What the hell’s going on?!
“What is this place?” he shrieked, his eyes
darting between the two coffins on either side.
The cloaked men stood about in the spaces
between the coffins ahead of him. Their hoods were drawn and they
stood still, all of them looking at their leader crouching in front
of Derigor.
“What do you want with me?” demanded Derigor.
Ignoring him, Zardin slowly straightened up and pulled out his
z-com from his robe pocket. He pressed a few buttons, and a large
holographic screen enlarged over the device. Derigor got a glimpse
of the screen, and saw something that looked like a report in it.
Zardin stared into the strange report like screen for a few silent
seconds. Then, his head swinging about to face Derigor, he slowly
walked up to where he lay on the ground, and set the z-com to the
floor right in front of him.
Derigor continued to stare at the eyeless,
ghastly fiend for a moment, before looking down at the screen
placed in front of him.
His eyes were frozen over the holo screen for
a long second. And then something seemed to churn at the base of
his stomach, as he realised what he was staring at. What this
screen now held.
“It can’t be.” he whispered, still staring at
the screen. “This is file D.” He wrenched his eyes from the screen
and looked up at Zardin. “How did you get hold of it?”
Zardin stood in silence for a long moment,
his blank eyesockets locked over Derigor.
“You should know.” he said finally, his lips
curving in a smile. “File D was a file that was classified above
top secret. It was so secret that not even the entire high council
is allowed to know of it. The knowledge of the file, along with its
responsibility, is secretly kept by only
one
member in the
high council at any time. That particular member guards the file
with utmost secrecy. And after his time, he hands it over to his
successor in the high council … he passes on to his successor in
the council the responsibility to guard the file, and the format
required to de code the file, which has been kept encrypted.”
He gave a short pause, and his unpleasant
smile curved longer. “And you, Derigor, are the one now bearing the
responsibility of guarding the file. But being a little over
protective and precautious, you decided that the file deserved a
far better protection. And so, you contacted your dear friend, the
president of Dragor, and entrusted him with the responsibility of
keeping this. You thought he would do a better job of safekeeping
it than you could.” Zardin nodded. “He did … until I came into the
picture, of course.”
Derigor stared at the screen, feeling his
mind halt entirely in shock at this latest twist.
File
D…
This was the single most important and
heavily guarded item the entire organisation owned. None of the
members of the high council who had guarded the file before him
were aware of what the secrecy behind the file was for. And neither
did they know what its contents were: the file had been encrypted.
Though the code was known to them, the people guarding the file
were forbidden from de coding it and reading it themselves. Such
was the level of secrecy surrounding it…
Zardin strode forward, drawing his sword from
behind. Derigor gasped in shock, but the mystic struck at his
handcuffs, shattering them.
Derigor rubbed his wrists where he’d been
cuffed all along, and then looked up at Zardin. He was smiling.
“Now, you know what to do.” He gestured to
the screen before Derigor. “The file is encrypted. And the only one
at present who knows the format of de coding it, is you.”
Derigor himself was surprised at the sudden
rush of boldness within him. “I won’t.”
Zardin showed no reaction, but merely tilted
his head in an innocent, childlike manner. “Won’t you?”
“Do everything you like with me,” snarled
Derigor, his tone filled with contempt. “but you can’t make me de
code the file.”
Zardin continued to gaze at him, his head
tilted, for a quiet second. The rest of the cloaked men were
standing about the place, observing the happening in silence.
And then Zardin smiled. “That’s where you’re
wrong. We
can
make you de code the file.” He made a gesture
to two of the men behind Derigor. The two of them nodded and
stormed forward.
So be it, then.
Derigor stood up,
turning to face the two cloaked figures. “Do all you like with me,
and see if I crack!”
But the men walked right past him without
touching him. They sank to their knees before the two coffins on
either side. As Derigor watched, perplexed, they tore off the lids
of the coffins, revealing a mummified body each within them. The
two men reached in and tore off the mummy wrapping covering both
faces. And trapped alive and bound within the coffins, staring out
of them with terror soaked eyes, were Martha and Garen.
Every muscle in Derigor’s body had seized in
horror.
His breathing fallen to a stall, he gaped
from one coffin to the other. He now knew why he had heard
something from both those coffins.
“No…” he started towards the coffin where his
bound son Garen lay, but the two Xeni reached for him and grabbed
him.
“Let them go!” he growled at Zardin, as he
wrestled to free himself from the two men.
Zardin slowly turned, the nasty smile on his
face now alive with malice, and walked forward. Derigor stopped
struggling and stood still as the monster stepped right in front of
him.
“Don’t.” he pleaded softly. “Let them
go.”
Zardin seemed to spare a moment to consider
his words, then nodded. “Don’t worry. I will.” He took a step
sideways, closer to where Martha lay bound inside the coffin. “But
where
I let them go … is upto you.”
“No! Please –”
“The file.” Zardin’s tone went solid with
seriousness. “De code it. We’ve
long
wanted to see what it
says… and I think you have as well.”
Derigor felt the world spin around him.
This can’t be happening.
His eyes flickered between both the
coffins.
Zardin waited, watching him keenly. Then, he
raised his sword, and ignited it.
The horror rose within Derigor as he looked
at the shining orange blade.
Zardin brought the sword hanging over the
coffin by the right … over Martha, who began to scream wildly.
“Please, don’t!” squealed Derigor, resuming
his struggle against the two cloaked figures holding him back.
Zardin continued to stand there with the
glowing blade hovering over Gartha’s coffin. Her terrified screams
seemed to run like a blade through Derigor, who was helplessly
wrestling against the two men.
“The pain is not in dying.” Zardin swung his
arm around, now letting the tip of his ignited sword dangle
dangerously over Garen’s coffin. “The pain is in living … I will
make it so. I’ll kill them, and let you live.”
“Ok! Ok! I’ll do it!” screamed Derigor,
holding his arm outstretched towards Zardin. “Now please …
please
let them go.”
Zardin looked at him for a moment with those
blank sockets, the light from his sword flickering over his
sinister features. And then he doused the sword and slid it back
into its sheath.
The two men holding Derigor stopped
restraining him and stepped aside.
“Good choice.” said Zardin, and he gestured
to the z-com on the ground with the holo screen hanging over
it.
Derigor clutched his sobbing wife and son by
either side. Zardin was standing before him with the z-com in his
hand, the same holo screen frozen in the air over it. He was
silently reading the file. File D.
Derigor had finished de coding it a minute or
two back, after which the men had freed Martha and Garen.
The rest of the cloaked men stood just as
still as ever around the place, all their attention focussed on
their leader. Zardin peered into the holo screen with his eyeless
sockets for an entire minute. Then, slowly lowering the device, he
smiled at Derigor from over the screen.
“Thank you, good man.” he said.
Derigor held Martha and Garen tighter, while
they shook with sobs. “Please … don’t kill us.”
Zardin threw his head back and let out a roar
of laughter that left unpleasant echoes within the large cave.
“Kill you?” he scoffed. “That wouldn’t be
half
as cruel as letting you live to watch what comes next.
You’ve done us a great favour. Now … watch.”
His blank eyesockets darted from Martha to
Garen.
“Cherish your loved ones,” he said sweetly.
“For you never know when they might be gone…”
And with that, he turned and strode down the
large place. The rest of the cloaked figures followed after him.
And without another look at the family sitting in a shivering
huddle in the middle of the tomb, the Xeni swept from the place.
They boarded the ship that awaited at the far edge of the large
chamber. Seconds later, the ship’s engine revved to life, and it
jumped off the ground, soaring off through the minute hole at the
peak of the mountain they now lay amidst.
__________
Inside of the ship, utter silence pervaded.
Zardin stood in the middle of the hull, with the other Xeni
standing about him. Through the screen ahead, the vast blue of the
sky was washed off by the pitch black of space: The ship had
escaped the planet’s atmosphere.
Zardin’s thoughts were still revolving around
the file he had just read, which now lay locked inside the z-com in
his pocket. The file had been meant to give them a lead towards the
goal they were now after: the information stored in file D was
meant to aid them in their search for the creeper.
And it had…
Zardin now knew where he was.
Very shortly, they would be united.
And when they were … the world stood no
chance. None at all.
For half an hour or so, the four of them had
been roaming the magnificent temple. Ion followed Mantra and the
other two as they now returned to the very basement, a large
furniture – less hall. Masters were standing about in small groups
and talking, while others casually strolled by. At the very front
of the hall stood the double doored entrance to the temple.
Mantra had his hands behind his back, walking
a few steps ahead of the three students. He had his eyes on the
ground before him, giving the strange impression of being deep in
thought. Ion, Qyro and Vestra walked along behind, observing a
short spell of silence. Ion noticed two of the elder council at the
other end of the large hall. He recognised one of them to be
Dantox, the gold haired Brownling.
“Is something wrong, master?”
Mantra needed a second to register Vestra’s
question.
“Of course not.” he said with a half glance
back.
Vestra looked at him worriedly.
“The temple is completely off the grid of
public transport.” Ion said. “when you guys go for missions – “
“How do we find transport?” Mantra completed,
turning to face him. He smiled. “In all honesty, we try and worry
about it only when we
do
go for missions.”
“And that leaves us pretty much nothing to
worry about.” Qyro mumbled.
“Mostly we use the vehicle shed we have here
in the temple.” Vestra illuminated. “It has a group of hover cars
and bikes. Power drives are also available with it.”
“But this planet’s literally at the edge of
the realm.” Ion cocked his head slightly. “It should take you
longer to get to a mission and back than the mission does
itself.”
Mantra chuckled and turned back ahead. “Like
I said … we worry about it when we
do
go for missions.”
“You’re low on missions, are you?” Ion found
it surprising to believe, in this age full of crime and
injustice.
“No.” Mantra shook his head as he walked on.
“We’re low on chances of returning alive.”
Vestra gave a short chuckle.
“It’s a struggle, pal.” said Qyro. “That’s
what it is.”
“But even here,” Mantra said. “at a point in
time where our survival is threatened, there have been those who
have fought so hard against the injustice. Persevering to upkeep
the Nyon’s spirit. And its fight against the breeding darkness … a
fight against all odds.”
“Like yourself?” Ion asked cockily.
“No.” Mantra stopped and faced Ion again. The
two of them stood facing each other for a quiet moment. “Like
your master
.”
“Jedius?” Ion said, eyebrows rising.
Mantra merely smiled, and then continued
walking.
The three of them were now striding down the
large hall towards its other end.
“There are some things that are far greater
than they seem.” Mantra said suddenly. “Some things that are far
honourable than they seem, and far more noble. But at the same
time, by far harder.” He sighed. “And leading another in the right
path is one of those things.” He shook his head. “There has been no
task that I have faced, in eight thousand years of the
brotherhood’s history, that is possibly harder than leading our
younger ones. But there is nothing possibly more important than it
either.”