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 Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 9:58 am
Hello NaNo Guildies! Guess what, I won my first time doing NaNoWriMo! Aren't you proud of me? 50273 words and counting, as it ain't finished as of yet, but I've got the story itself mostly done! Here's a table of Contents of what I've written so far! biggrin
Prologue: A Step into Light
Chapter 1: A Different Life
Chapter 2: The Bond's Beginning
Chapter 3: The Power of Faith
Chapter 4: A Homeland's Guardians
Chapter 5: Move Out!
Chapter 6: The Converging Forces
Chapter 7: Tests of Will
Brief summary:
In a land called Sentria, there lived a 20-year-old University student going to through his business program named Mark Argent. He was the son of a rich retired Colonel and former military (now civilian) surgeon, and has already figured out how his life will go. Nothing appears to change, as much as he wants it to, until he meets Yaris.
Yaris was a royal imp, 11th in line to the throne and a favorite of his Queen, Nisha's family. In his homeland, he caused trouble, pulled pranks, and always seemed to get what he wanted. When he is summoned by an Oracle to be told he will be travelling to Sentria, a parallel side of his world that basks in the light, Yaris is given a lifelong mission to become a Familiar, a special one whom can give their gifts and knowledge to one human, their Magician.
As fate binded the two together, they face many trials that test their bonds they form from the darkness of their elemental magic.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 9:59 am
Prologue: A Step into Light
Somewhere in another world lies the country of Sentria, with two ‘halves’ of it and the rest of this other world that coexist parallel to one another. What makes these halves so very different from one another is the light of the sun. On one side, the rays shine bright, and technology developed, such as airplanes, ships at sea, automobiles and even computers. The other side knows only the moon’s light, and faces cold days all year round. Those on this side make their living by the ways of developing magic, using it for everything; cooking, cleaning, growing food, and of course music, dance, plays and other forms of entertainment through the power of magic and imagination.
This story starts on the second half of the world that contains the country of Sentria, its’ opposite in the darkness, Yematia. In Yematia, there is life in all forms, much like in its light half, but all of them have the powers of magical gifts and elemental specialties in common. Though most of them spend their lives in their homeland, there are some whom step through the portal connecting Yematia and Sentria. Those whom are chosen to share their magic as well as the knowledge of their homeland with a specific person within the sun’s light are called the Familiars.
When a three-foot tall, gray-skinned imp was summoned by one of the most powerful of his world’s people, the Oracles, he knew that he was to become a Familiar on this day. There was no other reason that they would summon an imp (or any of the others here for that matter) into the bitter cold that dominated every single night of the year. Most would be thrilled about being able to step on the other side of the portal, feeling real warmth, seeing the colors the sun painted over like an artist’s magical brush, and most of all, not having to deal with the creepy bats, the literal cat burglars, and the overzealous Watch Falcons whom were supposed to keep the capital of Yematia, Lunaria a city free of crime, when really they were just telling tall tales to make themselves look good.
This imp was not pleased to be called, however. Twirling his neck-length black hair with one of his clawed pointer fingers, he contemplated about how the life as he knew it was over. There would be no more lazing about the royal chambers and demanding only the most elaborate of foods, no more playing games with his peers, and certainly no more sneaking on stage to be on many of the plays that darklings and Familiars alike enjoyed. “In other words, no more fun at all.” The imp thought dismally, trying to straighten his floor-length black coat to look his best around the Oracles. Maybe, just maybe if he looked sharp enough, he could convince them to call someone else. He was an expert at persuasion, after all.
“I think I look good.” He thought as he looked himself over. His royal trousers were neatly pressed with a little dab of heat from his magical talents, but not enough to be considered ‘fire.’ The vest he had was also without a wrinkle, lined with silver and buttoned naturally. “And since I’m related to Queen Nisha, even if we are just distant cousins, they still have to do what I say, I’m royalty!” he exclaimed to himself in his mind. All this time, the imp walked to the Chamber of Oracles in Lunaria without a word to anyone: friend or acquaintance. He didn’t want to hear them praise him, because this was not his choice! Becoming a Familiar was worse than being married; it meant literal bonding with someone for life. One had to be responsible, practical, loyal, and patient. This imp was none of those things, and never would be.
The stone double doors of the Chamber of Oracles opened by themselves, as if they were beckoning their visitor. The fact that they towered so far over the small imp walking through them made the entire building anything but inviting. The make the experience worse, there was far less lighting in here than the burning orange lamps outside courtesy of the fire magic specialists. In here, all that glowed was two faint purple lamps, the dark flame, said to be lit by King Hori, the founder of the Capital. They barely lit, but never dimmed. Here, an Oracle would have their most clear of visions. It was said that the statue of their first King is what truly gifted the Oracles, the most magically potent of darklings.
The particular Oracle that had summoned the imp visitor and distant cousin of the famous Queen Nisha was one of the youngest, but still wisest of those in her group of magical potential. It was a two-foot sprite named Ilea, showing a pair of very good seeing green eyes and a smile that would light up the entire dark country of Yematia. Like most Oracles, she took pride in her duty, and had extreme faith in all those whom became Familiars. Affixed upon her head was the Oracle’s Ruby, a sign of her power. As a custom, she touched it with her right hand before speaking to one of many said to be chosen by the King Hori to travel to the other side. “Yaris, you know why you’re here, do you not?” she asked him. She knew his name, as the two were acquaintances. It was hard not to know someone related to the Queen.
“Yes, I know, I know. You want my freedom, Ilea dear.” The imp, Yaris answered before producing some platinum coins with his relative’s face imprinted on them. “I’ll buy it back for three of these though.” He winked. “How’s that for a deal, huh? You’ll be rich enough to quit the Oracle business too, so I’d say we’re even.”
“Now, now, Yaris, being a Familiar is not something you can buy your way out of.” Ilea scowled, somehow looking down on the royal imp despite being a foot under his height. “Why, I’ll tell you, if you give me that Platinum, I’ll just be a very rich Oracle, and you will be the poorest member of the royal family. You see… we cannot pay to thwart our destinies. This is the ‘happening’ that will make you who you are, just like my magical awakening made me…”
“So, I don’t have a choice, do I?” interrupted Yaris, mimicking Ilea’s scowl with his own expression. His yellow eyes averted from her face, as seeing her reminded him of the inevitable changes to come. Didn’t that Oracle understand what she was really doing? She was forcing him to grow up! Wasn’t that something he was supposed to do on his own? “Destiny bites, Ilea… tell it to take a hike.”
“Ah, yes, it bites hard, let me tell you.” Ilea answered, sighing. “I know that at first, I was just as reluctant as you were to fulfill my role in life. But Yaris, when you see him… when you see the one whom has finally come-of-age to receive your gifts, your knowledge, and even your… desire to not work quite as hard, you will understand that this bond you tried to sever before it even began is worth far more than those riches you attempted to bribe me with.”
Yaris sighed. There was to be no haggling with Oracles after they made a decision, because everything they said was ‘destiny.’ In his mind, Yaris toyed around about commenting that even the most mundane tasks were ‘fate’ to Oracles, but the fact that they were only second in power to his relative, the Queen made the imp clam up. He’d heard horror stories about Ilea’s temper, and how sprites can be the most dangerous creatures in Yematia if one ever gave them reason to be. Mocking her honor was out of the question. For now, he’d have to just go along with her so called prophecies of destiny. There would be some way out of the Familiar contract, he was sure of it. There was no way he’d live to be one of those boring creatures who spoke in what he dubbed Tutor’s Monotone. “So, Ilea, can you tell me something?” he finally asked the Oracle after a long, awkward silence between the two.
“Sure, ask away.” said Ilea, on the inside hoping that Yaris would at least attempt to fulfill his duty.
When the words came, they were actually sincere. “Can you tell me the name of the one I’m supposed to step into the light for? You have that power, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” Ilea answered, nodding softly before kneeling (and thus making her look even shorter), placing both hands over her forehead gem and shutting her eyes. After a minute, letters in the darkling language appeared as an image in her mind. “Ah, Yaris… at least it’s easy to pronounce. The one you will spend a lifetime with… his name is Mark. Mark Argent.”
“Mark Argent, you say?” Yaris said, looking between the sprite Oracle and then the statue of King Hori. “Heh, his name is the simplest thing I’ve heard all day! Let’s just hope that my life after stepping through the portal will be easier too!”
“I’m opening it now… I’m the only one here. Yaris, good luck with everything.” Ilea told him, smiling as she conjured the magic that would open a gate between worlds, no more or less than ten seconds after a Familiar’s agreeing to meet the one who’d give them permission to bask in light, their student, their Magician.
“Thank you for the well wishes, my Oracle friend.” Yaris winked. It was the first time he called Ilea a ‘friend’. “Don’t worry… I won’t get in big trouble, but a little will certainly keep life with Mark Argent exciting, won’t it?”
Ilea would have replied had the little imp not already stepped through the portal that showed just a slight bit of the morning sun rays from the other side of the world. She hoped that he wouldn’t cause any trouble at all, but that was asking a bit much. With the fact of Yaris calling her a ‘friend’ though, she certainly wished him well, and awaited another to tell them where their destiny lied.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:00 am
Chapter 1: A Different Life
As far as Mark Argent knew, his life was not going to be changing in any way, not any time soon. Ever since he was at least twelve years old and it was final that both parents, former Sentinel Colonel Nathaniel Argent and former field medic Juliana Argent decided to resign formally from military life and live out their days as peaceful civilians, Mark knew that he lived to be the successor of his father’s estate. He was an only child, for starters, and although not a genius, the young man was still very bright. Mark Argent, being pushed by family (in a good way) soared through school and grades as if they were simple tasks, and although he wasn’t ever ‘top of his class’, there wasn’t a subject that he could say he was particularly horrible at. As far as Mark knew, today was another day towards the only goal he’d ever known, to inherit his father’s name, privileges, and responsibilities.
Really, a lot had changed since ten years ago. At that time, the world around him was embroiled in chaos, and he was a mere child. He didn’t understand at that there was an invading empire and that the Sentinels had done their best to protect that which was theirs. As a child at that time, he just remembered the terror the war brought on, how buildings (sometimes ones he was inside) rocked and gunshots became everyday sounds. Mark remembered people falling, so many falling and not getting back up. At the time, a child wouldn’t understand why. As a grown-up living in postwar Sentrian society, he still couldn’t fathom the reason for invasion by Narasah, and at the same time never figured out why the visions of those days so many years ago still haunted him in his adult life.
Mark stopped a second, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for this.” He said. The brunette Sentrian stared at the doors of his university just ahead of him. So close, yet so far. It was decent walking distance, so a little memory of what can’t be undone shouldn’t be stalling him or making the student tardy! The war was over, peace was upon them, and that wasn’t likely to change… there were no more bombs, no more insensitive newscasts of ‘when will Sentria win?’ There were no true ‘winners’ in war, only losers, losers of lives, pride, and sanity. That was that. “Oh, man! Why do I have to remember all this now, I’m so LATE!” he shouted. There were stares towards his direction, but it wasn’t like the student noticed.
With his build, Mark wasn’t what one would consider athletic. He ran to the lecture hall his statistics and graphing course was to be, but it wasn’t like the ‘running’ was more than a fourth the distance there. The young man was not one for working out, being more the scholarly type engaged in heavy amounts of both reading and writing. The only way he was so brilliant according to so many professors was due to his dedication in working his mind, there was no time at all for even basic physical training. What good work he did made up for being late so many times, even if only by a few minutes. Luckily at the University level, they didn’t shout at tardy students.
As he slipped into his chair, Mark attempted to block out the images he was seeing of his horrific past. Today was now, and he had to focus, or if he blinked his eyes, he’d miss the charts. These were supposedly real data of Sentria’s various statistics taken around this month, used to compare figures they were guessing last week as to how their country was doing in terms of finances and industries. As expected, a lot of the students’ estimates were off, as they had a far more optimistic picture of the economy’s state than what the media let them see.
Since there was a bit of wait for their instructor’s preparation, people begun to gossip about their Midweek Vacation they always received from their work and school duties. Mark was busy focusing in on the charts that were already set up though, ever the typical diligent student. The student became lost in the information on the graphs, flow charts, and pie charts before him until a tap came on his shoulder. It was from a person about his age, Michael Suron, a friend Mark knew since the days of the war, where he had both the luxury of staying in one Sentinel base, and yet the terror of devastation left behind by both Sentrian and Narasah soldiers alike.
At that very dark time in recent Sentrian history, children found it easier to make friends as they were huddled together, even if they did realize that it was inside of a bomb shelter. Once in a while, the grown up boys and girls whom once came together shivering in a time of great anguish for all would shake (usually alone) for a different reason: for the fact that their uncertain futures were so much more scary than a past that was already gone. Like the others in the shelters, Michael had the vivid visions of a past that wasn’t easily forgotten, but for now, he looked to be his normal lively and cheerful self. “Hey, Argent. How’ve you been?” he asked, smiling. He often called Mark his last name out of habit, as the two met at the Sentinel base, where last names came first. “I wonder if you’re okay, man. You’ve been late a lot…”
“I’m fine.” Mark replied, wanting to drop the subject of his tardiness altogether. Between his studies and his social life in forming connections with others to be a loyal (and ready) leader of his father’s business, there was hardly any time for rest and meals. Telling one of his only real friends would merely make Michael worry more. “So, Mike… was your Midweek exciting?” the young man asked his classmate, changing the subject. He wasn’t so formal with calling him his last name, and instead used a nickname.
“Oh, you wanna know?” Michael answered, looking ecstatic to at last be telling his story. “Well, mostly, I went cruising. I coasted all the way down to the West Region of Kilune, you know, my cousin’s got a place there, so I went to see him.”
“So you saw your cousin and cruised in your snazzy looking auto? That sounds like a good Midweek.” Mark replied. “I didn’t do anything exciting, really, just went to Midweek Mass with my preacher, Neil.”
The both of them had so much more to say, but at this time their instructor Mr. Scion had finished preparing his notes and called the class’s attention. Now was the time the discussions would begin over the figures: why Sentria was a less profitable nation according to statistics than some of its neighbors. Heated debates would ensue, letting young minds shine their brightest in the time of trying to prove their point. Mr. Albert Scion enjoyed the fact that economics, a big part of the statistics given was a subject with no clear answer that fueled the fires of hearts young and old. This was what he lived for.
“So, who wants to begin the discussion?” Mr. Scion said, looking all around with both his eyes and head alike to see if there were hands up showing possible volunteers. “I’m sure that all of you noticed the stark differences between your estimates of our country’s standings against others, as opposed to the real thing. Can anyone tell me… why this is?”
“I know why.” said Bridget, one of the brighter female students in the business program. Her image was clean-cut to the core, from her straightened brunette hair and thin black glasses, to an equally sharp-looking suit and dress shoes that were so neat, they’d put even the most gung-ho of Sentinels to shame. “First of all, we are not experts, so our information might have been slightly inaccurate. And second… there is something that even the experts have trouble predicting, and that is people’s attitudes. No one can predict one’s spending habits in the future, because just like human nature, what happens after even this moment is completely unpredictable and even random.” She spoke with the finest voice, one that any orator would be jealous of. “Say there was another war in Sentria; people would shift their spending from luxury automobiles and housing to the Sentinels’ industries.”
“Bridget here brings an excellent point! People, just like any force of nature, can change at a whim.” stated Albert Scion, eying his audience like an actor about to deliver the punch line of a plot twist on stage. “The simple truth is that profits are unpredictable as they depend on human nature. And… no offense to all us humans in here, but we are all finicky, aren’t we? We don’t have the same plans as we did ten years ago, or even five years ago. We can all change our minds, with plans, and also with money and spending. Now, who else wants to add to this discussion? Let’s keep the ideas flowing!”
“I know another reason.” Michael said, standing up next to have everyone hear his say and not even consulting his notes. It was like the young man had the words of his opinion etched within his mind already. Many of the class, including his friend Mark, looked upon him with wonder. “I believe our King and his beliefs are influencing how people are spending or saving. He told us to save as much as we possibly could, and spend wisely if we chose to spend at all. We kept Sentria great by funding responsibly: giving necessities priority over commodities that would bring nothing but a few chunks of gold in short term. Since he’s our ruler, and people look to him as a role model, people want to spend like King Harold. The citizens trust his words that say our nation is great, even if it is not profitable.”
“Ah, Michael Suron, you bring forth another good point.” Mr. Scion praised, so delighted to see that the next generation had potential to be great leaders with their sharp intellects. “For an example of that, take how we use our land. That which feeds the entire nation of Sentria takes priority over the cash crops and valuable minerals which people take for granted in other nations. We live by the essentials of life, only because we see the example of our ruler doing the same. This is how politics comes into play of our Sentrian economy, which right now states that our needs are far more important that the frivolities of riches.”
And many more presentations were brought forward and replied to, most of them being the agreeable subjects that were discussed and followed up on. All of them came to the conclusion that since Sentria was frugal; it cared not for profit, but for the money that they worked for to work for all their countrymen. A few young Sentinels in the class gave their own share of how their nation was truly noble for this, and how they’d personally give all they had to defend their homeland. Their faith in a place, even with low profits was unshakable.
Mark shared mutual opinions with these people, and rebutted some of the arguments made by others of these ideas. There was an idea that had not been discussed yet: his idea. While some claimed politics, other claimed nature and few more claimed the theory of Sentrians just being paranoid hoarders, there was just one point that they forgot to mention: Mark’s point. By raising his hand, he got Mr. Scion to silence his almost bickering classmates. “Could I have a word now, Mr. Scion?”
“Go on ahead, Mark Argent.” The instructor answered proudly. “Why, everyone else has given their opinions based on what they’ve learned so far, so it’s finally time for yours. Let’s hear it.”
“The reason for our profits in all types of industries being lower than others has to do with all the points that everyone addressed, but there is one thing that the rest of you were missing.” Mark spoke, turning to all the classmates as if they were his own. “The main reason that combines it all is that our political figures, spenders, dealers, students, and even Sentinels are all comfortable. They’re stuck in the moment ten years ago, where the treaty was signed and our nation was declared the victor. We became the brave ones who fought back and protected our beloved motherland from the invaders, the Narasah Empire.” We settled with that image of Sentria, the victorious nation, because we didn’t think we had to improve. We didn’t think of how to become better businesses or people, as we were victorious, and believed change unnecessary.”
The young Argent paused to catch his breath, and found that his classmates were still paying attention to his lecture. He continued to deliver the rest of his point-of-view. “Now, it’s not to say that profit is what makes a nation a better place. We’ve done many things right to ensure the happiness and well-being of every single person, no matter if they are rich, poor, young, or old. In this respect, we are decades ahead of others! And since we are at this point, were all have what they need, we’re halfway to becoming truly great. We have brilliant minds, both in the field at this moment, and in this very classroom. Somehow, we will make it work to where our needs are still met, while our wants come to us in plenty.”
The nation of Sentria truly needed an attitude to change itself if the nation was to pull itself out of the rut it was stuck in. With the right people, it could flourish into one of the greatest places in the history of the world. A new Sentrian dream could be born if the right minds were put to work on these ideals which Mark had, that of a Sentria that not only gave everyone what they needed through frugal government spending, but also gave them profits for the luxuries of expensive cars and mansions. Everyone always wanted more, no one was an exception. One of the most powerful emotions of a human was desire, a force which plowed through all in its way. As long as the longing existed, a human spirit would not give up.
Mr. Scion was about to give his point on the entire lesson now, but time was not on his side. The minute hand had devilishly crept over the eleven on the clock, almost mocking the instructor that his time was up. At least Mark summed up the points so beautifully, and one day, Albert Scion feared that the young man would just walk up and take his job. That made him prideful more than fearful, that the younger ones held so much promise within them. “All right, it’s time to leave again. Remember to study your chapters for the quiz next time, my bright Sentrians! For now… good bye!” He waved back at them, the first to leave the lecture hall.
A little bit after his speech-worthy answer to the question, Mark had exited the lecture hall, being caught in the hallway outside by his friend Michael. This walkway was lined up with portraits of great Sentrian economists and the floor covered in the finest of red carpets, the finest of all Teris, but it’s not like the two friends were noticing the scenery.
“Hey, Argent, you did awesome in there!” Michael exclaimed as the two walked slowly through a throng of students exiting their lecture halls. “You’re a genius, man. Seriously, you are. I mean, your explanation of your part of the subject was flawless, and you went and tied all our stuff together too. That was neat.”
“You think I’m a genius? Oh, please.” Mark rolled his eyes, as the two kept on the slow pace down the hallway. “I was just telling the class how I really felt, and I guess they liked the truth. The only reason I know how to talk like that is because my old man’s a retired Sentinel Colonel, you know that.”
“Well, you really are good at public speaking, Argent. You don’t even have to take over your dad’s company, you know. You’ve got a future in politics with a voice and ideas like that! You better believe it!” Michael said, expressing his happiness for his friend in a hearty smile.
“Me, becoming a politician..?” Mark raised an eyebrow, his stare towards Michael blank and dumbfounded. Anyone else would be flattered. “Oh, no… I’m not the right person for that kind of thing. You got to have a TV personality to be in politics. People want to see who’s running their country, you see, but they could care less what kind of person is running the company until there’s a scandal. Since I hate cameras though, I won’t be giving the media any of those.” The young man shook his pointer finger towards his friend, as if to end the idea right there.
Of course, Michael wouldn’t give up. He wasn’t the type to just let his ideas die. “Come on, Argent. You could really be famous, you know? You knocked ‘em dead in class, so just imagine how they’re going to receive you on TV? You know what I say… who needs privacy when everyone loves you?”
“You can’t be serious.” Mark answered, before giving Michael a soft shove forward, not enough to hurt of course. “Get going to class, Mike, we’re both going to be late.”
“Yes, father.” Michael answered sarcastically mimicking Mark’s eye rolling gesture from earlier. It was true that he was already going to be running late though, as his next course was in a location other side of the University’s campus. Waving to Mark, Michael made his departure, likely not seeing him until the day after tomorrow.
As Mark kept his slow pace, he was making his way to the second class (and last one) for the day. There were little parts of his life that he’d come to enjoy, like the meetings with his friend, the debates in Mr. Scion’s class and visits he made to his preacher, Neil who had saved him in more ways than one were all small parts of his mundane life which Mark enjoyed. But every day, he had the same routine with the same people in the same country, and all the stagnant things in his life weren’t satisfying Mark at all. Every day, he prayed to the great Goddess and God alike to bring about something that would bring him excitement, something that would make this routine he was stuck inside a little bit more worth it.
His next class, that of Sentrian History wasn’t quite so filled with debates in discussion, just a professor, Mrs. Hulton lecturing to the book. There was a paper to be done on a large era of Sentrian History due in two weeks, and they were reminded of this for three days of the class now. The history book, of course painted a favorable picture of their country so people would not be able to tell what kind of negative events took place in a time before the class came to be. No one wanted to know they had flaws, and as Mark read on in the textbook, he realized just how right he was in that lecture he made up on a whim. People did not want to change their country, and they were even being taught this in schools. It was hard to live a different life when a person was surrounded by those who didn’t wish to change. Mark just felt like his desires would never be reached, and already his life was being lived out for him.
Instead of attentively listening to information he already knew about his country, Mark found himself staring at the clock and watching the seconds pass by ever so slowly. It seemed like a minute would take forever to come, and the thought of fifty of them making up the class’s time agonized the young Argent. While he opened his book and pretended to follow along, Mark imagined being in another place, an exciting place. Just when his imagination took him to a fantastic world that was home to mythical creatures like the griffons and unicorns of literature, his eyes fixed upon the clock and realized it was time to go. Another day was over. That’s all today would end up being in the end.
“Maybe my life will be… just another life too. I think that I live in the wrong homeland, as everyone is fine with staying the same. I’m not. I want to move forward, I want to have an exciting, meaningful life. I know how everything is gonna go already.”
For years he’d had the same routine. Since being accepted to the Teris University with his fantastic records of grades in high school, he walked to the building that was a short distance and made using his auto a waste, attended classes, and then returned home to continue his studies, or help around the house the best he could. Usually, since he had the grand home more so than most others, Mark’s father, retired Colonel Nathaniel Argent would invite many guests whom were also retired Sentinels or friends of his flourishing Sentrian Airline. The Colonel’s son would of course host them, even if he was too allowed to participate in the festivities.
But they were always the same people, as Mark recalled. All of them were rich and had only the taste to hold on to their grandeur. They hadn’t thought charities necessary anymore, as the King produced the new laws for all regions to provide for their citizens or risk takeover by the Central Counsel. Now that he was grown up a bit, Mark understood that the same people who dined with his father were the ones keeping the country in a standstill. They wanted to keep it all to themselves, and not share, despite the common Sentrian attitude for watching out for one’s fellow countrymen. The thought of hosting whomever was to be the family guests today made Mark Argent feel almost reluctant to set foot on his home street. He looked up at a street sign, sighing. “It’s a little late to go elsewhere, and besides, I’d have to fire up my auto, and then everyone could tell I was running.” Mark thought.
And so the youth took strides towards two large iron gates, which towered over him much like a giant would a baby. One would think that the two gates would be enough to scare off any intruders, as they were just as unwelcoming as the large stone wall they were part of the center of. If that wasn’t a scary sight, a camera looking down on one from the wall as if it had eyes of its own would make any normal man run in fear… or just any man who hadn’t been at the Argent Manor his entire life. “Arnold, it’s me. Stop looking at me with that freaky digital eye of yours.” said Mark, speaking to the man behind the machines.
Another voice, that of the manor’s head of security answered in a crystal clear digital signal. “Welcome home, Mark.” said Arnold Miller. Shortly after, a clicking noise was heard in the background. This was a switch, which only the security head knew where it was. Even the owners of the grounds, Mr. and Mrs. Argent respectively, had no idea where he’d hidden it. Upon the clicking of the switch, the large, heavy iron gates were creaking backwards to let their resident inside.
Once on the inside, Mark strolled through what looked to be a more inviting space. To the left and right, a rose garden bloomed, taken care of by a friend of his mother’s. To the center, just upon entering a gate, one saw a fountain with the statues of the God and Goddess embracing in a gesture of the love that supposedly made up the world. There was an old cobblestone path that led to and around the garden to a very much out-of-place high-tech tower, lined with four satellites, several cameras and covered in bulletproof glass. Rumor said that if there was an intruder, those cameras could aim and spray bullets, so Mark was feeling lucky he was a familiar face to the man behind the machines.
The security guard greeted his employer’s son with a mock salute that he never fell out of the habit of since his days as a Sentinel Lieutenant. Arnold Miller stood around six feet tall and had a face that was fierce and covered with scars, so it was a surprise that even someone who knew him well would be as comfortable as Mark was around him at the moment. “Mark how was your day in academic studies?” asked the head of security, the kindness in his words betraying his fierce appearance.
“It was the same as it always is.” Mark shrugged in response, although he did return a smile which had come his way. “How about you, Arnold, did you shoot anyone today?” he teased.
“Nope, sadly I didn’t pump lead into anyone yet. It’s just been me and the cameras having some much needed quality time.” he replied, adding a mischievous wink at the ending of his statement to make it seem even worse than what it was. “If I shot someone, you’d know it, lad. This smile of mine would never, ever leave my face.”
An awkward, but sincere laugh was let out from the two of them, and Mark kept his own smile intact. “I’m sure that you would be grinning like the happiest man in the world, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, you passed the test.” Arnold said suddenly, his cheery tone switching eerily to his serious one he only used when there was peril fast approaching the manor. “No imposter would sure be this eased up around me. Now… unless you want to help me spy on everyone and everything with the cameras, Mark, go inside and meet your father, will you? And tell him I said hello from the tower, too, and that the two of us need to have wine again soon.”
“I’m not your messenger!” protested Mark. “The only thing I’m telling him is my ‘hello’. You can tell him all the rest of that stuff by yourself when your shift ends, Lieutenant Gray Hair.” The young man teased, pointing at the ever-obvious gray patches on the guard’s once all-hazel head of hair.
“Why you-“ Oh, Arnold had a tirade to go off on, but the son of his employer was already gone. He’d sure give him an earful when Mark did come back to the tower to exit for school tomorrow.
It wasn’t like the teasing was done in a spiteful manner, however. Mark had known Arnold and a few others since he was small, as he’d been born and raised around Sentinels on the base. The head security officer was a former Lieutenant of his father, one with the greatest aim with his rifle even when there was a time he only used it for hunting instead of warfare. Before the time of Sentria’s brutal war, Mark looked up to both his father and Arnold Miller, and one day dreamed of going hunting with whom he considered to be the two bravest men in the entire world. If he were to somehow get over the fear which gunshots instilled within him, Mark would definitely live that dream he had as a child. One day, it would come true.
Walking past the tower, Mark passed into an ornate door that showed the crest of the Sentrian flag upon it, two griffons back-to-back each holding a claw forward. His footsteps echoed through the large hallways lit by fine chandeliers on the ceiling and lamps on either side of the walls. Here, great photographs and paintings were hung depicting the Argent lineage, some of the more famous ones of course wearing the Sentinel uniform. It was just down this hallway where he’d find his father, lounging on the balcony just outside the living room furnished with the finest chairs and a coffee table made by home grown Sentrian wood.
Taking just a few more steps, the young man approached retired Colonel Nathaniel Argent, enjoying one of the many pleasures his rarity of wealth brought him: a cigar. The Colonel was quite the character, actually, and would surprise all but those whom were very close and knew him personally. The older man and retired Sentinel still carried many of his military habits; he asked the security guards (there were four others besides Arnold) to stand at attention and give their reports of his manor’s status, he was said to ‘march’ from his auto to his workplace, and still stood and sat with the stiffness which struck fear into the new recruits unfortunate enough to make it under his command. It was only around his beloved Juliana and his dear son, Mark that this rare, relaxed version of himself sitting on a lounge chair and smoking a cigar came to be.
“Mark, my boy, come have a smoke with me, will you?” said the former Colonel, already greeting his son before he had a chance to even speak to him. His soldier’s senses could point out people walking in on him from behind as Mark was doing quite easily.
Mark took the cigar out of the pack, smelling it first before smiling. The scent of a fresh cigar straight from the package was always divine. “Don’t mind if I do, Pops. Say, got a light on you?” The Teris University student shrugged, showing that he had no lighter on him. “The University passed a new rule that we can’t smoke on campus, so I don’t even bother bringing my lighter with me anymore. People would think I’m a pyro or something…”
Nathaniel Argent chuckled before striking up the flame of his own lighter. That too had a part of the Sentinels engraved on it, the Colonel’s Sentinel crest for his company and its number. “My son, being a pyro doesn’t sound right. Here’s your light.” In a few seconds, the little flame lit the cigar, and both men; younger and older proceeded to inhale and exhale the smoke which eased their nerves. “You know, I don’t understand the media one bit, Mark. They say this stuff will kill you, but they forget to mention that watching them talk inside the screen will waste far more hours of your life. They forget to say that too much of anything will kill you.”
“And you don’t smoke all the time, either, Dad.” Mark muttered, as if he was now feeling uneasy that the cigars were even brought. “You only smoke when business was hard on you. So, what happened in the office today where you have to puff until Mom comes home?”
“We’re having a bit of a spat with our Region master.” Answered Nathaniel, beginning what looked to be a long tale of the stresses of owning a company. “That fool is telling us along with a whole lot of other businesses in Teris City that we should either be more profitable, or find someone else to change the way our businesses are ran! I can’t believe that some politician that I put into office with my voice has the gall to come up and tell me I can’t be free to run however I wish!”
“Dad, you can’t live completely without profit, it’s unrealistic. We wouldn’t have this manor if it weren’t for you saving up what you earned in the Sentinels and then also what your business gives you. We don’t have manors and fancy cars in Missionary Charities.” Mark replied, taking a puff of his cigar.
What came next would have been an explosion, had Nathaniel been a weapon instead of a human being. “So, what… you think that our Region Master is right by this? Dammit, Mark, you listen now and you listen well!” The Colonel began what was to be a tirade any great debater would come to envy and even fear. “Do you have any idea what a business does when it puts profit before anything else? The answer is simple, people get hurt. Companies and their higher-ups get to be obsessed with themselves and their money so much, that nothing else matters! They don’t care about the people they keep at the bottom, about the land they sully with pollution, or loopholes they find in laws that are there to protect others! Mark, I’ve been stationed in countries where those types of businesses thrive, and it’s not a pretty sight! I saw beggars, I saw starving children, and I saw people, men and women working and not being seen as people! I’ve seen scientists refusing to cure a disease of ‘poor people’ because it wouldn’t bring them riches!”
Mark wanted to say something, but he knew that words would hold no power against his father whom was now in a state of great anger towards the rest of the world and how they treated others. He watched as Nathaniel took a puff from his cigar to finish the rest of what he was saying, but Mark wouldn’t dare interrupt him. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that companies should aim for profits alone. As a Sentinel, I fought and risked my life, all the way until I was shot saving Lieutenant Miller… and I won’t see the people that many fought and died for be exploited for the sake of a few others’ wealth. I don’t care if I don’t have my rifle or badge; I’m still a Sentinel, Mark. I will protect our people, even if it is against a greedy few of our own.”
“But what if we don’t have to choose one way or the other?” Mark was finally done listening, and starting to get his say on the subject in. He exhaled his frustration on this, as he’d heard enough of it for the past few months along with the smoke of his cigar. “There can be a way that profitable businesses serve everyone. They don’t have to be money-grubbing companies that put people at risk for their own gain, but nor do they have to sacrifice funds for equal gratitude. There’s got to be a middle ground, Pops.”
“A middle ground sounds like a good idea, but it would never work.” Answered Nathaniel, taking another puff, and mostly calm now. It couldn’t be certain if it was the smoke, or if the former Sentinel was just tired of it all. “People always want you leaning one way or the other. They always want you to pick a side. You’ve got either black, or white in most cases. There is no ‘gray’.”
Mark took another puff from his own cigar, now turning to face his father for the first time since the tangent he went off on. “You think the world still works that way? You think that everyone goes by the old-fashioned ways where you’re either condemned or saved? I’d like to think otherwise.” Nathaniel’s son tried to smile, but it was hard in the midst of all this tension that was going on. “I’d like to have a little faith in our younger researchers who don’t believe in the ‘black or white’, and whom will find a middle ground with everything. All it takes is a little imagination. Besides, there’s not much to worry about, old timer.” He kept the forced smile to attempt lightening up the mood. “You know you can’t be shut down unless you run out of funds, and that’s impossible. People love your airline, its services, and its prices. You’re not a dim light, Pops. I know you can figure something out, half my thinking skills come from you.” He said, pointing to the side of his forehead with a free hand.
Nathaniel sighed, seeing how the conversation would be getting nowhere fast if he continued it. His son was an idealist, he could see that much, and wasn’t prepared to see how politics truly came into play more and more. The Colonel took another puff, lost in thought.
“Look, Dad, I know you have to see things to believe ‘em. I guess there’s nothing else I can do but prove my point with concrete evidence when it comes to you. Just wait a while though. Soon enough, everything in our country is gonna change for the better, and it will change forever.” Mark said to his father, upholding the fears that the young man was just a little bit too pumped on new-age idealism. With his cigar placed neatly into the ashtray and put out though, the son in the Argent family was ready to take his leave from the scene. “I’m going to my room. I have to study now, you know. Call me when our cooks finish with dinner.” With a wave, Mark was gone from the balcony and his father’s sight. If someone blinked, they’d miss him.
Nathaniel, both a veteran in war and business couldn’t help but feel both pride and sorrow. “My son believes he can change an entire country because he’s about to take over my company when he’s able. Oh, great God and Goddess, please help him when he realizes this cruel world is no place for his optimistic views.”
*****
The bedroom which Mark normally resided in was half a resting place, half study. This room was large enough to fit both the full size bed which the university student took his sleep in, and a miniature library which was put inside upon his request when he was just a boy. The Argent family once in a while would check the Sentrian archives for the most up-to-date readers for the university courses, as well as leisure novels in the fiction genre for their son to constantly indulge in. Needless to say, Mark was a very happy student and bookworm.
Bookshelves lined each side of the second half of Mark’s room, and he remembered them being large enough to hold all the orders he and his family made (he gave the older ones to book charities run by the country’s Bishops and Missionaries), plus extra room should he acquire any more. Those facts alone made it seem odd that there were a few of the books pages first on the ground, opened as if they were hurriedly read and tossed away. Mark was very careful to shelf all the books inside his mini study, because a disorganized scholar often did poorly in their academic endeavors. Someone else must have been here, and they didn’t know his rules for the bookshelf. It wasn’t either of his parents (Mrs. Argent was still working at the local civilian clinic), and the house servants wouldn’t dare touch the bookshelf, as it was the young Argent’s private property.
Someone else was here… but who were they? Were they an intruder that just happened to be very well-read? That thought seemed inconceivable to Mark, but it was one of the only logical explanations. What chilled him more was he remembered that Arnold’s cameras only reached the hallways and the outside grounds, not bedrooms. Whoever it was, they had him alone. Only one way to find out if the one messing with his study was still present: calling them out. “Hello?” Mark said in a normal, indoor voice.
Another voice answered, but there was only one answer. It was a tiny voice, barely heard even in such a quiet space. Even if it was only a whisper of an answer, it was still a reply, meaning there was someone here. “You sound scared, stranger. I won’t hurt you if you come out from wherever you’re hiding… unarmed of course.”
“…away.” Came the reply of the tiny voice, sounding a little more upset than it was before. “Go away… I’m waiting… waiting for Mark… Mark Argent.”
“What..?” Mark muttered, in disbelief. “How do you know my name, who are you? Show yourself right now!”
“Oh, so you’re really here after all, Mark Argent!” The voice said, suddenly getting giddy in an almost frightening way. “It’s not like you’d believe me or anything, but…” the voice’s owner revealed himself from a shadow of the bookshelf, stepping outside of it like someone stepping outside a doorway. “The reason I know your name is because an Oracle in my world told it to me. She told me to meet you in a place where a mechanical eye couldn’t see.”
Silently, Mark took a good look up and down upon the owner of the mystery voice. Since he was able to speak in Sentrian, the visitor had to be at least human, but his appearance said otherwise. This… odd person was only three foot tall with hair darker than midnight, and ears that were pointier than Sentria’s highest peaks. His skin was a slate gray, and his hands, even if they had 5 fingers were all clawed like a wild animal’s! His eyes, although almost innocent were the odd color of gold, looking upon Mark as if this… person was also studying him.
“Do you still want to know who I am?” asked the odd person, smirking to show a fang on the left side of his face. That got Mark’s attention after the brunette Sentrian was spacing out a while. “You did ask me that question earlier, if I recall. If you want to know me by name, I am Yaris ti Yematia, 11th in line to the Yematia throne and also a member of the royal imp family. As for my mission, it is to come to this side of the world, and give you, the one chosen by the Oracle the knowledge of both my world and my gifts of magic, both which will better both of our lives. From henceforth and for a lifetime, we will be known as Magician…” he pointed towards the surprised Mark, and shortly after, he pointed to himself. “…and Familiar.”
“Magician… and Familiar…?” replied Mark, pinching himself to see if all of this was a dream. He couldn’t believe that a living piece of literature was talking to him, for he’d only read of the Magicians and Familiars in Sentrian Legend! An imp, the Oracles, and the supposed ‘fictional’ Yematia were all true facts. This day was now getting to be more fascinating by the second.
“Heh, that’s what the Oracle said to formally say, anyhow. It’s part of our contract, that… crap I just spewed.” Yaris said, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. “I think they should let us be honest, which I will be now that I said my little oath to you. I’m going to try to teach you the secrets of our world’s magic, and trust you to use ‘em for the greater good. Abuse them, or me, and you’ll pay… dearly.” Yaris warned, holding up one of his small, clawed index fingers. “Do I make myself clear, young Argent?”
“Um, yeah… you’re very clear.” Mark nodded, now kneeling to be a little bit more on his smaller visitor’s level. So much was unfolding at once; it was hard to take it all in. Familiars and Magicians were real, and he was about to experience the world that was only present in Sentrian folklore. “Besides… I’d… I’d never want to hurt you, Yaris, was it? If you’re really my chosen Familiar, then we’re bound for life, at least that’s what our legends say.”
“Hm, I’m not even sure if this whole ‘bonded for life’ thing is really a good idea, because there are people out there that think differently. People who’d ‘exploit others for their gain’ as one of your human texts about this… ‘Economics’ thing claims. Don’t ask where I picked it up either, that’s a secret.” Yaris crossed his arms, taking a very defensive stance with both his words and posture. “But one thing that is certain, Mark Argent is that from now on, since we’ve finally met, the both of us are going to have completely different lives.”
“A… different life...?” Mark muttered, now looking up to the Heavens as if the benevolent God and Goddess had answered his prayers. “Yaris… you have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone to finally say that was gonna happen to me!”
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:02 am
Chapter 2: The Bond’s beginning
In the Darkling World of Yematia, the word that Yaris was chosen to guide a Magician was spreading faster than magical wildfire. Some of the citizens of the Sentrian ‘dark side’ were happy to see the brazen troublemaker out of their fair country altogether, while others feared for the safety of his chosen light-basking companion. There were few that were actually proud of the little bundle of darkness, but one of them was the most important person in the capital city Lunaria: their Queen, Nisha si Yematia. She had it in her mind that her distant relative would be a great Familiar. Since he wasn’t rigid and stiff like most of the others who gained the contract, he could relate far more to the modern day youth of Sunaria (the Yematia term for Sentria), than anyone.
Now that one of her favorites of her family had finally made it to bask in the sunlight of the other side, the ruler wanted to know everything. It came as no surprise that she summoned the Oracle that was to show Yaris his destiny, the sprite called Ilea. The rumors around the palace and others areas were that Queen Nisha was the nosiest person on the dark side of the world, and they wouldn’t be wrong. “Hello, Ilea… great Oracle. I bet you know why you’re here, don’t you?”
Ilea was floored by this royal summons, to say the least. Even if the Queen was confirmed to be greedy (with her dress being the most fancy compared to the other rulers of the past), and sometimes unpleasant, the Oracle had the most respect towards Nisha as any subordinate could have for a leader. The imp Queen had done much for their country, from building the Chamber of Oracles with her own two hands and most of her magic, to blessing the children of all darklings with her ancestor, Hori’s fortune; Nisha became one of the citizens who happened to have royal blood. She had to be summoning Ilea for a good reason, right? “What did you need of me, my liege?” she spoke first, kneeling before her ruler out of custom.
“Ah, my dearest Ilea, you should already know what this is about.” Nisha answered, putting aside a file and taking a look at her now even fingernails. “Little Yaris went off to the lighter side of the world… is this not true? I want to know the name of the person who is to be his lifelong Magician.”
“Are you sure about this, your Majesty?” the sprite got nervous, the unease showing through on her face as she averted her gaze to anything but her Queen’s golden eyes. “You know that it might not be a name that you’d expect or imagine…”
“Oh, come now! Tell me which one it is, which last name! Is it House Leowell he’ll serve, or Vetari? I wouldn’t be surprised if he belonged to the Sunaria Royal Family itself, as he too is royalty!” Nisha clapped her hands together, grinning like a schoolgirl who just got her first crush. “I do hope that it’s the most prestigious of those houses though, so he can look like a fool for attempting to bribe you out of his destiny. I apologize for that rudeness, my dear Oracle, I really do.”
“Queen Nisha…” Ilea sighed, before breaking news that would at least disappoint the royal who’d summoned her. Sometimes the truth hurt, but she had to break it to her that reality was nothing like her liege had imagined. “Yaris doesn’t have a Magician in any of those noble houses… the one he’s bonded with is named Mark Argent.”
“What… Argent?” Nisha wrinkled her nose, saying that last name with utter disgust. She was praying that she’d never hear that name again, not after her last dealing with the clan in question. The Queen sighed, placing a hand over her face and almost completely covering it up. One could just feel the frustration and disappointment coming off her at this time. “I wished that I’d never hear that name again. Oh, sweet King of Darkness, please have mercy on him.”
*****
“I still can’t believe it… we’re… Magician and Familiar.” Mark muttered, looking towards the imp. “So, what does it actually mean, anyhow? Are we going to be learning legendary magic, or seeing the world, perhaps? I’d love to, but not too much, I’m a student…” the young man had so much to say, but a hand in the air from Yaris stopped his speech.
“Wait just a minute.” Yaris muttered, crossing his arms and then shooting a glare that would have killed if it were a weapon. “Are you stupid or something? You think that just because you meet a darkling and he says he’s your familiar, you’re going to go off and be some legend that sees the world? I think you expect a little too much from this role! And I can’t believe you just went and believed everything I say, you’re so naïve, you won’t last a day! I could have been an assassin and I could have been lying to you, and yet you were still so welcoming!”
“If you were after me, then why would you reveal yourself? I’m not the only foolish one here it looks like!” Mark fired back the insult, pointing an accusing finger towards the imp. “And the only reason you’re knocking the legends is because you probably don’t want to own up to the responsibility of being a Familiar!”
“You know what, you’re absolutely right! I never asked to come to this side of the world, where the light is too bright! When I was back home, I had it all, Mark!” Yaris exploded, his eyebrows narrowing in pure rage. There was only one thing that the little bundle of darkness cared for right now, and that was getting in the last word. “I hadn’t a care in the world because my family was related to royalty, I could play games with whomever I wished, I could eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, I could make fools out of those idiots in the castle staff, and I had a stake in my Queen’s fortune! I didn’t need my life to be changed, it… it was perfect!”
“So what, you can’t get people waiting on you hand and foot, and you can’t pull your pranks on others! You know what, Yaris?” Mark now turned his back to the imp, not even wanting to give him the honor of seeing his face anymore. “You know us, here in the world where the sun shines? We all stop doing those things around age TEN. Tell me how old you are.”
“… just shut up, human.” Yaris replied, choosing to clam himself up now instead of bothering to argue with this moron. He wasn’t even worthy of being called by his name anymore, just because he was so foolish. One of the plans the imp was already hatching was to find a way to get a regulated portal back to Yematia, claiming that Ilea must have made some kind of mistake. It would be a hurtful gesture towards his friend to claim her false prophet, but there was absolutely no way he could work with this idiot of a human at all.
It wasn’t like Mark was following Yaris’s orders to ‘shut up’, but he didn’t feel like talking to the imp anymore. He always imagined a Familiar to be willing follower, not some immature kid that was missing their childhood luxuries. They were supposed to be wise and knowledgeable, and most of all, they were supposed to be mature! Now he wished he hadn’t read so many of the novels about the great heroes and their steadfast companions, for none of those legends were true after all.
For the longest time, the silence between the two persisted. It was more than clear that they weren’t the ‘match made in the Land of Gods’ was all Magician-Familiar pairs turned out to be. Maybe the two of them would agree with each other through some sort of sad, mutual disappointment that they were stuck together. Somehow, fate just decided that they were to be inseparable and insufferable to one another and there was nothing either one of them could possibly do to change that. So much for fame, glory, and friendship…
But maybe, just maybe the human of the pair had the imp wrong. It may have looked like he was being rude and insulting, but if Mark knew anything about people (and Yaris acted a lot like a person) all had their own objectives and feelings which not everyone knew about. The imp was taken from his home, where he was comfortable and happy to be thrown into an unknown world and forced to give away his secret knowledge to another he hadn’t even met yet. Not many would feel sympathy for a ‘brat’, but those kinds of people didn’t take time to stop and understand them.
Since he could definitely guess that touching the upset imp was completely out of the question, the young man instead knelt to be more on Yaris’s level. He sighed, releasing his anger that was still leftover from the small conflict the two were having. “Yaris, listen… I know it must be hard; you had to come to this other side of the world because you were linked to me by destiny and you had to leave behind the place you considered your home. Of course you’re not gonna be happy.” He shut his eyes, thinking of what else to say that wouldn’t set off the irate imp any further. “But we’re stuck with each other, ain’t we? It’d be easier if we didn’t fight, you know.”
And so there the human was, basically apologizing to Yaris and telling him the cold hard truth. Yes, they were stuck together, stuck like the humans’ superglue together, and bickering like this wasn’t getting them anywhere. He may have been dissatisfied with losing his old life, the one where he didn’t have to worry about responsibilities, and yes, he did miss his homeland (and maybe even the other darklings in it). The fact that this human recognized his feelings was more than he could ask for. “Maybe you’re right about that, just maybe.” The imp finally spoke his thoughts aloud contemplating. “I just think… you got ahead of yourself. We’re not going to be legends when we first start out!”
“Of course I know that, but some day we will! I have the thoughts right now that my redundant self and my country should both be changed, but I never had… power to do great things like that before…” Mark answered, again, gestured by his Familiar’s hand to stop his speech. He couldn’t believe he was interrupted again, was Yaris just about to call him stupid and start another fight?
“Before you talk any further about using my power, I wanna tell you the boring things that Nisha told me to read. They’re the rules… one in your language, and one in mine. Once we sign the contract, which is when we’re truly… bonded.” explained the small one, taking out a piece of transparent paper which had glowing dark blue writing on two sides, a language that Mark did not recognize, and then the other side written his own Sentrian language. “What it basically says is that you can’t go around warmongering with this power, you can’t abuse me in various ways, and you cannot use this to disrupt the natural order. So… if you wanted to use this to hypnotize someone for instance, it’s a violation. We both get in trouble for that.”
“So, there are rules, of course.” Mark said, intrigued as he was reading through the side with his own language. “I was hoping that there would be rules when giving magical power…”
“We’re not the only ones giving.” Yaris told him, not bothering to look over the contract as he knew the contents of it from other visiting Familiars. “When we form this pact, it is like a spell that gives us both a transfer of knowledge. I learn to use your… technology for instance, and you get to learn of magic, and also Yematia, my home world. Of course, we can’t even think about going back until I swap you the runes for portals.”
“Oh, since you’re so homesick, I’ll make that the first spell I learn!” exclaimed the young Argent, acting like a scientist that just made a discovery. “Portal spells… then I can see what Yematia looks like too. I just better use it during Midweek, or everyone here will wonder where I ran off to.”
More explanation of the contract would have came, in the little darkling’s unique dialect if such an offer had not been made, but by saying those words, Yaris’s new colleague stunned him speechless. He was offering to learn the magic that would bring him home; to those he cherished most without a second thought? It was highly unselfish of the human he’d just argued with, but also the same one that thought the great heroes in literature to be his idols. And not to mention the fact that one needed royal permission was another roadblock in opening portals. Wait… Yaris was royalty… but the issue of trust came before once again using his Yematia family name for even more privileges. “Can we talk about portal magic another time?” he muttered, dodging the choice to either believe this human or not. He heard of them deceiving others before, and had to be a good judge of character to make sure he was on in a contract that was to be severed early. Terrible things happened to severed Familiars, they were said to lose their sanity, explode into magical energy, or bury themselves within their homes and never be seen again.
But this human was different than the horror stories, or so Yaris hoped. Now that he wasn’t locked in conflict with him, he studied Mark’s expression curiously. From what he heard from others in this… strange bond between two otherwise separate worlds, one could tell what they were thinking by staring into the human’s eyes. The young man’s eyes were honest and sincere, and there was even a hint of relief. He wasn’t bad, at least not for now, but Yaris could only guess that time would tell if that were to change. “For now, the more trifling thing comes into play, since… there are no Magicians in your house. I need to be hidden, because I know that other humans tend to scream rather loudly when they see something they don’t recognize. I’m surprised a yell didn’t come out of you.”
“But, I’ve seen imps before, in books.” Mark explained, shrugging. “I think that those legends about the great Magicians and their trusty Familiars are too good to be just ‘made up’. I know that we have some great writers in our time, many of them which I read, but even their inspiration comes slightly based on truth. I find references which fantasy novelists use all the time in actual history.” Since he knew he was veering off-topic Mark stopped himself from bragging about his knowledge of all the books he’d read on the shelf, and then some. There was the issue of where to hide the imp, an idea clicked. “Can you… hide in shadows as the books say? I saw you even step out of the bookshelf’s shadow, like it was a door or something, but I swear I didn’t see you before!”
“Oh, will that always be there, bookworm?” Yaris teased, now feeling quite comfortable with his new comrade enough to lightly joke with him. “Of course, I bet that’s a foolish question for a nose-in-novel scholar like you… Mark Argent.”
The young man suddenly felt irked, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the arguments earlier. He was glad that the two got over the dispute and forgot it, so maybe they could start off on the right foot after all. Still, the main problem he had was… “Stop addressing me by my first and last name, you only need to say the first one!” the Sentrian youth shouted in correction, and the only answer Yaris gave him was another devilish smirk which showed a fang. Strangely enough, the thought of an imp having fangs didn’t scare his Magician at all.
“Fine, Mark, the bookcase it is, if no one chooses to move it or otherwise. That creates a nice big shadow for me to tuck into, yes. And you don’t have to worry about me being stepped on, either.” He held up a clawed pointer finger, as if he already knew what the human was about to say. “I go into… a little ‘pocket’ of darkness when I enter shadows. I don’t think you can ever do it, as you’re meant to stay on this side of the world, but if one dug deep enough into a shadow, they’d find a pathway to Yematia. Before you ask me why I wouldn’t do that… well, it’s illegal.”
“Illegal…?” Mark muttered, even more fascinated by the three-foot Familiar and his stories of his homeland, and before the contract had truly began. “So, your world’s laws function much like my own, at least, I hope there are different punishments for different crimes, and you’re not beheaded for all of them.”
“No way, we rarely execute a darkling.” Yaris muttered, dismissing the idea as if it wasn’t even important at all. “One of the highest punishments besides execution though is dispelling. You get your magic completely sealed, and you’re never able to use it again. In a world that relies solely on magical power, it means it’s a lot like… you humans losing a limb.”
Mark winced slightly at the thought, holding onto his own arm. Since he remembered the soldiers with severed limbs from the war, he knew that the pain was indescribable. He wondered if the ‘lost limb’ analogy also meant that sort of pain, where something is lost and could never, ever be replaced, even by the machines which Sentria had now that could made an arm or leg out of metal. Sure, one could function with it, but it was nothing close to being like the natural thing. The Magician figured that darklings wouldn’t go trying to replace an ex-con’s magic either, so that emptiness would last forever.
“What’s wrong, Marrrk?” Yaris now teased him again with both fangs showing a full-fledged grin. “Did I scare you with my comparison? Something tells me you have a history with my comments, but I won’t pry, not yet. I actually hear human footsteps outside the door, so I’m not staying out in this light. Goodbye for now!”
And with that, he was gone, into the shadow of the book case as if he wasn’t even there. “He could hear human footsteps? I guess those pointy ears aren’t there for show.” Mark thought, as he tried to at least make himself look casual, reading one of the books that his new Familiar had dropped on the floor. He’d have an explanation for everything, whoever was at the door. When he heard a few knocks on his door, he answered as promptly as he normally would when, as Yaris said he was being a ‘nose-in-book scholar.’ The young man looked backward one more time to make sure that the little imp ‘entered’ the shadows by who knows how, and surely enough, it was as if he’d vanished without a trace.
Mark opened the door to the face of someone else he’d known all his life, former field medic Juliana Argent, his mother. She was the type of mother that every child dreamed of: one that was concerned, but not too nitpicky. Most of all, she was a trusting individual, and that was not to be confused with ‘naïve’. Juliana was always one of the first people to remind her son she wasn’t ‘born yesterday’ and knew when something was up. At this moment, the scowl she wore was a sign that the surgeon heard his argument earlier. “Mark.” She said sighing. “Just what do you think you were doing? You were causing a ruckus; I could hear it all the way down the hallway.”
“Sorry, mom…” muttered the young man in question, looking at the books littered on the floor, and he cleverly picked one up. “I guess I was reading out loud… too loud again. It’s weird how I can’t do that on stage…” Mark was hoping that his mother couldn’t tell if he was telling nonsense or not.
Although she was doubtful that what Mark was saying was the truth, Juliana did have a good look around the room using peripheral vision alone. There was no one here, so as far as she knew, her son’s over-dramatic acting of a scene from his fantasy novels seemed to be the most likely of explanations. If she found out that there were things hidden from her though, the wife of retired Colonel Argent would not be pleased at all. From what she understood, both in readings and in real life, secrets, more than anything destroyed even the strongest of bonds. She would not see that happen to her family, at not without doing her very best to crack open the mysteries and solve them. “Try to be a little bit quieter, Mark.” She simply told him aloud. “What if Arnold or any of the other guards were going by here and heard you shouting like that? They’d think you’re in trouble and would break your door down!”
Mark groaned at the thought of having no privacy at all, with the cameras watching him, his mother being just as nosy as always, and his father constantly poking his head in the room to ask him if he’d discuss the situations of business with him. It was a miracle that he and Yaris got to speak as long as they did without an untimely interruption that would have left the young Argent without an explanation. No one would believe imps were real. He was glad he hadn’t come to that bridge he’d… eventually have to cross. “Right, right… I’ll try to read silent. Sorry about that…” he answered, sincerity behind his apology. Maybe that would garner sympathy (and more privacy), but likely not.
In the shadows, Yaris was glad to be unnoticed. This… older woman who walked in brought fear into his Magician, but at the same time, this kind of fear was respect. It wasn’t like Mark was running or anything, but he wouldn’t dare raise his voice to this new woman he didn’t know. And now that he looked at her more closely from his shadowy hiding place, he noticed her facial features. “They… resemble Mark’s? Oh! So… that word he called her… must mean ‘mother’!” The imp chuckled to himself at the discovery, how some of the same concepts on his side of the world were practiced here. There was utmost respect for ones’ parents if they were in the ideal family, and the same would come towards the children. How funny that while a Magician was physically mature, they weren’t necessarily considered ‘adults’ sometimes… how ironic.
“As long as you mean that you’re sorry, Mark then I’m going to let you off on this one.” Juliana’s reply came, the woman finally easing up and not sounding so strict with her words. Even if she wanted to have some order around the house (which Nathaniel did impose pretty well), she wasn’t the type who’d stay mad at anyone, especially not her son, because holding grudges just wasn’t in her nature. Even when her beloved homeland was at war with the powerful Narasah Empire, Juliana couldn’t hold it against them that they were invading. Both sides were soldiers following orders, and what happened just couldn’t be avoided. As for her family, she lived with them and was their flesh and blood. Resenting them would just be plain heartless if she could give foreigners mercy. “I don’t want to hear you raising your voice again though, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, mom…” Mark muttered, hanging his head low to show his shame for having flustered her. Even if his mother had quit the Sentinel’s Medic Corps to be a civilian doctor, it didn’t make the job any less stressful. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more stress for her, so when Juliana made what he saw as a reasonable request, he’d follow it without as much as a question. There was no time for him to be a brazen fool that would disobey orders, any child of Sentinel parents knew this much. “I’m gonna finish reading this… quietly, I promise!”
“Oh, fine, I trust you.” Juliana smiled, blinking once before getting out of her son’s doorway. Now was a time to meet with Nathaniel and relax, all the way until the cook and his assistants finished their dinner. It was nice to hire others to do the work, and none of them complained about pay all. Unlike most that’d risen up, even in a supposed non-profit country like Sentria, the Argent clan went out of their way to keep their employees in the manor happy just so they’d stick around. They didn’t need people to be switching in and out every once in a while, they needed all those who knew the manor’s secrets together, where they could be watched.
After his mother exited the room, a sigh of relief came over the young Magician. He wondered if Yaris had watched that entire display, and if he’d mock him for being scolded by a parent at his age. “Yaris…?” he muttered, as if to call the imp out from his hiding place. At first, a muffled voice replied.
Leaning closer to the bookcase, Mark called out to the Familiar again. This time, he heard Yaris’s voice get louder. “I’m restin’. Why don’t ya go in that big fancy human bed of yours? You have to sit at the same table as that fierce parent of yours.”
Mark rolled his eyes at the comment. It was more than obvious that his Familiar was trying to mock him into another argument, and he wasn’t buying it. Honesty just might have been in Yaris’s words though; he was likely tired from traveling between worlds and needed a great amount of shuteye. Today was only the first day of the two meeting; he could expect to learn magic. Maybe rest was a good thing for both of them.
*****
The next day was one of the two days which Mark had the later of his university courses, so he could have a little time for leisure just before taking the usual walk down the street to Teris University. In the time he had before courses, he’d try to either read more books, go out to his usual coffee shop to have interesting debates and chess matches with the intellectuals of Sentria, or sometimes see Neil, the Missionary turned Bishop that had saved his mind from anguish those years after the war was over. Since the introduction of the small imp into his life though, Mark’s time before (and a little after) his courses in his business program was going to go through a lot of changes. He was going to be learning magic, and all about his Familiar’s homeland, Yematia. It was too bad that one of the terms in the contract was to keep it secret.
Now, Yaris wasn’t one who was blessed with the gifts of reading people’s minds, no matter if they were light basking people or the darklings of his homeland. But after watching people for a while, he begun to know what their expressions meant (and that usually gave him the best information when it came to pulling pranks on them). When he looked at Mark, he saw a determination that he never once saw in a human before, a spirit that looked like it would never give up no matter what it faced. He knew that their start was a rocky one, but already, the tiny Familiar was getting to like the light dweller he was paired off with. “He just might be ready for this after all…” the Yematian said, smiling proudly.
Now that he actually got to know what humans were like, Yaris found them a very fascinating species. In the textbooks, they were given so many stereotypes, and not all of them (as a matter of fact, not a single one) fit the images that they were given. None of them were complete jerks, none of them were completely innocent, and not all the young ones were blasting the strange technology of mp3 players to tone out their parents’ voices. So many misconceptions were made about the side of the world where the sun’s rays were shining. Even if it was a troublesome thing to do, Yaris did want to tell the others back where he came from how it truly was a wonderful, different place than what their imaginations and authorities said.
One of the many things he learned humans did in the time the rays actually shined was… they greeted each other. Participating in this odd ritual would probably make the two just a little bit more compatible. “Good morning, Mark…” began the imp, coming out from his hiding place after he was sure no one else was here. Eventually, he’d have to be explained to the others whom had residence in his Magician’s house, but that wouldn’t be now. “So how was your dinner? I hope you had something good. That would suck if you were forced to eat what you don’t like.”
“No, it was my favorite food. I even snuck you some of the leftovers, Yaris. Since I normally take them for a morning snack, our house servants don’t notice it’s strange.” Mark grinned, happy that he was getting the first greeting in the morning that he was only used to getting from other people. How much more of human culture did imps have, he wondered? It was hardly different from the culture the Sentrian belonged to! Yet, he knew that the only way to find answers to questions like that was to ask, and that was hardly breakfast talk.
“Oh, you warmed it up with that strange box of yours!” Yaris exclaimed, biting into part of what was a carved ham, and staring over the vegetables with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the green, orange, and white stuff?” he scowled. “It doesn’t smell like fish, or pork… but this meat right here is definitely ham.”
Mark almost slapped his forehead like he sometimes saw his professors do when a question was answered improperly. How could his Familiar not even know what vegetables were, when he claimed to be forced into studying the basics of human culture? “Those are… veggies.” He muttered. “We grow ‘em in the ground and pick ‘em, and they’re really nutritious for you. Even if some Sentrians can’t have meat, they have to learn how to grow these things so they can still eat every day. Our country’s really good at teaching people how to take care of themselves without money.”
“That’s weird.” Yaris muttered, while chewing through the ham slices and then poking one of the carrots with his clawed hand. It got stuck, and out of pure instinct, he chomped it off with haste. “Oh, not bad..! I like these orange ones!”
“Hm, that’s nice…” Mark muttered, not really thinking of any more words to say. He wanted to change the subject from food, or he’d make himself hungry for the usual morning snack he had just before breakfast. “Listen, Yaris… about the contract… I read it in detail, when we signed it and the pact was formed. Something about swapping knowledge…”
“Heh, you’re still going on about Nisha’s long document filled with unnecessary words? Yes, we swap things.” The imp shrugged, before taking another carrot in his mouth. It was only peculiar to another light dweller that he didn’t use utensils: the others in his world encouraged eating with nothing but claws and fangs. “I hope you’re not nervous of giving me knowledge of your weird trinkets in here though…”
“And what about you and giving me the magical runes..?” Mark replied, the look in his eyes just as sharp as his Familiar’s when he made the comment. “I can tell that you don’t like to give away your secrets, Yaris. You’re like one of the shy adults who don’t want people reading their Journal of Heroism.”
“Journal… of Heroism..? What’s that?” asked the Familiar, the pair of his yellow eyes alone asking the question more than his words ever could. Even if he was considered ‘mature’ for a darkling at his age (physically), his mind was still curious. Some thought that a childish quality of him, but Yaris personally never thought it to be a bad thing.
“It’s a little diary that Sentrian children write.” Mark laughed, thinking of the words he used to put inside his own. He was unsure where, but somewhere, that journal was lost inside one of his huge bookshelves. “They put the most outrageous stories they can possibly think of inside those pages, to make themselves look like great heroes and heroines. Even though the stories are all made up, those are what keep the young dreams alive. When we ‘grow up’, we stop writin’ in ‘em because we have more realistic goals to reach for.”
“That sounds like the coolest thing I’ve heard about you “Sentrians”…” Yaris said his thoughts out loud, with the usual fanged smile across his face. Strangely enough, he managed to scare very few with this smile, but relished in the time which he did strike fear into unsuspecting people. “I bet if I kept one of these… interesting logs of outrageous stories, I’d beat out every darkling imaginable!”
Mark laughed at the thought of his ever boastful companion having a Journal of his own. “I bet most of your stories are true though unlike those others who just make literally everything up, or exaggerate their own lives. He was glad that there was a subject that the two of them could be civil with each other: his dinner last night was full of tension.
Over the table, the issue of Nathaniel’s conflicts with the Region Master and his own morals were what took over the discussion. Juliana and Arnold took the side of Mark’s father in agreeing how profit could be a harmful thing, and never brought good to anyone. Since the young man ha discussed this topic beforehand, he didn’t feel the need to say anything more about it. In silence, he’d ate his favorite dinner, but it felt so tasteless due to the tension so thick, one could cut it with a knife and serve it as a side dish. Usually, Mark would visit Micheal, his friend from the old days or Neil, the priest who became his savior in these troubled times, but the Teris University student was far too strained from his arguments with Yaris that very same night to do anything else but sleep. Waking up to a new day where the imp wasn’t fighting with him was a welcome refresher.
“Hey, Mark? I wanna tell ya somethin’. Learning magic ain’t as easy as your legends and your novels claim. Sure, swapping the runes comes natural, and it happens just like that…” he snapped his fingers quickly. “But you actually doin’ what the runes tell you to do… that’s the hard part. I even had a little trouble before I learned the basics, like the shadow walking only Yematians can do.”
“I’m in a university, so that means I can learn fast.” Mark commented, wondering if the imp was now doubting his ability to listen and pay attention, or if it was just their personalities showing differences. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, and legends become legends because they kept goin’ on when they were first starting out. They didn’t give up because they thought it was too hard to learn what the runes were telling them to do.”
“I have to say I like your spirit.” A cheerful Yaris nodded, for once looking as if he were lost in deep thought that was anything but mischievous.
“You’re a lot different than others your age, for sure. First of all, you’d be running scared, and second… well, let’s just say I know a few darklings who’ve been Familiars before. They say that humans from countries other than Sentria, or rich ones the world over are lazy, and try to back out of the contract when they find out we’re not cranking out instant stories that your literature authors would publish.”
“Well, that’s a generalization, Yaris. My parents aren’t like a lot of Sentria’s rich folks.” Mark answered him, not feeling the need to defend himself, for he knew that his companion was merely saying words based upon little pockets of research that scientists (or were they ‘alchemists’ with magic?) did on a select number of others, much like how researchers did their work on this side of the world. He couldn’t be blamed for the opinions he had based on their findings. “Ya see, my old man used to be a Sentinel Colonel. He was a great leader when he was in the military, and everyone respected him for having such high expectations and helping anyone meet them. That goes for his family too. He don’t want me bein’ a trust fund baby. He told me that he’s leaving most of his riches to the defenders of our nation, and if I wanted to be a rich guy like him, I’d have to earn it myself.”
“Well, he sounds like a decent guy. He sounds so different than the people I read about in our textbooks.” Yaris stated, his eyes widened with surprise. “Really, seeing the real thing is better than reading about it. You get to see the whole picture, instead of only what authors want you to see.”
All Mark could do was nod, and then he looked nervously at his watch. Had his discussion taken up what looked to be a short time before his class now? He stared at the hands, and sighed. There was still two hours left, but one of them should be spent eating. Turning to Yaris, he made the bold move of patting his head. “I’m going to eat… and see someone after that. I won’t be back until my three evening classes are over so… stay out of trouble. I’ll be back around the time it gets dark here.”
“What am I supposed to do, I’m gonna be so bored! Why can I just reveal myself and spend time with those people whom are dressed in black?” he was referring to the guards, the ones he saw most often in the manor, patrolling the grounds. “It means you won’t sneak me any of your weird, colored food until later either! But, I suppose I’ll keep quiet. Those sticks the people in black carry look a little dangerous."
“Yeah, it would be good if you stayed away from them until I told everyone about you and what you are.” Mark answered, waving now as he picked up a backpack that was filled to the brim with books. “See ya later, Yaris.”
“See… ya…” he said back awkwardly, returning the wave that was yet another unfamiliar gesture to him before retreating back into his hiding place: the bookshelf’s shadow.
And so Mark went out the door, deciding now to get into his black auto. Even if Yaris had brought forward a happier part of his life, Mark still had the flashbacks from the very dark time in his life, one where the stories of Magicians and Familiars were so far away. There was only one person he knew could ease his nightmares, and before he was to learn any real magic, Mark needed to clear his mind with a visit to the Teris Monastery. Only here, he could leave his fears behind and feel refreshed from the troubles that ailed him. Here, a friend waited, one that saved him in a way no one else could.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:04 am
Chapter 3: The Power of Faith
On his way out of the manor grounds, Mark greeted Arnold before going on his way to the Monastery. Here is where the Bishops resided, the ones who believed so diligently in the great God and Goddess. The God was believed to have the power to take lives away and possibly grant them a place in Paradise forever, while the Goddess is the one who created lives and brought the vast lakes, the pure skies, and the stunning mountains and rock faces which made up the world as it was. Part of those who worshipped both believed in the power of giving: it was what kept this balance strong and alive. To be greedy and for one to keep something all to themselves was believed to bring far more death than the great God could handle, and wreck the lives the Goddess worked so very hard to create. Those whom were wealthy were encouraged to donate, and these funds alone cared to give at least a plate of veggies to every Sentrian.
Within the Teris Monastery, there were many statues of the two most dominant powers in Sentrian life: the God of Destruction and the Goddess of Creation. The worship of these two figures was a large part of the religious lives in the most powerful military nation on the continent, but charity was the other part of their pious tasks. Although giving to the less fortunate who lived with necessities alone was considered part of a general code of honor to the wealthy and famous, this was also a way to serve the higher powers which they believed in. The more giving that a richer person gave, the more they would not only be loved by the people, but also, they believed the two deities they worshipped would smile upon them. As long as the God and Goddess remained in people’s hearts, the way Sentrians thought wouldn’t sway, and they would not falter in the resolve to take care of one another.
Mark had experienced the ‘charity’ of the Missionaries first hand so many years ago. He first in a military household, than a wealthy family, so he didn’t need the services of food or shelter like some others, but he needed something which money could not buy him. Like so many of the others in those dark times in his country, Mark only watched as the horrors of war unfolded themselves before him. Within the bomb shelter, he could feel it shaking, he could hear the sprays of bullets outside, and the deafening cries of those who found out that their Sentinel relatives were taken by the tides of war. He’d been robbed of one of the few things that wealth meant nothing against: his mental peace.
The evils which people experienced at this time were said to drive them insane. There would be those whom were completely lost in pure fear, while others turned into raving fools who said words that made no sense. Some found it easier to escape their reality by indulging forever in fantasy, writing more in the Journals of Heroism to take them away from what they could not face. It was because of the efforts of missionaries, on in particular, that Mark was able to halfway overcome the issues in his mind this terrible time left with him.
This missionary’s name was Neil. Like many of the others in the clergy, he came after the cease-fire and the eventual treaty between Narasah and Sentria. He was said to inspire many to return to their normal lives after easing their minds with the words of faith, as well as advice that anyone of any religion could take with them. This priest’s soothing voice saved so many lives, and yet he didn’t even realize it. With his and the other holy one’s perseverance and wisdom, people like Mark who felt so lost were guided back onto a path that didn’t lead to destruction. With faith, the young man learned that he could banish doubt, and with hope, he could stomp out fear. His visit here today was to regain a little of both those things he was lacking in.
And there he was, the holy man which Mark was looking for. He was lighting the candles, for today, the monastery was getting ready for a religious address from the High Priestess. It needed to look its best if it was to be presentable to Her Grace. Lighting the candles was one of the more honorable tasks, but it also had time for freedom in talking with others. “Neil? Can I have a talk with you, briefly? I forgot you’re having a little celebrity moment here…”
“I don’t mind if we chat at all, Mark, my boy.” The priest replied, lighting one more candle before stopping to turn to him. At the time the two met by fate, he was a mere young missionary in his twenties, but how he’d gone well into his thirties and had the rank of bishop. Having such a rank allowed one to stay in one monastery of one country, helping them with whatever they needed. “What’s the matter? You look so troubled… is it the life that you’re trying to lead, I wonder? I always thought that the Colonel had such high expectations you might not be able to accomplish… not to say you’re not gifted…”
“Nah, I get what you’re trying to say.” Mark replied, shaking his head. “This isn’t about my father… it’s about my past. I still see the flashbacks. I had one on the way to school.”
“I see….” Neil looked upon the young one with the same eyes of understanding that pulled him out of a horrid situation before, lighting just one more candle. “I’m finished up here. Let’s go now… you can tell me of the nightmares you still face, young one.” Neil couldn’t help but admire the Argent child. He was strong, even in the face of all he’d witnessed. He knew it wasn’t just because of the young man’s famous father either, he was a bright mind with the set to move ahead, and wasn’t going to let anyone slow him down. Mark, much like the others though had an innocent mind that was stepped on during the war with the Narasah Empire, with full reminders on the evils man could do to one another and forgetting about the good. There were those that lost themselves completely, giving into all that was negative around them, and Neil wouldn’t let that be the child he’d saved, now a grown adult still in need of guidance.
The room that the bishops counseled their followers in was actually a lot bigger than one would think. There were mini-statues of the God and Goddess, on the left and right respectively, in case one wanted to worship on their own away from the others around the temple which all of them lived in. There were two chairs, one for the bishop designed with iron and painted to look like gold, and covered with a plush, red cushion. Neil’s desk was a fine cherry wood, carved with an ornate design of leaves on its edges. Pens and papers were scattered everywhere, for even the most highest of bishops was still stuck paper-pushing. On the wall, Mark noticed the same saying that he’d seen so many years still stuck on the walls. A little saying, “If one has faith, then even the largest of obstacles can be knocked down with ease.” Maybe today, he’d gain a bit more of the emotion he was lacking… he’d become someone worthy of his Familiar.
In this very room, so many had sat down with Father Neil and confessed their darkest dreams and deepest secrets that troubled them. The priest took his seat behind the desk in the room, made of the finest cherry wood and littered with scattered religious memos and icons. It took a cool mind like the bishop’s to listen in on the problems of the people; otherwise, they would just end up crying along with the lost Followers.
They were instead shoulders for the lost soul’s tears, willing to lend a hand whatever way they could. “Well, Mark… I want you to tell me everything. Something tells me these flashbacks are not the only things that trouble you.” muttered Neil, folding his hands together and placing them on the nicely polished desk of his. He sat upon an iron chair that was painted gold to look saintly, and a plush red cushion underneath. It was surprising that a member of clergy could look almost regal like this.
While looking upon the man he’d sought advice from for so long, Mark could only be humble. Neil, only a clergyman with no true political power had a commanding air about him… one that made others afraid to ever cross him. Holy men were not weak by any means, and even if they didn’t know combat skills, they sure knew words that could kill if they were weapons. “You’re right, Father Neil. A lot of things are on my mind now, but let’s just start with the flashbacks.” Mark said, casually with a calm tone. With these sessions he had with his religious counselor though, that didn’t last long. “Let’s see, I had a flashback yesterday, Father…” already, his composure was breaking, and the young man’s hands begun to shake.
“I remembered when I was in the bomb shelter… when it shook with the explosions of the bombs outside and… also… the gunfire… the constant gunfire…” He gasped as the image came before him, as vivid as if it were the real thing. The reporters inside the bomb shelter were in charge of reading off the living Sentinels and civilian helpers up on the surface, and even they burst into tears, betraying their own stoic camera personas when they realized that they’d lost a family member or friend. Mark remembered fearing that his parents’ names might not be in the list of survivors with each passing hour. “I… was…” his gaze averted now, with his voice shaky and eyes pooling tears. He wouldn’t dare show them to his savior. “I was… so scared I’d… lose my family. I… I didn’t want to be… an orphan in the monasteries…”
Father Neil could sure feel sympathy for anyone who’d ever experienced the horrors of war. Even though he’d come from another nation and come to Sentria as a wandering missionary hoping to become bishop in his younger years, Neil felt the sting war gave everyone all too painfully. He’d not been lucky as Mark to return home with his family. The bishop was relieved to know that he wouldn’t have to echo the words which the Father of his home’s monastery did to him. “You’ll have to live out the lives your parents couldn’t. Live out your life in a way which they’d be proud of you.”
“The fear of that loss, back then, in a time where all seemed to be uncertain was natural for you.” Neil begun, remembering his own loss and never forgetting what it was like to become an orphan due to foolish political games. “It’s even a part of life that you worry about them now, when the future could hold anything ahead of you, and there’s no telling what that might be. When you care so much about what happens to someone, it’s not bad, Mark… it means that you’ve formed a bond which no one can sever. Even after they leave to the great Destroyer, they will always remember you, and vice versa.”
“But what if I lose ‘em and then I snap..?” Mark muttered, wiping his eyes and not desiring to cry any more. He didn’t want to look like a little boy in front of one of his good role-models, but he just couldn’t help but squeeze out the salty water from his eyes. This was such a sad, depressing subject to speak about, but he was instructed to talk about whatever bugged him. “You think that I’ll be one of the crazies the Sentinels take away?”
“That won’t happen if you remember a few things, young one.” Neil said, holding up a pointer finger as if to stop any more of the bad thoughts of Mark’s mind from surfacing. The bishop was being listened to, for the blinking red eyes of his follower were watching him. He kept the kind smile he was known for. “You should remember that there are many people whom love you, Mark. That’s the first and foremost memory you should recall. They all want to see you happy… and me… I’m one of those people. I want to see you succeed in this world, and I’m sure there are others who wish to see the same. That brings me to the other thing...” said the priest. “There are those whom you have to make proud, Mark. They are the very same ones who cherish you… and if you remember that, more than anything else, you will be fine, I promise.”
“It’s true; really… when I’m trying to study for my work in the university, for instance, I tend to forget everything else.” Mark explained, now with a more level head an equally level mind of speech. “When I’m alone though, and I have a lot of free time to think, my mind goes back in the direction of my past. I see those visions in my dreams and daydreams, and I don’t even know how to stop ‘em.”
“You must remember that they are the past, young Argent.” Neil told him, with his gaze meeting Mark’s in a gesture of mutual respect. “You have to think of now, the present time. You have a mission that you have to keep in mind, a mission to make those whom care for you proud of what you’re doing. You have all the potential to meet those demands and more, and not only make loved ones happy, but also, the most important person.” He pointed to Mark. “That’s you…”
Mark nodded, with his trembling mostly stopped. When he’d first come to the priest, around the age of eleven, he was nothing but a jittering mess whom couldn’t be consoled. These sessions over the years improved him to at least be able to halfway function, something he would not have the luxury of if not for the generous missionaries. He owed them everything, so he would do as the great Father said, try to walk forward. To think of all those who wished him well, he had the strongest motivator any man could ever hope for. Mark wasn’t going to give that up, not for the world if it were offered.
“I’m really sorry about all this, Neil.” He finally said, back to the casual tone that he took when enlaced in the normal conversations of his daily life. “I’m always the one that’s coming here with the same old problems, and they never get solved. I bet you think this is really getting old.”
“No, not at all, young one…” Neil shook his head, giving out an earnest chuckle. There was no malice behind his expression, all of it being his sincere emotions. “Just believe me when I say this, dear Mark… you are not the worst of people whom have come through these doors. You forget that I’ve seen many, and you’re actually one of the best to work with. You’ve come to terms with most of the parts of your past, and that’s saying more than most could even hope for. If you keep going with this path, then you will understand… that a little faith in yourself as well as the God and Goddess will get you through the most difficult of ordeals.”
“Yeah…” Mark nodded again, agreeing with this wise one’s words. If he had the discipline for it, he would have become a missionary too, but it was far too much pressure if the Sentrian was to be dealing with more distraught war children much like him. “Oh, listen, Neil. There was something else, you were right before! Do you wanna hear it before I go? The time for me to go bolting towards the university is almost here.”
“I will hear all that you have to say, young one.” Replied Neil, keeping his hands folded and willing to have some open ears. At least he didn’t have to force the truth out of Mark unlike some of the others. Now… that was trouble in itself. Having to work around their defensive mechanisms and get into their minds, the root of the problem was a sure chore for a missionary. Sometimes, he wondered why the Sentinels weren’t in charge of this type of work, but when it dawned on him that their actions caused mental anguish, he quietly silenced the complaints regarding his duties.
“Well, there’s…” Mark decided not to tell the whole truth, as Neil would never, ever believe the idea that his young Follower was a Magician.
“There’s someone that I just met, and we’re not getting along so well. You see, he’s got… well, he knows stuff that I wanna know, and he’s kinda reluctant to tell me… I wanna prove myself worthy of knowing! How do I get to do that with people?”
“There’s only one thing that can make on trust you so much to give away their knowledge to you, Mark, and that’s good old fashioned Father Time.” Neil said, finally bringing himself to pat the young Sentrian upon his head. “No one is going to trust you instantly, no matter how great a person you are. You just have to let a few days of conversation go past, and I believe you’ll be fine. Getting to know someone through words is important, remember that.”
Only time will tell, and only time will heal. Those were words that Mark heard spoken so many times, he had no choice but to roll his eyes and believe what all the older people were saying. Although he was grown up and considered an adult, he still considered the gap between the ideals of his generation and his father’s to be too great to be compatible. Sure, they got along as people, but the way that they thought about their country was completely different. The same thing held true for both though: only time can tell how far they can go in their crusades for Sentria. It was just like the relations between him and Yaris, a night of conversation turned them from bickering to natural acquaintances. Some day, he’d become a worthy Magician, and make the imp proud as if he were always a part of the friends and family Mark Argent had all his life.
“I’m gonna keep that in mind, Father Neil, but for the meantime… I’ll head off to the university. I’ve got my evening classes today, so I won’t be seeing you until tomorrow.” Mark now begun to smile, picking up a book bag that he’d carried in the office before going to the doorway and waving towards the bishop fondly. “See ya later, Father! Good luck with the High Priestess Minerva!”
“Until the great powers above allow us to meet again… Mark Argent…” muttered Neil, he too waving a farewell as the student scurried off to the university he was to spend his afternoon and evening inside. How ignorant that this bishop was that this was the last time he’d be able to meet and greet one of his favorite Followers. His mind was on so much more though, like thinking how to be presentable towards Her Grace. Father Neil had no way of knowing how much his life was about to become very different for today, for he was so wrapped up in the present…
*****
In another place of Sentria, far away from Mark Argent, Nathaniel Argent, and Father Neil, there was a man whom was running for his life. He’d reached this middle ages and never, ever remembered going this fast away from anyone. However, there were three people pursuing him, and each of them were insanely fast. There was no way that one man whom wasn’t physically fit could outrun them for very long. Along with being outmatched by his pursuer’s strength, the running man was also outnumbered. Three to one were never good odds for anything if you were getting the short end of the stick.
The man kept running, but stopped dead in his tracks when the road came to the end of a dark alley. All around him, there were buildings in decay, left behind from when Sentria made its expansions and increased its business more towards the central city where the King resided. If the man were to scream here, no one would hear him… and he was sure that this is what his pursuers would want. He backed against the wall, staring the pursuers in the face. They were hiding in the shadows, not yet revealing what they looked like. “What… what do you want?” he asked, fright taking over all other emotions he had.
“There’s only one thing we want, Maurice Ledford.” Said one of the nameless pursuers, stepping into what little light was shed on the desolate scene of the alley. “And that’s your life. You’re a threat to Sentria’s national security, and you must be stopped.”
When Maurice first looked up, he could not believe his eyes. What he saw before him were all members of Sentria’s legendary frontline part of the army, the Sentinel’s Light Brigade. They were told to be the sharpest of the country’s defenders, and the reasons why Narasah was wiped off the map. They were disciplined, swift, and could deal a crippling blow in a matter of minutes once they understood their situations fully. They were supposed to be the first ones called on any national threat, and eliminate them with no questions to their orders or no hesitation when striking their targets. Whoever was against them was going to die.
“I’m… a national threat? I believe you’ve got the wrong person, members of the Light Brigade!” Maurice tried to plead, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’ve never done anything wrong in my entire life, and I’d never, ever commit treason! There must be a mistake, there has to be!”
“We don’t make mistakes, said the first one of them, whom was apparently the leader out of the three.” He stared at the middle-aged man with naught but cold eyes that had no more feelings left inside them. “Beta, Delta…” he told the other two. “Eliminate this national threat to our country.”
“Roger…” they both responded, aiming their rifles and both ready to shoot on command.
“Just… wait…” Maurice muttered, backing off more towards the wall, and placing a hand that looked to have a strange rune written in orange-red on it. “If you try and kill me, the whole entire city of Teris will ignite! I’ll activate this when I see you try and pull that trigger-“
And pull the trigger, they did. There was no time for whatever the man’s set-up was, for it had been once again thwarted by the mighty Light Brigade, the heroes of their beloved Sentria. All it took was one shot, but two were fired, one in each temple for good measure. This was how the most powerful and efficient military machine in Sentria worked, they would fell their targets with not much conversation, and with the greatest haste as possible. Maurice hadn’t even time for last words… they were wasted mocking them. What a wasted life in general, using that unique power of his to turn to terrorism.
“Alpha, have you felled the target?” a strict and rigid female voice came over the headphones that connected the three members of the Light Brigade back to their base in a top secret location of the Sentinel barracks.
“Yes, I have commander. We’re returning now, and soon, the mess will be cleaned up.” Alpha replied, looking back at his two associates whom were already putting the body of the terrorist whom used this odd power to obviously do harm to Teris City.
“I don’t care how many of these witches we must hunt… Alpha, Delta, Beta…” the voice told all of them. “We will eliminate all which is a threat to Sentria; no matter who it is… we will continue to bring those terrorists whom call themselves ‘Magicians…”
*****
Within the Argent manor, the imp who chose to hide in the shadows of his Magician’s book case was suddenly shaken by a sharp pain that stuck into his heart. It was similar to the feelings that humans experienced when they felt the grief of someone, only Yaris didn’t have to see someone die or even know them to feel it. This power he considered a curse was an ability all of those of the royal family possessed, it allowed them to feel whenever a Magician or Familiar passed on from the world through unnatural means. Usually, this was to warn them of danger, as the murder of either one could mean the next target was indeed royalty. Yaris didn’t feel it when natural causes like illnesses or old age took lives away, as they went with peace and it was no reason to be alarmed over.
For the first time since he arrived on this other side of the world, Yaris felt true fear taking him over.
He hadn’t been scared of going to Sunaria, the humans, or their strange ‘machines.’ What he was scared of were the twisted minds of the light basking creatures, how they could raise a blade or a fist to their own kin without as much as a second thought. Anyone whom was a stranger would be left no mercy whatsoever. The thoughts of such actions being taken up against him or even his new Magician made Yaris hug his knees tightly; regretful he couldn’t reveal himself to be consoled. He felt so pathetic, so alone, and so powerless… faced up against the worst fears he ever had in his life.
“A Magician is dead…” one of his thoughts came, the paranoia swirling around in an endless cycle. “Maybe… teaching Mark to harness the powers of the runes I’d give him is a bad idea… he’d… he’d be…” Yaris didn’t want to finish his thought. There was death that humans gave to each other quickly enough with the powers of their swift weapons called ‘guns’, and then there was… torture. He didn’t want to see either one, and didn’t think he’d feel a death when he came to the light side of the world. Weren’t they done with this barbaric treatment of each other? What was the problem of these light-basking lunatics?
The royal imp huddled himself together even closer, trembling as much as a washing machine gone haywire. “If you can… year a little imp’s thoughts, Great King Hori… then please… please don’t…” Yaris was too terrified to even finish his own thoughts, the ones that people couldn’t hear unless they somehow got into another’s mind. He shut his yellow eyes tights, as if to block out any of the images his mind threatened to conjure. The last thing Yaris Yematia wanted was for his Sentrian companion to meet a brutal end. Sure, they’d gone off on a rocky start, but even slight conversation between the two allowed them to understand one another.
The ritual of human verbal communication, although rare in most cultures in the light side of the world had proven to be effective when it came to really resolving a conflict. While it was too early to say that Yaris enjoyed having Mark as his lifelong partner, he knew that he didn’t truly dislike him as he first thought. There was something about the Sentrian that made him think that people whom were sun dwellers weren’t generally bad. He hadn’t tried to do those horrible things which humans were rumored to do, meaning all the textbooks had stereotypical rubbish. There was evil in them, sure, but Yematia refused to tell the other darklings that there was also good in those on this side. Yaris knew that good side was within his Magician, and he’d come home to give him more of his odd food. Maybe if he had faith, all would turn out well.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:06 am
Chapter 4: A Homeland’s Guardians
The night which Yaris had the fearful tremors, Mark had come home from his evening classes in just enough time to speak to him before the young man went to bed. He’d wondered why his Familiar was trembling so, and decided to discuss things with the obviously terrified imp. Although they had not once touched physically during the course of Mark trying to play the role of Father Neil in being the calm-headed mediator, the Sentrian could tell that he was at least reaching his Familiar within his mind. Much like his own tremors, Yaris’s subsided when hew as reassured that nothing bad was ever going to happen to either of them, because Arnold was the sharpshooter behind all the cameras in the oddly placed security tower. Even if it had been a sleepless night for Mark, he was glad he was doing good deeds in the life of someone whom was bound to him by contract.
But over the time that passed, the issue of the two being bound by a contract had been all but forgotten. With each passing day, Yaris and Mark were becoming more open with one another, and the first basics of rune-swapping were practiced in the wilderness where no one could bother them or much less see a human with what would look like to others as… what Mark described Yaris at first: a strange person. The rune swapping was a simple process. Magician and Familiar took the same position of kneeling and folding their hands, pointing them towards the earth and concentrated. The Magician saw the letters which were the magical runes, and when he called their names, they did what he asked of them.
The spells which Mark had learned this way came in the form of making inanimate objects invisible (making one oblivious if he were carrying a weapon, for instance), levitation, for if one was cornered and ever in a pinch, and of course, the basic magical art that Familiars and Magicians the worlds over knew: disguise. Mark wanted to know the more advanced spells, like those that could blind, dull the senses, or even cause a knockout upon impact, but Yaris told him in his own way to master the basics before moving onto the more advanced combinations of runes in the imp’s language.
Throughout their lessons, Mark never forgot that he’d promised his Familiar to learn the magic of making portals. He wanted to take Yaris to his home he missed so terribly still, and he wanted to see Queen Nisha in the flesh. Every once in a while, Mark would notice his Familiar talking about her fondly, and he would wonder how he’d get more determination to finally be given the runes to that spell. All the time he spent, it was trying to prove himself worthy gaining more knowledge and more trust. It was starting to go well, however.
The life Mark had with the others in his life, his Parents, his instructors like Mr. Scion, Micheal and the others whom were in the bomb shelter, all of these were never (and would never) be completely forgotten. He’d continued to be diligent in his studies, read more of his books, and do all the things he enjoyed doing, while still working very hard for all of these joys. There was nothing else he could ever ask for in his life, and the welcome change that he’d been asking the great Creator for had finally come true.
Nathaniel continued his struggles to make his business a more profitable one, and at the same time was careful not to pass the costs onto his loyal customers. The last thing he needed was for his successful airline going under because he was making the lives of his fliers miserable. No matter how hard the path was before him, he wouldn’t give up, and he wasn’t alone. Beside him he had his beloved Juliana, who did her best as a surgeon to save and ease the lives with so many ailments in Teris City. Medicine was by no means perfect, but her smile always lit up anyone’s day.
Time at the dinner table had become a little less tense, with Mark always telling a story of this mysterious new friend of his that they weren’t allowed to meet yet. When Juliana asked once if her son had made this person up, the only gesture that came was a shake of the young Argent’s head. There was no way that he could make up the stories of his friend the street magician who taught him tricks, because he was just too real and outrageous to even think about otherwise. Yaris would be insulted if he heard that Mark was calling him a Magician and a human, but for now, this is what he had to do in order to cover up the strange meetings he was going to have with a person that none of the security guards of the manor or his family had even heard of. The reason Mark gave that Yaris wouldn’t meet them was that he was a foreigner from Narasah, and terribly edgy around even former Sentinels. However, he was to be trusted, he told his family and friends… for Mark had gotten to finally know him.
It was so hard to believe that throughout all these exciting events that happened in his life, four months had passed by in the blink of an eye. While the semester was going smoothly, it was almost time to be over, and the Sentrian Winter Break to start. They had two long weeks of playing in the snow, helping the service workers decorate the city, and making donations to their local Sentinel Auxiliary Corps, the only civilian division of the Sentinels which gave their proceeds to the Monastery Charities and their men and women in uniform. Soon, it might be too cold to go outside and have Magician lessons in an isolated area of wilderness.
When Mark thought of the Monastery of recent days though, he noticed that something important was definitely missing. For at least a month now, he hadn’t noticed Father Neil in the Monastery once. He wanted to tell him so much, and the man was nowhere to be seen! Had he resigned his bishop status to become a wandering missionary again, leaving Sentria behind? When he asked the others, there were no answers from them, no matter what day he came on. It made him slightly worried for one of the people he loved, but his fast-paced life distracted him from the worries for now.
On the days he feared the worst, he’d ventured to the cemetery for all the bishops whom had passed onto the Great Beyond. They never, ever had unmarked graves (they gave names to people if they were nameless when they passed on, usually common names), so he would know if Neil’s stone had been erected in the times that he wasn’t around the monastery. So far, much to Mark’s relief, there were no tombstones bearing the Father’s name. He was still missing though, and there were still no answers coming from anyone. Mark would have looked into it; he really would have, if he didn’t know better. But the youth had read about these things in books and seen them played out in movies: the one who knows too much always got the short end of the stick. If you knew too much, you didn’t get any second chances, you were done.
So for now, he wouldn’t look further into it. Mark wouldn’t let the fact that someone he knew so well left without a word, because it was not his place to look for missing people; it was the Sentinels’. Even though they specialized in national defense, there was an entire division of them dedicated to watching over the individual cities. These people were the Sentinel’s militia, whom had all the respect and authority of the military, except on a local level. If he came home another night from the university to discover the situation hadn’t changed, he’d get them involved for sure. Mark was not about to risk his life in a hopeless situation he likely knew nothing about. He was called ‘bright’ for more than the reason of having good textbook scores; the young man had common sense.
When it came for time for him to meet Yaris after school, his mind did not look quite as eased as it should have been. Sure, he made up his mind to not pursue Neil foolishly on his own, but that didn’t mean that he was comfortable with the decision made by common sense. There was a friend of his missing, for goodness sake, he should be distraught, but he wasn’t! Did that mean Mark was heartless, or that he just didn’t want to tell everyone that he was ashamed about being powerless to help the bishop whom was likely in trouble? He couldn’t find the answer on his own, and Yaris could sense that he was pained within his mind.
“You better talk to me, right now, Mark.” The Familiar said, crossing his arms and glaring daggers towards his Magician. “I thought we were passed that stage where we’re clammed up tighter than a portal’s seal. I don’t want it to be one of those situations where you snap and start firing spells off at other humans, because I’m not sticking up for you.”
“No, I’m not gonna snap, Yaris.” Mark shook his head but not once looking away from the imp. He’d face Yaris’s scorn much like he did anyone else, to show that he was listening and respecting them. “Something’s bugging me. I noticed it for a while, but whenever I ask people, they just shake their heads and tell me that nothing’s wrong.”
“So, people are being deceitful, is that it?” Yaris yawned, all too used to these stories he’d heard from other Familiars or the researchers on Human subjects. It was so unsurprising that it made the imp very bored to hear these stories. “Are any of the liars close to you?” The fanged smile appeared, and only Yaris’s eyes could be called ‘innocent’. “If they are personally close to you, then you can always threaten silence. That worked with you plenty.”
“We’re not supposed to be proud of stuff like that!” Mark shouted, unleashing his anger by kicking the air as hard as he could, which wasn’t that hard. It was better than unleashing magical types of fury, he decided, and he wasn’t about to harm others taking his frustrations out on them. His problems were his alone, he wouldn’t drag anyone else down unless they chose to ask. “And if they’re really my friends, my trusted bishops, and my family, wouldn’t they tell me without being bribed?”
“You expect other humans to be honest?” Yaris now found that he could only laugh, and not stop for a second. He knew that this was rude and mocking, and hardly acceptable behavior when it came to an emotionally distressed human like Mark, but it seemed like this young Magician had so much more to learn. “You should be at an age right now where you just know that this world is full of liars. There are people who lie to other individuals, there’s the advertisements claiming you ‘need’ a luxury, and there are the awful superiors that claim everything is going fine…” Yaris snapped his fingers. “And then, BOOM, you’re done for.”
“But those people all lie to gain something.” Mark replied, not in the mood to be shouting as his Familiar was. “There’s nothing that the bishops and missionaries can gain by telling me nothing about Neil’s disappearance! And why haven’t they gone and called in the Militia either? What’s going on here, Yaris… can’t you sense it? Aren’t you an imp?”
“I’m an imp, that’s right.” Yaris told him, and then he shook his head dismally. “… I’m not an Oracle though, Mark. Only they could find out exactly where a person was, and what condition they were in. I’m surprised your great machines cannot locate the one you’re looking for.”
“I wanna find out the truth…” said Mark, and then he too looked as if he were falling into the pits of despair. “But I’m not a Sentinel, and I’m not even a civilian who knows the basic arts of self-defense! If there’s a criminal mastermind behind all this, then I’d be caught in the middle of a situation I’d only get one outcome for!”
“Well, at least you’re somewhat… logical about it.” Yaris muttered, reading all too many of the human fantasy novels where the heroes would rush into an enemy fortress full of trained professional guards, somehow wipe them out without so much as the lift of a finger, and climb up to the highest room in the tallest tower and free the hostage of an antagonist. He just knew that the real word did not work that way, it couldn’t. “But you also look like you’re giving up already! That’s not the Magician I swapped my runes to, is it? I don’t think so.”
“You’re contradicting yourself, Yaris!” Mark accused, pointing a finger towards his Familiar now with his own scorn behind it. “First you say that I’m being logical, but then you tell me not to give up… so which is it? And… what do you think has happened… do you think… Neil…”
“He was possibly taken, yes.” Yaris nodded, finishing his Magician’s thought before he could speak it. “I don’t understand the reason why, but humans take other humans hostage for ransom, for mating…”
“Enough!” Mark shook his head, not ever wanting to get those images in his mind again. Sometimes, his Familiar did not know when to draw lines when it came to talking about the negative sides of Mark’s culture.
“Sitting here thinking about what happened isn’t going to change anything! I don’t even want to think about if that’s what’s being done either! Yaris, I just want to find him. For the Creator’s sake, he’s a man who saved my life. I owe him everything. If it wasn’t for Father Neil, I wouldn’t be sane. I’d be locked up and they woulda swallowed the key!”
“I understand what he means to you.” Yaris nodded, looking as if the imp were actually listening for a change. It took a lot to get him to listen, but when another person spoke views so similar to his own, and when they were in trouble, he could not stay quiet. Even if Mark wasn’t the one whom was ‘taken’ as the Yematian theorized, it felt like his mind had suffered abduction. He could tell the Sentrian’s thoughts were drifting to another place far, far away from the present time and day unlike his normal self. “But on the same token, we don’t even know where to start looking for him. I don’t have sensing magic, neither do you. There’s no way that Nisha would let me regulate a portal to Yematia for this, we’re not supposed to screw around with natural occurrences in your side of the world.”
“So there’s really nothing we can do…” Mark muttered in a resigned tone, now leaning against a tree with all the feelings of hopelessness overtaking him. He’d done all he could do… he’d asked the other clergy members, dialed his phone number, looked around Father Neil’s study and his office, and there were just no traces of him at all. The paperwork he filled out for the upcoming Winter Charity was in a neat stack, untouched. He always tried to do all those forms at once, so if he were there recently, they’d be scattered about the fine desk like leaves on the ground. When Mark tried asking Yaris, the answer was a definite no, and there was no traveling to Yematia for this circumstance either. “I understand… this is my personal matter, no need to involve the world.” He thought.
Yet now, Mark felt like the world was against him. The person who’d taken his mind back from the abyss of the horrors of war was now lost. He wouldn’t bother asking his father; he was retired from the Sentinels. Arnold and the other Guards were busy defending the manor, and Micheal was a civilian whom knew even less than he did. At this point, the bright Argent felt like he’d gone dim in the midst of a problem. There was no way to move forward without any options to get one’s feet in the shoes to walk that direction. There was one thing that he was praying for now that he needed the most… (A little faith always did the trick for him), Mark Argent needed a miracle from both the great Creator and Destroyer.
“You’re thinking even deeper, I can see.” Yaris said, interrupting any thoughts (and desperate hopes) in his Magician’s mind. “That’s such an interesting part of your kind of people, Mark. When it looks like you’re goin’ through everything, you start to get your mind working. It’s amazing, it really is!”
“I’m only thinking… and praying, but I’ve got nothing, Yaris…” Mark muttered, his eyes peering at the ground in defeat. “I can’t do anything personally, and I know it. I can’t just sit by and wonder. I have to do something, there has to be a way…”
“You did say we wouldn’t just find it sitting here like a couple of rocks.” Yaris said, but for once, his mind was brimming with the power of reason. He knew when a task was beyond him, but at the same time, he wanted to help his Magician. He wasn’t sure if logic or honor was stronger at the moment. Both were struggling, pulling at him and sooner or later, one side would give in. Right now, honor, duty, and even friendship towards his Magician were winning this tug-of-war in Yaris’s mind. “Contact this ‘Militia of yours, and I’ll follow you in the shadows. Ask them to come… and we’ll do this together, as partners. How’s that sound?”
“Yeah, I like that idea a lot.” Mark nodded, and the two of them finally decided to rise up and do something about their problem. The both of them had gained the desire to change, so it was surely to come their way, no matter what happened next.
*****
In Yematia, unrest seemed to be filtering from the Sunaria side of the world into their dark counterparts. In the world where the night’s moon only shone, both civil fears and criminal activity were on the rise. With the royal imp clan all feeling the sting in their hearts from recent deaths of Familiars and Magicians alike in Sunaria, there was a great fear coming over all like a mist, making the anxiety more evident on the faces of darklings all across the country. With Queen Nisha having the brunt of the pain from the recent incidents, there had been little time for any royal action regarding those on the other side of the law taking advantage of a time of crisis.
But the members of the Winged Watchmen wouldn’t see the thieves, the moonshiners, or the smugglers prevail. As long as the head hawk, Admiral Jirian Soarwing was in charge, there would be no such thing as “anarchy’ to be spoken of. When one heard the name “Soarwing”, they’d usually run (or fly sometimes) for cover, not that it would do them any good. This hawk’s eyes were sharper than the tip of his talons, which were famed to be some of the deadliest registered weapons in all of Yematia. The bird’s mighty wings carried him with rapid speed to anywhere, making it ideal for him to make his famous stunning blow with the dirk-sharp talons at the ends of his toes. Some found it hard to believe that a bird of pray patrolled the city with his flock, but others weren’t going to question Nisha’s judgment in choosing this lot to keep Lunaria safe.
Now, Jirian Soarwing didn’t have scars in places where they’d render him useless. He’d heard stories from the old war hawks’ about their battles and their historic wounds they got near their eyes, on their wings, or they’d even go showing off missing digits which were once the mighty talons of a bird of prey. The leader of the Winged Watchmen didn’t find this at all ‘romantic’ or ‘heroic’; he found it foolish to be scarred in areas that would debilitate him. When in a fight, he’d use extreme caution to keep his eyes. To be a truly efficient sir or madam in the forces of Yematia’s finest, one had to avoid such follies and fight with the best of their natural born abilities. Those in this battle-hardened Admiral’s flock knew the lecture well. “Whatever you do, keep your wings wide, your eyes sharp, and your talons even more! Do all these things, and you’ll make the greatest criminal hunters of all history!”
Soaring into action at his Admiral’s side was Vice Admiral Rimoke Talonstrike. This large bird had been fearsomely named “Eagle Eye”, partly because he was literally the lone eagle in the entire force of the Watch. His eyes were said to see into the longest distances, and even the smallest shapes were magnified to their full size from the high altitudes which he flew in. Although the stories said that he was a ruthless predator due to his size and the size of his talons and beak (they were even bigger than his commanding officer’s), he was a laid-back eagle who didn’t like to cause that much trouble. He only wished to stop it, so this profession was perfect for him. When he wasn’t flying into the line of duty, Rimoke was one who liked flapping his wings for leisure, jokes amongst his lady and gentlemen Watch, and the company of lady eagles.
At the moment though, he was on-duty, so he was staying focused on the mission at hand. He was to scout forward with his sight that gave him the title of his Admiral’s “eyes” and report anything unusual. Anyone who wondered how birds spoke to each other besides the cries they made, and in Yematia, they had the magic to speak to each other if they were close enough with thoughts. It was just like talking, only they thought the words. “I don’t see anything suspicious down there, Admiral Soarwing,” said Rimoke. “But King Hori knows that we might’ve been duped again with another hoax, while the real crime is happening right underneath our beaks!”
“Another darkness forsaken hoax?” the Admiral would have shouted if he had a vocal cord to do so, but instead ended up giving out a shrill hawk’s cry. It must have echoed all the way through the ranks of his flock. “I swear, when I get my talons on the nestling behind these prank calls to the Winged Watchmen, I’ll make ‘em wish they’d never been hatched!”
“I heard that down here, Admiral.” A female voice warned him slightly, but not too severely. “If you’re always raising such a fuss, I can’t use my ears to hear what’s below, can I? Maybe if I get close enough, I can figure out who’s plotting these hoaxes.”
The voice belonged to Rear Admiral Osiris Swiftbeak, another hawk in the service of Yematia’s flying defenders. She was one of the few lady hawks that had joined the service, but she had her reasons for choosing such an honorable profession. Most birds of prey found their lifelong mates, and lived to raise their eggs up until they hatched. The nestlings grew, flew from the nest and lived on their own… and it was around this time that a female bird of prey went for a long flight to decide what to do with her life. Most decided that hunting alongside their mates was a good thing to do the rest of their lives, but Osiris wanted so much more.
When it came for the exams that came half-yearly for the Winged Watchmen, Osiris couldn’t be stopped from her decision to try. It was during the field test that she discovered the gift she had of extraordinary hearing, making out sounds that were twice the normal field of hearing for a hawk. On the job, she heard far more lawless Yematians and their devious plots, and was able to ensure they were put in the proper place. With her talents and hard work, she rose in the ranks to be the left wing of Admiral Soarwing, gaining the rank of Rear Admiral and respect amongst many races of Yematia’s birds. Over a long time that went by so fast, Osiris, Rimoke, and Jirian had all become the closest amongst the Watch, many stories portraying them as the most inseparable comrades-in-arms.
“Well, Osiris, did you hear anything else besides our Admiral’s slip of tongue?” Rimoke jabbed. He would have smiled, but beaks weren’t designed for smiling.
“Our targets are down there.” Osiris answered, taking a gaze down to signal where she was referring to.
There was unrest in all of Yematia, yes, but the main culprits behind it were a group of notorious criminals that gave themselves the name “Shadow Walkers.” They were said to use illegal portals between worlds set up by the infamous Aeron Smugglers, and they would both take items from the light world and go as far as to deal in Sunaria arms. Technology had lots of weapons which Yematia had not even thought of developing, so it gave the criminals more confidence that they were using ‘advanced’ artillery. They were fools that would end up on the wrong end of those firearms they so loved buying and selling, because that was the way black market dealers ran their business.
It was the duty of the Winged Watchmen among many other duties to make sure that these dealers were not only put off the streets, but reformed into being more responsible, law-abiding citizens of their nation. While in the old days, criminals were looked upon with disgrace and punished, today’s laws gave them chances to redeem themselves and make a new life where they didn’t live on the edge of a dangerous blade. They were spared to not only think about what they did wrong, but also ways to make it right again.
But the Shadow Walkers were quite a difficult group to impose this kind of order upon. Time and time again, they’d been stubborn fools with only the mindset for crime and more crime, never thinking the ‘normal’ life as something they’d name appealing. That’s what life was all about to these kinds of darklings lived for, the thrill of battle, thrill of the heist, and thrill of life on the run. While most felt shame for what they did after realizing the people they hurt, the Shadow Walkers and all who followed them swore by oath that they’d achieve their individual missions, no matter what the cost happened to be.
If the reports weren’t a hoax, then this one of the four bosses named Gemuto of the Shadow Walkers was said to be an accomplice in a larger arms deal that was going on, leading to the targeting and death of many Magicians and Familiars with in Sunaria. Now, Gemuto was not anyone’s average darkling, he knew how to shift into other forms, giving him his classical nickname amongst his group “Shifter.” He thought himself entirely above the law, and not below the act of basically selling his fellow darklings for cold hard gold. Selling out of one’s own kind would only mean that they discarded the ‘foolish’ morals long ago.
Those which helped the Shifter gain his wealth were all mere pawns that were never told his true meaning behind his schemes. They much less didn’t care because they got a ‘large’ part of the whole sum that their superior was gaining. However, the fact remained that they were practically lied to in their faces, and if they knew the truth behind the little tasks each of them performed, they’d think twice about doing them. Rimoke once told his superior that if they were to ever find out the true meaning of the Boss’s objectives, they’d at the very least go stark raving mad.
This flight they took over something Osiris’s ears spotted meant one of the first of many wing flaps it would take for the winged defenders of Yematia to stop the Shifter Gemuto and possibly stall Shadow Walker operations in general. Any of those in flight right now would like to see this as the beginning of the end for at least the Gemuto and his part of the crime syndicate. “Well, we should give our target a proper greeting, shouldn’t we? If we’re nice, he’ll tell us nice and easy where our friend the Shifter ran off to.” Rimoke spoke only in the range of Jirian and Osiris, as to not get his subordinates too excited to concentrate. He knew how this group of flyboys and winged girls could get, and it was best to save their bravado for the actual confrontation, not a moment before.
“Your eyes and Osiris’s ears have never failed me, Rimoke.” said Jirian, just one time addressing his comrades by their first name, bird-to-bird. “We’re moving out…” he said to his right and left wing Officers before addressing the others in his flock with a hawk’s prideful cry. “Listen up, everyone! The target before us has been confirmed as a Shadow Walker making a deal to avoid us! I want you all to use your best judgment, as the enemy knows our strengths and weaknesses well. If I’m caught up in a trap down there by those buzzards…” he used the term loosely, truly meaning ‘criminals’. “I want you to follow Vice Admiral Talonstrike and his instructions. For now, we need to take the V formation and circle the area as if you ruffians are on patrol! You should act like you don’t know anything about what’s going on until I charge, and when I pin the target down, surround him!”
“Yes sir!” the entire fleet of falcons, smaller hawks and even the two high officers of Admiral Soarwing answered with their own tribal cries, before taking the formation that was in fact, shaped like the letter V. Any normal Yematian citizen would have indeed guessed that they were just on the normal patrol, and that all was well, but anyone who knew how the current Admiral ran the Winged Watchmen also knew that this was the mere calm before the storm that would be his immobilizing strike from the air.
And there it was coming. If anyone would have blinked, they would have missed the spectacle that was Jirian Soarwing in action. In a very fast downward motion that went by so rapid that normal eyes could barely make it out, the Admiral gripped the shoulders of the criminal and forced him face first into the soil below him. As if on cue, the other birds came gradually flying down from the sky. Ordinary civilians, knowing that this was a Watch blockade were very careful to scatter out of the way of official business. Now the defenders of Yematia had the lawless citizen completely helpless, surrounded, and at their mercy. Today would be the day which truths would come forward, and the lies would be cast aside like the useless facts they were. Today, the so-called rules of nature would be reversed, and a small mountain lion’s cub would be submitting to the one he was normally supposed to dominate in nature: a bird of prey.
“There are two ways of doing this, young’un.” Admiral Soarwing said, holding the cub firmly in place with his talons and not budging an inch.
“You’re either gonna tell me everything you know, or I’m gonna force it out of you. I’ve got ways of preventing you from silencing yourself too.”
“You… heard me talking to Master Gemuto, didn’t you?” the cub replied. He would have given one of those defeated laughs had he been able to do so. “It’s too bad you couldn’t see what form he took to blend in with the crowds. Who knows, he might be among you now, he might even be your Eagle eyes!”
Rimoke called out in disdain, and he watched with joy as his superior pressed his hold on the mountain lion cub even harder. “I’d watch your mouth if I were you, youngster. You realize what kinda situation you’re in? Now, tell me everything! What are the Shifter’s plans, his real plans… if you know them. If not… at least tell me what your assignment was, boy! Speak!”
The mountain lion shut his eyes, realizing that he had no other options left but to confess all he could to the Watch. The Shifter wouldn’t save any of his troops if they were to make a blunder, because that would mean risking his own hide. It had even been an oath in the Shadow Walkers that once they were caught, then they were likely done for. Being captured was the same was blundering on a mission: whatever darkling failed paid the price. It didn’t help that there was pressure coming in the form of the Watch’s eyes, as if they were piercing down into the young cubs very soul and not letting it escape their field of vision for a second. They were always vigilant… always…
“I’m gonna tell you the one thing that I know… and that’s what my boss’s up to.” said the Mountain Lion, in a resigned tone under the weight of both the gazes and the talons of Soarwing. “But I’m gonna tell you this right now, I don’t know why he’s done it. I think it’ll lead to the doom of us all, but life in Yematia’s tough when the Familiars and the royalty get spoiled with all their little wishes.” He gave a piercing glare towards his captor before he finally begun. “All the theories you probably got about him wanting to deal arms with the light world are true. The people in Sunaria are using our spell runes to give themselves stealth, and they’re using it to wipe out Magicians and Familiars. Like I said, I don’t know why, but pretty soon, the do-gooder humans will find him out just like you found me out.”
All had been revealed to the Winged Watchmen, almost willingly by the one that they held captive. There were mixed reactions amongst Yematia’s finest, feelings of fear, doubt, anger, and even the resolve to stop the criminals from their atrocious activities. What was going on was beyond words or cruelty, it was genocide. They were picking just the Magicians and Familiars for execution without a trial, no less! This was one of the most heinous crimes to have ever been committed, and both sides of the world were responsible. If Osiris’s ears didn’t reach this young cub speaking to his boss, then they might not have been on this first step to attempt stopping the Shadow Walkers whom had gone way too far.
But there was no use in dwelling on what could have happened if one thing changed. Admiral Soarwing was going to focus on the present, and what needed to be done in order to put this criminal activity to a screeching halt. He wouldn’t see the city, the country he loved so much and the clear skies free of pollution turn into a fruit that had rotted at the core. No matter what he had to do, Jirian was going to save the Familiars and Magicians. They were Yematians as well, there needed to be something done to keep the lot of them safe.
Rimoke gave orders to some of the Falcon wardens to take away their prisoner for now, but to make sure and treat him with civility as he was still so young. He couldn’t believe that this kind of deal was really being made right under their beaks all this time! How could he, the ‘Eagle Eyes’ Vice Admiral Swiftbeak have missed such a crucial detail, and how long had he missed it? He’d never know, but maybe finding out wasn’t a good question to ask. All that was important was that he had to now join in the efforts of thwarting the Shadow Walkers’ latest show of power.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:07 am
Chapter 5: Move Out!
After learning of such dastardly plans at the hands of the Shadow Walkers, the top three officers amongst the Winged Watchmen were none too pleased. While this group of criminals had a history of underhanded business, they’d never been put on the level to actually give the information of the world’s beloved Familiars to people who’d use it to kill them. These were the facts though, and the one thing that Admiral Soarwing knew was that he wasn’t going to stand by and let the syndicate get away with things. They were going to go forward, and put a stop to them, no matter what they had to do.
More orders were needed to be given, but Jirian Soarwing stopped the speech he was going to give from the perch he sat upon outside the birds’ wooden watch tower. There were multiple layers of this tower, and the highest was for those watching the tower itself. Those on the lower four layers awaited deployment, except for when they were called to an assembly by their commanding officer, right now, where they’d perch themselves on trees and nearby buildings forged in magic. All eyes would be on the Admiral’s perch, waiting for him to speak, but the speech had to wait. There were messengers on the way.
These two weren’t just any messengers, either. They were a pair of owls, both of them brown and with the large eyes that looked to stare into a person’s soul. Since they hatched nearly the same second, they were considered ‘twins’ and the two had eerily similar personalities. It was said that their gaze and the sounds of their ‘hoots’ alone was enough to make anyone confess the wrongs they’d done, so these twins, Kudon and Mujon Whoo, earned the position of interrogators.
These twins belonged to a race that was normally drawn to crime, however. With their ability to make people do and say what they want, the owls made fantastic swindlers, smugglers, and dealers of the illegal substance, Ether that was said to be mixed with magic spells and light world herbs to make a powerful hallucination effect, along with the increased strength and awareness. The Ether was what made most of the ‘night owls’ their profits, and even the twins’ parents had been involved in this terrible business.
Kudon and Mujon were both very lucky that almost shortly after the two were hatched barely a second apart, Vice Admiral Rimoke Talonstrike had conducted a raid on the place with several other falcons behind him to put the two criminals away, and place their nestlings in the loving home of their ex-con grandparents, whom had learned the error of their ways and decided to reform their lives. When they were told the story of how they were rescued from an Ether house and their rather irresponsible parents, the twins remembered the eagle’s name, sought him out, and decided to serve him for as long as they could as repayment. That never erased the terror they managed to strike into many though, for their faces, their ‘hoots’ and their eyes were said to glare into a soul and expose all it secrets. They had learned from Rimoke personally how to appear fierce, and that only added to their value as officers within the Watch.
“I have… news for you three…” said Kudon, beginning the sentence addressing his superiors, and then his twin chimed in gleefully to finish it.
“Yes, we both have news for you! You’ll be most pleased by this, sir.” Finished Mujon.
“What is it, Mujon and Kudon… is it something that’s going to help us on the case?” wondered Osiris Swiftbeak. “If you want me to be honest, I know we don’t have the force to run a desired sting operation outside the homes of all the Magicians and Familiars in the ‘light’ side of the world. We don’t even have those kinds of numbers if we just give out one bird per location.”
“We figured out some more information from the Shifter’s friend!” cheered Mujon, letting out an excited ‘hoot’ as he flew around the group for one circle. “You see…”
“We found out that they aren’t doing this randomly, they’re targeting people with plans. The Shifter gives these… humans the locations and such for gold, and then they strike the Familiars and Magicians once they find out who they are.” Kudon nodded, remembering all that their deep eyes and ominous ‘voices’ could truly penetrate one’s mental defenses.
“I want you to tell me everything!” Admiral Soarwing exclaimed, flapping his wings once in the motions of demand towards the twins. “What’s the next location they’re going after, and is there a pattern? Why would they do this…”
“They never said ‘why’, but I don’t think that matters.” Mujon replied, shaking his head from side to side. “But as for who they’re targeting, it’s very interesting, and disturbing, yes…”
Kudon chimed in to finish his twin’s thoughts once again. “… the target they’re seeking is by two names: the Magician Mark Argent and the Familiar of Yaris ti Yematia. The pattern is simple, before they were just flaunting their strength to show us here that they were actually capable of going that far.”
“You mean to say that… they’re going around targeting the Royal Imp Family?” Rimoke asked the question, and was only answered with a nod from the twins. There was outrage amongst the three officers, and the various smaller hawks and falcons below whom were watching the scene that was going on in the perch in front of them. What was happening in their eyes was unacceptable to all of them. As an eagle, it was hard for Rimoke to understand why someone would sell out their own kind. They’d worked hard to get Yematia to what it was, and it was those who dealt in the underground that were ruining this country.
Rear Admiral Swiftbeak felt a more personal connection to the revelation. As a mother who’d raised three eggs into stunning young adult hawks, she knew what it was like when a blood relative was in danger. She imagined her liege Queen Nisha feeling that way, so hopeless until she’d see Yaris safe. Osiris vaguely remembered the oldest of her nestlings being a troublemaker much like an imp, but neither of the two had a knack for being criminals. They’d do harmless pranks, want to play with friends more than study in how to be one of their species, but they were always respectful when it really meant something. “What part of the sunlit world are our enemy’s targets?” asked the Rear Admiral. “If we get going fast, we can stop them from becoming victims of the Shadow Walkers.”
“I remember that it’s the direct opposite of our own homeland...” replied Kudon.
“Sentria…” said Admiral Soarwing, now a look of determination in his eyes showing to all whom were gathered in front of the Admiral’s Perch for his talk to them. The fact that there was now a royal imp at stake now changed the outlook he had for this mission. If there were just random targets, he’d take it as the group of organized gang members just flaunting their strength. However, the fact that Yaris ti Yematia was targeted meant it was only a matter of time before the Shadow Walkers moved to larger acts of terrorism, within the world of dark, no less. “We have to assemble a flock to fly onto Sentria, my fine birds!” he shouted to the crowd of his subordinates, again letting out the proud hawk’s cry. He watched it echo back at him from his ranks, elated to have such fine ladies and gentlemen in the service of Lunaria’s defense.
“Now I ask you…” his head looked at every last one of the hopeful flyboys and girls out there ready to glide. “Who’s with me? I’ll take a squad of six alongside me!”
Vice Admiral Talonstrike and Rear Admiral Swiftbeak both wanted to join their commanding officer in this fine crusade, but the two of them knew better than to leave the capital city, Lunaria completely defenseless. Gemuto, the Shifter likely had a plan involving the three of them being together, where he’d strike Yematia in the lack of strong leadership amongst the Watch. It was up to the eagle and his lady hawk comrade to ensure that order was kept in a place where the Queen had all but fallen ill due to the sting darkling’s deaths in the light world had upon her. They’d do all they can to protect their homeland and their liege.
The portal that the Admiral and his chosen squad of six others were forming slowly, but they were using the natural amount of magic allowed to be used for such a thing. Regulations were there for a reason, they weren’t to be trifled with or nature itself would go haywire. While they were busy distracted with this task, while the other Watch flew into scattered directions of Lunaria, a figure was hiding in the shadows and listening in on it all. This figure was a garuda, his upper part looking human while his waist and feet showed the talons of a bird… and dark wings spreading from his back. This bird-like man had been an eternal rival of Admiral Soarwing, because he was one of the most successful smugglers in the country of Yematia. His name was Aeron, a black-winged, calculating individual.
Any other time, Aeron would have taken the chance to have an honorable duel with his hawk rival. The two had a bit of history together, for they were always in the elusive game of ‘cat and mouse.’ While Jirian Soarwing had always chased Aeron and his group of smugglers, they’d found some way to get one step ahead of him. In the end, the law men were always outsmarted, they always would be, because they took it upon themselves to play by the rules and take their time with everything.
But being a rival didn’t mean that Aeron the garuda was without respect to the Admiral at all. When he’d eavesdropped on the owl twins’ revelation that the Shadow Walkers meant to target a royal imp, it changed everything. “This is not just an innocent game of cat and mouse anymore. This is terrorism and murder! They’re using the portals my siblings and I know how to make quicker than the do-gooders so they can get to the humans and sell their lives! This is despicable!” thought Aeron, in disgust at the very thought of darklings selling out others of their kind.
The main reason that Aeron and his siblings had become smugglers in the first place is because they recognized a flaw in what looked to anyone else like a ‘perfect’ system for running Yematia. Only the Familiars, the privileged chosen ones of the Oracles got to experience both sides of the world. Everyone else whom was just an ordinary darkling got left out of the experience, and never got to see the sunlight or any of the wondrous human inventions that came to be in that side.
He saw it as his personal duty to bring equality amongst the darklings by bringing them the joys of the ‘light world’, no matter if he had to do it illegally or not. He loved to see the faces light up when they’d listen to the battery-powered music players. He adored it when he saw nestlings playing with the otherworldly toys and having the joy that they’d never have just playing ‘survival.’ The smugglers as a whole had a good objective, and would not let this be smeared by the Shadow Walkers’ wishes for their powers.
“Yo, Aeron…” another Garuda greeted him. This one was slightly taller than the smuggler leader, with a head of crimson hair, red wings, and a ruby underside that still had the sharp bird’s talons at the feet. His eyes looked of that of a battle-hardened warrior, hard and cold… and his face had a jagged scar right underneath his left eye. “What are you holdin’ back for? Your ‘rival’ lawman was right there, and you didn’t challenge him! Didn’t you say when ya met him again, ya were gonna settle things for good? I thought that’s what ya wanted to do; it would at least give us a good excuse to be late for another meeting with the Shadow Walkers.”
“Hush, will ya Dagan?” A harsh female voice said to him, that of a harpy (which was a female garuda.) She too had a head of red, cropped down short just to the end of her neck. It was wild and hardly brushed, just like the speaker’s unruly spirit. With a pair of red wings and the same red underside as the previous speaker to Aeron, it was more than obvious whom she was related to. “Don’cha know that our bro here’s tryin’ to come up with a plan again? King Hori knows ya ain’t the brains of this operation!” As she shrieked, the silver hoped earrings (another smuggled gift) dangled subtlety.
“What are ya trying to say, Mishraka…” Dagan was really about to fight his own sister, his wings raised aggressively and about to position for a strike. When he was about to take to the air, a firm hand was placed on both his and his sister’s shoulders.
“… That is enough, you two.” Aeron said firmly to his younger siblings, and they just nodded in unison. They knew better than to disobey the oldest of the three, the one who came up with the idea of them being smuggler masterminds in the first place. Whatever he wished, they went along with; there was no contest to him. “Calm down… and listen. We can’t return to do business with the Shadow Walkers…”
“Can’t do business with ‘em..?” interrupted Mishraka, crossing her arms and turning her back to both her brothers. “By golly, have ya gone stark ravin’ mad, Aeron! What has that little mind of yers been schemin’? Just when I was gettin’ good numbers in our record books, ya go and say we can’t do business with ‘em anymore? What’s yer problem?”
“My ‘problem’ is this, dear sister…” Aeron stared at her with a cold gaze, not meaning the ‘dear’ part of his address to the harpy at all. “They are using our portals so they can go to the other side and pay off these humans to commit murders! They are making our good gifts, which we swore we’d only use to give the goods to darklings to deserve them… do evil deeds. I will not be a part of this, no matter how much more numbers you want in your book.”
“They’re… doin’… what?” Dagan’s jaw dropped, and the red-feathered brother of Aeron was just stricken speechless. When he and his other two siblings had formed this ‘triad’ of smugglers, they had all sworn an oath to one another. They would only steal possessions, ‘things’. They would never, under any circumstance steal the life of another, whether they are a darkling or a light basking individual. Any possession could be remade, but a life was gone forever once it was taken from the world.
The way their ‘bandit’ group worked was far more chivalrous than the others who were outlaws in Yematia because of their beliefs that their father had passed down to them. While he wasn’t a criminal, the siblings’ father did believe that the law and the royals weren’t fair to the common darklings. He believed in true equality, not the illusion of it that he felt was being given off. The three siblings all felt it as a moral duty to serve out the garuda’s wishes, even if they were to be seen as ‘criminals.’
When the garuda brothers and their harpy sister finally took to the skies and were wary of the Watch’s eyes and ears, they mad their way to an old oak tree that had been grown by the earth mages’ power. They remembered this hideout as a way to get away from their survival training as one of their species, where they could hide from adults and entertain themselves. Aeron led the way, landing first and going into a secret passage that led to a large hallow within the tree. In here there was an old phonograph that had been their first item smuggled, several rations of different types of good their kind liked, drinking water, Aeron’s old journal he still had from when he was a mere nestling and Dagan’s new punching bags.
There were also duplicates of the records Mishraka kept track of the group’s finances with. This was usually the place they called their home away from home, they could always come here, and the outside looked so natural, no one would ever think that it was hallow underneath.
“So, your grand scheme’s to lay low ain’t it?” asked Mishraka curiously to the leader (and oldest) of the three. “It’s kinda fine with me, really. I don’t wanna be involved in any terrorism or such. That’s nothin’ but dirty business! I still can’t believe that they had the audacity to trick us!”
“Nothin’ else to do by the looks of it.” Dagan shrugged, folding his wings back and taking an easy seat in one of the worn chairs, for now just resting. The day would come when he’d be able to soar in the skies again in the thrill of glorious theft for all of Yematia. Surely, the days of glory for him and his siblings were not over. Now, just now… they were laying low. It was the wise move anyone made when they were suspects of a crime, or when they were… in their case, involved unknowingly in a larger scheme. Although he enjoyed battle, he knew when it was time to just relax.
“Hah, maybe that is smart!” exclaimed Mishraka, as she turned on the phonograph to play one of the old tunes that humans danced to. She started to snap to a rhythm. “Ya know they pardon us petty thieves over murderers. They’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em one day!”
*****
While portals were being formed, smugglers were hiding, and royals were ailing in the dark side of the two worlds, there was something even darker than Yematia’s skies afoot. The Commander of the Light Brigade was not meeting in a place that would normally suit one of her stature. The woman, fully named Theresa Goodland was one accustomed to the cameras, whether or not she was telling the truth. She wasn’t the type, especially with her military background that would be making shady deals in secluded, isolated and abandoned parts of her beloved Sentria. However, the Commander had an important mission in mind, and wouldn’t let these minor details hold her up from her objectives. These witches, warlocks, and their creatures all needed to be stopped, even if it meant dealing with more creatures. They’d otherwise wreck Sentria and all they’d ever worked for.
Her informant took a human shape, but she could tell from the man’s eyes that he wasn’t entirely human. They weren’t a natural color, first of all, it almost looked like they had the tints of golden yellow. The pupils were slightly narrower than the normal human shape as well, looking almost like a cat. He was slender, tall, and wore dark pants and an equally dark muscle shirt, and the grin he wore on his face was literally something that could kill. This ‘man’ was the Shifter, Gemuto, whom had taken a form to most suit the world he was doing business with. As far as Theresa knew, he was an odd-looking informant that gave her what he wanted at a price she could afford (but was still quite a profit to bag for him.)
“You brought me a new set of files, didn’t you?” asked the Commander. While she was making such a deal, her guardians, Alpha and Delta were close by. They knew of course that their Commander needed no such protection as a civilian, but they were also driven by their bodyguard instincts to never leave a superior alone when they were making a suspicious deal with someone whom they didn’t even know. He was a stranger to them, and Gemuto was not to be trusted…
The Shifter gave the woman a grin. He liked the humans that were straight to the point, and didn’t beat around the bush when it came to making deals. She had the money, he had the file, and it was all that happened. There was no sense of ‘morals’, ‘duties’, or ‘honors’ along with it, those were nothing to one of the four bosses of the Shadow Walkers. With the way he ran his trade, some even theorized that Gemuto would become the Head Boss, but of course these rumors were all but too soon of speculation. “I have your files as promised, great Commander of the Light Brigade. I want you to use them well, especially since this was difficult information to acquire. I went through many traps to get this…”
He presented the Sentinel covert ops commander a specially sealed file, looking to be the confidential information from wherever he was getting it from. Gemuto had translated the file to Sentrian just before delivery, for otherwise, he would not get the lump sum he was entitled to for risking capture by the Winged Watchmen almost three times in a row. It was a good thing he’d been cautious and took the right forms at the right time, timing his shifts to the moment where no one would be suspicious of him overlooking the file of Yaris ti Yematia, a known troublemaker and scoundrel amongst all of Lunaria.
Theresa opened the file, and her two snipers above were at just the right distance to see it as well. According to her research on the dark world of those heathens called “Yematia”, the last name of this target was matching that side… that country, Sentria’s ‘parallel’. Did that mean that he was important to that country… that maybe he was… “This one is royalty?” she asked her informant out loud. “Are you sure that he’s bound with a sorcerer?” she inquired more, using the derogatory term of ‘sorcerer’ instead of magician. Sorcerers were the stereotypical image of an evil wizard that kidnapped the king’s daughter and were slain by the valiant knights… some how, lore depicted all whom had magic to be this way, and it was even engrained in the minds of the Sentinels, whom were supposed to know the truth in order to defend their nation.
“Yes, he’s a royal brat all right.” Gemuto answered, scoffing at what looked like a concerned reaction from his very businesslike contact. He was surprised that she’d showed an inkling of emotion, since all through their other meetings, she gave him the money and ran off to do some more assassination. Maybe the Shifter was wrong about this woman… but maybe not. He still saw the Sentrian currency making its way into his hand. “I take it you don’t mind that you’re going to be taking the regal head of an imp then, missy.”
“First of all…” Theresa gave him a harsh glare, and although it made the mafia boss before her flinch, Alpha and Delta did not budge. They were used to their commander’s air about her, and never once did they disrespect one of such stern leadership. “You do not call me missy, you convict. If you wanted me to, I could turn you in as a sorcerer’s pet too! And second… are you meaning to say that even royalty would cling themselves to warlocks? If I struck down a figure in the regal bloodline, it could lead to war between Sentria and this… Yematia that is on the other side of us!”
“There won’t be any wars…” Gemuto promised, smiling a grin that would poison if it were a weapon. “I’m going to make it look like… a specific group that is coming will be responsible. You see, Yematia has ‘defenders’ of the law… the Winged Watchmen. They will try to prevent you in assassinating the little prince and his magic trickster. What you need to do is commit the act quickly, where no one can see you as usual, and then… go away as soon as you possibly can while they arrive. They’ll have the guild written all over their face, Commander. Imagine the glory that comes in dethroning a bunch of haughty lawmen that were long corrupt before the word ‘corruption’ was even invented yet! Doesn’t that make you feel… heroic as the Light Brigade always has been?”
“There is nothing heroic about this duty.” Answered Theresa Goodland, with her stoic voice behind her betraying her true feelings of dishonor and shame. She’d been against genocide, she’d been against betrayal, and yet… this was to keep her country safe for a reason she’d hidden from everyone. The Commander would continue to hide that reason too, it was none of this convict’s business. “But regardless, this is my job…” she said, her eyes looking ever ice-cold as she looked upon the file of Yaris ti Yematia in more concentration. “I’m going to eliminate all the warlocks and their pets… and the witches too! All of them are a national threat… and they must be stopped. Take your gold and do what you will with it. I will take care of the rest, as always.”
“Very well.” Gemuto bowed his head in respect to her. This woman deserved that much, for she was truly doing everything for the safety of her beloved country. He wondered if she was like the religious templars of old where she thought that it was her holy duty to be doing such deeds, or if it was some kind of moral code of honor that she had to follow. He didn’t care, not for now, he had the weight of his achievements in gold. It felt heavy, and heavy was a good thing when you were talking currency. “I’ll be taking my leave now, Commander. I hope you take care of yourself.”
“You too…” muttered Commander Goodland, but she wasn’t truly giving this information salesman the most well of wishes. In the end, to her, he was just another petty thief, no matter if he was stealing information or people’s lives. There was no respect left in her heart for the criminals who disrupted order in her dear Sentrian Motherland. All whom were a threat to her would ultimately pay the price, one way or another.
As the two parted ways, Delta and Alpha slowly made their way down to their commander’s left and right respectively. They were not all that thrilled about this ‘witchcraft hunting’ either, but it was their duty, their orders. Soldiers were meant to follow the commands of their leaders, they were not built nor taught to question. They were not there to ask ‘why’, only there to ask ‘how.’ When the great leaders of Sentria called them into action, they were there to shoot and never even ask questions later: this was how the Light Brigade functioned.
“Where is the target, Commander?” asked Delta, now following her in a patrol’s march out into the streets of a bustling Sentria.
“We’re going to discuss this matter at HQ, Delta…” answered Goodland, storing the file away in the briefcase that had once held 200,000 pieces of pure Sentrian mined gold. It wasn’t even ‘refined’ and stripped of all its raw beauty, which was the way her Yematian client liked it. “And I will warn you both, as well as the entire Brigade… that we must be careful with this mission, for the very thing that we’re trying to save our homeland for could come back to bite us.”
“As if we don’t have enough biting at us already… after all, the one we just took in isn’t talking…” Alpha muttered. What he meant, only the Light Brigade in charge of interrogation would know about.
*****
Mark and Yaris had gone the afternoon unaware of what was going on in the other side of the world, or even in the streets of Sentria itself. The city was alive and hustling as always, with autos racing down the streets, people in lines talking to one another, and businesses distributing their wares to those who bothered to look around and spare some coin. There was the normal noises of chatter, auto horns, and the occasional airship rising above from Argent Airlines Inc. The city over, it was a normal day, and the skies were nice and clear. Not a thing could go wrong as long as Sentria’s rhythm didn’t get disrupted by anything.
With his newfound ideas and resolve, Mark wasn’t going to just sit by and let the issue of his dear friend and priest’s disappearance snowball inside him until it became so big he’d explode. There was only one place to go for the missing people, and that was the Sentinel Militia branch. He remembered seeing their ads on the television, on how they would defend the city while the full-ranked Sentinels watched over the nation from the outside. They were supposedly a fine bunch of men, and they wouldn’t let a case go unsolved. Mark Argent had to place his faith in them.
Yaris had himself cloaked, following along in the many shadows that were cast off by the tall buildings of this military-centered city. He had never seen so many shadows in the light side of the world before, or rather… the text books of this side of the world. They’d shown Sunaria as a place where only the light shined, and that no shadows were cast at all in a place where the sun’s rays were bright and colors truly came splashed to light. He was happy that he’d got to experience the world the way it was… and the imp was determined to keep it bright for his Magician by helping him find his lost friend.
The two of them were very shocked at the size of the Militia’s headquarters. It towered over a person by at least a hundred times, and was several stories high, almost reaching to the Heavens above where the Creator was now thinking of the next grand scheme as far as plants or animals. When they stepped inside, they noticed that the place was highly organized, but also horridly busy. There were the reporters, trying to get a story from every single militia man and woman available, the desk workers with their tedious phone call answers and paperwork, and of course, the militia themselves, some of them being dispatched, while others sitting at a nice table made out of glass on the top and steel legs. Most of them, no… all of these people were drinking coffee.
“Excuse… me..?” Mark came up to one of the paper-pushing receptionists, almost guilty that he’d interrupted her work. When he looked at her nametag, he noticed a simple enough name. “Irene..? I’d like to make a report about a missing person. Where do I start?”
“Well, who are they, how long have they been missing and… what is your name, sir?” asked Irene, a brunette young woman in about her mid-20’s, with an average frame and a kind smile upon her face.
“Oh, my name is Mark Argent and… this person, I’m sure they’ve been missing for at least a month now. I was wondering if they’d already been reported, and I’ve been so busy with my schooling…” the Sentinel’s son answered her, stopping himself before he could trail off any further. “Anyway, his name is Father Neil Henkin, he’s a bishop over there at Teris Monastery. Usually, I do my confessions and dream discussions with him, and I’ve been really missing him lately…”
“Neil Henkin…” Irene repeated the name, and then she turned to a computer with a flat-panel monitor and started rapidly typing in keys. “One of the other bishops reported him as missing about two weeks ago, sir… it says it’s an open case, but we haven’t got word from the other Militia whom were assigned on it. I’m sorry, sir, that’s all I’m able to release…” The receptionist looked a tad regretful. She always hated it when cases went unsolved, because dismally, even in a place that was mostly socially sound, a missing person for more than a month meant they’d only be found dead.
“No… it’s okay… I’m sorry I took your time, Irene.” Mark sighed in defeat, and then he waved to her before taking his exit outside the grand building that housed part of the body of Sentria’s finest. Now that he’d truly run out of options, he was unsure what to do. The fact that the bishop was reported missing by one of his fellow clergymen was a relief, it meant that people really did notice, but it still didn’t explain their unwillingness to tell where he was. There was something still not right about this. How could the Militia man put on the case suddenly not report anything for two weeks? Something must have happened…
“No luck…” Yaris whispered, sighing from the shadows. His voice was just low enough so that his Magician could hear, but no one else could. The two hadn’t quite mastered the technique behind the mind speech yet. “I’m sorry about this, Mark… I know exactly how you feel… I have a friend who’s sort of… holy. If anything happened to her, oh… King Hori… I’d…”
“Let’s just go back to the manor, Yaris.” Whispered Mark, he too making sure that no one else heard him by speaking in hushed tones. “The only thing I can do now is sleep off this feeling I’ve had since the day started.”
“I think he’ll turn up.” The Familiar muttered, trying to sound cheerful in a quiet voice. Needless to say, it wasn’t a very easy thing to do. “You just have to have a little… what’s the word…”
“Faith…” Mark nodded, and then he walked down the streets of Sentria, until he found his black auto he’d used to drive down this way.
Yaris made sure the coast was clear, and squeezed into a tiny shadow the front seat gave off. The imp had always feared being discovered, but at least with the little ‘pockets’ that connected to Yematia, he was a little bit more safe than if this was the entirely ‘lit’ world. While the young Yematia was eager to find out the mechanics of this odd thing that Mark drove everywhere, he felt something nagging at the back of his mind. Something was about to happen, but he had no clue what it would be until it was actually right before him.
*****
Arnold Miller was having a blast with the cameras, watching the hallway, and then switching his field of vision to the different parts of the Argent Manor’s outside. He was able to watch the other guards, three others in total and how they were doing their jobs. The first of the guards was Jared Terin, a promising young man who had just graduated the local university with his studies in Sentrian law. He’d wanted to join the Militia and even the Sentinels, but since he was in poor physical condition at the time of graduation due to the heavy alcohol use at parties, and both organizations considered his history to be unfit for Sentria’s finest. Since he joined the manor security team, Jared learned to throw away the bottle and concentrate on hitting any thieves, dealers, and gang members who would dare try to go near his employer’s grounds. Arnold was the most proud of this boy’s reform.
The second of former Lieutenant Miller’s guards was actually a little bit older than him, in her early 40’s. Her name was Patricia Norman, and she was once a self-defense instructor before she became interested in the gold which Nathaniel Argent was willing to shell out for defense. Finally, all her training in hand-to-hand combat could pay off, and she wouldn’t be just blocking and hitting the brazen hotheads that were her former students. Patricia, lovingly called “Patty” by her fellows even taught the boys some basic moves, should they ever be without a weapon. Ms. Norman was never married, and never minded… for her discipline was far more important to her.
The third of the guards on the monitor was another former Sentinel by the name of Mervin McCloud. During the Narasah-Sentria war, he lost his arm in battle, and was unable to even shoot again until the invention of prosthetic limbs around five years after the fact. Due to the fact of being injured in battle so early, the man was forced to retire at the young age of 21 and the rank of corporal. Things weren’t all bad for him though, with a Sentinel’s lifelong pension and a new metal arm that he eventually received. At age 31 now, he was still young, and was said to shoot even more deadly shots with this almost mechanical new limb. When he was asked personally by Arnold Miller to join in the security of Argent Manor, there wasn’t even the thought of rejection in Mervin’s mind.
For the other three guards, as well as the security head at the tower, days were mostly boring. It was during the night where they usually saw or heard something fishy, so some interference in the cameras and bugs made it quite unusual. They thought they’d heard words from a high-power radio, bouncing off from their own signals. “… arget… firmed…”
“What was that?” Jared jumped when he heard the strange message emitting from his own radio. “Hey, Mervin, man… that better not be you, this isn’t even funny.”
“…’S not ME, boy.” Answered the retired corporal, almost insulted that one would even think he’d be pulling a prank like this. It was more in the young man’s nature to mess around with people’s minds. He’d sure enjoy doing that, and Mervin knew it.
“Listen, there’s still more of it!” Patricia ordered through the radios, and all the guards had their attention on their radios and signals.
“…riving… t… arget… arriving… …re…pare…”
“The target is arriving…” Arnold announced through all the other guards’ radios. “It’s confirmed, move out. I know that message. It’s usually the Light Brigade’s call to strike.”
“The fact that we can hear it means somethin’, don’t it?” Jared said over the radios, the panic laced in his voice that was jittery. Usually, one could tell by the sounds of another’s voice how they felt, and there was pure fear from the young man’s sound waves. He’d dealt with the petty thieves before, but never professionals of his own countrymen…
“Calm yerself, boy!” Mervin’s voice shouted through the radio. There was a clicking sound heard in the background, it was likely the middle-aged Sentrian loading his rifle. “Ya gotta stand firm in times like this! Sentinel or no, they ain’t comin’ a step closer to the Argent Manor! ‘S our job, if ya remember!”
“McCloud’s right…” came the stern, calming voice of Patricia, with no need to click a weapon her background. She had the experience to kill a human without one, and intended to show it if the invaders and their suspicious radio came any closer. She didn’t care about their reasons for coming here; they were going to be stopped right here and now. “It doesn’t matter what kind of training these chumps had. They’re not going to be getting past me very easily.
The transmission over the radio got closer, and clearer. The order was a repeating one, ominous and droning. “Target has been confirmed… arriving… prepare for combat and capture maneuvers…”
Arnold heard the orders, probably given from someone whom was stone-faced as his and Nathaniel’s formal General. That man was said to not be a man at all, but an ice-hearted being in the shape of a human that had no more emotion left in him. He was the type of person that could shoot and ask no questions later. Their superior was only feared for this, there was no true respect for this man. If the one behind the orders was someone with such a nature, they needed to be stopped, no questions asked. There wasn’t going to be anyone going through the large, strong iron gates, or breaking past the point where the former Lieutenant surveyed the cameras… “Not on MY watch.”
“All guards prepare for a confrontation!” their leader ordered over all their radios. “I’m giving you full permission to use whatever means you think necessary, but we’re not to let the manor’s defenses crumble! Stay at your posts, and keep yourselves armed! When you see the hostiles, don’t wait for my orders, get them!”
“Yes sir!” said a simultaneous reply from all the other three guards, and then there came the waiting for the Sentinel Light Brigade’s officers to get closer. At this moment, there was silence all around, not even the birds chirped their songs or the bugs scuttled by. It felt like the calm before the storm, whether it would be of bullets, or otherwise.
“All of you have one more order…” Arnold’s voice almost whispered into their radios. “If you see Mark in danger… since Colonel Argent has noticed his strange disappearances… you’re to do whatever’s necessary to defend him.”
Within the Argent Manor, the retired Colonel Nathaniel was not pleased at all. As the master of the house, he too had a radio, and was able to hear all the conversations that were going on from them. From birthday wishes to red alerts, he heard them all, and this turn of events couldn’t upset him more. His son was getting into trouble, he knew that from Mark’s periodic disappearances in times where he was normally at home, locked up in his study or having dinner with the manor’s residents. However, Nathaniel just wanted an explanation, even a small one as to why his son was constantly absent from what he normally enjoyed, and also why the Light Brigade were chasing him. Of course, in order to explain himself, Nathaniel realized that his son had to be alive first. “Dead men tell no tales”, that’s what his superiors back in the war told him, so if you wanted a book about your exploits, you better survive and write it on your own.
When Juliana Argent saw her husband take his old Sentinel rifle up off the wall, she knew what it had come to. There was going to be a battle for sure, and there’s no way that the man she loved would back down from it so easily. Since the medic was no fighter, she’d stay away where she wouldn’t be captured like the foolish movie floozies had the knack for doing. Also, she wouldn’t risk injury being the only one with medical knowledge around. Juliana wasn’t going to let her dearest just walk out the door though, not before she embraced the man from behind. “You be careful now, Nathan dear. I’m not going near that battlefield, so the only one able to patch you up isn’t out of commission.”
“I’m always careful, Juliana, love.” replied Nathaniel, reaching the arm that wasn’t holding his rifle (that was still loaded, to no one’s knowledge but his own) back to hold the arm of his wife. “It’s the boy of ours that I worry so much for… he still doesn’t know a thing about the world and now he’s challenging it.”
Breaking the embrace, Juliana only looked somber. Usually, she was quite used to Nathaniel marching off to war, and she had plenty to do in the Sentrian Medic Corps to keep her mind occupied and off the feelings of loneliness too, so dealing with her beloved’s absence was no problem for her. She knew that risks that all Sentinels had when they marched into the fields of war, fired their guns, and took fire themselves. The medic, as a result did not waste her time in grief, unless Nathaniel (or in this case, Mark too) was really brought to her in a box. Already, she’d have to work on keeping her strength up, so that she could possibly treat the wounded, reckless family of hers (and their guards too). The emotion of worry served Juliana Argent no purpose, so instead, she grinned, even if only a second. “Good luck out there, Colonel.”
“Thank you… Lady Luck.” He winked at his wife, and then he sped outside in the classic Sentinel fashion, with his hands both on the rifle and ready to crouch and fire. Today was a good day for the retired Colonel, the back injury that he carried (and forced him into retirement) wasn’t bothering him today. It was too bad that a good day for him meant very, very bad news for his invaders.
There were many forces at hand now, and fate could turn any direction. The Winged Watchmen were soaring in from Yematia, determined to intercept the Light Brigade. Commander Theresa Goodland urged her small force forward with an order: strike and kill all that the strange man, Gemuto gave her information on for the amounts of gold that increased by time. The Guards heard her advance, and moved into action with the thought of being invaded by their own defenders… and at the center (but outside of the information) was the target to be both stricken and protected: Mark Argent and his Familiar companion, Yaris. Who would reach them? Only time would tell, and only fate would decide who was to succeed and who was to fail.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:09 am
Chapter 6: The Converging Forces
The cogs of fate were starting to turn rapidly. Over the months, nearly for a year now, Ilea, the sprite Oracle and her colleagues had been watching the life of a royal Imp Familiar for the whole time in Sunaria. They’d watched the twists and turns of the time stream follow the path it was supposed to, shooting in an infinite direction like a river flowing into eternity. There was a part of the stream which Ilea halted at, and gasped aloud. Up ahead, there was a point of uncertainty, a fate that was still being decided at the moment due to so many factors piling up as to what might happen in the situation at hand. There was a life at risk, and so many were coming for different purposes involving it. Some wanted to come to the rescue, while others wanted to snuff it out. What happened in the road ahead was to be decided on who of these opposing forces would be victorious.
But the life which was hanging in the balance stopped Ilea in her tracks. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, for the fate in question that even the great flow of time couldn’t decipher was that of her dearest friend she’d sent off to be a Familiar not too long ago. She saw the impish face, the fanged smile, the messed-up hair and of course, all three feet of which was Yaris. He had no color to him, meaning that his very fate was so complex; nothing was decided for him yet. Maybe he had no future… maybe he had a great one. However… there was a pain within Ilea’s head, no, not just her head, but her mind. The sprite shook her head side to side. “No… please no…”
When she peered into the golden stream again, she noticed that his image was still nothing but a grayed out visage of the imp. No matter how long, it was uncertain, and this was actually not a good thing at all. When someone was to die, their moment of death would flash like a miniature ‘film’ as the human called them, and if they were to live, they’d be in solid color amongst the flowing golden river of fate that stretched on as far as a mind could see. Gray meant it could be life or death… and that what came after this point to be written in history would be entirely decided on the point it self. “Great King Hori… I ask you… please don’t take Yaris away… he’s done nothing wrong and has just grown up…”
The Oracle clasped her hands together in a gesture that wasn’t normally taken by those with her magical power. The sprite was muttering a prayer, quite unusual since their capacities allowed the beings whom were Oracles to see into the future. Ilea was being honest in true to her words to the Great King of Darkness, however, as he seemed to be the only thing that was in control now. The ‘seers’ of Yematia could only do just that, they could see futures, fortunes, and bonds. There was nothing they could do to prevent them, unless the rare chance occurred that it was in Lunaria itself.
In the royal chambers of Lunaria, Queen Nisha had at last felt the pings in her heart subside. For now, no Familiars or Magicians were meeting the violent end of murder. The head royal imp had always hated that aspect about being the ruler; you felt the worst of it as usually you were the next target on the killer’s list. “If only the royal contract considered us more… we don’t need ‘warnings’.” She though the words with disgust, and then she looked at the black-flame torches that normally lit her room. They were rather dim, as her magic was racked by the royal curse.
With just a little concentration from the queen’s mind, the torches lit up their lively black flame and the entire room brightened a bit. From the purple and red crystals that hung from the walls, to her violet carpets, the room looked more like hers, and not that of an imp whom was at death’s door. Legend said that if too many of a royal’s subjects perished in Sunaria, which they too would go along with them if they didn’t stop the murders. Although it had never happened before in Lunaria history, Nisha did not want to be the first. She didn’t want to become another statistic. By now, she’d noticed that the doors to her chambers were locked. That was one of the first things her magic did when the queen faced pain: she shut everyone out so that she could naturally heal. Nisha had pride in the healers, but some paranoid part of her (all leaders were said to be nothing put paranoid) didn’t want anyone at all near her when she wasn’t to her full magical strength.
With the flick of her pointer finger, the locks to the doors went up, and Nisha’s attendants came rushing in. One brought food, while the other brought the royal a mirror so she could straighten up her hair that was in disheveled, black mess from her tossing and turning to deal with her pain. Another of her attendants, a face she knew quite well was now the acting Admiral, Rimoke Talonstrike. If he were here and not his superior…
“Admiral Soarwing has used his emergency command in a time of national crisis, hasn’t he, Talonstrike? I want you to tell me everything.” Nisha ordered taking a bit of a classic Yematian biscuit, plain was her royal majesty liked them. While she ate with one clawed hand, Queen Nisha used a brush one of the hurried sprite attendants brought her to straighten out her rebelling black locks. In a few minutes of struggling to untangle the long mass of hair, she looked at least halfway regal again. She finally stood after spending the most of her time knelt on the ground.
Rimoke took a respectful bow to her majesty before giving his recounting of the Watch’s dealings with the Shadow Walkers. Using the mind speech technique, he gave her the summary of their spotting of a Shadow Walker, and his capture. Then, came the later part of the tale, where the captured one had submitted more information to the ominous looking owl twins, about what one of the bosses, the infamous Shifter was doing behind the scenes. The last part… Rimoke was reluctant to say, but he told Nisha of how Yaris was targeted as well.
Upon hearing all these details, one expected Nisha to tear up and play the part of the hopeful royal that prays that her dearest Yaris whom she doted over would be rescued. Others would expect her to be outraged at the Watch for letting all this happen, giving them a tongue lashing at best and lit lashing at worse. There were even more whom speculated that Nisha would break down and cry, wondering why her beloved nation turned out to be so bad with crime syndicates running loose and her dear Yaris in mortal danger. The Yematia Queen did none of these things, however. Gripping her silver scepter that was cast on the floor in her time of writhing, she took to the throne to give commands. “I have orders for you, Rimoke Talonstrike. You’re to find the Shifter and use whatever means necessary to remove him. I will not take him alive… you are to kill him and any other Shadow Walkers who threaten our nation! Do you understand?”
The eagle spread his wings out, once, and then bowed his head once again. “Yes, your Majesty… I understand your orders. I’ll report them to Rear Admiral Swiftbeak, and we’ll snuff them out.”
“It’s good to hear that from you.” Nisha smiled her grin even more fanged than her three-foot distant cousin’s. “I always did appreciate officers whom understood me. As for me, I’m going to the chamber of Oracles…” she looked at two falcons behind Talonstrike, and then she patted each on the head. “You two as my escorts will do just fine. Your acting Admiral has a very important mission, if you remember…”
Eying her attendants, Nisha snapped her impish fingers. “You’re all dismissed! I don’t need any more attending now! However… keep your eye out for the Shifter and his minions! If you see any of them, alert the Watch, and see to it that they’re taken care of!”
“Yes, your majesty!” came a simultaneous cry of both thoughts and the various natural sounds of an eagle, the loud voices of sprites, and the overall pride that they had in the nation of Yematia. It would take more than so-called criminal ‘masterminds’ to bring down this proud populace. They were dedicated countrymen, Lunarian and Yematian straight and true. Nisha had done right by her subjects for this pride to show.
As the four-foot royal imp Queen strode down the streets with the two falcons at her side, there was the usual bowing of the subjects as she passed by. However, with word getting around fast from Rimoke about the Shadow Walkers and their dastardly acts, those whom were lawful Yematians were ready to prove they were good citizens by making the Shifter pay. One would wonder how the group rose up in a place filled to the brim with national pride. The answer wasn’t one of the complicated, philosophically charged questions which had no answers to it: there was one reason with one answer. Not everyone liked the idea of being those whom followed the law, and some even thought that the tradition of rules was for Sunaria only. They wanted to literally have no rules attached: and live life in complete anarchy.
But there needed to be rules to uphold order, that’s what Nisha was always taught. Even when she was starting to look at both sides of the argument in terms of the rules of Yematia, it turned out that her father’s ideals weren’t that bad. In order to defend the people that she so loved, she had to take away a little ‘freedom’. There couldn’t be total cutting loose in the streets, or there would be the rules of the old days: survival of the fittest. The Queen thought of that as the kind of rules that the Shadow Walkers were trying to impose on her dearest citizens. She wouldn’t have it: not for a second.
“No matter what I have to do, order will be upheld… justice will be served to those whom deserve it!” Her thoughts ran fast and true, with a resolve that was running just as strong as the queen’s cadence of footsteps to the Temple of Oracles. Effortlessly, she pushed both the doors open, and she walked to find Ilea, the sprite Oracle that had sent off Yaris and the others surrounding her to be in a sort of deep concentration. They were focusing on something, likely an event that would shape the time stream and destiny itself. Since the little winged sprite was someone that Nisha could trust (and someone who put up with Yaris’s antics over the years), the Queen consulted her in mind speech, to not disturb the mental Zen that was within the temple grounds.
“Ilea… can you hear me?” asked Nisha politely. It was quite a different tone than her ruthless speech that she used earlier, a more gentle, diplomatic tone she only used for her dearest friends and closest of allies.
“I can hear you, your majesty. There is a fate that hangs in the balance of the stream… it’s Yaris’s fate. He’s shown up as a gray image in Time’s great Golden Stream… I’m unsure what will become of him…” The sprite shook her head, and then looked at her royal majesty with desperation and respect all at once. “Is there something we can do, Queen Nisha? I want to help him, more than anything, but we Oracles cannot enter Sunaria. You said so yourself.”
“That’s right, and I’d have it no other way.” Nisha told her. “However, that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything at all, dearest Ilea. If I lend you my magical power, we can do something that will make the fate of Yaris… and all of Yematia a certainty. Of course, the spell hasn’t been used prior to my father’s use…”
“You mean to use the Pathfinder spell, my Queen?” Ilea would have gasped, if she were speaking with words and not thoughts. “You know the risks of that enchantment… what if the very, very distant future is affected because of our actions in this uncertain time?”
“This is the only thing we can do, Ilea…” Nisha nodded thoughtfully. She’d gone through her options many a time, and found none other than this legendary spell. The royal shut her eyes, chanting. Slowly, a dim purple circle of light came around both imp and sprite, and there was ancient magic flowing from within them that had before remained untouched. Although this ritual (like most rituals in Yematia) was quick to prevent anyone from stopping them once they were stopped, the process felt very long and drawn out. The Oracle and Nisha’s reserved magical energies that had once been dormant now came forward, and granted the rare process of them being able to change the time stream itself; to change fate.
When they both combined their magic to form a hand reaching into the golden stream, they found the little imp’s grayed-out image. With their strength together, Nisha and Ilea both strained, giving the image color with Fate’s very own paintbrush. It would put life into those whom had gone into ‘limbo’ the area between the living and the dead, but most advised not to use it. Nisha wasn’t paying attention to the advice of old geezers though; she was paying attention to her instincts and her wishes. Her and this Oracle had the same wish even, so it made things far easier…
Once they finished coloring Yaris’s image of the golden river of Time with Fate’s paintbrush (giving him the usual colors), their power decreased steadily to normal. One wouldn’t believe that all this took place in the course of minutes, for the ritual sounded complicated. Now, a fate had been changed, and a life had been spared, but neither the royal majesty nor her subject would feel the effects of it: not right away at least. Much later, the results of their decisions would show through.
*****
The Light Brigade was in position, their weapons pointed at their targets with deadly accuracy. As far as they group knew, their lives and the lives of every Sentrian life were on the line for this mission. The group of three elites amongst the forces of the most mighty military nation in the world Sentria resided knew that the stakes rose instantly upon the fact that they were on the street of one of the most famous businessmen in their homeland. If they were to strike him, they’d be exposed at best and executed as traitors at worst… but they would do either quietly had things gone sour. They were not to reveal their true motives, no matter what the situation.
Theresa Goodland thought it was a shame that one of the great heroes in the struggle against the Narasah Empire would go his entire life not knowing the truth as to why his son would be shot. Maybe he’d get over it fast, because he was a soldier, and war had dealt its losses thoroughly to the Colonel. Maybe the man would go insane though, as was the fate of those whom got too close to civilians and didn’t realize how fragile they were until they were lost forever. Either way, after today, the retired Colonel Argent’s life was about to change for the worse. To hurt a comrade in this way was hard for the Light Brigade commander (after the two had fought side-by-side in the Kilune Beach in those tides of war), but hard decisions were necessary. “This is for the good of us all. He will understand one day.” The Commander reasoned in her mind before finally giving the orders. “Alpha… Delta… the three of us are in perfect position. Proceed to carry out the mission. Fire on the targets...”
“Yes, Commander…” The both of them muttered through the radios. One could hear that this decision was not easier on them than their leader, but they too believed it necessary.
“What we do is going to help our mother land.” Alpha thought optimistically, aiming, and then putting his finger on the trigger.
Delta was not so willing to put a positive label upon his duty, and that was why it was a ‘task’ and not a ‘favor’. “May the Destroyer let me repent for this…” he thought, aiming his rifle, and also placing his finger upon the trigger.
In almost perfect unison, Alpha and Delta let loose the bullets that were in the back of their firearms.
*****
Mark exited his black automobile, and he was prepared to do the usual ritual of going into the manor’s large, uninviting gates that looked like they belonged on the fortresses of old. He expected to go in front of the cameras, and have some sort of smart remark available for the machines’ eyes, Arnold Miller. He was about to step under the mechanical ‘eye’, but suddenly, Yaris had darted out from the safety of the Sentrian’s shadow. “Mark, GET DOWN!” shouted the imp in a sudden tone of desperation.
Mark wasn’t going to question the act of the imp not only coming out of his shadow, but also warning him. The young man hit the floor as fast as he could, feeling the wind as a bullet raced by, barely missing him by seconds. It reminded him of when his father escorted him to the shelters in the time of Sentria’s invasion, of how many times the two of them hit the ground together, and stayed lying down for sometimes hours before the Narasah forces were convinced the two’s act of playing dead was true. He lied there for a while with his eyes closed, but when he opened him, he saw a scene which was the most horrific he’d ever thought of happening in his life.
While the Sentrian made it to the ground safely, Yaris had not been so lucky. For just that second Mark had his eyes open to see, he could behold the bullet hitting home on its target; his Imp familiar. The wound was not in one of his vitals, but the imp’s shoulder, as he’d moved at just the right moment. The sheer speed of the bullet had sent Yaris ti Yematia onto the ground and in an unspeakable shock of pain far worse than any that the royal curse had bestowed upon him. There were no words he felt like speaking, and his right arm, the one he normally used to draw the runes couldn’t move at all.
Mark was truly horrified, but he could not let this be the end. All the visions of his past and the terrors of his uncertain future that threatened to converge on the youth were all pushed away for one purpose. Yaris was his friend, he had to save him. Time was limited, the attackers were still out there, and near the manor grounds. There was only one thing he could do to save the both of them, and it didn’t involve thinking. If he let his mind wonder, Mark Argent would not make such a reckless decision as he was about to.
He grabbed the downed Familiar quickly, beginning to run faster than he ever had before. There were so many things that the young royal wanted to say in protest to his Magician, but when he was depending on him to move (no way did he feel like in with the shooting of pain and the inability to cast shields), there wasn’t a word Yaris would say. One foot in front of the other, that was all it took... Mark thought. He knew over and over that he was not the greatest athlete to be running a marathon, but this was a matter of life and death for the two of them. Mark went forward with the imp firmly in his grip, being carried like a very precious bundle which no one would let go, being sure to keep the right side of his comrade from being further damaged. He did not look back, and he did not let his mind even think a single thought. Only one thing mattered… “I have to save Yaris… I have to…” He did not hear two more clicks of rifles behind him.
*****
Laying low really did sound like a good idea, but going along with everything that was a ‘good idea’ was not the style of Aeron and his siblings. While they were relaxing in the safe house they created in the hollow of an old oak, they already planned out another operation they were to start tonight. It was one of their quick and dirty money-makers, and it was yet another part of the Sunaria side which they’d show the common darkling. Besides, going on a treasure hunt right now would give Aeron, Dagon, and Mishraka the right to wave their victory in the Watchmen’s faces, showing how they were the triumphant ones in their eternal rivalry. They’d prove themselves independent of the Shadow Walkers, and pull off one of the biggest thefts in history: in that order.
“Everyone should know we can’t just lie down, this is our golden chance, you guys!” exclaimed Dagan with a hopeful tone. He’d always kept a cheerful mind, because otherwise the whole world would be ‘gloom and doom’. The red-feathered garuda couldn’t stand it.
Mishraka nodded her smile in perfect tune with her brother’s. “Ya, who said that just takin’ things lying down was our style...? Layin’ low just feels like we’re… givin’ up.”
“I have the perfect plan in mind to go after our great treasure… you two just need to stick to it.” Aeron eyed the two red-feathers as if they’d deviated before, and they sure had, and coast the three of them tons of gold! “Now… shall I be the gentleman and open the portal?”
“Yeah, Aeron, ya better before yer head goes too far on ahead for us to keep up!” Mishraka commented, no one sure if it was a compliment or an insult. From this harpy, it could be both.
“Go for it, bro! We’re going to be the most famous thieves in all Yematia, and we’ll be revered for it too! Even the Watchmen will have to bow down to us!” Dagan continued to be in high spirits, more of their targeted item than the actual job he was to do, which was of course, beat the snot out of anyone who dared tried to arm his brother, the mastermind. Unlike some children whom were jealous of their brother’s intellects, Dagan didn’t envy Aeron at all. If he were to have the mind-kind of intelligence as opposed to knowledge in martial arts, he’d have more responsibility, and that was something he wouldn’t take.
With a touch of his clawed hand into the air, Aeron started to draw a circle that little rays of light were pouring through. He made it bigger and bigger, cutting through to Sunaria as easily as a knife through butter. Already he could see the other side, the large manor in which the next treasure hunt for the three was to begin. Within this large estate, these three would capture something other garudas and harpies wouldn’t dare touch; the war metals of a human hero. As of this moment, they were to capture the markers of the achievements of retired Colonel Nathaniel Argent.
*****
When he was breaking out into his run, Mark did not hear two more clicks of rifles behind him. By the time he knew that shots were being fired, and then it was already too late. The gunshots roared, sounding off with a loud bang that always came with them. The young Sentrian expected pain beyond his imagination to come, but none of it was anywhere on him. He expected bullets to soar through his and his Familiar’s chests and to end it right there, but that end never happened as the young man imagined. When he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, literally one step forward into the manor gates, Mark saw yet another sight he couldn’t believe.
It was his father. The man had donned his Sentinel uniform as he always did in his customary day of dress which the reserves and retired members of Sentria’s military forces did. The navy-blue matching shirt and slacks, cleanly pressed and decorated with the Colonel’s rank gleaming silver in the sunlight. He looked young again in uniform, and suitable to be holding the rifle he now had in the hand opposite to that stopping his son. “Mark, get in there, quick. Have you mother take a look at that friend of yours... he looks like he’s in too much pain to even speak.”
Yaris winced, if almost on cue. If he could speak at the moment, he would have asked why this old gun-toting lunatic not only knew his connection to Mark, but also spoke of him so calmly. He knew something of Yematia; he could be behind all this! Yaris wanted to spit the words out so bad, but he was getting tired, and could think of nothing but the fact that his rune drawing arm just would not move. If he lost his ability to cast magic, what good would he be? The imp tried to mumble, but he only winced again. Still, it wasn’t like the imp was ungrateful to the Colonel. He’d just fired shots towards the mysterious snipers that saved their lives.
Mark already knew how urgent things were, for his Familiar was far smaller than he, and the blood loss would take less time. He was hoping that his mother had all her tools sterilized, so that no time would be wasted in helping his companion. As he raced inside, past the security tower, he noticed that Arnold and his guards were going in the opposite direction, their weapons ready for a firefight by the looks of it. Even if Yaris hadn’t have been so critically wounded, being close to Arnold, his guards, and Colonel Argent was the last place one wanted to be when they all were the ones holding the weapons and barking the orders.
Though his injury, Yaris finally managed to mumble a few words. “Why… they… after…”
Normally, Mark would have shouted at him. He had every right to be angry, for he was being chased by his own military whom were supposed to defend the Sentrian civilians, watching as one of his friends was shot, wondering where another (which the Militia could be doubted as truly ‘searching for’) was, and also hoping that again, his father would not be shot on his account. However, Mark did not shout, he did not get angry. He was feeling the weight of worry upon him now, his running place slowing more and more as minutes went by. I don’t know why this happened… I don’t know what’s going on either…
“I’m sorry.” He said out loud, before turning into a room that he recognized as his mother’s. There, she was doing what he expected she’d do in a time where her husband was going out to fight: she was readying her medical tools.
Juliana Argent’s expression was surprisingly calm for someone whom supposedly saw a Familiar (and an imp) for the first time, not much less an injured one. “What are you doing carrying him around like that, son?” asked the surgeon, looking up from her tools only a moment and making sure they were in place. “Lay him down, quickly. I can tell that’s a Light Brigade issue rifle bullet wound. I need to start operating on him right away unless you want him to suffer amputation.”
Mark gulped at the ‘a’ word. He didn’t like the word at all; he knew far too well what it meant due to his own past and at times, his visits to his mother’s civilian hospital. He obeyed her silently, losing any desire to do anything put help his Familiar. He hadn’t realized that all the time he ran, all the time he escaped, the time where his father and the guards arrived… had all happened in no less than ten minutes.
Yaris glared up at Mark’s mother now. He was being set down, he was injured, and the instincts that imps had before they could talk were flowing back to him. He felt like biting her, she was getting too close, way too close and with a very, very sharp object. What was that thing, it was sharp, and shiny. It was a knife, he knew it, it was a knife, and his Magician had brought him to be finished off by a sinister female that happened to be the young man’s mother. With what little strength he had left, he snapped at her once.
Juliana backed away slightly. She’d even seen soldiers snap at other people when they saw the scalpel and the other tools, as they thought they were knives that were used by the enemy. It was unfortunate she didn’t have the powerful drugs with her (only the hospitals were certified in carrying such highly potent and addictive substances), but she had something else that did the trick. “You need to sleep now, or you’re going to be feeling a lot worse and seeing something you probably really don’t want to.” said Juliana, uncorking a bottle of an Elixir, a drink that was normally consumed for the sake of Sentrian relaxation. It was a tiny bit alcoholic, but not enough to poison at the small dose that the surgeon gave the young Yematian imp.
Yaris was being forced to drink the liquid! He tried to reach out for Mark, but he again forgot that his right arm wasn’t moving at all. Paralyzed, and now drugged… he couldn’t return and face Nisha after being in such a shameful state! And… his Magician was letting this happen! Through the fear, the pain, the anguish, and the desperation, he could only speak a tiny bit of words. “Mark… why…why…” He would say more, but already, he’d blacked out from the highly potent mixture.
“Yaris, this is for what’s best, let my mom take care of you.” Mark answered him, the calmness that he had now only coming from the fact that Juliana’s expression was concentrated on the operation she was to perform. When she had that expressionless look upon her face, it meant that there was still hope for a patient. It meant that if she could just concentrate, she could save him, no problem. With one look, she addressed her son.
“Mark, I want you to watch the door. If they’re not injured, tell them to stand outside. I need my entire mind into this.” Juliana ordered him.
Mark merely nodded to his mother, the surgeon. He was tempted to look back and see what she was doing, but he didn’t want to see it. That was Yaris which was under her knife, and he probably would grimace at the thought of seeing him in the middle of an operation. At least he could be saved… that is what matters the most. Too many times, Mark had overheard his parents talking, and how Juliana despaired over surgeries that were hopeless to begin with. She told of how reckless civilians can be in speeding autos, and how people whom were violent with firearms shouldn’t be allowed to have them at all. Ever so rarely, he’d see his mother’s face in the state of agony, but now was not the case. There was hope… that’s all he had to tell himself, as he shut his eyes and prayed to the Creator and Destroyer in his mind. There was hope.
*****
While all was calm and peaceful within Argent Manor, the tension outside was thickening. In his rage and adrenaline rush, Nathaniel had gone far ahead of the guards, but they were still close behind him. They all had their weapons (or in Patricia’s case, her fisticuffs), ready for combat. There wasn’t going to be any breaking and entering on the Colonel’s property, he could say that much. He didn’t care that the people whom were coming (firing without a warrant no less!) were members of the Light Brigade. Colonel Argent had stormed the beaches of east Kilune, he emptied many shells, and risked the lives of both himself and his squad back when he fought fiercely against the Narasah empire, just so he could fight the kind of tyranny these members were promoting by barging into a Sentrian property and firing without warning or reason.
“Who do they think we are, those accursed Imperialists?” Nathaniel though in disgust, as he stared into the space where not too long ago, he and Arnold both opened fire (without even a verbal order lest they’d be discovered), and sent two Light Brigade issue weapons falling. “I don’t care what their excuses are. None of them are getting out of here alive, no matter what branch they’re serving! They shot at my SON.”
“Whoever you are, come out.” Arnold ordered sternly, his rifle continuously pointed forward and ready to go off at the sign of any slight movements at all. “I’m not going to give you any mercy; you know… you gave yourself away shooting at my employer’s whelp! Show yourself!”
However, Theresa Goodland knew better than to show her identity to the ones whom would shoot her down in an instant. She remembered how ruthless Argent and his Lieutenant were back in the days of the war: soldiers like those two were the reason Sentria won. When what they loved was threatened, they showed no mercy and asked no questions. They were even considered to be candidates for her branch of the Sentinels once, but the offer had been declined. Many more with brutal intents such as them did join, however, and they upheld the Light Brigade as the harbingers of order. Those who kept order could not reveal themselves, they could not risk themselves or the social peace would go down with them.
She hastily wrote a note, while she heard Argent and his guards moving closer. With an order, she, Alpha, and Beta were just gone. There was no explanation as to how they disappeared; they were just gone without a trace. When Jared came forward to pick up the note, an expression of shock was all that could be read across his face. He turned to his companions. “… Nathan… Patty… Merv… Arnold, you guys better take a look at this…”
“What is it?!” The Colonel shouted, snatching the letter from the young man’s trembling hands. He was prepared for a gun duel, and instead the cowardly Light Brigade members not only ran, but left behind a note. Was it a warning, or something else? Either way, it shouldn’t have scared Jared. He knew better than that. When his eyes beheld the contents of the discarded (and picked up) letter though, Nathaniel soon found out why the younger guard’s eyes widened.
And there was a reason that anyone would widen their eyes over the contents of the letter too. It was not just an ordinary piece of paper laden with words: it was a formal order. It read:
Light Brigade Order # 23265.
There have been several reports filed on the Kerigor Incident five years ago, in the heat of the conflict against Narasah at the region of Kilune. At last, after constant hours of toiling at the answer, the difficult one has arisen: all Magicians must be eliminated. Their power is far too much of a threat to exist within Sentrian borders any longer, and they must be stopped before they use this power with the intents on a national threat. It won’t be long before they rise up as the very Imperial Powers we fought so hard to defeat. Every member of the Light Brigade is to assist, whether they assassinate or simply provide us with valuable information. Remember, we are our mother land’s first line of defense! We will snuff out the flames of disorder these “Magicians” bring forth before they spread across our nation.
~Commander Theresa Goodland
The others had come across the note to read it as well. Their reactions were all mixed. Patricia Norman shook her head at the thought of her own armed forces possibly going against her. As one who taught the martial arts, she hated dishonest people the most. She’d come to despise the media for their obvious lies and pretend sad speeches when in truth, the reporters were completely desensitized by sad news. To her, this was the same thing, how the so-called ‘defenders’ struck their own citizens. Most of these Magicians were likely civilians too, which made it even worse.
The former Corporal, Mervin was outraged, as was Jared, the younger guard whom he’d become good friends with in their time of employment with Nathaniel Argent. The younger wanted to become a Sentinel so badly, and this was the type of business they ran? He was honestly disappointed with them, and it would take a while for Jared to see them any differently. Mervin in the meantime just stared at his arm, remembering what he lost. Was it all for nothing? Had his homeland begun a downward spiral where oppression ruled and freedom was a silenced voice?
Arnold could tell what his three employees all wanted to say. They were summary of his thoughts, but to him, it was far more personal. He’d once watched Colonel Argent be shot and almost killed right before his eyes, and this was against the enemy. Now, the enemy was their own elite… how could he to deal with that? The former Lieutenant knew that going against them would be no small task, but also that the Colonel would not back down from this fight. That was his son… his family. He could understand too, far too well how his superior felt.
But through their feelings, all four of the guards stood in silence. There weren’t words that they could put to this situation. There was so much shock, anger, disappointment, and terror in the realization that they were almost powerless. If Sentria’s elite Commander gave orders after someone, they were gone. It didn’t matter if Mark had no crime, save being a Magician.
“Wait a minute...” Jared said, finally breaking the silence. By now, he’d eased himself, with his rifle against his shoulder. “Why are they goin’ after your son, Colonel Argent? He can’t be a Magician… but that’s what the letter said…”
“Didn’t you see that little person with him? That wasn’t a boy; it was an imp he was carrying!” Patricia exclaimed. “You think that pointy ears, that grayish skin and fangs are actually human? The younger Argent has been hiding him from us all this time!”
“It dun’ matter if the youngster’s been hidin’ it from us, Patty!” Mervin McCloud retorted, in dismay of his colleague being disappointed over that, of all things. “He was in trouble and dun’ deserve to be, ya know! He ain’t doin’ bad things with his magic from what I can see!”
“Not only that, but they have no right to be on the property that’s ours.” Arnold stated matter-of-factly. “The Colonel and I fought so hard… and Miss Juliana mended so many in one of Sentria’s darkest points in history so that we wouldn’t have this kind of infringement upon our dignity!”
“Every single one of you is absolutely right. My son is a Magician, this order is against them, and yet, he’s an innocent young man trying to finish his degree at Teris University. I know that he has a dear Familiar… I once knew the feeling before regretfully parting from them.” Nathaniel shut his eyes in a second of quiet reflection. “But what happened in my past isn’t what’s important now. We’re going to my son; I must make sure that he and his companion are safe.”
“I just don’t know what we’re gonna do, sir.” Jared mumbled the words frightfully. He was biting his lip. “Sure, we got weapons, we’re in uniform, but we ain’t Sentinels…”
“Yes we are, Jared.” Nathaniel interjected before the young man could say any more words that would likely lead to a panicked tirade. He pointed to each of his guards, one-by-one. “Corporal McCloud… great teacher Norman… honorable student Terin, and Lieutenant Miller… I want you all to listen to me when I say that we ARE Sentinels. We are the ones who raise our arms when the unarmed are threatened! We are the ones who rise up when our country is facing its darkest hour, ready to meet her enemies! We are the ones who stand between victory and defeat… we are… by our will… Sentinels! It matters not if we quit the service…” he eyed his Lieutenant. “Or if we were forced out because we were too injured to go in combat…” Argent’s gaze proceeded to fall upon Mervin McCloud, before shifting to Jared. “… it doesn’t even matter if we weren’t allowed to join…” And finally, he looked to Patricia. “Or if we had no desire to join the service at all. As the protectors of our nation, we are the Sentinels, and we will not be defeated… we will not surrender!”
As to be expected, both Mervin and Jared were psyched up about the motivational speech of the Colonel. It had been one of Nathaniel’s many perks; he was a leader whom knew how to motivate a crowd. The two guards were the most prideful in their work and their country, so a good firing up from their employer was a welcome boost to their confidence. They felt like they were in control again, like they were the heroes in a story. There would be some kind of epic battle, Jared imagined… and Mervin imagined becoming a valiant warrior whom was the victor.
Patricia was silent, but she was smiling, proud of the man whom she called ‘leader’. There were few good leaders in this time and place, and Nathaniel was one of them. She was glad to be in service of him: and would never give her fists and feet to anyone else in the country.
Lieutenant Miller, better known as his first name “Arnold” suddenly remembered the reason (besides the life debt he owed) why he considered Nathaniel Argent to be one of the best friends he ever had in his lifetime. The man was a stellar leader without being a tyrant. He knew how to get into people’s minds, and truly make them do well, rather than give off the illusion that they were doing well. By becoming the head of Nathaniel’s security, he tried to be a model leader just like his Colonel was for him and the rest of Infantry Squad VI in their days of war and glory.
So the five of them were marching onto the Argent Manor now… to find the truth in everything. They were unaware of the other arrival that was to come, and they weren’t concerned about that. All they were concerned with was the one person who’d been in danger.
The Aeron Smugglers had reached the destination they’d whipped up a quick portal to. It was a fancy establishment, one of the better human dwellings that they called a ‘mansion’ in the textbooks. They’d studied some parts of the culture of Sunaria, because they had to know their opposition. Any good thief or assassin would study their targets for weeks or even months on end before making the move to their mark, whether it be a person’s life or simply an earthly possession. Aeron had the eyes of his dear sister, Mishraka on his side when it came to observation, and she never missed a move. As the bookkeeper of the group, the details she wrote down in reports were all kept in meticulous order. They had enough info to avoid the guards and get to their prize… as long as they focused and weren’t greedy. For Aeron’s group, that was never a problem.
He also had the common knowledge that every thief in the trade knew: never remove two items from the same location. The black-winged garuda knew this from bitter experience: he’d almost had his wings clipped upon making such an error as a young smuggler. Strategy and planning were both keys of their successful operation here, and with the espionage they’d done beforehand, it would be just a matter of executing it.
Aeron would have given Dagan the order to fly ahead swiftly and take the item which the group sought. He would have lead the soaring flight himself, but he held back his brother and sister when the point they’d warped in showed them a sight that even the most experienced of thieves could not believe. Aeron could only drop his jaw, staring forward in shock and awe. “Oh… by the Great King Hori…”
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 10:13 am
Chapter 7: The Tests of Will
A distant memory came flickering into the mind of Yaris, the injured imp as the Elixir’s effects had taken him into a deep sleep where he couldn’t feel the pain of either his gunshot wound or the surgeon operating on him. Actually, it seemed like a distant memory, but it had only occurred months ago, in light of his recent bond with his Magician. Any time before now though had felt so far away, as if the young royal imp had been in this sort of ‘limbo’ the drug brought upon him. He didn’t want to see memories though. Yaris read plenty of his fantasy novels where a side character started to have flashbacks, and then they died of their injuries! This was often to reveal a more sympathetic back story so that the readers would feel emotion over their passing. Yet, this image was in his mind, it’s not like he could close his eyes and not see it.
It wasn’t like the memory he was seeing was a bad one though, it was one of the more pleasant times that he’d spent in the Light World with his dearest friend, Mark. It was such a shame, just when Yaris had gained the courage to take a bullet for the Magician, now he had to. Didn’t the great Dark King know that was a figure of speech, and that no one actually meant to take a bullet? Oh well, it was a bit late for that now. The flashback was coming, so next would be his demise, or so he thought. “Nothing after Flashbacks…” that’s what they always said. The Great Dark was approaching, Yaris was for sure, but for now… the memory came forward…
Within the world of the memory, it was merely a month after Yaris first met his Magician, Mark Argent. He developed a new hobby, rather than just waiting within the bookshelf shadow and taking a book every once in a while. The imp would hop the shadows around the manor grounds, so he could get to better know the place. Upon going around, he got to know all the guards names, the names of Nathaniel and Juliana, their relationships, and also small ideas on how they used things like coffee makers, televisions, microwaves, and stereos.
Today was the day he was going to explore the top of the manor, and all the wonders that were there. One of the things caught his interest the most and he jumped inside its shadow pocket rather quickly to get a good look at it. It was a strange long cylinder, most of it gold and glistening in the sun. One part of it was closer to the ground, and it was a lot smaller than the part of it pointing to the sky. Making sure that the strange mechanical eyes which were the cameras of the manor head Guardsman, Arnold weren’t watching him, Yaris had to have a closer look at this strange thing.
Upon looking through the smaller part closer to the ground, Yaris was fascinated. He discovered the tops of buildings somehow became larger when he looked through the odd eyeglass part of this gold thing! For hours and hours, he stared at the great statues and tops of Teris buildings, even the clock tower which was right outside of Teris University. He hadn’t realized time was passing, but he did watch the odd mechanical eye of Arnold’s. So far, he hadn’t been noticed up here, or the tall guard would have likely come storming up the stairs and demanding who (or what) the imp was.
There were sudden footfalls, however. The imp grew slightly panicked in the fact that they were so fast, and they were coming his way, meaning they were intent on coming in his direction, and they weren’t slowing. It was too late to dart into the shadows. Cornered… he thought. He was cornered just when he saw the strange device make the moon bigger! Yaris closed his eyes for a moment, but then he opened them when he heard a voice that was familiar to him. It was that of his Magician, and he seemed to be quite panicked.
“Yaris, there you are!” Mark exclaimed, kneeling at the three-foot Familiar’s level, before letting out one of the biggest sighs of relief that he’d ever done. By the looks of his face and the sound of his voice, Yaris could guess that he was looking for him for quite a while now. “So… this is where you are… I was looking over the entire manor for you and trying not to look like I was freaking out! What are you doing up here, I told you to stay in my study!”
“I’m sorry, I got bored. You have to go to that odd university of yours, you know.” Yaris answered, jumping into his Magician’s shadow. “I was looking at that contraption of yours, I don’t know what kind of magic you’ve got in there, but it’s powerful! It makes all those small things bigger, even the moon, which I never thought would get bigger!”
“Huh..?” Mark looked dumbfounded at first, and then he noticed that the ‘contraption’, which was the telescope he used for stargazing was tilted slightly below its normal height. He adjusted it so he could see many of the glowing wonders the sky had to offer. “Oh, you mean this thing? It’s called a telescope, Yaris. It’s not making anything bigger, but it lets your eye look at things closer. One of Sentria’s earliest scientists invented these so he could look at the stars in the sky and the moon’s craters. I keep forgetting…” He looked to his own shadow, knowing of course that Yaris could see him from the patch of darkness he jumped into. “You don’t have most of our inventions in your homeland, Yaris. This is all new to ya.”
“Yeah, most of it is.” Yaris smiled fondly towards his Magician, and then he just sat back casually in the patch of darkness that was Mark’s shadow as it moved steadily down the stairs. “You know, I kinda like Sunaria… it’s a new place, but that’s not all that makes it a good place. The people here are… interesting too. I just can’t wait to see how some of them react to the stunts I pulled back home!”
“Wait, you’re not doing any of that here!” Mark protested, crossing his arms. He was careful not to say it too loud, or he would be picked up on any of the bugs that Arnold no doubt placed around. “Anyhow, we’re going inside… I don’t know what Lieutenant Gray Hair would do if he caught ya.”
“None of the other guards call him that.” Yaris pointed out, his pointer finger shooting towards Mark. “They all call him Lieutenant Miller, Arnold, or even ‘boss’. Why don’t you call him any of those things, Mark? Why do you always call people these strange names that aren’t their own?”
“Those are called nicknames, Yaris. When we get really close to each other, people start calling each other names that are shorter than our longer real ones, or just names that we say when we’re playing around with them.” Mark explained it in hushed tones as he was sauntering back into his study in the manor. “I don’t know what to call you yet though, so I just use your first name. I didn’t think you’d like a nickname, Yaris…”
“Well, maybe we’ll both come up with these nicknames for each other some time; it sounds like such a cool thing!” Yaris exclaimed excitedly. “I’m trying to think of one right now… and I’ll tell you what it is once I finally come up with it.”
Yaris was thrilled of the concept of coming up with a nickname for his Magician now that he knew it was part of bonding in the Light World. Already, many names were buzzing in his mind of what to call the young Argent, but he wouldn’t dare say any of them out loud. Usually, in his world, pseudonyms were used in a case where a darkling had a fearsome name and/or reputation to uphold. One example was amongst the Winged Watchmen, how Rimoke Talonstrike was given the name “eagle eyes” for his sight that could pinpoint a perpetrator at a long distance and arrest them quickly. The ‘nicknames’ served a far different purpose in Yematia than in this world… there was so much more he had to discover.
And now, he was afraid that the discoveries would end right here. It was just when he was trying to be virtuous, courageous, and valiant. It was just when he was going to reveal himself to Mark’s family (and now he did in a roundabout way), and when he was hoping to not have to hide anymore. Now he could see it, not a great darkness… but a great light. It was coming for him, but he was welcoming it. There was nothing after flashbacks, as they always said, and he knew it…
Only, there was something after the light.
He’d heard a voice, a familiar voice that had always been beside him in this entire time he spent in the Light World. He started to see color from the bright white light that flashed before him. It was this moment that Yaris was realizing something: he saw the white light because he was returning to the world of the living. The colors were filling in like an artist putting paints on a canvas: and the sounds were coming from the speech of his Magician. Mark was here, as was his mother, whom looked exhausted now from having performed a life-saving operation. The two members of the Argent family were in the world of the living, so he knew at the moment of seeing them that he hadn’t passed into the Great Beyond just yet.
Much to the imp’s luck, he wasn’t feeling the pain that he should be feeling due to the surgery he’d gone under just yet. The Elixir’s effects were still running rampant in him, but soon enough, the arm he couldn’t move would be feeling pain that was indescribable. For now, the imp was happy, lucky that he was alive. When his Magician wrapped an arm around him, he gasped in surprise. Usually, only family members got this close to each other (or lovers, but they weren’t THAT either) in Yematia.
“Good Goddess, Yaris… you’re awake!” Mark exclaimed, only embracing him for a moment before backing away and preventing himself from touching the bad side of the three-foot Familiar. His facial expression changed rather rapidly though, from one of relief to that of anguish and shame. The reason that Yaris was injured, he felt, was his fault. “I… I’m sorry…” he muttered. “I was too chicken to use any of the magic ya gave me the runes for. We could have run away from them, or made them freeze up so they couldn’t shoot, but I didn’t cast, I wasn’t thinkin’ about it…”
“Stop it…” Yaris sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m alive, ain’t I? That means that you’ve got no reason to angst like a foolish teenager in a romance novel!” exclaimed the imp, giving his Magician a cross glare. “Sure you froze up like a statue and didn’t use a thing I taught you, but you saved me, Mark. I don’t know if you realized that, but if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here at all! I’d be one of the first royal imps in Yematia’s history to be a blood spatter in Sunaria since the old days!”
“That’s not a way for either of you to be talking.” Juliana told them sternly, her presence looming over them like a tall tower over a short child. “You’ll both stress each other out with that kinda talk! I don’t want to hear it! I can tell ya both it wasn’t your fault though.” The surgeon shook her head, before getting down on her knees again sterilizing the tools just used on the imp’s arm. Mark noticed that there was barely any blood on his mother’s pure white scrubs, meaning she’d done a very precise and accurate job. Many hailed surgeons to be the genii of Sentria, and those who said so were probably right.
For a while, the three were silent in the room. There wasn’t much that one could say after facing a scolding from Juliana. She was a strong Sentrian woman with a stern voice, and she wouldn’t take any crap from anyone. It was this quality (amongst her knowledge of anatomy) that made her one of the country’s top doctors: she knew how to talk to her subordinates and get them to do whatever she wanted. It was half respect, and half saying what she wanted them to do, and not listening to any person’s objections.
“Oh, Miss Juliana, it’s so great to meet face-to-face, even if this is awkward!” Yaris chimed, finally breaking the silence cheerfully. It appeared that his injury hadn’t changed his personality, much like literature would like to say otherwise. “Thanks for taking the bullet outta me; it must have exhausted you, as I can see. Why, you’ve just got enough energy to put away your tools! Maybe I should pick them up because you helped save my life too?”
Juliana looked at the clean end of a sterile scalpel now, shaking her head. “I’m glad you offered, but you don’t want to touch a surgeon’s tools, small one. You should be resting anyhow. I’m sure there’s much you and my son have to discuss…” she eyed Mark for a moment. “That is, if you don’t turn it into a shouting match or even a blame game. I’m putting these away. Besides, I have to make sure that Nathaniel and the guards are well. I know that they went and fought off the intruders. I also know that they were running scared.” She looked back at the two, winking. “So, for now, I’m leaving this mini-surgery of mine. “So, I want you two to be civil with one another while I’m gone, and no more of that depressing speech that gets you worked up. See you later.”
The lady doctor waved without a word, and both Magician and Familiar were both dumbfounded on how calm she was. Wasn’t this the first time that she’d seen an imp? Mark thought it over and definitely thought it was the first time. The same thought had been on his Familiar’s mind, as they both were in a puzzled silence upon the woman in scrubs’ departure from them. “Yaris… what do you think…”
“Oh, it must be because I’m charming.” He smiled his usual fanged smile, the effects of the Elixir showing more and more. “You know, after being around a charming guy, women don’t care about what he looks like, Mark. You should try putting off some of the vibes I do, and you’ll have them falling all over you!”
“Hey, does that mean you were trying to flirt with her?! That’s my mother, Yaris.” Mark glared at him, and his response was a simple chuckle from his imp companion.
“No, I’m not saying that I’m going after a human. I wouldn’t even dream of it, Mr. Overprotective.” Yaris teased, continuing to show his fanged smirk. “I’m just saying that I have a very charming personality, and that women and girls alike can’t help but be nice to me! I have quirks they love, so they can’t ever, ever be mad at me. Even Nisha is victim to my charms!”
“I don’t see anything charming about you…” Mark muttered, and then he put a hand over the imp’s head. “But I’m glad you’re still here with me, Yaris. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you…”
“Aw, now didn’t that mother of yours tell you not to say more of this sappy stuff?” Yaris replied, slightly embarrassed by his friend’s confession. “And I’m glad you’re here with me, now… no more of this, seriously, it’s not like you!”
Mark was now the one giggling. He’d never seen his imp friend so awkward around him, nor did he think that he would be the one to make Yaris feel that way. It wasn’t like they were THAT close or anything, just that the ‘clean cut Sentinel’s son’ never imagined embarrassing anyone before. It was a slight triumph, he told himself in his mind. Really, thinking of anything right now was better than being reminded of the bitter reality that lie before him: in his search for his dearest friend, in his action to rescue him even, Mark had failed at this task. He’d not only failed in looking for Father Neil, but he’d put Yaris in mortal danger. If the Light Brigade weren’t after the two because they were snooping around too much, then what else would they target them for? Mark’s mind was off this, thankfully, and in the moment where he was glad that Yaris had lived through the ordeal, as he did.
*****
Juliana was in one of the guest rooms in the manor, thinking it best that she leaved the Magician and Familiar alone in her room that also contained a mini-surgery. She changed out of the dirty scrubs, contemplating about washing them, but not now of course. In times like these, she had wardrobes scattered throughout the guest rooms (she had more than enough money to afford it all anyhow), because a highly organized surgeon was prepared for literally everything. The lady doctor changed into a casual looking black suit that fit just right, and for now, she left the shoes off. There was no need to prance around the manor in pumps, she knew that the maids kept the floor nice and clean for everyone to walk on.
She walked ever so slowly to the living room, where she was met by the manor guards and her husband, Nathaniel. Much to the lady doctor’s relief, none of the group had any injuries, but they did look incredibly tense. What happened outside was likely not something ‘minor’ that the Colonel would just ignore. It was a fight that meant things were personal, likely. In the shadow of such an ugly conflict ahead of her, Juliana had to prepare herself for war once again. It was something she regretted, but she knew that the pride of everyone (even her) wouldn’t allow them to let this be a stalemate very long.
Juliana took a seat next to Nathaniel, the first to speak in the tensed silence that vibrated throughout the room. If no one spoke, she had a feeling that they’d just be quiet and angry, and that was no way for a group of armed men and women to feel. “What’s going on, Nathan?” she asked her beloved, one of her hands resting upon his to give the very tense Colonel some comfort. “If you’re worried about our son, he’s safe, as is his Familiar.”
“I know he wasn’t wounded, but I’m surprised that boy of ours’ mind stayed in tact after all those shots were fired. It’s a miracle we didn’t lose him like back when he was ten, Julie. And it’s good to hear that the little imp is well! I never thought I would see one again! This is incredible…” Colonel Argent spoke, his worries and anger for a while vanishing, until the man furrowed his brows. “My son and his friend ain’t going to be safe for very long though.”
“The Colonel’s right, Juliana…” Arnold interjected, his eyes traveling the room. He tended to get nervous when he knew there were no smokes nearby for him to huff on, because it meant that his stress would stick with his mind for a while. “Our opponents aren’t common thugs or even a crime syndicate. They’re the Light Brigade…”
“The Light Brigade is after Mark and that little imp I just saved?!” Juliana asked the expression on her face turning from her usual calmness she always had to that of terror. “What reason do they have? Our son is not a terrorist, Nathan!”
“That’s what we were thinkin’, Juliana!” exclaimed the young Jared, just about as outraged as he’d ever been before. “Who cares that Mark’s got a strange little… person following him, I never remember them causin’ trouble for anyone!”
Former Corporal Mervin McCloud shook his head, while crossing his arms. “I’m guessin’ they be after fame an’ glory… or at least the fast track to it. Those Light Brigade Members think that it’s fine to just go and ruin civilian lives for their own pleasures, an’ they dun’ realize just how much they’re goin’ against their own oaths!”
“They’re all disgraces to the name Sentinel. When we fought the war, I heard of the chivalry the soldiers had not to directly involve the civilians in their squabbles.” Patricia added. “If they have quarrels with other Magicians who are foreigners, or other Sentinels, that’s fine with me…”
“But that’s also wrong, Patty!” objected Jared, pointing his finger at her. “They shouldn’t be going after anyone without a good reason, like if they are a true national threat! If they were going after the real enemies of Sentria and not terrorizing their own, we wouldn’t even be thinkin’ about going up against ‘em all, right?”
“But we can’t do all this alone…” muttered Arnold in a troubled tone of voice. The man felt ‘troubled’ few times in his life, but knowing that he was doing the right thing and that few people would join him in his crusade to protect a civilian got the normally sniper-for-sport a little on edge. This would not be an easy campaign that the guards were planning, especially if they were to be the only ones on the front in such a battle. Sure, he and his group had all the bravado that would put even the most excited of a Sentinel recruit to shame: but bravado wasn’t the only thing required to win a long-scale fight against an opponent that was more skilled and had more numbers. One needed strategy, and possibly more units to their squad in order to pull off a successful operation, or it was doomed to have only one conclusion: one that no one here would be happy with.
“You think I was going to try and rush into the Light Brigade’s quarters without reinforcements?” Nathaniel chuckled slightly, but his expression grew sullen and serious quickly. “I’m not going this alone, not by a long shot! I’ll let you all know though… that I’m going to be calling the best damn Sentinel unit that ever lived under our flag. I’m going to call my squad, Infantry Division VI! We’ll fight this out and expose Commander Goodland’s intentions to the King himself if we have to! All I know is that none of us are cowering away from this! I said it before, and I’ll say it again: every single one of us is Sentinels! We must do whatever we can to protect those who need it the most: the defenseless!”
Juliana was certainly proud of her husband for being confident that his old squad he was once a Colonel of would come to their aid. Then again, who wouldn’t after a speech like that? She remembered their days as they were back when she was a member of the Sentrian Field Medics, and he was a commanding officer amongst Sentria’s ranks. The two of them both once had their days of glory, and they were coming their way once again for the sake of something equally precious to them. “Why, with the way he smiles and the way he speaks to the lot of you… I don’t think Nathan here is going to lose. What about the rest of you?”
She eyed the guards, the same smirk that was on her the face of her dearest reflecting on her lips (and even her eyes.) “I’m sure that all of you will join him in the quest for victory… and to save our dear Mark from… I’m sorry to say, our own countrymen. They’ll return for him, no doubt about that, I know how the Light Brigade works because I’ve mended so many of them. They will keep coming unless they’re either completely crushed from the resolve they had to pursue a target… or… if they hit that target.”
“Do ya really reckon that defeatin’ ‘er’s gonna stop Theresa Goodland? She’s a determined lass, ya know… I doubt that just bein’ crushed under our forces, if we get ‘em is gonna solve anythin’, Colonel…” Mervin muttered nervously, remembering the bitter experience that took the first arm he had away. Although his mechanical one was there, he would never forget how he’d lost the natural one… how he’d underestimated his foe and just watched it come off as if it weren’t even a part of him at all. “Ain’t she the type o’ gal to go on a fightin’ even after she’s been defeated, sir?”
“No, she’s not that type.” Nathaniel shook his head in response to Mervin McCloud. “You don’t become the leader of the Light Brigade with that kind of pride, Mervin. I know the way her mind works from the time we both made a strategy to regain the beaches of Kilune from those Narasah thugs. Her minds works in a way where if she can win, she’ll spring forward at it, but if not, she’ll surrender. While that might be dangerous on the battlefield, it’s a better way to preserve an officer of high rank rather than have them wasted with bullets.”
“I find our campaign and our cause to be a noble one I’d be happy to use my fist for, sir.” Patricia said. “However, there’s one thing that I don’t understand. What are we to do about your son in order to keep him safe from the Light Brigade returning to finish the job? They must have never been thwarted before this, or they would have drawn back, as you said their Commander often does when she’s faced in a situation where she can’t win. In this case, she and her associates risked exposure, but who’s to say that next time, she won’t find a way around all of us? She might even be able to predict your moves as far as contacting the Infantry Division VI, and then might even get to them first.”
Nathaniel turned to the martial artist. “Ah, Patricia Norman, you raise a fantastic point. Although we know each other and are trying to feel out what the next one’s move shall be, and even if she does predict me calling upon the squad that brought Sentria many victories in the old days, there is one advantage that I have over her now. She has lost the element of surprise by being careless and attacking Mark so close to the manor grounds. I will consider this, and also be able to devise that she will be in hiding for now, trying to devise a plan to outsmart me. During this short time she’ll be inactive, that is the time we must make our plans and finally strike! I have connections throughout the Sentinel ranks. I’m sure that one of them knows which base the Brigade is in at the moment.”
“So, another step towards victory is just a phone call away.” Juliana winked, picking up the cordless off its cradle and putting it in Nathaniel’s hands. “I hope you remember all their numbers, dear. It’s been a while since both of us have seen our comrades-in-arms; I do wonder how they’re getting along. Such a shame this is the occasion we have to call them.”
“We don’t move just yet… or we’re going to look like we’re going after Commander Goodland as aggressors. What we’ll do is wait for another strike, and be prepared to counter.” Colonel Argent said, spoken like a true strategist. “Whatever we do, I will give you and my old squad the same orders. We’re going to defend my son. He’s innocent, and doesn’t deserve to be at the end of the Brigade’s gunshots. … even if something has to happen to me, I’ll be sure that he’s spared of that fate.”
*****
The sight which terrified Aeron to no end was right in front of his eyes. Was this some kind of nightmare that the heist he was so thrilled to announce to the darklings that were his fans back home was leading to what he beheld? He pinched himself, but found the image to be real. Before him, a royal imp was lying, drugged by the appearance of his eyes and also his very, very awkward body language, and talking to a human as if they knew each other for a while. The imp was Yaris ti Yematia, with what looked like a right arm that wouldn’t move. What was the reason it wouldn’t move, why had he been injured, and why was he drugged? The black-winged garuda would have had so many more questions had he not seen something that made him back further into the hiding place that he and his siblings were wedged inside. Before his eyes, the Winged Watchmen (their Admiral and seven falcons) had flown through a portal and proceeded to surround the imp and human.
“Here’s not the place to be, and now is not the time…” he whispered to his siblings, who could only nod their heads in agreement. What bad luck they were having, that not only the Shadow Walkers human friends had actually carried through the threat of striking down a royal imp, but the Watch were now here, probably to take the imp away and possibly catch the garudas and the harpy in their act of stealing why they were at it. It was unbelievable… “I can’t even think of why Admiral Soarwing would think this far ahead.”
“There’s no use in lamenting over it!” Mishraka told him, in a hushed (but still sharp) tone of voice. “Bro, we can just fly outta here without any of ‘em noticin’ us! Isn’t it great?”
“Yeah, like Mish here said…” Dagan shrugged. “We can pull off the heist some other time, and we can tell our patrons that some difficulties came up. I mean, it’s the truth, ain’t it? Not every heist is going to be perfect… hey… Aeron, are you listening to me?”
“I cannot believe this… Mishraka, Dagan. He was an imp… and the humans used their weapons on him. That wound he has is not from magic, I can even tell that from this distance. What are they doing these horrible things for? We only steal items, we don’t steal lives… and that gives us enough gold to live and then some!” Aeron said to his siblings, slightly raising his wings.
“Calm down, will ya, Aeron! The Watch is gonna hear…” Mishraka warned, holding a finger to her lips in desperation to make her brother quiet before they really were caught. “Why are ya so shocked that people in this world are capable of shootin’ one of us with their weird weapons? Don’t ya read the texts? This is a violent world!”
“Hold it, Mish. It ain’t as simple as you think!” Dagan exclaimed in a low voice. “I mean, look at it this way! If they’re goin’ around and doin’ this to our royalty, how do you think they’re going to treat a bunch of pirates like use? They’re not gonna have any mercy on any of the Yematians. These are Familiars, sure, but who’s to say they ain’t gonna move on to us?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, Dagan…” Aeron muttered nervously, looking upon the Winged Watchmen, whom seemed to be explaining themselves to the Magician before they moved on to talk to Yaris. He didn’t know who the human acquaintances of the Shadow Walkers were, but that didn’t matter to him. The only thing he wanted to do was stop the syndicate, for they were more of a threat to the common darklings than any lack of human knowledge ever could be. If it wasn’t for the Shadow Walkers’ information network leaking out the vital bits to the humans here, then none of this (or the deaths of the previous Familiars that left Queen Nisha ailing) would have happened at all. “We all have to uphold the one code that we swore to each other. Even if we’re not Watchmen, royal guards, or even not fully obeying the law, we must sabotage those who steal lives. Maybe we can’t hope to fight them, since we focus on stealing…”
“But, can we rob ‘em blind, bro?” Mishraka grinned visibly, and that was a very scary thing to everyone who knew her, including the youngest of the three’s two older brothers. “I knew that ya weren’t just gonna have us go all goody-goody, Aeron! You’re the greatest!”
“She’s sure happy about this…” muttered Dagan into his brother’s ear, and the both of them were equally unsurprised by this revelation. “But, Mish, ya should let our brother finish what he’s saying before you go and interrupt him, you know.”
“Fine, fine…” Mishraka looked away from Dagan. If the Watch weren’t nearby, she would have let him have it, for sure. She was by no means a pushover, but she especially held her own in the verbal arena. When in a war of words with the red-feathered harpy, many found it easier to surrender than to keep trying to outsmart her. She always had a comeback… always.
“Our plan is very simple.” Aeron whispered to his siblings, and the two drew in close enough to hear his very soft tone of voice. “What we’ll do is re-join the Shadow Walkers and explain that the Watchmen were almost on to us. When they ask us to use their portals, then we’ll also agree to deliver the information. In secret… we’ll deliver it to Rimoke Talonstrike, whom I know is running an operation right now to stamp out the Shadow Walkers. The rest of it is downhill from there, for the Watch will set up a sting group and catch them red-handed: the humans and the Shadow Walkers!”
“So, we’re turnin’ slightly good, but we’re not flyin’ with the Admiral and his cronies?” Mishraka at first looked skeptical, but then she had a cheerful look upon her face quickly. “I love the idea! It means that we’re gettin’ them back for what they were doin’ too! It’s a lot better than takin’ ‘em on like we’re some kinda heroes, Aeron.”
“They’re goin’ to be sorry they went and used a bunch of thieves…” Dagan added, smirking. “The Shadow Walkers should know that there’s no real “honor amongst thieves”, as they’re goin’ around stealin’ darkling’s and people’s lives away! Steal and get stolen from… isn’t that the only honor we know, brother?”
The only honor that they ever knew was a loose bit of ‘guidelines’ left behind by some of the first thieves that were ever in Yematia. While they hadn’t the knowledge of portal magic and thought of only taking others’ magical creations, the rules were still the same even today. A thief would be one for life, first of all, and second: a thief should expect, at any time for anyone (except family, but maybe even them), to turn on them. The Shadow Walkers were a group of criminals, and not all of them were thieves, so not all of them knew this rule. They didn’t know what kind of Pandora’s Box they unleashed when they crossed Aeron, one of the most brilliant masterminds in all of Yematia. While the black-wing’s heist had been put on hold, he had a much more difficult (and satisfying) mission to fulfill.
With a poke in the air of her clawed hand, Mishraka began another of the quick and dirty sort of portals. “Well, the first step is startin’, Aeron! Let’s meet the Shadow Walkers! If they don’t believe us, we just pummel them and… use our last resort to join the Watchmen in fightin’ em, right?” She threw her own alternate plan into the mix, but it wasn’t like they were going to need it. The Shadow Walkers, as far as they were concerned, were still their ‘allies’. This little act that the three siblings had a great risk for it if the criminal group were onto their schemes, but it would even be a bigger, better heist than the one that they’d had planned before. The hole in dimensions got bigger and bigger, as Mishraka drew the larger circle, and the siblings were off again. Who said portals disrupted the natural order, they did nothing to nature with this kind of travel! Honestly, the Watch was just so eager to arrest a darkling that they made such ludicrous laws. At least now, they were trying to do the right thing.
The three siblings flew through the portal without a word. They all had to have a somber look on their faces if they were to pull off this act, and they were certainly going to have to stop from grinning or looking victorious until it was all officially over. They never imagined doing something as vaguely heroic as this… but maybe the three were heroes. Maybe doing a good deed wasn’t so bad after all, and it was something they could get used to if they were ever forced to give up their lives of piracy and the high skies. Of course, those days were far off from today. Today, they soared as pirates (and actors) to the Shadow Walkers, in hopes of making a difference for all of Yematia.
*****
Admiral Jirian Soarwing hated the dimensional rifts that the portals brought, even if they were the regulated ones that were meant to go slower and keep nature at a close to normal pace. He had to hurry if he was to reach the signal he could already see was fading! He’d been too late in the pursuit of young Yaris ti Yematia, and the Shadow Walker’s reach likely extended to the youthful royal already. Was he going to only make it in time for the last moments of one of Nisha’s dearest family members without being able to stop it? The hawk found the grim news of Yaris’s dark aura fading to be the most troubling he’d received yet. He’d been used to the Shadow Walkers committing their various dastardly deeds throughout Yematia. Admiral Soarwing had lived in times where royal family members were in danger, but he’d never once failed one of them.
eat King Hori, if you can hear me, please let me get there in time to save him!” exclaimed the head Watchman, his wing flaps getting more rapid by the second. The falcons following him had no trouble keeping up, as they too knew that this was urgent business that their superior was attending to. While most of them were enlisted falcons with the ranks of enlisted Watch, one of them was a Captain amongst the group. His name was Torris Glidewing, said to be in a family that were distant relatives of the Admiral’s.
The Captain spoke into his mind as clear as he could soar at such a speed, and even he wasn’t used to the breakneck pace that the group was going at. “Are we almost on the other side, Admiral? I can tell by your frantic flaps that you’re desperate to reach him. I swear I’ll tear apart those Sunarian scumbags if they even touched one of our royal imps!” Before Jirian answered him, he saw the sun’s rays poking through the other side…
“That’s the other side, ladies and gentlemen!” Captain Glidewing shouted through the mind speech to the other falcons that were flying slightly behind them, almost side-by-side with his superior. “Prepare for battle now, because I have a feeling that whatever’s on the other side isn’t waiting to welcome us, Watchmen! No matter what, we must save Yaris ti Yematia! The boy’s a troublemaker and a prankster, but by the Great King of Darkness, I won’t let him fall on a side of the world that ain’t his own!”
“Well said, Captain.” Admiral Soarwing complimented before being one of the first to flap his wings through the portal into… not the sun’s ray’s, by his surprise, but into a room lit by the artificial electricity within the Argent manor. There were various machines about that Jirian had only read about and heard about in the Mockingbirds and Doves’ songs, but never once seen the devices live. His eyes searched the room for the one thing though, and he found it. It was the shape of an imp, three feet tall, and he looked to be lying in a bed of sorts with his arm wrapped up in a bandage. This was the one he was supposed to protect with his life and return to their home, and there was a Sunarian standing over him! That was not acceptable. “Falcons, get ready… prepare to charge forward and take a member of our homeland’s royal family back home! We won’t let these filthy no-wings keep him as a hostage!”
“Yes sir!” replied the Captain and the six other falcons, spreading their wings for one of the most basic maneuvers of hunting, the famous Swallow Strike, where a bird of prey swooped towards their target and swept them off the ground faster than they could think of reacting, and either crushed them, or dropped them. In this case, they would just pin down the human, and take his imp hostage. It was a Watch maneuver called “strike and cover.”
“Move out!” Admiral Talonstrike ordered, and then soon after, the birds of prey began their first part: strike.
Mark Argent had been keeping a vigil at his Familiar’s side. Now Yaris had gone unconscious for a while, as was expected after one drank an Elixir. It was a shame that he hadn’t stayed awake so the two of them could talk as Juliana had imagined they would, as the two did have a lot to discuss. The young Sentrian couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in a few months, how he entered a whole new world because of one imp that he met. Parts of it (like now) were scary, but most of it, like learning of the magical runes and Yematia’s history and culture were both very new and exciting changes that Mark welcomed wholeheartedly.
He would have thought about this more if he hadn’t have seen a very dark hole come into the air out of nowhere. Yaris once mentioned how portals looked like this, but who would be coming here? Were they other Yematians, maybe coming to help them? His hope grew dim as he saw a large hawk and a group of smaller falcons all go into a formation, and suddenly start charging at him! He crouched defensively, remembering some of the runes and releasing them. He still saw talons about to grasp him, but then a voice shouted into the air and the large talons stopped in their tracks, just as they were about to hit home. When Mark looked up, he realized it was Yaris whom was doing the shouting.
“Stop, Admiral!” he ordered frantically, holding his left palm up in the air in a motion that meant ‘halt!’ “Don’t sink your talons into him, that’s my Magician! Sheesh, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Your Highness, I’m sorry…” Admiral Soarwing flew backwards away from the Magician, whom was not only crouched, but also surrounded by a shield of darkness that he’d made by instinct. Even if Jirian tried to grasp the youth with his mighty talons at the end of his feet, they would have gone through him as if he were a shadow. “I had no idea that human was your companion, Prince Yaris… and when your dark aura was dropping so dramatically earlier, I could only assume you were in mortal danger!”
“I was before he carried me to his mother, Admiral Soarwing…” Yaris smiled, before he looked to Mark, still crouched in the shield of darkness. “Mark! You don’t have to be scared now, you know? The Admiral’s one of the Winged Watchmen, he’s a friend! I straightened things out! I want ya to get along.”
Upon hearing Yaris’s voice again, Mark looked up from the dark shield and he dispelled it for now and returned to a normal sitting position on his knees. “Yaris… called you “Admiral Soarwing”… and a “Winged Watchman…” he looked upon the large hawk and he had to gulp once. The bird was a lot larger than Sentria’s native birds of prey, and it looked like he’d been through a lot of battles in his lifetime. Since Mark knew about mind speech from some of his sessions with the royal imp, he wasn’t going to ask how this admirable bird was talking.
“Ah, so you’re the Magician of our fine Prince Yaris, are you…boy?” Admiral Soarwing looked the young Sentrian over, and then he gave out a proud cry of the hawk that was the closest thing he could manage to a laugh. “It’s good to put a face to the name that people float around in the rumors! Mark Argent… huh. You look like a decent enough fella, and I guess you are to help one of our royal imps! I thank you for helping save him, but it’s really a shame, sir. You’re doing my job now.”
“I’m… sorry sir…” Mark muttered awkwardly, not knowing how to reply to the Watchman. By the look in the hawk’s eyes though, the young Sentrian could tell that he was grateful for the rescue of his Prince. That was another thing Yaris hadn’t mentioned, now that Mark thought of it! Since when was he royalty anyway? “I was just doin’ what I felt was right! Besides, Yaris is my friend… I didn’t wanna lose him, Admiral.”
“I never said that you saving him was a bad thing, lad!” Admiral Soarwing would have smiled, but again, beaks were not built for this sort of thing. His eyes did show that he was happy though. “I’m glad that one of our royals that became a Familiar is in such good hands. I didn’t imagine any of you here in… Sentria to be such unselfish ones… but I guess I was wrong. All I can do is thank you, young Argent.”
The Captain of the Falcons proceeded to fly alongside his Admiral and speak as well. “You were saving us the trouble of what we thought we had to do as matter of fact, nestling.” Torris Glidewing said in a very cheerful, honest tone of voice. “We were expecting not only a fight, but one where we’d be facing those dangerous weapons wrought of technology in this world. I haven’t studied that many of them, because I’ve never been a Familiar! Not that many with the nature to handle a bird of prey I suppose.”
“Admiral Soarwing… Captain Glidewing…” Yaris looked upon the two Watch officers and their subordinates that followed them. “What are you guys doing here, besides trying to save me? You surely didn’t open a portal to the other side because I was in trouble, or you’d have to keep a permanent one back in the days before our great King Hori! What’s going on in Yematia?”
Mark was intent on listening to them, unless he was told to go away. So far, he wasn’t told that this wasn’t any of his business, part of it probably because the occurrences were in his world. This was an incident that connected the worlds, so no one needed to be left out. For now, he wanted to listen to the story the Winged Watchmen had to tell. From what he understood, they were like the Sentinels of Yematia, they were only sent when something was really amiss. The fact that Yaris was asking meant that maybe he was a responsible citizen after all and maybe even suited for royalty.
“The Shadow Walkers are on the move, Your Highness…” said Admiral Jirian Soarwing, his tone of voice within the mind speech growing grim all of the sudden. “We captured one of their associates while we were on a patrol of the city, but we had leads first. When the Owl Twins interrogated the young mountain lion cub, the revealed that they were selling the information of Yematians to a Suna- I mean Sentrian group of human fighters named the Light Brigade. Through further mind probing, we were able to figure out that you and your Magician were the next targets to have their papers sold and targets painted upon their backs, Prince Yaris. That’s when Nisha gave an order, for me to come to your rescue at all costs, and for my Vice Admiral and the rest to do whatever they needed to bring down the Shadow Walkers and their willing associates. At the moment, I imagine my Eagle Eyes and my Hawk Ears have their hands full in something that is… an all-out war against the crime syndicate.”
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