Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1) (35 page)

“Not really. Since the days of the Federation,
Azalean
was used throughout most of the systems cuz it was one of the oldest and also the easiest. But since the Xenians took over the galaxy, they’ve been
enforcin
’ their own.”

Vincent was confused. “So, which one do I need to learn?”

“Uh… I don’t know…” Spaide was baffled by his own ramblings. “
Azalean
, I guess. It’s still more widely used. But Xenian can come in handy too.”

Vincent simply nodded, not willing to continue the prattle.

Spaide took out a rag and began cleaning the ship.

“Gaia,” Vincent said after a period of silence. “What happened to her father? I didn’t want to ask her because it seems to be a very deep subject.”

Spaide grinned. “She’s
gettin
’ to you, isn’t she?” He threw down the rag, slammed shut the engine cover, and began taking off his gloves. “Jamon,” he started. “Jamon Pestechinno was her father, the former King of the Xenian nations of
Baltea
, and a dear friend to Oryon. Oryon always spoke so highly of him… Anyway, Jamon was one of the men that lead the Xenian campaign to conquer the galaxy. In time, he’d learned that what they were doing is wrong and—just like his daughter—decided to do somethin’ ’bout it. Jamon denounced the Sinkha’ar and declared that the Baltean nations will no longer participate in the campaign.”

“And that’s when he got killed?”

“No. Assassination would just make him a martyr. He was set up. Duke Barathon, a twisted and a vicious demagogue, and one of the former members of Jamon’s court, betrayed him by
labelin
’ Jamon to be a traitor to the Xenian cause and being a sympathizer of the Federation. Barathon’s followers started a civil war, crushed Jamon’s loyalists, and stormed the royal castle. Barathon then burned out Jamon’s eyes with a hot blade and gave him to the mercy of the mob. Jamon and other members of Gaia’s royal family were dragged to the stockade and executed.”

A certain feeling of sorrow passed through Vincent. He couldn’t even imagine the pain Gaia must’ve felt. “And she saw all this?”

“Yes. She was but a child. Now you know why she’s so aggressive.”

“I… I feel so sorry for her.”

“Don’t,” Spaide briskly replied. “Just be there for her if she ever needs you.” He paused, and then said, “You know, to have a Xenian princess actually be fond of you is a great thing, an impossible thing. If you think of her in terms of being an extraterrestrial, know that you’re the only
alien
among us.”

Vincent remained silent, thinking about Gaia, of how powerful of a woman she was. “Do you know what time it is?” he then asked. “I can’t figure out the clocks.”

“It’s around noon,” Spaide replied, looking at his watch. “Come… the others are already waitin’. I’ll explain it to you on the way.”

They proceeded down the airstrip, heading back to the castle. Spaide spoke fast, but Vincent grasped the idea of the time mechanism right away.

“Ah, Spaide Caroon,” said a voice.

Vincent and Spaide looked up. Thanatos was leaning against the wall several feet ahead, hiding in the shade of the alley.

“That’s
Captain
Spaide Caroon,” Spaide said.

“But of course! Forgive me, Captain.” Thanatos approached, smirking. “How inconsiderate of me.” He then turned towards Vincent. “And you might be?”

“Vincent Saturn,” Vincent said, extending his hand.

“Saturn? What an unusual name.” Thanatos returned the handshake.

His grip was torturous; Vincent barely escaped from crying out in anguish.

Thanatos pulled out a shiny card. “Here’re my credentials,” he smugly said, extending it to Vincent.

Vincent looked at the card and then at Spaide.

“He can’t read?” Thanatos asked. “That’s odd.”

“Not yet,” Spaide said, taking the card from Vincent. He glanced at it for a second, chuckled, and then began to laugh out loud.

“Give that back!” Thanatos snatched his card away.

“What does it say?” Vincent asked.

“
Tha
… Thanatos, Sup…” Spaide barely controlled himself. “Thanatos, Superhero for hire!”

“And what?” Thanatos fumed. “Trust me, I get lots of business!”

“Nothin.’” Spaide calmed down. “You made my day,
Superhero
.”

“Enough of this mockery. I wanted to ask you a serious question.”

Spaide cleared his throat. “Go ahead.”

“Duell—is he for real?”

Spaide frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m no fool, Cap. I would’ve never stayed on this doomed planet if it wasn’t for Duell and his assurance. I mean, how can he be so sure we can do this?” Thanatos raised his arms in uncertainty. “And the attitude! It vexes me! That’s the only reason I stay, just to see. But at the same time I’m afraid that my
curiosity’ll
cost me my life. Just tell me he’s crazy so I can get out of here before it’s too late.”

Spaide smiled, shaking his head. “He’s not crazy, Thanatos. Over the years, I’ve doubted both him and Oryon, and they’ve always proven me wrong. His word’s true.”

“I guess time will tell then.” Thanatos sighed. “I guess time will tell….”

*

The twins and Duell reunited with Spaide and Vincent at the tiny cafeteria located in the lower levels of the castle. An Urtan woman waited on them, providing the delicious food, although Spaide fussed that he might never get to taste meat again.

“We’ll proceed to the remains of the Order’s shrine,” Duell said after they were done eating. “Then we shall go to one of the fields and instruct Vincent in target practice.”

“Target practice?” Vincent asked.

“Yes,” Duell assured. “You’ll shoot without missing, and every object you throw will find its target.”

“You’re really trying to teach me as much as you can in one day?”

“I told you… you already know all of this.”

They left the castle and descended into the plaza. Aside from the swords concealed beneath their robes, the only thing they brought along was a duffel bag that Damocles carried over his shoulder. The Urtans greeted them with high regard, especially when they saw the Xenian master. It seemed they didn’t loathe the Xenians like the rest of the galaxy did—probably because they were located on the outer rim and had the Order to worry about.

The companions slowly ventured past the court and into the streets of the city, all the while admiring Urtan architecture. After several minutes, they neared a collapsed building. A dozen Urtan men were hard at work trying to renovate the structure.

“Fools,” Spaide commented. “What are they doin’? Don’t they know what’s gonna happen to this city?”

“Like insects,” Exander added.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Duell commented. “My admiration for these people is increasing with every moment.”

Exander raised an eyebrow. “I guess Gaia got her wish,” he said sardonically.

Their destination was several blocks away, a tower made of black limestone, rising over seven stories tall, its walls cracked, peak shattered. The building was an eyesore that tainted this lively city. The ground around its base was scorched from a recent fire. Two columns topped with an entablature were at the entrance that once hoisted a pair of double doors. There were posts surrounding its premise, connected by red caution tape to prevent anyone from venturing into this cursed place.

“It gives me the shivers just by lookin’ at it,” Spaide said.

“What does that say?” Vincent pointed up at the hieroglyphics on the entablature.

“Only the Faithful Ones may enter.”

“That’s some decent advice,” said Damocles.

Duell moved aside the tape, and they proceeded further. A vapid sensation filled them as they stepped indoors. They were inside a round shrine. Far to the left and to the right were two partly-damaged stairwells spiraling up into the darkness that dwelled over their heads. The walls were flanked with niches which had statues of hideous robed creatures. Ahead was a stone pulpit over an altar with two tall posts on either side, their tops shaped in a trident—the holy symbol of the Order. The altar and the floor were stained in blood, and some intuition told them that it was not from fighting.

“It’s one of many,” Duell said, looking about. “They have one erected in every city across this planet… although they did have a hard time converting followers here.”

“Come on… we’ve seen enough,” Spaide said after several minutes. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Very well, then.” Duell turned around. “Galadan provided us with a copy of the Order’s holy doctrine,
The Creed of Cosmos
, a book he spent years translating. Let’s peruse it while Vincent learns to shoot—and please, let’s leave this forsaken place.”

They hurried out to the vivacious nature of Urtan. Duell then led them to a pasture on the outskirts of the city where stood another pavilion.

“It’s so peaceful,” Vincent said, looking at the distant mountains.

“Anything’s peaceful after that ghastly place,” Damocles said, setting down the bag. He pulled out a sniper rifle, several blasters, a belt with daggers, a small metal box, and the tome that Duell mentioned earlier—a thick book with a black cover. Damocles then passed the belt to Vincent and said, “Put this on.”

Spaide began tampering with the metal box, which turned out to be a remote-controlled robot resembling an oversized insect. He maneuvered it down the grass, stopping it several hundred yards away.

Meanwhile, Duell instructed Vincent on the art of throwing knives. They began practicing on the posts of the gazebo.

“When throwing a dagger, there are three rules you must follow,” Duell started. “First and foremost is the point of gravity: the placement of the knife in your hand; if you hold it farther, the center of gravity will cause it to spin faster; if closer, it’ll spin slower. Second is the force of the throw, how you throw it and how fast you throw it. And finally—and most importantly—telekinesis.”

“Telekinesis again?” Vincent grunted.

“When you hurl something, your mind will help it locate the target. But you have to be confident because doubt is your biggest enemy. It’s as if you should see your object struck before the impact.”

“Well, I’ll try.” Vincent pulled out a dagger and took aim.

“Don’t try,” Duell said. “Just do it.”

Vincent heaved the knife. It hit the post but didn’t stick, falling to the grass. “I didn’t aim,” he said, shrugging.

“Yes, but when you threw it, you knew you might miss because you didn’t aim, and that thought alone—that uncertainty—is the basis for your failure.”

“What…?”

“This.” Duell reached over to Vincent’s belt, chose a pair of daggers, and threw them at the gazebo, all without taking his gaze off Vincent. The knives lodged deeply into the posts.

“No doubt,” Duell said.

“Awesome.” Vincent was shocked. “Okay, I’ll try again.”

“Remember… trust your instinct and believe in yourself.”

Vincent threw the first dagger, which stuck. He smiled and heaved another, once again with success. He then threw the third one, but Duell caught it in midair.

“Good, but slow,” the Xenian said. “You think too much.”