Star Rising: Heartless (18 page)

“You’re mine!” she snarled as she dove toward Xalen.

ΩΩΩ

Beatrix’s knees tensed at the sight of the silver-haired boy. She turned to Sophic. Her mentor was firing black energy at Junia. The Feehan, flipping in mid air, unleashed a volley of shots from her weapon. They were locked in a stalemate, which meant it was up to her to capture their target.

Determined, she turned back to the boy with the silver hair.

“You’re mine,” she called out as she went after him.

Before she could get to him, three jets of yellow lightning whizzed past her ear. She stopped mid sprint. She’d been so consumed with her target, that she had hardly paid the boy’s companion any mind. But now, she was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Stand back, Xalen,” ordered the purple-skinned Mordered girl. “She’s mine.”

Xalen raised a finger in protest. “But, Nandi—”

Nandi cut him off with a raise of her hand. “But nothing. I’m a Mordered. I only duel on terms of one against one. It’s a matter of honor.”

“Honor!” jeered Beatrix. She’d hears enough of the Mordered to know that they were a group of traitors who would betray their closest friend in the name of their kin’s greater good. “What would a Mordered know about honor?” She stepped forward and stared into Nandi’s eyes. “Dignity. Lineage. Heritage. Fealty. These are things you can never understand.”

“That’s rich coming from a Black Sanction terrorist,” countered Nandi.

The girls exchanged looks of hatred. The time for words was over. The Mordered moved against the Palek, both determined to end the other.

Beatrix blocked the first kick with ease. The second, however, came much harder than she’d expected. Her wrist ached, but she ignored it as she drew her breath, only releasing it as she moved up with an uppercut.

Nandi hissed as she flung her head back. Another hiss later, and the Mordered was launching a barrage of punches and kicks.

Beatrix grinned. Typical Mordered strategy. Overwhelm an opponent with a mass of fierce attacks.

That might have worked on a lesser foe. But Beatrix was a Palek. The calm, analytical style that her father had drilled into her would be enough to conquer this wild, unprecise method of fighting.

She just had to wait. Wait. Wait.

There!

The Mordered had overcommitted, throwing a simultaneous metaton punch and a kick.

Beatrix caught the kick and pushed her leg up. Once Nandi had lost her balance, she tripped the second leg. Nandi fell, face up.

Nandi recovered quickly. She rolled across the ground, firing balls of lightning as she went. The air sizzled and cracked as Beatrix sidestepped one attack, only to have a second one ram her chest. Every hair on her body stood straight as the current coursed through her. She fell down to one knee, thankful the attack hadn’t been fully charged.

There was no time to recover. Nandi opened her next series of attacks with two ripples of her lightning energy. These ones were much thicker than the last set. Beatrix brought her sword up to deflect the blows. The cold steel of the blade wasn’t enough, so she channeled her own energy into it to hold. It was a Palek ability that she was certain the Mordered had no knowledge of.

The slightly confused look on Nandi’s face confirmed her suspicions.

Despite Beatrix’s success in stopping the attack, the sheer force of it knocked her back a few steps. She lost her balance. Nandi came toward her, ramming her elbow into her chest.

Beatrix rolled through the hard dirt. She dug her hand down in mid roll and shot herself back upright. She was rewarded with a punch to the face that sent her back a few more paces. Ignoring the pain and blur taking over, she took a defensive stance, only to have a kick make it through.

As much as she hade it to admit it, Beatrix was forced to face the fact that she had underestimated her opponent. The Mordered’s attacks were wild, but they were coupled with a precision she had never seen before. It was a barrage of pinpointed attacks with little room left for counterattacks.

With her father, she had trained and sparred many times with her eyes closed. It was in these training sessions that she’d learn to harness the energy of the planet; merging it with her own energy. While it was certainly true that she didn’t have as strong a connection to this alien planet as she did to Palek, she could still feel the faint aura of life energy the planet emitted. It had an old, rustic feel, the total opposite of the natural, woodsy aura her home planet provided.

Her eyes shut. She slowed her breath. Through the strange bucolic ambiance, she sensed a lightning whip swinging toward her. Her rapier shot up. She allowed the energy she had absorbed from the planet to spill into her weapon. Enforced, the sword was able to deflect the lightning back to its sender.

Nandi was clearly not expecting her own attack to come at her. Her eyes widened and she threw herself to the floor. To her credit, she quickly picked herself up. Beatrix was on her like a colossal storm of nature. She brought the side of an open palm to the Mordered’s neck.

The purple-skinned girl gagged as she clutched her neck. Her eyes became glossy.

Beatrix followed her initial attack with a swing of her rapier. Nandi dodged, but in the process she moved directly where Beatrix had herded her. The hilt of the rapier rammed into her foe’s gut. Nandi crumpled to the ground. Beatrix brought her knee to Nandi’s face.

But her opponent was much faster than the Palek had envisioned. Nandi brought her arms up in a cross, blocking the knee, then leaping to her feet.

Beatrix took a step back, as did Nandi. Both girls circled each other slowly. This Mordered was proving to be more trouble than she’d expected. And to make matters worse, she was wasting time. Her target , the silver-haired Alioth, was standing aside, fully energized. Even if she managed to defeat Nandi, would she have enough energy to take Xalen prisoner?

Of course!
She pushed her doubts aside. She was a Palek, after all. The greatest clan of people in Cestia galaxy. Was she going to let a Bastion dog stand in her way?

She brought her hands together, calling on the ancient ability of her people. She had already absorbed the energy of the planet, now it was time to take it a step further. The power condensed within her mind, then, in a sweep of her hand, she released the terrible ability on her unsuspecting foe.

ΩΩΩ

What is she up to,
thought Nandi as Beatrix brought her hands together as one. A sweep of her right hand and Nandi felt a cold, sullen darkness overcome her.

Suddenly it wasn’t dawn anymore. And she no longer stood in the open plains of an abandoned mining station. Everything had turned a shade darker. She was now nestled neatly, and horrifyingly, between a river bank and a patch of green pasture. She recognized the river immediately. It was the great Nuile. A rushing body of water that cut a path through her home planet. It was this mighty path of water that had allowed civilization to flourish in Atreyu. It was the great Nuile that had given Nandi a home.

There was something strange today, however. The usually pristine waters; waters good enough to drink were absent. As was the familiar sounds of the thunderous water rushing down, sweeping away anything that stood in its path. Instead, the water was a cloudy green, swarming with bile and what appeared to be the carcasses of countless animals. Besides the bubbles that plopped at its surface, the river remained unmoving.

Nandi brought a hand to her nose in a futile attempt to suppress the appalling stench the river provided.

Then everything happened at once. A blur emerged from the waters. It was covered in weeds, and its skin blistered throughout, but Nandi recognized the figure. Thoko. Though she looked much different than she ever did in life. Her lips were chapped. Parts of the skin from her hands were missing. Her soft, blue skin was now a unnatural mix of red and black.

“S…sister,” mumbled Nandi. But as the words tripped on her lips, she steadied her breath. She had to. This was all an illusion. A trick of the mind. While she struggled with her inner demons, her foe was free to finish off her physical body. She could see why the Black Sanction girl had resorted to such a tactic. The Mordered were obsessed with physical prowess. They paid little to no attention to training their mind. Knowing this, her opponent had no doubt determined that she would be easy prey to a mind illusion.

Not this Mordered,
thought Nandi to herself. As she did, she thought back to Sensei’s Barteau’s insistance that Nandi practice mind control.

“Why do I have to waste my time with useless mind exercises? I’m already the strongest warrior in the class, am I not?” Nandi had asked all those cycles ago. She was sitting cross-legged at the center of the training fields of Zizor. The sun bore down on her. Annoying birds chirped happy tunes overhead.

“Y’ur the strongest p’sically, p’rhaps. But you leave a lot to be d’sired m’ntally.”

“I’m never going to need to fight anyone with my mind. I don’t have enough focus to do any kind of attack. We both know that.”

“P’rhaps y’ur correct. But you can still learn enough to d’fend y’urself if need be.”

Nandi breathed heavily. “But why? Mind users are so rare. When am I ever going to meet one in battl—”

“Enough!” thundered Sensei Barteau. “I will explain m’self no longer. Do as your sensei d’mands!”

Nandi frowned, but remained seated. Had it been any other sensei, Nandi would have laughed in their face. She would have walked away, leaving their words hanging in their mouth. But this was Sensei Barteau. Nandi’s respect and dedication for her were immeasurable. Not to mention that she was certain the Feehan would have no quarrels with beating obedience out of her if need be.

“Thank you, Sensei,” said Nandi as she focused her mind. She didn’t close her eyes, instead she kept them locked on the abomination that was the fake Thoko.

Sensei Barteau’s words clung to her as she began panting harder.
“The nat’ral reaction is to look away or close y’ur eyes. You musn’t do this. You must face the most t’rryfing aspect of the illusion. You must accept that y’ur p’wrless to stop it. It is only by not b’cking away from the face of fear that you will c’nquer the h’llucination.”

Thoko moved even closer. Nandi remained in place. She no longer covered her nose, opting to accept the putrid stench that flowed from Thoko’s decaying skin. Her sister inched closer, moaning in pain as she neared.

Despite her intentions, her mind begged her to look away, to run for safety, Nandi did not budge. Her gaze remained locked to Thoko’s bloodshot eyes. Those same eyes that were once so full of life. The eyes that cried tears of joy when they last parted. The eyes that kindled a little sister’s desire to follow in her older sister’s footsteps.

Then, quite suddenly, it was over. She was no longer in Atreyu. She stood in Boilye once more. The Black Sanction girl was lunging toward her, rapier aimed at her heart.

ΩΩΩ

Beatrix felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her as her opponent’s eyes became empty. Nandi stood, motionless, staring at nothing in particular.

“Typical Mordered,” whispered Beatrix with satisfaction. In actuality, time passed unhindered. But locked in her illusion, Nandi’s time paced agonizingly slow. A second in real time meant an hour inside the illusion.

Beatrix brought her rapier up, aiming it at the girl’s heart.
Die, Alioth!

Then something happened Beatrix had not expected.

Nandi opened her eyes!

Beatrix was caught in mid launch. With amazing speed, the Mordered brought her metaton to deflect the sword. There was a loud clank as steel met steel.

Both girls now stood, teeth gritted, locked in a stalemate inches from each other. They breathed the same air.

“Surprised, Black Sanction wench?” cried Nandi. There was hate in her eyes.

“You wish, Alioth dog!” lied Beatrix.

Once again both girls broke apart. They eyed each other with savage loathing.

“Die!” they shouted in unison as they clashed once more.

Chapter 18

Amlaidh slipped to the side, hiding among the collection of rocks that rose before him. From there, he examined the the hectic scenery. A battle enused ahead. No, not a battle. Two duels.

To the left, two young girls were caught in a bout. They moved against each other with parries, hits, counterattacks, kicks, and words at times. They were evenly matched, and Amlaidh knew it would take many hours before a victor would emerge.

To the right, two older women were locked in a fight of their own. These ones seemed somewhat evenly matched as well. However, the human woman with the black metaton was breathing much heavier then her Feehan adversary. She looked like she might collapse under the barrage of energy shots the Feehan was unleashing from the giant blaster she carried over her shoulder.

Yet another duo of women, a human and a Krington, lay on the floor. They were both coughing between breaths. Besides the grime and dirt etched to their faces and clothing, they appeared relatively unharmed.

And there, at the center of everything, looking positively useless, stood the human with the silver hair.

Amlaidh couldn’t believe his good fortune. This was his chance. His opportunity at long last. While the women were busy fighting each other, he could fire a shot at his target that would daze him, and then simply slip into the chaos and carry him away. It was beyond perfect.

The Zander tried to remain calm as he pointed the metaton at his unsuspecting target. He had no intention of killing him, so Amlaidh made sure it was a low charge. The bullet of plasma shot out from his metaton in slow motion. The purple wave of energy cut through the air, carrying with it all the hopes and dreams Amlaidh had stored since he was but an abandoned child. In that split second it took the shot to hit his target, he saw it all flash in his eyes. He saw his mother beg the land owner to buy them both, to not tear them apart. He saw the black-toothed land owner drag her away as she sobbed for her child. He relived all those whippings he got as he worked the fields of Hanto. He saw his escape all those cycles ago, an escape that led him to live as an orphan. Loved by none. Cared by none. Wanted by none.

It was finally going to be over. Now, as the energy blast hit the Alioth squarely on the back and he crumpled to the ground, he was finally going to be wanted by someone. And not just anyone. His father. The mighty Yashvir.

Amlaidh emerged from where he had been squatting. With all his might, he ran. Sprinted toward the boy who promised him freedom.

Then he felt it. A cold unnatural chill under his feet.

No! No! Not now! Not now that I’m so close! I’m the one who has to get him!

He tumbled down as the ground below cracked into a thousand fragments. A moment later a green hook emerged. A second later it was followed by a long snout and two green eyes. The snake-like Dearg’s entire body then slipped out. Its fanged snout dripped with thick saliva.

Amlaidh gritted his teeth and rushed once more toward his target, determined to not allow a Dearg to take his prize.

ΩΩΩ

A sudden pain assaulted Xalen’s back. He fell to one knee. When he regained his senses, the entire scenery before him had changed. The women were no longer dueling, instead they all now had their sights locked in on a Dearg that had crashed through the ground.

Xalen was so shocked by the turn in events, that he didn’t even have time to question what a Dearg was doing in a planet that was supposed to be free of the abominations.

The snake dropped its head and slithered toward Xalen.

“Oh no, you don’t,” cried the young Black Sanction girl. “He’s mine.” With rapier in hand, she stood in front of the Dearg. The snake brought its head down and smashed her on the chest. The girl took to the air.

“Don’t rush, Beatrix!” cried the older woman. She fired a shot from her metaton. It took the form of a black web, catching the girl in mid flight. The web dissolved. Beatrix fell safely to the ground.

The snake came over Xalen. He flipped to the side, ramming his sword toward the Dearg’s throat. It made contact, but the snake drew its head back before its flesh could be pierced.

The Dearg released a bone-chilling shriek as Ifi jumped on its back and rammed a dagger into the top of its head. A geyser of green liquid burst from the cut. Ifi hopped off and rolled safely to the ground before the Dearg could retaliate.

Xalen gagged as the now familiar scent of rotten flesh assaulted his senses.

“It’s not going down!” cried Ifi. A trail of blood ran down the side of her lip.

Angered, the Dearg recoiled its body into itself. It was now curled into a tower of muscle and skin. Hissing, it drew its head back. With a loud yelp it spit a line of green ooze at Ifi.

Without thinking, Xalen threw himself directly in front of his Krington friend. The liquid fell over his body. Suddenly it was impossible to breathe. Every inch of his skin burned. He clutched at his face, attempting to get rid of the ooze.

This is it. This is how I die!

But death did not come. Instead the muck that should have killed him traveled through his body, condensing in the pit where his heart should be. Xalen looked down, feeling light-headed and tense. Even through his shirt, the bright green aura that his chest emitted was clear.

With the exception of Sensei Barteau, everyone stood wide eyed.

“How in the cosmos?” asked Beatrix.

“I don’t believe it,” mumbled Nandi.

All of a sudden, the Dearg turned around and slithered away from him, directly into the massive desert.

Xalen looked on in confusion. Where was it going?

“It’s head’d to the village,” shouted Sensei Barteau, providing an answer. “I must stop it!”

And then she was gone, chasing after the Dearg that was moving at an impressive speed.

“You’re mine now!” came a loud growl.

Xalen turned. A red-skinned Zander was moving toward him. The stranger pointed his metaton at Xalen.

Xalen lashed forward with a series of kicks. Simultaneously, he brought his sword in a horizontal arc.

The Zander countered with a shot of plasma. It moved in a forward trajectory.

Xalen moved to his left.

The stranger
swiveled his arm and
the purple energy weaved toward the Alioth.

He can guide his energy,
realized Xalen, an uneasy feeling settling on his chest. He made an attempt to duck under the attack, but it proved futile. For Nandi had now moved against the Zander. They stood face to face, firing at each other. The heat in the air became red, intensifying as the purple mass of energy and the thick wave of lightning crashed against each other.

“Who are you?” demanded Nandi through gritted teeth.

“Amlaidh,” grunted the stranger. “The one true heir of the galaxy!”

Swoosh.

The rapier came above Xalen. He just reacted fast enough to meet the attack with his sword.

Again Beatrix came at him. Again Xalen parried the attack.

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the girl’s next move. She was faster, of that there was no doubt. But he was stronger. It was something he was going to need to exploit to bring her down.

The next time she swung her rapier, Xalen was ready. He feigned a block, but at the last second parried the attack, allowing the girl to stagger toward him. He drove his elbow into the Beatrix’s chest. She lost her footing, but somehow did not go down.

That’s it! Xalen moved towards her, not allowing her to recover. He needed to keep this up, bullying her with his superior size and power.

He arched his sword to the ground, then ran it up toward the girl’s face. She moved the rapier directly in front to intercept.

Got you!

Except he didn’t get anyone. The girl had learned. Fast. She spun her sword at the last second so that the sharp end was now backwards. Xalen completely missed, leaving him open. Beatrix drove the handle of the rapier into his gut.

Only a tightening of his stomach muscles saved Xalen from losing the air from his stomach.

There was a loud growl from behind Xalen.

“Don’t worry. I got her, friend!”

Xalen had to rub his eyes and look twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Ifi was running across the ground on all fours, a cloud of dust rising in her wake. She jumped in the air, flipping through it with ease. Her legs drove into Beatrix stomach. Using the Black Sanction girl as leverage, Ifi back flipped to the ground. Her teeth remained bare as she stayed on all fours.

“Leave my friend alone!” called Ifi. Her tail was erected in a stiff line.

Before Beatrix could respond, a large ship emerged from the darkness. It plummeted down toward the battlefield.

The older Black Sanction woman pressed at a number of buttons on the panel she wore around her wrist. The vessel stopped directly above her. A hatch above opened, and a ray of light shot down.

“Let’s go, Beatrix,” ordered the woman.

“But … but he’s right here,” Beatrix shot back.

“It matters not,” yelled the woman. “I’ve expended too much energy. We must retreat to fight another day.”

Beatrix dropped her head in resignation. “This isn’t over yet, Alioths!”

She ran into the light, and like her master, she disappeared into it. A moment later, with a thunderous roar of the engine, the ship had lifted into the air, disappearing into a flicker of light in the pale sky.

When Xalen finally unglued his gaze from the ship, the scenery had gone eerily silent. Ifi was holding up Sensei Wize. Nandi breathed heavily as she looked up at the sky above. The Zander was nowhere to be seen.

What am I?
wondered Xalen as he gazed down at the green light on his chest. He had fooled himself, thinking that he could be regular, that perhaps he could live a normal life. But now, seeing what he had caused. Seeing how he’d been hunted down like animal made him see the truth.

It was always at the back of his mind, but now it emerged to the front of his thoughts. He carried it like a heavy sheet enveloping him. He now knew that he would never belong.