Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1) (37 page)

Duell read for an hour, different excerpts, one more appalling than the other, describing the unthinkable beliefs of the Order. Spaide paced back and forth in the gazebo, cursing, while the twins sat in silence, preparing for the biggest battle of their lives—the battle without Oryon.

Vincent crossed his arms and leaned against the post. His concentration was instead on the nature of Urtan, at the peacefulness that stood opposite of the horrors Duell described. Some inner feeling urged to him to run through that pasture, fall in the grass, spread his arms and stare into the sky to watch the clouds form shapes.
They will not scare me,
he thought.
Because I don’t care… I don’t care anymore.

Duell closed the book and swept the gazebo with his eyes. “You’re now aware of what we’re facing: the most twisted, dogmatic cult in the galaxy. Being a vassal state of the Republic, they couldn’t fully exterminate the Urtans because of people like Gaia. But now, due to Galadan’s mutiny, they have been granted the right to do just that. They’ll kill every Urtan and reduce this planet to shambles.”

The twins did not respond. They looked at each other.

“This enemy will not bargain, will not show any compassion or mercy. They have no fear, for they believe that Cosmos is on their side. But in my experience, fanatics like that understand only one language—violence.”

“Unfortunately for them,” Spaide said, “it’s a language we excel at.”

The Xenians laughed.

“Oryon would’ve agreed with you,” Spaide said, placing a hand atop Duell’s shoulder. “Something must be done about this… and
we
will do it.”

“Yes, we will, my brother.” Duell stood up. “Have no doubt. Now, let’s head back to the castle.”

Spaide and the twins went ahead, trying to clear their minds while Duell and Vincent followed behind, engaged in a conversation.

“The artist, Vincent,” Duell said, “is a rebel against apathy. Unlike others, the artist seeks change and ways to inspire others, even though he is often despised by his peers. But, just as there is the artist persona, there is also another that stands in his way: the sociopath.”

Vincent chuckled. “The sociopath?”

“The sociopath wants power, wants to be feared instead of loved, and despises those that thrive in something they couldn’t do. Unlike the artist, they
care
what others think of them, and henceforth they lie, cheat, and steal just to get the attention of the masses. Their sole purpose is to achieve power and create a prison system where it is nearly impossible for individuality to exist. It is evident from the smallest group of peers to the largest nations, this continuous battle between the artist and the sociopath over the majority. And once the sociopath wins, all hope is lost. Just look at this cult, they’re wiping out entire planets without question because they are under the influence of sociopaths.”

“Well, how do you expect to stop them if they’re so stubborn?”

Duell remained quiet for several seconds, and then answered, “Because unlike those of other religions, their deity’s not an invisible idol.”

At that point, Vincent realized Duell’s objective: the Xenian sought not only to liberate Urtan, but also the billions of the followers of the Order.

They reached the plaza and proceeded to the castle.

“What does the Warrior Sage stand for?” Vincent asked. “You’ve never explained it to me.”

Duell turned sideways to look Vincent in the eye. “Freedom. We stand for freedom. Freedom of the will, of the mind and of character. And we will
fight
those who seek to deprive people of these freedoms. Violence is never the answer, Vincent, but you must realize that it’s a measure that must be taken to fight evil.”

After a few minutes Duell said, “The original purpose of the Tel Kasar was to make sure sociopaths did not attain positions of power on Xenon; and now it is up to the four of us to remove them from the positions they hold in the galaxy.”

Vincent understood who the
fourth
Tel Kasar was supposed to be but had no response.

“But if the Warrior Sage stands for freedom, what of this Zeth and Na’ar?” Vincent then asked.

“Occasionally, the Warrior Sage can be blinded by what he does and believes that the best way to ensure freedom is to enforce it by his own means. Which, I will tell you now, is against everything we stand for.”

They passed the busy portico and entered the castle, ignoring the Urtan commanders who bowed gracefully in their presence with hopes that Duell would confer with them. Vincent could see how their attitude would irritate others, as Thanatos had mentioned earlier. They gave the impression as if they came to this world for a vacation.

Duell led them to an empty library that opened into a veranda overlooking the gardens. The room was round, with several coffee tables, couches, and a large divan in the middle. Dozens of shelves with numerous books flanked the walls.

“More studying?” Vincent asked.

“Of course,” Duell said. “The Tel Kasar trains his mind and his body. We’ve learned about our enemy, and now we’ll learn about this planet. When we are about to involve ourselves in a cause, we study it, we learn it, we question.” He sat down on one of the couches. “You have to be objective and study the problem from every angle before you make up your mind.”

The twins chose several books and sat down as well, deep into their readings. Vincent looked at the multitude of volumes with the strange characters and sighed.

Spaide approached Vincent. “I know… they make me feel the same way sometimes.”

“No, it’s just I wish I could read,” Vincent said.

“Well,” Spaide said, heading for the door, “don’t ask me. I can teach you how to shoot, fly, or even built an explosive, but don’t bother me about somethin’ like that.”

Vincent remained in the room listening to Duell and the twins exchange stories about this wonderful planet. They learned of Urtan’s progress, of their early civil wars and the unification of their nations, of the amazing crystal technology, of their first encounter with Gaia’s father before the Xenian campaign, and about the current Dark Age—the time of their world under the reign of the Order. Vincent also heard about a twisted person nicknamed Damien Dark, the High Priest of the Order and Cosmos’ right-hand man.

Several hours passed, and evening time approached. They went to the cafeteria, where Spaide rejoined them. After dinner, for some bizarre reason, the Xenians decided to take a nap so they could salvage their strength and stay awake throughout the night and parted ways with Vincent and the Dirsalian.

“
Fascinatin
’, aren’t they?” Spaide said as they paced the hall.

“I must admit that Duell’s the smartest man I’ve ever met,” Vincent replied.

“Their way has an effect on people. It’s that code of honor, the Kasar Delia, which made me join their cause.”

“What does that mean?”

“The way of the warrior.”

“I now see why they call them ‘Warrior Sage,’” Vincent said.

“They dedicate their lives to fightin’, wisdom, and art. Oryon, for example, possessed such knowledge that it’d take a normal person a hundred years of
studyin
’ to reach that level. To sum it all up: they’re nerds who can kick your butt.”

Vincent chuckled and asked, “You mentioned art. Are you speaking metaphorically like Duell?”

“No, literally… well, Exander’s an artist.”

“
Exander?
”

“Yes, but don’t go
askin
’ him, or he’ll snap again. Damocles is a poet, and Duell’s a writer. He’s written several philosophy books and hopes to begin a biography about Oryon after this.”

“Really? I’d love to read them. If I could read, that is.”

“Now it’s obvious you’re one of ’em,” Spaide said, shaking his head.

“Why do you say that?”

“Cuz there’s an army of psychos a day away from here, and you’re worried ’bout such incidental things.”

“Hmph,” Vincent scoffed and looked away, thinking. Spaide was right. He really didn’t worry about that at all, probably because of Duell’s assurance. But then another thought crossed his mind,
What if Duell is crazy?
“Well, you seem to be taking things lightly,” he said.

“Try
hangin
’ out with them for thirteen years.”

“
Captain!
” a feminine voice called.

They turned around.

Gaia was approaching them with a contemptuous look.

“Your highness,” Spaide pronounced derisively.

She stopped, her thick eyebrows puckered. “And where’s Duell? Formulating a plan for the imminent invasion? Or is he taking his modest time to work on his newest sonnet?”

Spaide scowled. “How dare you—”

“I
know
the Tel Kasar are impassive, but to such extent? These people need him, not just his rhetoric!”

Spaide pointed his finger at her. “You asked for
our
help, not the other way around! Now have the decency to show some respect for how we do things.”

“How you
do things
?” She stepped closer. “The Urtans gave him the maps of the underground passages
last night,
and he didn’t even glance at them!”

“Patience, your majesty. The more you worry, the more exhausted you’ll end up.”

“I don’t have time for games! It’s not just about me: it’s about the thousands of Urtans aimlessly awaiting his command!”

“God, this…” Spaide clenched his jaw. He then looked over at Vincent and smirked.

Vincent already knew that that meant the wily Dirsalian had a crazy idea.

“You said you’ve no time for games?” Spaide turned back to the Princess. “How ’bout you do somethin’ useful then? Teach our new guest the alphabet, for he’s eager to learn,” he said, patting Vincent on the shoulder.

Gaia soothed down, squinted in glare, and then looked over at Vincent. “Is that true?”

“Well, yes… I guess…” Vincent babbled.

“Great then!” Spaide waved his arms in satisfaction. “You’ll be in good hands,” he said to Vincent and winked before hurrying down the hall.

“I swear, Vince, they’re going to drive me crazy with that attitude of theirs,” Gaia said, leading the way.

He noticed how she called him
Vince
. She remembered. He began thinking about what Spaide had told him…

“Look, you don’t have to do this if you’re busy,” he said.

“It’s okay. I’m worn out. I might as well take a break.”

As they reached the library, she brought forth a leather-bound book, and they sat down on the couch. She appeared depleted: her hair was tousled, and her eyelids seemed heavy; evidently she didn’t get much rest last night by running around and making sure everything was well prepared.

Nevertheless, they started studying. She put on a pair of reading glasses as she showed him the various symbols and at times even told him to take out the neural translator, at which point he could hear the melodic Xenian language. He grasped the information quickly, just as Duell said he would. Within an hour, he could recite the full alphabet and make connections between the alien letters to those of English.

They then began reading, small words at first, and complete sentences later.