Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid (45 page)

From the fury that burned in Durak’s eyes, Rho’uk thought for a moment that his superior had pushed him beyond his own restraints, but when the expected, and possibly warranted, attack did not come, Shu’ma simply continued, speaking with deliberate condescension.

“You may return to your fleet now, High Commander. We will return to our own transport. I will summon you in the unlikely event that your services should be required.”

Durak turned to face Shu’ma, more composed than Rho’uk would have thought possible under the circumstances, though his eyes hid none of his contempt.

“I would advise you,” he began, his voice carrying with it an edge of barely restrained rage, “not to mistake my tolerance for obedience. It is by the will of the Gods that you have my cooperation. It may not always be so.”

With that the High Commander strode from the office, its doors sealing shut behind him. Rho’uk let the silence hang for a few moments before turning from the viewport to look directly at Shu’ma, still facing the office doors in his seat.

“Do you think it wise to continue to patronize the High Commander so?” he asked.

“Wisdom has little to do with it,” Shu’ma responded, not turning around. “It entertains me.”

“His patience seems to be wearing thin.”

“Does that concern you?” Shu’ma was trying to goad him now. He was in a confrontational mood and obviously wished to continue in his game. Rho’uk didn’t play along.

“Durak commands the military,” he said, instead. “We require his army to meet our ends.”

“Durak is loyal to the Gods,” Shu’ma returned, “of which his army and everything else belongs. He knows his place. If he forgets it, I will
remind
him. Your concern should not lie with the High Commander’s
feelings
, but with our mandate. Or have you forgotten it?”

Rho’uk eyed Shu’ma, who’s arrogance was beginning to become insulting. “I have not.”

Shu’ma stood and walked towards the viewport, looking out at the cityscape. “I have my doubts about this plan of yours. As does our Overseer. He has expressed his concern over your failure with the human. It has . . .
shaken
his confidence in your ability to lead this campaign at my side. I assured him his doubts were unfounded. That you would redeem yourself. Will you?”

“That is my intent.”

“The best of intentions are little more than that without the will to see them done. For your sake, I hope you are right. A second failure cannot be allowed . . . or forgiven.”

It was less a threat than a simple fact. Rai Chi did not fail in service to the Gods. To do so would be to bring shame to one’s clan. Payment for failure came in blood. A sacrifice to the Gods for displeasing Them. He knew all too well the consequences if he was mistaken. But to redeem himself in the eyes of his Overseer and the Gods, he needed to take action. Standing aside to avoid another mistake was no better than failing.

The outcome of his plan would either save or end his life. That fact did not bring him any discomfort. Every choice, every decision a Rai Chi warrior made could mean life or death for him. That was their way. However, he did not intend to pass on to the next place before his time. He was confident in his plan.

Chapter 25

The journey out of the mountain had been no less perilous than on the way in, and feeling more physically drained than he had in a very long time, Jarred was relieved to finally find himself stepping foot back into the Toguai village again.

Night was falling, the last of the evening’s setting sunlight sinking into the mountainous horizon. Even so, the village was alive with activity, word of their approach apparently having been announced, the Toguai appearing to flood as a whole from their cliffside dwellings to greet them. They approached him and his guide with an excited interest, encircling them both, but leaving more than a body length distance between them on all sides. He was curious as to the reason for all of the attention, cautioned as it was, but his focus remained solidly on finding some place to fall over and pass out. Spotting Kern and Sierra as they emerged from their own dwelling, Elora following close behind them, he knew that wouldn’t be happening as soon as he would have liked.

“Where have you been?” Sierra almost demanded, once she had fought her way through the crowd of Toguai to stand before him.

“It’s a long story,” he answered, watching as his guide disappeared into the mass of Toguai around them.

“Try me,” she returned, her hands going to her hips in a gesture he was quickly learning meant no nonsense.

Jarred breathed a tired sigh, knowing he couldn’t avoid her barrage of waiting questions forever. “Can we find some place to sit down first?”

They made their way to the hollowed out area in front of the cliff wall, the swarm of Toguai withdrawing enough to let them pass. Approaching the centralized fire pit, Jarred dropped down heavily onto the ground, leaning back against one of the large stones that encircled the pit area. Sierra and Kern stood in front of him, waiting expectantly, while Elora found a stone to sit on next to his.

A Toguai approached from the mass around him and offered forward a leather water pouch. Surprised by the gesture, he took it gratefully and drank back a few mouthfuls from the bag’s spout.

“You look terrible,” Kern commented, eyeing him.

“Thanks,” Jarred said, managing to crack a smile. “It’s been a very long day.”

Sierra took a step forward. “Where did you go?”

Jarred tilted his head back to look up at her. “Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t sure?”

“Not really,” she answered, flatly.

“I didn’t think so. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact.” Jarred did a quick scan of the faces in the crowd bordering the fire pit area. “Where is Orna?”

“We haven’t seen her,” Sierra answered. “She’s been with the elders all day.” Her expression became suspicious. “What did you two talk about yesterday? What did she say to you?”

Jarred considered whether or not he should even try to explain what had occurred over the passed day, from his strange conversation with Orna to his trek into the mountain and the discovery of the alien sphere. To do so, with the hope of anyone’s comprehension, he supposed he would have to understand it all for himself first. For that, he would require his own answers from the only person in a position to give them.

“You have returned.”

Orna’s voice was a fluttery breeze in the cool night air, her words sending a chill up Jarred’s spine. He turned to look at her as the Toguai parted to allow her and the elders to pass.

“Barely,” he replied, watching her as she approached. “That was an
interesting
journey you sent me on.”

“All journeys worth taking are,” she answered.

“I have a few follow up questions.”

“I suspected you would.”

Sierra cut in. “I have a few of my own.”

Orna glanced back at her. “They will have to wait.” Receiving silence in return, she turned back to Jarred and nodded once, a gesture he took to mean ‘
ask away’
.

Taking a breath, he composed his thoughts. “You knew what I would find down there?”

Orna nodded. “I did.”

“What was it?”

“What do
you
believe it was?”

As usual she was directing his questions back at him. “A vessel.”

Orna nodded again. “Yes, in part. But it had a much greater purpose than just that.”

She said
had
. Had she known that the sphere would destroy itself when he removed the sword, nearly taking him with it in the process? He put the thought aside for the moment.

“A vault,” he concluded.

Orna nodded, approvingly. “And did you find the secret that it protected?”

Her eyes moved to the long satchel that was slung over his shoulder and he removed it, laying it on the ground next to him before pulling the cover free to display the sword nestled within. A symphony of surprised grunts erupted from the surrounding Toguai as they stared, wide eyed, at the weapon, the entire group appearing to take a collective step back. Jarred returned his gaze to Orna. “What is it?”

Orna gave him a curious look. “Do you not know?”

“I know what it resembles . . . and I’ve seen it many times in my-” He let his words trail off, deciding not to voice the fact that he had seen the sword in his recurring dreams with everyone listening. “But, like the sphere, it’s something more . . . isn’t it?”

Orna simply blinked at him, her dark eyes unreadable.

“Did you know what would happen when I removed it?” he asked.

“I did,” she admonished with a nod.

Jarred felt himself becoming angry and stood back up, a bit unsteadily. “I almost died! That whole place came down around me. A little warning would have been nice.”

“I could not tell you what you would find there,” Orna explained, calmly. “It was
your
journey to take.”

Jarred shook his head, feeling both frustrated and light headed. The ordeal had taken more out of him that he had thought, his body not recovering as quickly as he was used to.

“Alright,” Sierra interjected, stepping forward again. “I’m sorry Orna, but what is going on here? What is all this talk about a
sphere
? Where was it that you sent him,
and why? And please, don’t tell me it doesn’t concern me, because your safe return to my people is
my
responsibility and that makes anything that happens here my concern.”

“Of course is it your concern,” Orna assured her, letting her gaze move over all of them and the Toguai, finally coming back to rest on Jarred. “It is all of our concern.”

“Orna,” Sierra began again, looking wary. “Why did you bring us here?”

“To help you,” she answered. “To help us all. But to do so, I must first help
him
.”

Sierra’s suspicious gaze fell on Jarred. “Help him to do what?”

Orna was quiet a moment, her eyes remaining focused on Jarred. “To become what he is meant to be.”

*     *     *

Golden flames from the raging bonfire in the village center reached high into the black, star filled sky, casting flickering shadows out across the cliff wall and surrounding trees. Hoots and growls echoed out loudly into the night. The sounds of celebration. Elora wasn’t entirely sure what the Toguai were celebrating, but it seemed to have something to do with Jarred’s return, and more specifically, what he had returned
with
.

Strangely, the Toguai seemed both intrigued and fearful of the sword. They revered it, as though it were a sacred artifact which obviously held some great importance to their people, yet they also distanced themselves from it. She remembered Orna’s unspoken words the night of their arrival.

‘One that is worthy of that which you protect
.
’

Is that what she had been speaking of? Did the Toguai protect and possibly worship this sword, and if so, why? What was so special about it? Why did she send Jarred into the mountain to retrieve it, and more importantly, why did he agree? Was he the
worthy
one? The questions whirled through her mind in a non stop barrage and she had to force herself to stop. There was only one person who could answer her questions and that was Jarred.

He had drifted away shortly after the celebration began and she found him sitting on the same large stone formation she had herself taken to resting on during the day, which provided a breathtaking view of the surrounding mountains. She approached him slowly and he glanced up at hearing her.

“Hi,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

“Hi.”

“Some party back there,” she commented, gesturing back towards the still audible sounds of celebration from the village. “A little too much for you?”

“I guess so,” he said, with a slight grin. “I just needed to go someplace quiet where I could be alone for a bit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elora apologized, feeling immediately embarrassed. “I’ll leave you.”

Jarred stood up. “No. I didn’t mean for you to go. I’m sorry. Please, stay.”

Elora hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered with a smile. “Of course. Please. I could actually really use someone to talk to. Just . . . not there with all
that
going on.”

“Alright.” Stepping up onto the stone formation, she moved into a position next to Jarred and they both sat down. For what seemed like forever, they just sat in silence, staring out into the mountain scape, the reflective light of the looming gas giant they orbited, casting subtle highlights onto the edges of its many peaks and valleys. It really was quite beautiful. Glancing over at Jarred, she found him cradling the sword he had returned to the village with, one hand moving back and forth slowly over the surface of the blade.