The Rising Sun: Episode 5 Read online

  “I’m here on something important.” said Mantra. “Something crucially important.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mantra tilted his head slightly, his frown deepening. “I see there’s quite a lot you need to catch up on. Very well, brace yourself…”

  Galinor thought that the discovery of another master being alive would bring a new of hope … He had been terribly wrong. After hearing what Mantra had just told him. After hearing the situation … he almost wished he hadn’t called him.

  “They’re blowing off ten planets?” he asked, his voice high pitched. “One hour each?”

  But Mantra wasn’t finished … he went on, and now there was a break of hope in his tone.

  Watchmen! Galinor felt the world suddenly twist around him. Mantra went on, telling Galinor of how Ion was now ferrying the crystal across the outer spectrum, to the priest, Nalrez, to have it destroyed. Meanwhile, Mantra, Dantox and the watchmen were intending to find and tear down the ten bombs.

  “Tell me where you are,” said Galinor sternly. “I’m joining you.”

  To his surprise, the aged master shook his head. “We have more than enough forces. The watchmen, Dantox and myself alone can handle this. You, on the other hand have a far more important task at hand: not getting caught by the Xeni.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Xeni will be looking for us,” said Mantra. “For survivors. And if they catch you, they’ll weed everything out of you, and we don’t need that. The plan that you’ve just heard - especially regarding the crystal and whatever’s happening to it - needs to stay very well veiled. We don’t want it falling to the Xeni’s ears. If they learn of it, they’ll try and stop Ion, and get the crystal from him.”

  “So, I just stay here?” asked Galinor, frowning.

  Mantra drifted to thought for a moment.

  “For now, yes.” he said, nodding. “When developments occur, I’ll have you informed, and you can join us. But for now, stay where you are. And don’t risk getting yourself caught by the Naxim, or worse: the Xeni.”

  “And what’re you upto?” asked Galinor, eyeing the elegantly decorated hallway the master was now in.

  Mantra sent a brief glance back, down the long hall he was in. Then, softly, he said, “I’ve gotten a lead on finding these ten bombs.”

  Galinor knew that, with Mantra’s powerful mystic senses, he would have managed to have a trace detected on something, or someone, in almost no time … He felt a swell of gratitude for the fact that despite the utter desperacy of this grave time, the ancient master was left alive. Mantra was a boon to them like no other, and he was the reason they had endured for eight thousand years, without dying out.

  “Well, Godspeed.” said Galinor, with a curt nod. “And good luck.”

  “We’ll be needing a bit of both.” said Mantra.

  And with that, and a final nod, Mantra cut the link. The holo screen melted back to thin air, leaving Galinor standing alone amidst the vast wilderness of this planet he had landed in.

  4

  The memory, suddenly so distant, played over in his head. … Jedius pressing the small conch onto Ion’s hand … his warm smile … his last words…

  “Keep this as a reminder that I’m never too far, Ion…”

  He was right, Ion thought, smiling. Jedius and Ion had never been far at all … they had remained together, linked … The conch was the link, the conch that contained the power of Elderon … they were linked always by the force of good and harmony. And they ever would be.

  Ion steeled himself and brought his mind back to focus. This mission was not his … it was his master’s. It was for the ideals that his master stood for … the ideal of a better world. A good world. And his master’s vision was Ion’s driving force for his life now.

  “I’m never too far … Ion.”

  The slight rumble of the hull, as the ship blasted through space, was the only sound heard through the silence. Up on the four holo screens raised over the table, the same dark stretch of space could be seen. Glinting with the light of a thousand stars.

  How or from where all of the twists of the passing day occurred, Ion had not the faintest idea. And the newest twist in the series invoked far lesser awe in him than it would have at any other instance: the surprise of Jedius’s token being the Grael conch melted into the heaviness of the past few hours. A past few hours that seemed to have crossed all horizons known to the world ‘surprise’.

  Ion couldn’t process the fact that just a past few hours back, he had been worthlessly hunting down one of his employer targets in Sacrogon. That seemed to have set the wheels in motion … and less than twenty four hours later, he was part of a desperate quest to save the world.

  Qyro and Vestra’s memories cast an iron hot scorch over his mind, so that there was a new fire in his resolve. His loss would now be the Xeni’s as well. Vestra, Qyro and every one of the masters that they had lost … They had to win for them. To avenge them. So that their deaths were not lain aside as in vain, and wasted. They had to bring down the Xeni for them.

  Seated cross legged on the pedestal, Ion let his thoughts flow through two dimensions: he had to make only the meanest conscious prod in order to get Flamebird’s attention, which was now his own. With Flamebird’s technical systems now woven into his own, Ion could estimate the distance to the destination planet. The time taken for this voyage would be just over an hour as Mantra had said.

  Presuming that nothing eventful happens in between, of course. he added, correcting himself.

  5

  Armono, Majestron republic, Cluster 46

  Crostox was the most developed, thriving city in the planet of Armono, capital of the Majestron republic. The city was raised with a touch of artistic elegance in its advanced build. Its buildings were all constructed with a refined metallic substance, all of them polished and smooth. They all touched magnificent heights, rising to over hundreds of metres over the ground below: the city itself was a mid air construct, with the ground between the giant structures barely visible.

  Regulated streams of vehicles flowed about over the sky and in between the buildings. The night had fallen, and a tinge of blue filled the black sky resting overhead the city. Thick beams of light swiped the sky from across ground at distances, enlivening and lighting the entire city.

  Inside of a restaurant high on one of the towers of the city, Ranor sat with his back against the wall behind him, a plate of food on the table before him. His eyes wandered over the entire scene before him and the posh demeanour of the place. The waiters strode about in neat suits, their postures straight and confident. A faint musical tune played through the speakers on the ceiling. The only sounds disrupting the musical silence were the murmurings of the people around as they talked, and the clatter of knives and forks on china.

  Since the newsflash with Redgarn had occurred, everything in this planet had come to a near standstill: the crowd he was now witnessing in the restaurant was a meek fraction of what it would have been in any other normal day. But even here, as those willing to brush aside what had happened and go on with their lives sat about the restaurant, an atmosphere of suppressed panic could be felt stretching across the air like a dark shadow.

  But Ranor saw no reason to worry about that. He knew he was right in being least bothered as could be, about this whole grave scenario. Feeling mildly bored, he lay down his fork and watched the proceedings about the restaurant. The waiters strolled around carrying trays of well cooked, steaming food high on their hands, serving the scarce customers about the large place. As the night scrolled by, the crowd grew in the restaurant.

  Ranor’s mind was still faintly dwelling over the reason he had made this short trip to Armono, one which he had now fruitfully fulfilled and would be leaving soon. He ran over everything he now needed to do, now that this hectic trip – one which he had anticipatively awaited for long – was over.

  Bringing himself back to the present, Ranor twi
ddled with the fork on the plate again, growing aware that the restaurant was now more crowded than when he had entered. Although not nearly as crowded as it could have been on any ordinary day. The seat opposite to him had been taken a newcomer, and the chatters of the crowd was now drowning the music played.

  Stretching his hands in a wide, yawning gesture, Ranor sat straight and smiled at the man ahead of him. And he realised who this man was.

  “Well, well, well,” said Mantra, an impressed look in his face. “A Xeni smiling at a Nyon.” He nodded. “What are the odds?”

  “The smile was for a civilian here, whose facing his last hour alive,” replied Ranor, quickly overcoming the shock of seeing that face. “And I thought you were one.”

  Mantra placed both hands on the tablet, allowing a moment’s thought. “I presume you’ve come here to set the trigger to the bomb you’ve placed on this planet?”

  “There’s no need for that.” answered Ranor, in a tone that suggested that the two of them were really doing what they seemed to be doing – chatting casually in the middle of a restaurant. “All ten bombs have been placed and triggered to detonate at the exact time as we promised: one every ten hours. The only two people who have the power to trigger the bomb before the allocated time are Zardin and Redgarn.”

  “What are you here for, then?” asked Mantra, his tone just as casual.

  “I was just sent to check it.” replied Ranor, sliding a hand over the seat next to him. “Zardin and Redgarn thought someone needed to check just this particular bomb: it was the most important one for us. The Majestron republic is the most powerful and the most thriving republic there is. And this, its capital, is the most populated planet, and the greatest one in the entire spectrum.” He gave a humorless smile. “We thought it we would start with it, and give the people of the spectrum a bit of sizzle.” He stopped smiling and grew serious. “And the Majestron’s police forces are annoyingly sharp. So I was sent to make a double check on the bomb.” He leaned forward towards Mantra. “You see, the Xeni don’t leave any loose threads … nothing to chance.”

  “Except the survival of four of your Nyon enemies,” said Mantra. “Which will prove to be your most costly mistake.” His tone sharpened, and his hazy eyes bored into Ranor. “You will now tell me where the bomb of Armono is. Along with all others. And one thing you better understand is that you don’t have a choice.”

  Ranor laughed softly to himself, his eyes unleaving Mantra’s.

  “Is this turning out to be funny?” asked Mantra.

  “No,” Ranor shook his head. “This is turning out to be tragic. For you.”

  Mantra smiled. “We’ll see just how tragic things get unless you give me the location of the bombs.”

  “How’d you manage to find me?” asked Ranor.

  Mantra raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

  “Of course,” said Ranor, shaking his head slightly. “you probably traced one of us through the shifting energy fields - sensed your way to finding one of us, and got lucky enough to be near enough to me.” He chuckled again. “I forgot I’m talking to the eight thousand year old one.”

  “Eight thousand and eighteen.” corrected Mantra.

  “And that’s just how far it’ll get.”

  Mantra withdrew his hand from the chair and leaned forward on the desk, no longer smiling. “Give me the location of the bombs … and maybe you won’t be joining some of your friends in hell.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ranor, shaking his head. “Even if I wanted to, the truth is I can’t.”

  “Can’t you?” asked Mantra.

  “I don’t know where the Xeni have placed the other bombs,” Ranor paused, and his voice dropped lower. “You see, our two leaders happen to be far more intelligent than you might imagine. They didn’t even tell us the location of the ten bombs. The Xeni who installed the bombs only knew their own’s location. That way, even if one of us were to be found or captured, the location of the other nine bombs would still be safe.”

  “You know the location of one bomb – this one.” said Mantra. “The one in Armono.”

  “Why else would I be here?”

  “Then I’m afraid you’re telling me its location,” said Mantra. “Before I give you your quick exit.”

  “The time for quick exits are over, Mantra.” said Ranor gravely. “You’ll see when yours arrives. And in either case, even if you do get this bomb, there’s no chance you’ll manage to find and stop all others in time. You, single handedly.”

  The meanest twitch of Mantra’s lip occurred. “You make a very slight mistake in thinking I’m single handed.”

  “Of course,” drawled Ranor, laughing. “The Nyon always have … the power of Elderon or some nonsense by your side always, don’t you? Or you think you do.”

  There was a brief pause, in which Mantra’s smile widened very slightly. “Yes, we do …”

  Ranor felt his laughter grow louder, almost booming over the chatter of the rest of the restaurant. “Well, good luck getting Elderon to save you from this now, old man.”

  “Tell me the location of the bomb, and both of us can leave this place in one fit piece.” Mantra said, leaning forward very slightly. “Because you aren’t leaving, unless I want you to.”

  “Yes, I am.” Without warning, Ranor threw his hands forth, and his smash blew the entire table and chairs behind it backwards, with Mantra soaring off along with them. He landed on the table behind him on his feet, steadying himself at lightspeed, before pelting back at Ranor. A stunned silence enveloped the entire restaurant, with some of the waiters dropping the dishes they were carrying – the revelation of two mystics in the middle of Armono was the last thing anyone in this room had dared imagine. Ranor had his sword out and ignited as Mantra hurled over him with his own. The cling of their blades meeting rang loudly over the air, sparks bursting from where they met.

  Ranor focussed every ounce of his energy and gave a brush of his hand: Mantra was thrust to the side by an invisible force, leaving Ranor to race off across the place.

  Without even waiting to open the glass door to the balcony, Ranor dashed right into it, the glass exploding over him.

  The large balcony stretched out elegantly, almost as wide as a separate room in itself. There were vehicles parked all over it, cars and bikes and a few boards.

  A man on a hover bike skimmed to a stop just before Ranor. He had slowly begun to climb off his bike when Ranor’s fist sent him flying off. Ranor threw himself over the man’s bike and raced off over the balcony and into the air.

  The wind skimmed past him as he spun the throttle harder, soaring over the city’s towers and weaving through the other vehicles at this level of the sky.

  He cast a fleeting glance back to find Mantra on another bike far behind him, closing in fast.

  “You’re never gonna catch me, you old swine.” Smirking, he took the bike to its fullest throttle. Swerving to the right, he entered a well gathered stream of vehicles and merged into it. He knew that it would be harder for Mantra to spot him here, cluttered along with a host of other vehicles.

  He slowed down his speed, now levelling it with that of the other vehicles flying be alongside him. A glance backwards told him that his detour had shaken off Mantra, who was probably flying on in a completely different direction.

  Feeling the smile widen on his face, he lowered the bike’s throttle even more. A lavishly coated hover car slid forth by his side, moving faster than the rest of the vehicles. Ranor felt his eyes stray to the window of the car, and his blood froze like ice…

  Sitting inside the car were watchmen.

  Watchmen.

  For a stunned, reeling moment, Ranor gaped at them, feeling their flaming silhouettes imprint on his mind.

  And without another second’s notice, the watchmen’s hover car swung to the right, colliding with his bike … and taking him off it.

  A scream ripping his throat, Ranor fell through the air into a four hundred metre
plummet. The world above him, the towers of the city, and the stream of vehicles overhead swum as he twisted around in freefall…

  And then the roar of an electric engine sounded over his scream, and he felt the hover car with the watchmen diving forth along with him. One of them threw an arm out, grasping a handful of his robes. The car broke its fall violently, sending a jolt through Ranor. The hand holding his robes clasped harder as the hover car swung into a straight line motion ahead. Ranor dangled by the side of the car, held by one of the watchmen, as the car sailed across.

  The hover car slowed over one of the towers, and the hand holding Ranor loosened, letting him fall. Ranor thudded heavily to the ground and scurried back to his feet. But the doors of the car flew open and four watchmen jumped out, landing around him. Exiting from the backseat after them came a golden haired Brownling whom he recognised as another of the Nyon masters. Another survivor of their brotherhood.

  “Good job, boys.” the Nyon told the four watchmen surrounding Ranor.