’re leaving!” the captain shouted.

  “What? You told me six hours?”

  “There was a riot.”

  “A ri—” Neeta stopped mid-word when she noticed Kyran. “A riot?” she finished, flustered. “And you’re bringing dangerous prisoners onto the ship?”

  “This man’s in our custody,” Aiden declared. “And he will cause no danger to you.”

  “If he does, I’ll throw him overboard myself,” commented the captain.

  A sailor came dashing over. “Sir! Temple ship down the Wimau. The Lutigas.”

  Racing toward Fermantis was a large boat, white hull sparkling in the distance.

  “You see!” cried out the captain. “Port’s about to shut, so we’re leaving. Now!”

  The sailors were carrying out the orders when another loud command froze them in place.

  “Halt!” Criss turned to Aiden. “We have a duty to investigate that riot, Chief.”

  “Yeah, the girl might be Sab—”

  Kyran felt a stinging pain from a sharp slap across his face.

  “Next time,” warned Criss, “you’ll actually regret talking.”

  The chief looked around, concerned someone might report them for mistreatment of prisoners. To his consternation, Neeta had a wide smile and seemed to enjoy the incident. The same could be said for the captain whose head was bobbing with delight. And Ruan, fascinated and intrigued by Criss’s strike, lingered around in hopes of witnessing another one.

  “Chief?”

  “We stay on the ship,” Aiden ordered. “We have a duty to solve this case, as well.”

  “No!” Kyran bolted for the gangway but was held back by the Battalion agents. The captain hollered his commands, Ocean Star drifted away, and the Adept’s mind went blank. No point in using the Source now. I’ll never see them again. Strangely, the young man had trouble deciding whom he would miss more, and as Aiden pulled
him along, he cursed himself for having entertained such a dilemma. They’re already dead, so best not to think of it. They arrived at an empty cabin, and the chief pushed Kyran inside. “Wait.” The Adept turned around. “How did you know who I am?”

  “Intuition.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Her next move would be crucial, potentially outcome determinative. So she leaned forward to better concentrate. Shifting anything back was not an option, the admiral had strategized too well. Rex Ruga raised an eyebrow and tilted her head sideways hoping to get a different and better perspective. Though several of her pieces were cut off from their end of the board, the commandant identified a viable lateral move.

  Like in every other Mira game, the competitors had opened cautiously, exploring risk-free possibilities. Once pieces were taken, Rex Ruga and her Overseer colleague engaged in a rapid and lethal back-and-forth, one that wiped clean most on the board. Though the situation favored her opponent, the commandant was not willing to accept defeat. The stakes were too high. She slid a white piece seven squares to the right, forcing the other player to defend or risk losing one his own. The admiral elected the former strategy, leaving Rex Ruga on the attack. When I’m at my best.

  She chased him around a few more turns, but he dodged masterfully as their last match in the series of fifteen came close to an end. With no better activities offered aboard the Lutigas, they had played the popular game throughout the day. It felt to Rex Ruga as though she had been sitting at a cafe in central Phaidros where old men could be seen leaning over Mira tables for hours and hours.

  Such an uncomplicated game. Played on a twelve by eight board, each side had thirteen regular pieces and a special one whose name depended on the participant. While common Dominioners used the word pawn, Overseers and Adepts projected their allegiance onto the game, naming the pieces pilgrim and scholar.

  Each piece could move either horizontally or vertically, unless it ran into another one. The goal was to immobilize the adversary’s pilgrim by surrounding it with enemy pieces. And you can capture an opponent’s piece by placing two of your own pieces around it, right? Given the focus required in Mira games, the commandant often repeated the simplest questions in her head. Puzzle syndrome, she liked to call it. Then I’ll take yours right … here.