The Sac'a'rith

The Lost Tales of Power:

The Sac’a’rith

Written and Published by Vincent Trigili

Copyright 2013 Vincent Trigili

Editors:

Kristi Trigili

Elaine Kennedy (
[email protected]
)

Cover designed by Cormar Covers

ISBN: 978-1311221728

EBook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Lost Tales of Power is a collection of novels that describe an immense persistent multiverse. The books are a mixture of standalone and miniseries all set in the same universe with overlapping and intertwining story lines. While the books are a mixture of classic science fiction and pure fantasy, some effort is being made to keep the books in the realm of the possible, or at least theoretically possible given some basic assumptions.

Lost Tales of Power Series:

Volume I - The Enemy of an Enemy

Volume II - The Academy

Volume III - Rise of Shadows

Volume IV - Resurgence of Ancient Darkness

Volume V - The Sac’a’rith

Volume VI - Spectra’s Gambit

Volume VII – The Sac’a’rith: Rebirth

Volume VIII and beyond - TBA

To be informed when new books are released:

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I hope you find as much enjoyment in reading these stories as I had living them. If you enjoy the books, please post a review and spread the word about them. As an independent author, word of mouth is the only marketing I can afford. Thanks!

Map of Phareon Region

IE = Imperial Era (similar to BC, counts backwards)

EM = Era of Magic

12/01/01 IE – Enemy of an Enemy starts

01/20/02 EM – Enemy of an Enemy ends

02/01/02 EM – The Academy starts

08/30/42 EM – The Academy ends

05/15/55 EM – Rise of Shadows starts

12/30/58 EM – Rise of Shadows ends

01/31/59 EM – Resurgence of Ancient Darkness starts

03/15/59 EM – The Sac’a’rith starts

08/11/62 EM – Spectra’s Gambit starts

10/31/62 EM – The Sac’a’rith ends

01/25/63 EM – Resurgence of Ancient Darkness ends

02/01/64 EM – Sac’a’rith: Rebirth starts

08/25/64 EM – Sac’a’rith: Rebirth ends

01/01/65 EM – Spectra’s Gambit ends

“You will pay, or my Zalionian companion here will make you wish you had,” said Donovan.

The little man he was speaking to looked nervously over to me with sweat beading on his forehead. He was a meek man and one who normally paid his protection money on time, but for some reason he did not have it this time.

He fell to his knees and pleaded, “Please, sir, I just don’t have it right now. With the tribal uprising,
my supplies have been delayed. I just need a little more time!”

I pitied the poor excuse for a human. He was probably telling the truth, but Donovan was a cruel man. This would not go well for him. Donovan looked around the shop and probably noticed most of the shelves were empty, which at least gave credence to the story he was being told.

“Zah’rak, have a look around in the back and see what you can find,” said Donovan.

I hated my life and hated my job, but the submission collar around my neck gave me no options. Even before I could acknowledge Donovan’s command, I felt the pulses from the collar forcing me to comply. This was how I lived. If I had ever been free, I had no memory of it. If I had parents, they were strangers to me. All I knew was life as a slave controlled by an evil man and a collar.

A submission collar is a device that applies stimulation directly to pleasure and pain centers in the brain so that, over time, the wearer is trained to enjoy following his master’s commands; but I was a Zalionian, which meant I complied with such stimulation only while it suited me. At least, that is what I constantly told myself. I knew it was not true, but I fantasized that I could overcome the collar’s commands. In reality as long as I was wearing it Donovan could torture me and even kill me with a simple touch of a button. For the moment, he had me under his control, but I was just biding my time until an opportunity arose to allow my escape. For his part, I am sure Donovan knew he was a dead man the day I got this collar off, but he was the kind of man who thrived on danger.

Looking around the back room, I found it to be just as empty and bare as the front was. It was strange to see it so completely empty. I wondered if the meek man was planning to skip town without telling us. Over in the far corner I saw a safe. I knew that Donovan would want to know what was in it, and I had a moment of indecision. If there was money in that safe, then Donovan would be upset with the meek man and would force me to teach him a lesson. If I did not tell Donovan about the safe, he might tear the place up looking for one and cause far more damage than this man could afford to repair.

I decided to investigate the safe and found it unlocked, but before I could open it I heard a loud crash from the front and felt my submission collar summoning me to respond. I rushed to the front room and found several men had broken through the front door and were attacking Donovan.

Donovan was strong for a human, and an experienced fighter. He was easily holding off two of the men while the third looked on. That third man worried me; he was too calm and collected. He watched the fight as if he knew that at any time he could step in and end it.

I did not need any direct orders from Donovan; we had been in many fights over the years and worked quite well as a team. This was the one part of the job I actually enjoyed, and fortunately we traveled in circles that ensured we got to fight often. He saw me come out and instantly pivoted on his right leg while grabbing one man by the arm and sending him my way. As the man came stumbling towards me I caught him with ease, lifted him up, and tossed him over the counter into the wall. There was a rewarding sound of bones breaking as he hit it, but I did not stop to gloat over that minor victory. I crouched my large Zalionian frame and prepared to launch myself at the third man, when he pulled out a blaster and fired a single shot.

It seemed that time stood still as the bolt from the blaster flew through the air towards me. Even though the energy from the weapon moves at the speed of light, it was as if I saw it travel towards me in slow motion. A warm joy came over me as the bolt hit me: I would finally be free. It did not turn out quite like that. The bolt from the blaster did not hit me directly, but merely grazed my neck. It seemed I was not to be freed through death today.

I launched myself into the air, knowing that I might not get another chance to take this man down before he could shoot again. Pain began to burn in my neck; I realized that the blast had not missed by as much as I had thought, but the discomfort would not slow me down. Pain was one thing I was very used to: it marked my daily life with Donovan.

The man who was my target smiled and deftly stepped to the side with a speed and grace the like of which I had never seen before. I could not adjust my trajectory in time and crashed into the wall behind him, destroying a section of it.

My head felt strange as I sprang to my feet. With a great sweep of my tail I tried to catch him off-guard, but again he almost effortlessly dodged my attack. Whoever this person was, he was not an ordinary traveler in these parts. No one out here could afford blasters, and the skill with which he moved was beyond that seen in the local gangs.

As a Zalionian, I was significantly bigger and stronger than any mere human. My armored scales, claws and tail gave me distinct advantages in physical combat. Normally the mere fact that I towered over my adversaries caused them to back off from a fight out of fear, but this man was as calm as could be. That meant he might be a worthy opponent. It was so rarely I found one that I relished the few chances I got to fight such a man.

As I slipped into a more defensive posture to better evaluate my target, I saw that Donovan had dispatched the man he was fighting and had drawn his own weapon: a small handgun that launched explosive pellets. It had nowhere near the range and power of a blaster, but it was deadly in close-range combat like this. Donovan had positioned himself so that the unknown man could either shoot me, which would give Donovan the opening to fire at him, or turn to shoot Donovan, which would give me the opportunity to kill the stranger.

The pain in my neck was beginning to reach a level that not even I could ignore, and the room was swimming in random directions around me. I slowly reached up to my neck and felt the collar; it was hot, very hot to the touch. It must have been damaged by the blaster shot. The pain grew to a blinding level. My vision went completely red and I could feel my heart racing. It was all I could do to remember to breathe through the intensity of the pain. My basic instincts took over; I seized the collar where the blaster had weakened it and ripped it from my neck. One final wave of pain racked my body, and then I was free!

I looked over at Donovan, that cruel man who had so mistreated everyone he dealt with and regularly forgot to provide me with the necessities of life. As he opened his mouth to say something, I felt a primal anger build up inside me which raged into an uncontrollable fire, propelling me into action.

Acting on basic animal instinct and ignoring the man with the blaster, I leaped into the air, landing on a very surprised Donovan; I grabbed his head, digging my claws deep into his neck. With one vicious twist and pull, I ripped it from his shoulders and screamed a victory cry from somewhere deep down within the darkest area of my soul. Decades of repressed anger came flowing out in that scream.

It took a few moments for the rational part of my mind to regain control over my body, and when it did I found myself standing over the newly-decapitated body of Donovan with his head in my hands. Then I remembered the man with the blaster.

I turned to face him, letting Donovan’s head fall unceremoniously to the floor. The man just stood there. He had holstered his blaster and looked completely calm. He was tall, maybe as high as two meters, about a full head shorter than me; thin for a human, with dark skin and jet-black hair. His eyes seemed somehow unusual for his race, but I could not quite place why.

My brain raced to make sense of the situation. He could have easily killed me while I had my back towards him, yet I was alive and it did not look as if he intended to attack me at all. “Who are you, stranger?”

“I like to think of myself as a problem-solver, and you seem to have a big problem on your hands now,” he said.

He was right. Not only was I now officially an escaped slave, but I had killed my master; that pretty much signed my death warrant out here. “What’s that to you?”

“Like I said, I am a problem-solver. I can help you.”

“Why should I trust you? You and your boys attacked us.”

“Oh, I assure you, those pathetic excuses for humans were not with me. I came here to shop.”

I looked him over again and remembered how he had moved during the fight. He was definitely not from this region; he had the look of a wealthy traveler and the moves of a professional warrior. A thought then occurred to me. “You missed on purpose.”