Zein: The Homecoming (14 page)

Dominion, I hope you did not enter into the foolishness of your son?
she admonished him. He hung his head, the shame of his son trying to communicate with that evil Zein leader
of the Aeria Cavern! The Queen saw that her trusted eldest son was not as naïve as her grandson and decided she needed to know more.

‘Please provide your report,’ she ordered as her Head Royal Proctor, Redulon, handed her some cool water to sip. Dominion spoke slowly and clearly, ignoring the pain of his wound, starting on how his look outs had spotted movement within the Aeria Cavern and he had sent a small patrol to track the movements of the Defilers, the name they gave to the people who sheltered the hated Malefic. It was then that they had seen the great ships on the plains and the dust of vehicles travelling into the cursed city. He told her of the attack and that they had suffered greatly. Festilion knew this. She had felt the pain and fear of her brethren as they fought to rid their planet of the invaders.

‘Their weapons are too powerful for us. Much more powerful than those in the Aeria Cavern,’ said Dominion, transferring his weight to his left leg due to the throbbing pain from a wound on his right leg. ‘The ship they came in is the one they left in all those years ago. They have returned to strip us of our land,’ he said with considerable anger.

‘What about this alien who was not Zeinonian but exhibited the evil of our enemy?’ Festilion asked.

‘We captured him,’ said Dominion, his chest expanding, showing his pride. ‘He is in the dark caverns in a deep sleep, guarded by my son, your Highness.’ There was a babble of voices in the room. A prisoner. An alien in their hands. The High Priestess stood up, she was pleased.

‘I am glad my, son. Bring him to me when he is awake. I have many questions for him.’ She dismissed him and walked from the chamber.

Tyson gradually awoke. He remembered the explosion ringing in his ears. He had seen the building collapsing on him and seen a hole in one of the buildings beside him. He had flung his body through, ensuring he switched on his protective shield, but not before some of the falling debris had hit him hard, winding him. That is all he remembered as he blacked out.

He blinked and glanced round his surroundings. He was in a cool, dark cave. The walls were smooth, all the rock had been carefully either chiselled or machined away. He was lying on a hard slab of rock. There was no door to what he was guessing was a cell of some kind. He ran his hands carefully over his body and apart from some small cuts and abrasions he didn’t appear injured. He stood up gingerly and casually walked to the open door. A figure moved to block his exit in front of him.

He found he was staring at a Pod. The Pod was male, extremely tall and muscular. He held no weapon apart from his claws. He had simple coverings across his waist for modesty but other than that he was covered in dark blue hair, apart from his chest area. Tyson concentrated and focused on his magics to blast the guard away so he could escape.

He
thinks he can use the accursed magics here. He is going to be upset - they are no use down here
.

Tyson straightened up. It was the same guttural language he had heard during the battle but now he could translate it.
They are so puny. Take away their little toys and magics and they are nothing
. Tyson raised his head and caught the creature glaring at him balefully. His internal magics must be enabling him to form the language he had just heard.

What is your name?
The guard stepped back in amazement. No outsider had ever been able to converse with anyone in the Pod before. The alien repeated the question.

What is your name? My name is Tyson
.

‘Wernion,’ said the tall figure aloud, surprised at the voice within his head. ‘My name is Wernion.’

‘I am from Earth, a distant planet,’ said Tyson.

‘Earth? I have never heard of the place. Are you here to hurt us as well?’ said Wernion, a half threatening and half fearful look on his face.

‘No, no. You attacked us and we were just defending ourselves. We are here to seek those my friends left many years ago,’ said Tyson, placating the towering creature. He noticed the poultice of leaves on the shoulder, held by long palm tree type leaves wrapped round the top of his shoulder. There was another wound to his waist.

‘You have injuries,’ said Tyson, pointing to the wounds.

‘They will heal.’

Tyson was not to be put off. ‘Were you in the attack on the convoy?’

Wernion shook his head in answer. ‘We attacked the Defilers some two suns ago, we broke into their supposedly impenetrable tunnel,’ said Wernion, proudly.

‘What tunnel?’ said Tyson, backing away from his jailor and sitting down on the stone bunk.

‘Where the Defilers and Malefic hide from us.’

‘What do you mean, who are these people?’ asked Tyson, growing intrigued by this formidable creature’s ability to hold a meaningful conversation. Wernion studied the alien. He noticed the slightly different features when compared with the Defilers but he still had those hated blue eyes, a sign that he had been turned by the Malefics. However, he seemed different, calm, and almost normal. How could that be? For years the people who converted the magics had transformed their idyllic life into death, destruction and endless fighting. The sickness that the Malefic had exported invaded the very land in which his ancestors had lived free and without pain for centuries.

‘Please, I want to learn,’ said Tyson, as he saw the indecision within.

‘The Defilers are like you,’ started Wernion. ‘They were given the power of the magics by the Malefics, who in return wanted land and favours.’

‘I don’t understand, who are the Malefics?’ asked Tyson, something nagging him as he tracked the movement of the hulking presence blocking his escape. Though to be true he was now more interested in learning about what was actually happening on Zein. Wernion rested his body against the door frame and the flickering light of the burning tar caught the eyes of the creature. Tyson then realised where he had seen the same black flecked amber eyes.

Zebulon! This creature had the same eyes as the Changeling! Then he remembered that Zebulon had fought as a Pod in some of the battles on Earth. The Changelings are the Pod. The Pod are the Malefics. The Malefics are the Changelings, completing the circle! He remembered the hologram in the library on the Pod; how they were part of the planets evolution and were the true indigenous race. They were held back by their primitiveness and lack of technological advancement. It
was thought that this was by choice rather than by lack of ambition.

Tyson wanted to know more and it appeared the creature was willing to tell him when heavy footsteps were heard outside. Wernion sprang back from the door concerned that he may be seen to be too friendly towards the alien. It was his father.

‘Is the alien awake?’ his father asked. In answer Wernion stepped to one side and Dominion could see the alien was wide awake and seated. He frowned and looked back at Wernion, his expression conveying that he wanted to understand why his son had not informed him. Wernion shrugged indifferently.

‘Bring him,’ said Dominion, directing the two warriors behind him to enter the cell. Tyson, who heard and understood every word, stood up much to Dominion’s amazement. The two warriors each took one of his arms and Dominion placed a funny looking rope made of some kind of hemp around his wrists to bind them. Tyson guessed that this cave may prevent use of the magics but outside it was this rope which would prevent such use; like the red manacles used by the Zeinonians. Wernion followed them.

They marched him along a number of tunnels with torches lighting the way. He saw communities living off the tunnels in mini caverns which held cooking areas and sleeping quarters with many animal pelts lining the floor. He saw young baby Pod suckling and older children playing. He caught the relaxed and comfortable thoughts they had as they enjoyed the family atmosphere. Family, yes that was what he felt, an overwhelming bond of love and security. These were so different from the threatening creatures he had battled in Reinan. They passed a group of female Pod cooking what looked like a thick soup in a
boiling cauldron over a roaring fire. One of the females stood up and waved at Wernion and he tried very hard to ignore her, worried that his father would see him.

Who is that?
asked Tyson

My female mate, Hersion
, responded a morose looking Wernion.

Are you not pleased to see her?

Yes, but in our culture, when you are on duty there is no contact, she should not have waved to me
, explained Wernion.

Tyson looked back at the disappearing Hersion and saw the disappointment on her face as she returned to stirring the cooking pot. ‘She obviously does not follow the cultural aspects of this relationship, weird, just weird,’ he said under his breath and attracted a cuff from one of the other guards. Wernion chuckled, amused at the alien’s humour.

He was taken into a large cavern with a spectacular stone throne. The cavern was empty, except for a tall female Pod wearing a crown of sorts and a few guards. The crown was made of gnarled twigs that were weaved intricately to create an understated regal statement. He was marched forward until he was before the throne. She, like Hersion, wore an additional brief garment across her chest

Dominion pushed him to his knees and then stood to one side with Wernion on the other. The other two warriors stood behind him. Festilion was fascinated. She noticed the strange alien features, different from the Defilers’, but like Wernion, noticed the existence of magics by the blue eyes and her own sensitiveness to the condition.

‘Is this the one you said showed the strong magic?’ she asked Dominion. Before he could answer, Tyson thought it was time to announce his capability to hear the strange language, in what was presumably a royal court.

‘Direct your questions at me and you may receive the answers you require?’ said Tyson. Festilion stepped back
in surprise and Dominion’s mouth fell open and the back of his hand snapped back to install some manners in the prisoner. When the hand swept down, Tyson easily dodged the blow, much to the anger of the Pod.

‘Why you…,’ said an angry Dominion but Festilion held up a hand to stop him giving retribution for the inferred slight of the outsider’s boldness.

‘You speak our language?’ said Festilion, still reeling from the surprise.

‘Yes, it must be the curse of these magics inside me,’ said Tyson, bitterly.

‘Curse you say, do you not revel in the magics?’ she asked, surprised to hear the bitterness of the tone.

‘I was born with these magics but I never wanted them. They have just brought me violence, uncertainty and pushed my friends away from me.’

Festilion, exchanged glances with Dominion. This was becoming interesting. ‘Normally I would have you killed. You are an abomination of Zein, created from the magics that our own kind and others have used to defile our world,’ Festilion said without a hint of rancour. To her this was something she had lived with for many years.

‘But you won’t, will you?’ said Tyson, reading her thoughts, ‘You want to know who I am and what our plans are?’ Festilion smiled and returned to her throne. Once seated she raised one of her hands and Dominion pulled Tyson up off his knees.

‘You are correct, I want to know where you are from and what is your story,’ said Festilion, waving forward one of the warriors. ‘You must be hungry and thirsty. Redulon, please arrange to bring…,’ she hesitated.

‘Tyson, my name is Tyson.’

Festilion studied him, impressed with his courage and his abilities. ‘Bring some fruit and water for Tyson,’
ordered Festilion. Redulon, hid his surprise at the gesture. Prisoners were usually questioned and then killed without delay. He did not say anything, not wanting to feel the wrath of Festilion and hurried off to do her bidding. ‘My name is Festilion, Queen of the Pod, the true High Priestess of Zein and not the one who commands the Malefics. You are in my Ceremony Hall.’ She waved her hand around the cavern. ‘Now talk.’

Tyson told her of Earth and his upbringing of meeting his half-brother and of the pursuit of the group by Zylar. He kept from her the extent of his magics but told of the kidnap of his mother and the final battle. He could see in Festilion’s eyes her sympathy for the plight of his mother. The Pod were very much about family and trust, caring deeply for their family unit. The guard, who Redulon had instructed, returned and Tyson was given some fruit and water, which he quickly demolished. When sated he found his audience keen on further information.

‘Tell me about your ships?’ she requested.

Tyson told her of the journey, the attack of the Xonian ships and the landing near Reinan. He saw her eyes widen at the mention of the Xonians.

She is afraid of them
.

‘Why come back?’ said Festilion, shaken about the mention of the Xonians. More invaders.

‘To find any survivors,’ said Tyson, simply.

‘Not to find methir?’ She saw Tyson’s confused look. ‘Our sacred mineral which you misuse.’

‘Zinithium, we call it zinithium,’ said Tyson, putting two and two together. He didn’t expect the flash of anger in the High Priestess’s eyes.

‘You give it a name that means nothing,’ she shouted, ‘Methir is in our air, water and food, yet you Defilers take it and abuse it for your own pleasure.’ Tyson cowered from
the anger he felt not just from the figure on the throne but also from those beside and behind him.

‘Sorry, I have no idea why it is so bad to mention the mineral,’ said Tyson, timidly. Festilion saw that he was confused and that he didn’t understand.

She stood up and walked across to a bowl on the side. She raised the bowl to her lips and had a long drink and then began pacing.

‘Methir is in everything you see around you,’ said Festilion, gesturing to the ceilings, walls and the water she had just drunk, ‘Some of our kind wanted more than the simple life we lead and they started transforming the use of the methir.’ Tyson remembered his thoughts in the cell on seeing Wernion’s eyes.

‘The creature we know as Changeling?’

‘Your insight serves you well. We do not call them Changelings but Malefic, which to us is translated as evil transformers,’ Tyson thought of how often Zebulon had transformed and saved their lives. He did not see the evil this priestess was referring to.

‘By the time we had uncovered their coven it was too late,’ said Festilion, angrily, ‘their numbers were great and they killed their own kin to escape.’

‘Why is it so bad to develop the magics?’ said Tyson. Festilion stopped pacing and looked deeply into what felt like his very soul.

‘How do you feel with the magics?’ she asked softly, and on seeing the turmoil in his look, ‘Precisely. The magics twist you, changing your very essence. Before they mastered the magics a few went mad and killed whole families.’

Tyson swallowed hard, knowing the darkness that enveloped him at times. ‘But don’t they simply allow you to change shape or protect yourself?’

Festilion shook her head, ‘The very act of changing shape disturbs the circle of life. The body has to change how it thinks, works and manages during the change. This can lead to changes in bodily functions and natural ageing.’

‘Why is that bad?’

‘The Malefic have very few young and live for many, many years. This increased life span creates its own uncertainty and almost greed to improve life and power. This in turn can infect other races, which can result in them attacking their own flesh and blood,’ said Festilion, sadly.

‘You mean the magics naturally create conflict?’

‘Yes, when I found out, they fled and sold their way of life to the Defilers, as if it was a simple barter for food,’ said Festilion, her face stricken with deep memories, ‘Magics for the promise to kill all the Brethren.’ A tear ran down her face.