The Rising Sun: Episode 4 (10 page)

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Authors: J Hawk

Tags: #space opera, #science fiction

BOOK: The Rising Sun: Episode 4
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The two Xeni exchanged a fleeting, savage
grin, then raised their blades. The fanatical glow of orange seemed
to sharpen in the room as their blades plunged towards him…

 

“Stop.” Hissed a voice from the back of the
room.

 

The two Xeni over Ion froze the very instant,
turning to a third cloaked figure at the back of the room. He had
apparently climbed in through the balcony at the back. Taking a
step forward, the man let his hood fall.

 

Ion felt a sense of chilling horror at what
he was seeing.

 

It was a man with pale skin, long black hair
hanging in frames on both sides of his face. But the man’s eyes …
He had no eyes! Two empty, black sockets stared out. And they were
focussed right on Ion, as though they could see him. Ion felt a
stab of unworldly terror.

 

“Leave him.” Zardin hissed. “He’s mine.”

 

Not daring to disobey their leader, the two
Xeni backed off and vanished behind the door of the room, joining
the battle elsewhere.

 

A thoroughly perplexed Ion slowly rose to his
feet, his widened eyes locked over the ghastly looking Xeni before
him. The man dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a rolled
parchment. He unrolled it, surveyed it with his blank eyes for a
second, before turning it over for Ion to see.

 

It was the criminal poster of Ion.

 

“From the glowing red eyes to the pale skin,
to the evil smile.” The man paused, his blank eyes running up and
down Ion in a curious manner. “I really expected more … for the
deadly killer I thought you were, at least.”

 

“Who are you?” panted Ion, bending and
picking up his sword again. “What do you want?”

 

Zardin smiled. “I gave you a chance, Ion. I
sent Xare to you, and I hoped you might join us. But you didn’t,
did you? You decided to ignore us and run off to them.” He clucked
his tongue, shaking his head admonishingly. “Not impressed. Not one
bit. I was hoping better,” He raised the poster higher, beckoning
to it with his sword. “from someone like this.”

 

“You were wrong.” said Ion. “and I’m not what
you see in that poster anymore.”

 

Zardin savoured what he was hearing. A soft
laugh emitted from his throat.

 

 

“When I found out about you, about the
enormity of the crimes you’d committed two years back,” His head
swung to face the poster held by his right again. “I was truly
impressed, Ion. I took a certain liking to you. That’s an
achievement from your side.”

 

Ion stood there, his jaws locked. He said
nothing, though it was obvious that he wanted to.

 

Zardin rolled the parchment and stuffed it
back into his pocket again. “I did my research on your childhood,
your past before I decided to set you as a target for my ally. I
know of everything you faced, boy. Everything that you went through
… and it then occurred to me that I had gone through it, too. Your
pain and your misery. I had faced all of it too, boy.”

 

He lowered his voice to a bare air piercing
hiss.

 

“The two of us …
we are the same,
Ion
.” He took a step forward to Ion, less than a metre away
from him. “Both mystics who have seen the truth. And who have
embraced it. We faced the same pain, underwent the same suffering.
And that is what brings us to who we are today. We are one of a
kind, you and I.”

 

“Whoever you are, I’m nothing like you!” Ion
spat, his voice quaking.

 

Zardin tossed his head back and released a
nasty, ringing laugh.

 

“I know it all, Ion.” He whispered, enjoying
the effect that was to come. “I know everything about your past …
all that you’ve done.” He felt his lips twist in a cruel smile.
“The Xeni have contacts with terror groups all over the world …
including
Grando’s
terror group.”

 

Ion’s orange eyes filled with anguish and
hatred. His breath seemed to have frozen.

 

Zardin let his nasty smile stretch longer.
“That’s right. I know it all. Everything you’ve done. Everyone
you’ve killed … including your own brother.”

 

Ion ignited his sword, and the orange light
gleaming in the blade formed a mirror for the anger and hatred
rising within him now.

 

With a roar of rage, he hurtled onto Zardin,
who calmly ignited and raised his own sword. The cling of their
blades meeting pierced the air, sharp and steely.

 

Zardin withdrew his saber and sent a wild
strike at Ion’s left. The boy’s eyes widened slightly, evidently
alarmed at the speed and deadliness of this opponent. Not what he’d
been expecting. He spun just in time to let his sword block
Zardin’s, and a cloud of sparks burst as their swords clashed
fiercely.

 

Zardin lunged forth, unleashing another
furious set of jabs. Ion seemed to hold his breath, swinging his
sword in a wild fury to block the attacks. He blocked the final
strike and then gritted his teeth as he hurled forward, his sword
flying in the first offensive maneuver … which Zardin blocked with
a lazy flick of his blade.

 

“You’ve chosen the wrong side, dear boy.”
said Zardin, hurling another slash at Ion, who had spun his own
sword just in time to block it. “And now, you pay the price. You
die.”

 

He pushed Ion back with their swords and then
jumped forth, slashing and jabbing viciously. Ion panted for breath
as he propelled himself faster, possibly than ever before, against
any opponent. Zardin struck on mercilessly, pushing the boy further
and further behind. The rapid
clings
of their blades meeting
filled the room.

 

__________

 

 

All of a sudden, nothing else existed. Not
the world around. Not the passing of time. Everything had suddenly
melted into non existence, save for the creature ahead of him. The
creature showering Mantra with a violent series of jabs and slashes
with his ignited sword, his speed and ferocity brutal. He was all
that existed now, and Mantra felt himself merge with him as he
fought him off, his own ferocity rising to the shore of his being
after eight thousand years.

 

Redgarn’s powers, his dynamic might, hadn’t
slackened an ounce, despite having endured eight thousand years.
The two titanic enemies clashed with a violent fury, both of their
motions blurred to unrecognisable states: within the passage of
half a second, both their swords would have clashed at least ten
times. Sparks burst about, spewing the air all over them.

 

Mantra jumped two steps back as his enemy
made a lunging stab at his gut. His eyes were glued to Redgarn’s
sword as it came soaring towards him. Feeling the moment run by
slowly, Mantra brought his own sword in a sideway swipe, slashing
the opponent’s out of the way. A crisp
cling
, and an
explosion of sparks ensued.

 

Taking a wide step forward, Mantra ran his
sword forward … aiming for his chest. But Redgarn’s eyes came
flying along his blade, and he took a lazy step backwards that
fetched him a moment’s gain. He blocked Mantra’s strike with his
own raised sword, growling deep in his throat.

 

“You should have stayed in Taurandor.”
Snarled Mantra, as the two of them stood there rigidly, their
sabers clasped. “Now you’ll wish you had.”

 

“You should have died a painless death while
you had the chance.” Hissed Redgarn, his red face twisting in a
smile. “Now
you’ll
wish you had.”

 

He gave Mantra a sudden, rocky shove
backwards, which almost threw him off balance. Half tripping,
Mantra fought for control of his ground for a moment, while Redgarn
came hurtling at him from in front, the mad blaze of his sword
brightening…

 

__________

 

 

A gang of five Rash-cons came storming at
Vestra from around her. Without being prompted by thought, she
launched to one side, her black hair flying. Her quick action had
saved her from what would have been instant death: as soon as she
had jumped, jets of light burst towards her from the robots’ guns,
missing her by whiskers. She parried two of the shots which the
Rash-cons had sent with re directed aims at her. As they drew near
from all five sides, she felt her feet leave the ground. Lunging
forward, she sent a sharp, circular wave of her sword. The ignited
blade passed the robots’ thick, metallic bodies like they were
butter, and they collapsed, lifeless.

 

She was now at the corner of the giant hall,
watching as mayhem tore the entire place apart like strips of
paper. Giant chunks of concrete came tumbling upon them in smoking
ruins as explosions raged in the upper regions of the temple.

 

Vestra felt a moment of crazy panic for Qyro
and Ion, both of whom had been enveloped by the intensity of the
battle, and were now lost from sight. Fighting back the suffocating
feeling, she cast her hope out that they were all right.
They
better be. They have to be…

 

__________

 

 

Zardin hurled Ion across the room air with
the strength of ten men.

 

Ion felt his body cleave through the air,
hurtling at high speed, before crashing through the wall behind
him. Pain burst all over him. His shoulders had taken the full
impact, and a searing pain seemed to rip through the blades over
his shoulders.

 

His vision had gone murky for a second, and
he screwed up his eyes in a tense attempt to regain focus. But even
through his groggy vision, the thin black entity that came
thundering towards him from across the room was unmistakable.
Zardin raised his sword high, the blade’s orange shine slitting
through the haziness of his vision.

 

He’s far too strong … I can’t fight him.

 

It took Ion all of his will to fight off the
dread and get himself to move. Seizing control of his body though
the searing pain, he drew himself up and dodged the Xeni menace
flying at him. Zardin, who had come hurtling at him with his sword
outstretched, missed him as he made a clean sidestep. Ion summoned
his mystical powers and held his hand out towards his sword. The
sword came soaring into the air, twirling, and landed in his
grasp.

 

A wild orange flash illuminated the corridor
as Ion lit his sword. Zardin, who had landed further down the
corridor at the speed of his launch, rounded and charged at
him.

 

__________

 

 

Mantra felt a snarl escape him as he opposed
Redgarn’s mindless strength, standing his ground. The two of them
had their eyes locked even heavier than their blades between
them.

 

“Give it to me.” breathed Redgarn, as the two
of them stood rigidly frozen, their sabers locked dead on each
other. “Give me the crystal.”

 

Mantra could feel the crystal lying inside
his pocket. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before Redgarn got his
hands on it. And he intended to end it before he did.

 

“We’ve come to re claim what’s rightfully
ours,” went on Redgarn, his voice lowered to a soft growl. “And we
will most certainly not leave without it.”

 

“You aren’t leaving at all.” hissed Mantra.
“Not alive, that is.”

 

The shuddering sensation deepened around
them, and the blasts grew louder. Faint layers of dust dislodged
from the ceiling, drifting down to fill the space around them.

 

A smile slit Redgarn’s face, turning it
inhuman. “You know how hollow your words are, dear man. The temple
is falling apart.” He gave an unpleasant, ringing laugh. “You can
sense doom sealing its clasp over you. All of you. Like it or not,
we will have both the things we came here for: the plague crystal …
and the long awaited demise of the brotherhood of Nyon.”

 

__________

 

 

Zardin moved through the wreck of a place
slowly, his footsteps merging with the silence. Deep shudders shook
the walls and ceiling, and layers of dust floated down from above.
The battle was faring badly for the Nyon.

 

He kicked aside a broken chair, and pretended
to look around the ravaged room in which his target was hiding.
Someone too scared to face the horror before him, the horror of
reality.

 

“Come out, Ion.” There was a dangerous simper
in his voice, and Zardin didn’t blame Ion at all for not doing as
he asked. “Come out and play.”

 

Continuing to pretend to gaze around the room
looking for his target, he walked forth slowly. This hall, or
whatever it had been before the battle begun, had been subject to a
blast nearby it. What remained of the room was now littered with
charred smithereens. The furniture of the room had been tossed
towards one side, opposite to where the blast had occurred. Zardin
was now roaming through the pillaged remains of the chairs, beds
and cupboards lying clumsily over the floor.

 

The place was supposedly a dormitory room,
one that must have been left empty for millennia now. He kicked
another chair off the way, and it landed on the broken remains of a
cupboard lying by the right.

 

Ion had done a good job of hiding himself,
Zardin admitted. Except…

 

He spun, and let his hands smash through the
broken cupboard lying by the right, pulling out the red haired boy
hiding inside of it. Ion gritted his teeth, trying to struggle free
as Zardin held him by the front of his robes.

 

“I’m blind.” Zardin bent forward and
whispered. He then smiled. “But I can see … everything.”

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