Chosen (20 page)

“You are Chosen.”

He stood in front of them, watching the play of emotions flit across their faces: incredulity, fear, anger, doubt, changing quickly from one to another. The silence stretched out, no one knowing quite what to say. Time sped up and stopped in the hush following Gerok's words. He feared to break the stillness. He knew what it was like to have your whole world come crashing down, everything you knew for a certainty to be true and real, now nebulous and unsure. Each had to come to terms with what he had told them. His heart sank as he realized they must endure yet more disturbing news.

“We are supposed to save the galaxy? The five of us?” Kyron's voice sounded loud in the dark room.

“You five are only part. There are also Chosen from three other planets.”

“What exactly is the nature of the threat?” Feeror got down to the one thing that he could grasp. Danger could be dealt with, fought, and stopped.

“The beings, if you can call them such, are called Mekans. They are purely mechanical in nature.” Gerok paced slowly in front of the group. “Their origins are still in debate. From what the Masters could learn, they come from a dead planet in an uncharted galaxy.
The Mekans were created to perform various tasks, such as mining, processing of ore, space flight, medical surgeries, and many others we do not yet know.

“The machines gained some sort of intelligence and became self-aware. But not in the same sense as you and I.” Gerok frowned. “I am not sure if I can explain, but I will try. The Mekans, over time, were able to work without being controlled by the people who created them. And they worked uncontrollably. The machines began to use the metal and ores they mined to make themselves larger and stronger. Somehow, they all managed to gain space flight capabilities. Once their planet was dead, they moved on to another.

“The Mekans are not aware of anything other than performing the tasks they were originally created for. They mine a planet, and in that process, the planet is slowly destroyed over many decades.”

“Don't the people fight back?” Feeror didn't believe any threat existed that could not be stopped somehow.

“You are judging things you do not yet understand.” Viisyr's brow furrowed in anger. “The Mekans are too big. There is no known weapon that can kill them, or even slow them down.” He let his words sink in.

“There is more I must tell you.” Viisyr took a deep breath. “On my world you will learn more details of what lies ahead. The other Chosen may already be waiting for us.”

“How do you know this? Have you been in contact with your people?” Seelyr asked.

“The Guardians were told of certain signs that would appear, signaling the time had come to tell the Chosen of their destiny—”

“The comet!” Feeror exclaimed

Viisyr nodded. “The signs on the other planets may have appeared, or will soon do so, which means events are hurling us forward to meet the Mekan threat. You and the other Chosen must be made ready.”

Gerok indicated the portal behind him. “These portals are scattered on thousands of planets. The symbols represent other worlds, whether one symbol alone or multiple symbols activated together. The Masters have deciphered most of the symbols and have visited the planets they represent.”

“How do they work? It looks like a rock wall to me,” Kyron said.

“It will be difficult to explain. The portals are an ancient magic. The Masters do not yet know exactly how they are able to transport one to another world, or how they re-structure the being entering it. They are not even sure who created them, or to what purpose.”

“What do you mean by re-structure?” Voilor asked, his voice filled with trepidation.

“The portal has the ability to change the physical make-up of the body passing into it. The new form is that of the sentient life on that planet.”

Moylir's eyes widened. “What is your natural form?”

Viisyr grinned ruefully. “Gentra's populace exists deep under water. We live in darkness, save for the glow of the bioluminescent plankton and sherubite crystals that thrust from the ocean floor.

“My natural form is unlike anything you have ever encountered. All life on Volgon is land-bound. Gentrans have no legs; our bodies are gelatinous and soft, perfect for life in deep water. Our eyes are very large, enabling us to see in the near total darkness.”

Feeror's mouth hung open in disbelief. He tried to picture what such a life form would look like and couldn't conjure an image. A quick glance at his comrades showed they were all as confused as he was.

“You will all experience life on my world. We will be going through the portal and emerging on Gentra.”

“Surely you do not mean to leave now. It's too soon!” Seelyr stepped back from the group. “I can't leave my mate and my young one.”

Gerok moved toward her. “I know this is hard for you. But all of you must come. The fate of the galaxy lies with you.” He grabbed her shoulders in sympathy. He could feel her trembling. “The Mekans must be stopped. You five are critical to making sure they are.” Seelyr raised her eyes to meet his own. “The fate of the people of Volgon, and those of the other planets, rests with you. You cannot turn your back on them.”

“I would be turning my back on my family. What of them?”

Gerok's words softened. “If you do not follow your destiny, the Mekans will come and destroy them. Is that what you want?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.” She paced in front of the portal. “Do you really need all of us? Can't the rest go if they choose?”

He shook his head. “It doesn't work that way. The prophecy was specific about the number of Chosen on each world and that only the Chosen have the ability to stop the Mekans. It doesn't say anything about letting some remain behind.

“If you refuse to go, it could be the death of everyone in the galaxy.”

“Will we return?”

“I cannot say, Seelyr.”

She turned away and refused to look at the portal.

“Are you sure
we
are the Chosen? Is it possible you or the Masters made a mistake?” Voilor asked. His mate Syrlir awaited him back at the colony. She would be in their quarters, finishing with her bath, her wet, naked flesh gleaming in the soft light from the torches on the walls. After her leathery skin was dry, she would polish her fangs and claws to a bright shine. His pulse raced as he imagined never seeing her again.

Syrlir was a great beauty among the Volgons and he was proud to be her mate. Not only because she was beautiful, fierce, and strong, but because they shared a special fantasy. Both were weary of war and living underground. In the darkness and privacy of their quarters, they whispered secret wishes and desires into the night; to leave Volgon and make a new life on a planet free from the scars of war. They wished to walk hand in hand on the surface, feeling the warmth of the sun, the breeze across their flesh, having no need to wear armor or carry weapons. Here, on this peaceful new world, they would raise their young.

The thought of leaving Syrlir and not being able to tell her where he was going was more than he could bear. She would grieve his loss for a time, but would soon find another mate and procreate, for the good of the colony. He pictured her opening up and sharing her—
their—
fantasy with another and Voilor curled his hands into fists and growled with fury.

“What if we choose not to go? You can't possibly stop all of us.”

Viisyr gazed at him calmly. “You are right. I cannot force you to come.” He moved closer to the portal. “I will answer the previous
question you asked. I know that you are the Chosen because you are marked as such. Each of you bears a mark that resembles this symbol.” He pointed to one of the many symbols surrounding the portal. It was made of two wavy lines on top of a half circle.

“I have that mark.” Feeror pulled his armor back to reveal a faint mark on his forearm.

The others began showing each other their brands, all on different limbs, and were stunned to realize they had never noticed before that all of them possessed the exact same mark.

“When I first encountered all five of you at once, upon arriving at the colony, I experienced…I don't know…almost a vibration deep in my brain. I felt it the first few times I was in contact with all of you, but afterwards the feeling subsided and never returned. As if I no longer needed the reassurance that I had indeed found all of the Chosen.

“You were not chosen at random. You all have special qualities that, when combined with the abilities of the other Chosen, will enable you all to figure out a way to save the galaxy from the Mekans.

“Each of you is a vital piece of a very large and complex puzzle. If even one piece is missing, the picture will never be complete.

“I, too, have given up much. I was taken from my family at a very young age to train with the Masters. The Guardians were kept isolated while we trained for our duties. It was a grueling and lonely existence.

“But we believed in our task. There is more at stake here than leaving a young one behind.” He indicated Seelyr. “Or a mate.” He pointed at Voilor. “There is no one else to do this, no one who can take your place. Your fates have been chosen, your destinies preordained long ago. If you do not find a way to stop the Mekans, they will spread like a pestilence, until all life in the galaxy is destroyed.”

Voilor looked hard at Gerok, and then covered his face, shoulders sagging under the weight of his obligation. He would go with his Premier. There was no reason to doubt what Viisyr had told them. Voilor could not turn his back on the others, even if his choice meant he may never see Syrlir again.

“We must remove our armor and weapons and leave them behind,” Gerok said.

“Are you mad?” Kyron roared.

“How are we to protect ourselves?” Feeror asked.

Gerok held up his hands for silence. “The portals do not reassemble non-living matter. Besides, we will not need such things where we are going.”

The Volgons removed their weapons and armor and stood awaiting their Premier's orders.

Kyron shifted as he stood in place, eyes darting to his armor and weapons. Every instinct screamed at him to cover himself, that he was too vulnerable.

Feeror couldn't stop looking at the entryway.
If the enemy comes, we are helpless!

“I will enter the portal first. Each of you must follow, allowing several minutes in between. Touch the symbol for Gentra before you enter.” He indicated a triangle with a circle inside. “Emergence will be a little frightening. I will be there to help ease the transition.” He paused a moment. “There is one other important thing I must tell you. We will not be able to communicate. While you will be able to make all of the necessary sounds, you do not yet know the language.”

“How are the Masters going to complete our training if we cannot understand what is said?” Kyron asked.

“One of the planet's Chosen is telepathic. They have the ability to speak with only their thoughts. If their Guardian was successful in their training, they have learned to communicate with other species. They will be the liaisons to interpret until everyone gets a grasp of each others' languages.”

He moved toward the portal. He did not bother to ask if they were ready. He could spend days trying to convince them of their importance, telling them more about Gentra and what to expect, but even those would not be enough. There was no reason for delay, and no need for more words.

Gerok looked over his shoulder. The five Chosen from Volgon stood tall and proud. He nodded, and, after receiving nods in return, reached up, touched the symbol for his home world, and passed into the portal.

A
STRA

“I don't sense anyone, Master Brok.” Gwen reported. “Shouldn't someone ride back to make sure no one is following? You only barely taught us the spell. What if I didn't do it right?”

She worried at her lip with her white teeth, brow furrowed with worry.

“I am sure you did fine.”

Brok felt sympathy for her and the others. He had been pushing them hard since fleeing Siswae. They rode from before sun-up to past sundown, often crawling into their blankets right away, too exhausted to eat. Brok taught them spells while in the saddle: to sense someone following, to cast fireballs, create small shields, binding, and all manner of magic that may come in handy should they encounter the Queen's guards.

Brok was sure Queen Cheye would send her elite guards to retrieve her new “pet.” The effort she had put into obtaining Jon meant she was very serious about keeping him. Her confidence that Jon was something special sent shivers down his spine.

She can't know who he really is!

Fa' Vel must have received a lucrative award for finding Jon and handing him over.

The students understood the need to learn the new spells, and to learn them quickly. They had even been able to perform most without saying the words to aid in concentration. His Chosen had come a long way since leaving Heart Stone. They had had to grow up quickly and face dangers they never thought they would encounter.

Brok let his magic reach out in a wide semi-circle as he faced the direction they had traveled from. The further his power spread, the weaker it became. He was able to push the limit to about ten miles. Brok did not sense anyone following.