“Well, you had.” said the Brownling. “The
Naxim found you in their radar, and managed to get a track on you …
and through them, we too, did. This seemingly disastrous event had
proved to be a blessing in disguise.”
“You got a trace on me
through
the
Naxim?” Ion felt his eyebrows rise. “How could you known stuff
going on within the Naxim?”
“Because master Dantox here,” Mantra said,
holding his thumb out to point to the Brownling, “has underground
contacts with the Naxim, which give us a small insight into
whatever’s happening with them … with the high council itself. It’s
a very small insight, but enough for what we happened to find
today: you. The Naxim’s discovery of your location had been a great
boon to us, when we chanced by it.”
“The Naxim’s high council was alerted as to
where you were,” explained the Brownling named Dantox. “They had a
trace to your location. And we picked up that trace as well. And we
realised that we had jut found a stray mystic whom we had lost
track of earlier on. As soon as I had heard of the discovery, I had
rushed to relay it to Galinor.”
“And we knew we needed to reach you as soon
as possible,” said Galinor, nodding. “before you slipped out of
Sacrogon’s neighbourhood. Because we knew the Naxim had placed a
rigged state of alert around Sacrogon, its moons and its
neighbours. And that gave as a faint idea as to where you could be,
within this small region. And after force one attacked you, we knew
you were here on this planet. After that, finding you wasn’t going
to be a problem.”
Ion took a moment to chew all of this, before
rounding his thoughts back to the initial, unanswered question.
“All right,” he said slowly. “So what exactly
do you need of me?”
The six of them were silent for a moment, all
their eyes fixed steadily on him. Mantra heaved a deep breath and
then spoke in a tone of heavy seriousness.
“At this hour, we face a threat like no
other. A storm is gathering. And if unleashed, it will devastate
the entire spectrum in its relentless rampage. The feeble peace
that our world has survived in for eight thousand years is now
threatened. And as the last surviving fragment of the age of
Elderon, we, the Nyon, need to act fast to stop it. To stop the
Xeni.”
That one word registered in Ion’s mind with a
smoting impact.
“Xeni…” he breathed. And his mind raced two
years back, to recall everything he had heard from Jedius. About
the war that tore apart the empire … and the group of satanic
mystics who were responsible for it.
The
Xeni
, led
by Redgarn …
Feeling his expression turn horrified, he
slowly looked at Mantra, who stood watching him just as calmly, as
though waiting for the effect to take place.
“But, they’re gone.” he said, shaking his
head slowly. “The Nyon destroyed Redgarn and his empire.” He looked
from one face to the other, among the six cloaked men standing
before them. “The Xeni … are supposed to be gone.”
“We wished they were,” said Dantox, giving a
dry chuckle. “But evil does not erode from the world so
easily.”
“As we have lingered in the spectrum, hidden,
scraping off a bare existence,” said Mantra. “So have they. But
while we tried to continue our brotherhood’s teachings and serve
the world however we could …
they
have been biding their
time, waiting for the ripe time to rear up and strike again. And
that time’s now here.”
“And time has come for us to do what we must
to stop them.” said Dantox. “To make sure they don’t finish what
they started eight millennia back.” He drew in a slow breath.
“Which is where you come in.”
“And exactly where do I come in, here?” asked
Ion.
“At this grave stage,” said Mantra. “There is
something we need to have procured. An object of dire importance,
that may prevent whatever disasters await, in the making of the
Xeni.”
He drew out his z-com and pressed a button on
it. A holographic screen appeared over the device, showing a small
pin like object. It seemed to be made of pure crystal.
Mantra lowered the device, speaking from over
the screen: “We need to get hold of this object here before
anything else.”
Ion was positively clueless: the object in
the screen looked like some kind of glass splinter. How could it
carry such a massive importance? “What in the world is that?”
Mantra held his gaze from over the screen,
unblinking. “We’ll let you in on everything … after we’ve
successfully gotten hold of it. You have my promise on that. But we
can’t tell you anything now.”
He closed the screen and pocketed the z-com
again. “Anyway, we need to acquire this, to put a stop to whatever
madness is brewing in the hands of the Xeni. And this is what we
need you for, son.”
“I’m pretty sure this is something any of
your members could have accomplished.” said Ion. “Why’d you
specially hunt
me
down for it?”
“Because this most certainly is not something any of our members
could have accomplished.” said Mantra.
“The object is kept under the secured hold of
this man known as Razvol,” explained Galinor, stepping forward
beside Mantra. “He is a rebel and a terrorist leader, in control of
a village that his forces have overrun, in a planet known as
Radioc.” A shade of darkness came into his voice. “And this is
where we need you.”
He stopped with that, but Ion managed to find
a thread of clues to lead him on with this.
Radioc…
He felt his brow tighten in a thoughtful
frown.
That’s the planet that’s number one in the Naxim’s
priority list … It’s the most dangerous planet for a mystic to head
into.
He looked at Mantra and said, “Let me guess …
The Naxim has your entire brotherhood and all its masters marked in
its hitlist. And it wouldn’t be sane for any of you to try entering
the planet?”
Mantra nodded. “Precisely. The Naxim had
found us in a raid they conducted many years back,” He spread both
hands, gesturing to the five others standing along behind him. “All
of our members were found and stamped in their major hitlist. And
as you rightly said, if we tried entering their most deadly
controlled planet it would be nothing short of suicide. As a
result, we need to employ someone who may have a wider avenue of
chance … even if it’s not too wide. We had two young students.
These two had joined us recently, and thus, were not caught in the
Naxim’s raid conducted years back. And so, we had sent them for
this mission … but they didn’t come back.” A heavy sigh came
between his words. “Now, there is nothing left within us. None of
us can dare to accomplish this task, and we’ve lost the only two
who could. And as a result, we now stand before an outsider and ask
for his help. You may be a mystic, but you are not marked by the
Naxim as we are. You are not in their hitlist as we are. We stand
no chance at all. You do.”
Ion looked from Mantra to Galinor, to Dantox
and then at the other three of the masters. He was inwardly
bursting with shock and confusion.
He knew that he had arrived at a turning
point in his life: he was standing before messengers from the
brotherhood of Nyon … and being asked to join them.
He didn’t need to think much … He had his
answer ready right from the start.
“No.”
The word caught in the air, hovering there
for a long second, before letting its effect drain.
The masters slowly looked at each other,
their faces reflecting the same shock and disappointment. But
Mantra watched Ion with the same calm look on his face … almost as
though he had been expecting this.
He nodded slowly. “If that is your
choice.”
The other five threw Mantra a surprised look,
clearly expecting him to press Ion.
“Ion,” said Galinor quietly. “The spectrum’s
facing a threat like nothing else before. A disaster like nothing
else before. Are you going to stand by and watch as it swoops in
and claims us all?”
“Son, we don’t pretend to know what your
reasons are.” said Dantox. “But if we don’t stop them … if we don’t
stop the Xeni now, whatever’s keeping you from joining us won’t be
worth much to you at all.”
Another of the six masters, a thin elderly
man, stepped forward. “If it really must cost you, then we would be
willing to pay for your -”
“If it was money that kept me from doing the
right thing,” cut across Ion. “then I wouldn’t be here, would
I?”
“All right,” said another of the masters,
holding his hands up. “Maybe not money, but we can get you to
change your mind with something else in exchange-”
“Enough,” Mantra held up a firm hand,
stemming the flow of pleas and negotiations from the other masters
instantly. They fell back to respectful silence as their senior
most member made his decision.
“Ion has made his choice, and we would do
well to respect it.” Mantra declared, his hand still raised.
“Besides, forcing him to give us a half hearted favour would be no
better, and of no better use than not having him help at all.” He
gave Ion a warm smile. “Son, we understand that there are things in
your life that none of us would be able to comprehend, and the
reason for this is your own…” He turned to the five others.
“Masters, I think we should leave.”
They all left their lingering stares on Ion
for a moment, while he stared back, completely unperturbed. Then,
without another word, the group of them turned and marched back to
the open balcony behind.
Mantra stood on the spot for a moment, his
white eyes pinned over Ion for the meanest of moments. Then, he too
turned and strode off. As Ion saw him walk off, he gave in to the
impulse he’d been holding back all this while.
“The girl you told me of…”
Mantra halted at the balcony door, slowly
turning to face him again.
“Vestra … that was her name, wasn’t it?” Ion
could sense the brush of emotion in his own voice. “What’s become
of her?”
Mantra turned fully, and Ion thought he saw
something flicker in the depths of those calm white eyes …
something dark. It made a sudden tingle of concern awaken within
Ion.
“She’s still with you guys, right?” he asked,
feeling his voice lower worrisomely. “She’s … fine?”
While the rest of the masters collected
outside the balcony around the hover car, waiting, Mantra stood at
the door, his eyes frozen over Ion. The two of them stood with
their gazes locked for a passing series of seconds.
“There is nothing I can say which can make
you change your mind?” Mantra asked finally, his voice strangely
quelled.
Ion gave a firm shake of his head.
Mantra watched him for another quiet second,
and then smiled. “She’s fine.”
And with that, he turned and headed out into
the balcony. He climbed into the back of the hover car, along with
the five other masters. The car’s engine gave a soft growl as it
slowly floated a few feet off the ground. Then, with a swift,
leaping motion, it had turned and soared off.
__________
The nightly streets hung with a faint layer
of mist, one that immersed the entire city in an aura of gloom. The
partially inhabited city had a dozen or so completely torn down,
abandoned buildings for every locality. The silence of the soulless
streets was interrupted by occasional brushes of wind, which came
howling feebly into the night. The structures lined against both
sides of the street, rising into the misty air, were all varying in
their size. Some of them were small, stout and humble. Others were
large and intimidating, climbing to more than ten storeys. All of
them were of concrete build, but with a long eroded glamour.
Through the clear silence, a pair of
footsteps could be heard carrying down the misty lane in a
deliberate, slow pace. Then, the silhouette of a thin, tall figure
formed over the curtain of mists. His outline grew clearer through
the mists as he approached. It was a young man with unkempt red
hair, and a meek tinge of orange upon his skin. He had his hood
drawn, his hands tucked deep in his pockets, his head facing the
ground before him as he slowly walked forth.
As he continued his deliberate, slow stride,
his face lowered to the ground below, something in his thought
absorbed gaze drifted with a mixture of pain and emotion. His
orange eyes were in a state of far off thoughtfulness. Ion had
deposited the hover bike that he’d stolen back to the parking lot,
and had then walked this remaining distance to reach the apartment
he’d left earlier on. As he reached the side of the building, he
turned and headed in without bothering to look up.
Pushing his way through the flight of stairs,
he climbed to the fourth storey, and headed down the long corridor.
At the end of which lay a room door leading to his room. The entire
building felt eerily lifeless and still, but nothing found his
attention as he slowly walked down the dusty corridor. Reaching the
door at the other end, he wrenched the door open and stepped in.
Closing the door behind him, he turned and faced the small one
roomed flat, with the table and the broken cot … His eyes wandered
across the small, dark space that made the room. The only
illumination came from the faint rays of starlight from the balcony
door at the other side, which created a small, well lit space
across the end of the room.