The Rising Sun: Episode 6 Page 8

  A giant crater had formed on the ground where they had been standing. The plateau that Dantox was standing on was spared.

  The watchmen were beginning to feel the relief swell within for one great second. Realising what they had just evaded.

  And then, as if in response, they heard it…

  A rumble splitting the skies above. And through the parting clouds overhead, a large cruiser slowly floated downwards.

  This was the cruiser the Xeni had stolen … the cruiser carrying a battalion of armed forces.

  As the entire army watched, helpless, all exit flaps of the giant vessel popped open … and a stream of battle ships came pouring out from all over the vessel. Like a never ending tirade, the warships gushed out of the vessel and swooped in right towards where they all stood. They were all armed, their canons ready to rage upon the watchmen on the ground below.

  The watchmen drew their sabers as one, and braced themselves. Watching the rain of battle ships descend upon them…

  And as the wave of Xeni’s ships surged halfway onto the earth, their canons and missile launchers began to blaze. Orbs of light and missiles were unleashed with a hysteric rage, showering the ground where the helpless watchmen stood … But the brave warriors raised their weapons and fought back, ducking, jumping, and shielding themselves from their enemies’ merciless onslaught.

  __________

  “How much longer?”

  Mantra’s tone was pressed with urgency, and his eyes were narrowed in a look of absolute, grave focus.

  Qyro leaned forward and checked a reading on the holo screen. He rounded to the three of them, who stood behind him waiting in paramount anxiety.

  “We’re there.”

  The ship’s engine was louder than most. It left a mean rumble to gruel over the silence, so that the air around the four of them seemed sharper with the sounds of an oncoming disaster…

  After crash landing on that planet, they had immediately scurried to the nearest village. Pushed to extreme desperacy, they had stolen one of the ships and were now flying it to where the ambush was supposed to take place … or was taking place.

  True to Qyro’s words, they felt the ship’s space speed drop dangerously. And then, they could see the large planet grow across the black stretch of space through the window outside.

  The same terrible question could be felt thundering over the silence…

  Were they too late … ?

  Whatever the watchmen were about to face or were presently facing, could they reach in time to help them with it?

  Within a few seconds, they were soaring down over the planet’s deserted terrain, and there, they saw their answer…

  Ion felt his insides go hollow.

  The other three stood as speechlessly stunned as he was.

  “No…” whispered Vestra.

  Strewn over the ground in shattered remains were a battalion of ships, all of them in smoking debris. But lying between them were corpses.

  Unmistakable corpses … of the watchmen.

  All of them were dead.

  12

  For the first time since he had known him, Mantra seemed to have lost control. He dropped to his knees on the ground, his heavy white eyes scanning the scene before them. It was littered with the remains of the cruel battle which had killed the watchmen. Their bodies were lying all over the ground, charred and smoking. Blending into the clutter of debris that filled the ground all over the place. Unlike how they had been when alive, their bodies were no longer emitting a fiery glow: they were now scoured of the life that formed their core, and had gone dull.

  Vestra swept her head around to gaze at Ion and Qyro, who stood behind the master, their voices stumped in the same shock. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she stooped down over Mantra, and wrapped her arm over him.

  “It’s all right, master.” she consoled.

  “It always is,” whispered Mantra, shaking his head. “What happens is always what’s right. What we require is the strength for accepting so … whatever be the cost.”

  He turned and let his white eyes flow on towards the horizon, checking to see if there were survivors among the army. But they clearly knew that it was impossible. The Xeni had sent an entire battalion for this. For this last victory. And by the look of it, the watchmen had put up a fight. A brave one. They had destroyed as much of the ships as possible. But it wasn’t enough. The force the Xeni’s had arrived here with had clearly swallowed them whole.

  Everything Ion knew now dissolved into a blur of hopelessness.

  For it was now all over.

  Qyro dug his hands into his pocket, walking forward in a gentle trot. He angrily kicked one of the scraps bits off the way as he strolled on.

  Mantra stood with Vestra’s gentle arm still around him. Ion followed Qyro, trotting upto one of the large, charred blocks of ship debris to take a seat on it. Qyro leaned by the side of the large debris block, his red fur seeming to have wilted.

  “How could this happen?” he said quietly. “The worst possible time.”

  Ion gave a mild nod, watching the horizon far across the land. The thin line that allowed the red land and the blue sky to meld as one.

  “It’s over, then.” Ion could feel the hollow tone in his own voice. “The Xeni would release the demon army anytime now. And the entire spectrum is theirs for the taking … Nothing at all to stand in their way.”

  He had felt worst before only twice in his life.

  The day he had been dragged away from home by the Naxim.

  And … the day he had killed Eol.

  Those were the two instances in his entire life when the world itself had ended … or rather he had wished it had. And the crushing heaviness that had settled over the present, over the four of them now, was close to what he had felt those two days.

  In front of them, Mantra and Vestra were slowly walking up towards them. Mantra gazed at the ground below, appearing to be deep in thought. Finally, as the two of them arrived before where Ion and Qyro stood, he raised his eyes to meet them.

  “There clearly was something very unexpected that occurred in between all of this.” he said grimly. “That had steered control away from us.”

  “What do you mean?” Vestra asked him.

  Mantra’s thought worn expression went deeper, and his eyes floated to the distance behind where Ion and Qyro stood.

  “The conch had been sounded to summon them here.” he said finally. “That much is clear. But what isn’t at all clear is how? For only a Nyon master could have done it.”

  “If that’s so, then how could the Xeni have used the conch to summon the watchmen?” asked Ion.

  For a silent second, the three of them looked around at each other, feeling the air thicken with mystery.

  Then, Mantra’s thoughtful look wore off, his eyes regaining focus as they returned to where they were now standing.

  “How, you ask?” he said softly, and his eyebrows tilted in a frown. “I think I may have a guess … nothing more.”

  13

  The taste of victory had never been so sweet.

  Dantox and the other Xeni now stood in a building in the same planet, making the final communication to their masters - the communication of their victory.

  “Good.” replied Zardin, staring out of the holographic screen that hung in mid air before Dantox. “Very good. The watchmen have been taken care of, and now we will proceed.”

  The rest of the Xeni stood behind him in this large hall, peering into the screen before them.

  After having the watchmen destroyed, Dantox and a few other Xeni had made their way here, to a city far away on the same planet. They were now inside one of the city’s buildings, where they needed to procure something before they began the spell.

  “When will the spell begin?” asked Dantox. “The spell to release the demon army?”

  “As soon as the day enters the regime of Mezmeron.” Zardin smiled. “The blackes
t time of the night will be the most fruitful time to begin the spell.”

  Dantox felt a spike of thrill.

  “We will reach there within a few minutes.” He told Zardin.

  “You know what you need to bring with you.” said Zardin.

  “I do.” Dantox nodded. “And that’s why we’re here.” He spread his arms, gesturing around where they now stood.

  “Good. Don’t return without it.” Zardin gave a final nod, and the screen disappeared.

  The Xeni behind him turned and strode about the hall, examining the furniture and the things they saw around it. Some of them strolled down the corridor by his right to even further explore the place.

  Meanwhile, Dantox looked at the group of people tied together in a close huddle at the end of the hall, their squeals of terror muffled by their gags.

  The family consisted of five. Five innocent people. The ceremony of releasing the demon army was to be grand and enjoyable. They needed sacrifices for it and these five fitted perfectly.

  Dantox knew that they would have done far better to have the two Nyon they had captured earlier on, but Mantra and Ion had wriggled out of their grip, and were probably dead by now. And so, this family would suffice. It was not actually necessary, but Zardin thought it would appease the demons when they were released, to give them something fresh to prey on. And that was where the family of five tied up before them came in.

  Dantox slowly walked over and bent before the sweet, innocent bunch. The father was the frontmost of the group, his eyes bearing a mixture of terror and rage. The mother lay pressed from behind him, her screams dulled by the gag stuffed in her mouth. The three kids were tied close on either side.

  Dantox shook his head simperingly as he gazed at the cute little kids. One of them, a boy, was no older than three. The other two were girls of about nine, both of their faces tear streaked and crumpled in terror.

  They were the people who lived here in this house. Or rather, they had been. They wouldn’t live here any longer. As a matter of fact, they would live for long at all…

  “Oh, don’t you cry,” he said, stroking one of the girls by the chin, so that she shook her head violently, trying to ward off his hand. “It’s gonna be over soon … all of it.”

  He straightened up and turned to face one of the Xeni behind him. An Iveling.

  “You know what?” he said, looking thoughtfully at the Iveling. “Five may be a heavy load to carry. Why don’t we … trim the herd a bit?”

  “I think so too.” The Iveling ignited his sword and walked forward, a manic hunger in his eyes. “Let’s show one of them the mercy of a painless exit?”

  The muffled screams grew high pitched.

  Dantox clicked his tongue, looking at him admonishingly. “Dear man, we know that nothing is painless.”

  The Iveling laughed cruelly.

  The glow of brutal glee brightened within Dantox as he turned back to the family.

  “Stuff the chump down the toilet.” he told the Iveling, beckoning to the three year old kid.

  The screams sharpened like a talon as the five of them struggled against their bonds. The Iveling walked forward and plucked the three year old boy off the huddle, while the boy thrashed wildly. He turned and walked down the corridor, by the side of which was the puny toilet of this house.

  It would be a memorable death for the boy - being stuffed down a toilet bowl. Dantox forced back a mirthless chuckle.

  Carrying the screaming, thrashing infant, the Iveling left the hall, vanishing into the corridor. Silence blared in the hall as he disappeared, punctuated by the muffled, helpless squeals of the four other family members.

  And then, there was the distinct sound of the toilet being flushed … and then a sharp breaking noise, as though the toilet had been broken at the force of the three year old thrust into it.

  The muffled screams of the four surviving members stopped abruptly, and a chill now rode over the air.

  Dantox smiled. Well, that’s one less brat in this world.

  The cold tingle of joy rising inside him, Dantox walked out of the room, down the corridor and pushed the toilet door open.

  Mantra stood there with the boy safely held in one arm, the Xeni lying dead over a smashed toilet. He had apparently climbed in through the window sitting by the right.

  Before Dantox had finished one blink of his eyelids, Mantra had tossed himself over him, the toddler held safely in one arm. Dantox hardly registered the air being blown off his lungs as he slammed onto the wall behind him.

  “Judgement day’s here.” Mantra snarled.

  As he raised his ignited sword with one arm, the other holding the infant safely, Dantox flew to his feet and hurtled down the corridor, arriving at the room at the very end.

  As he ran into the room, he came to an abrupt, jolting halt:

  Ion, Qyro and Vestra stood in the room. The dead or unconscious bodies of the Xeni littered the floor, steaming where the Nyon’s swords had sliced them.The windows behind them were wide open: apparently the three of them had snuck in without leaving any sound.

  His insides clenched, Dantox whipped around to see Mantra standing right behind him.

  “Nowhere to run.” said Mantra, cracking his knuckles.

  Pain burst along his spine as he slammed onto the wall at the back of the room and slid down it. The four Nyon stood before him, all of their eyes blazing brighter than the swords in their hands.

  “You’ve made some mistakes, old friend.” said Mantra, bending down before him. “And we’re now here to rectify them.”

  “It wasn’t me!” squealed Dantox, shaking his head wildly. “Oh, please! You have to understand. They intimidated me!”

  “Oh, shut it.” said Mantra, raising a hand, and Dantox felt as though his voice had been forced back down his throat.

  “What did you do to the family?” Mantra asked with a half glance at Ion, his white eyes clinging to Dantox the whole time.

  “I set them free.” said Ion. “They’re gone now.”

  Mantra brought his attention back to Dantox, his gaze now erased of the calm serenity it always held … Now, there was an inferno churning within his hazy white eyes.

  “I’m telling you, I-!”

  Mantra raised his hand, and Dantox’s voice extinguished once more.

  “Here’s your chance to live,” he said, bending closer over Dantox. “Tell us everything.”

  “What do you want?” squealed Dantox.

  “Where is your lair?” asked Vestra. “Tell us where the Xeni are hiding … where is the spell going to happen?”

  Dantox fought back the panic and steadied himself.

  “Our lair is in the planet Synistros, the second level of the outer spectrum.”

  “How far would it be from here?” asked Mantra. “How long will the space jump from here to Synistros take?”

  Dantox gave a second’s thought. “Not more than a few minutes. Synistros’s in the outer spectrum too, and it isn’t too far from this one. We couldn’t waste time, so we had the ambush planned in a planet not too far away.”

  “Good,” said Ion, with a quick glance at the other three. “Cause you’ll be taking us there, to your lair.”

  Dantox blinked, his look fazing slightly in confusion. “Taking you there?” he asked weakly. “To our lair? For what?”

  “Do we have to drill everything into that thick head of yours?” snapped Qyro, his arms folded. “So that we stop the Xeni from performing that spell before they start!”

  “First,” said Mantra, stepping a little closer. “Let’s find out how much more time we have. When are the Xeni beginning the spell?”

  Dantox stared at them without answering for a second.

  “When the regime of Mezmeron begins.” he then said softly. “The darkest hour of the night.”

  “Good,” said Ion, nodding. “Now, listen closely. You’re getting us to your lair, and we are going to put an end to this madness by stopping
their cursed spell before it begins.”

  “You can’t.” Dantox carried his gaze through all four of them, and gave a pained smile. “Because the darkest hour, in the planet the Xeni’s reside in … is now. The spell has already begun.”

  __________

  A billion miles away, in a dark place where the air carried the scent of acid, Zardin gazed with his hollow eyes at the beginning … their beginning.