The Rising Sun: Episode 3 (14 page)

“Let’s hope you aren’t talking too soon.”
warned Qyro.

“So even when the Xeni want to release the
demon army,” asked Vestra. “won’t they need a spell to do it?”

Mantra’s brow sank in another thoughtful
frown. “The crystal is a key to a whole other dimension where a
giant mass of dark forces, the entire demon army, awaits. If the
Xeni want to create a small crevice in the dimension, they might
not need the tablet. But through such a small gap, they would not
be able to release the entire army.” He gave a shake of his head.
“Not even a slight portion of it. They might be release a mere
sliver of their army.”

“So to release the
entire
army…”
began Ion.

“Yes,” completed Mantra. “To open the
dimension completely, and to set free all of the forces of Mezmeron
that lay in slumber behind it, they will require a mystical tablet.
And they will also require a good spellcaster to make that
spell.”

“But if the Xeni are planning on releasing
the entire demon forces,” said Qyro. “And that is their ultimate
goal at the end of it all, then wouldn’t they need a good
spellweaver for it? To perform the spell where the army’s
released?”

“They will.” said Mantra. “And they must be
having one as well. It’s true that a stronger spellweaver would
avail a better result from the spell. But the Xeni may not hope to
perform as powerful a spell as Redgarn did eight thousand years
back. A meagre spellweaver would suffice for what they’re trying to
accomplish. To set the forces of Mezmeron free.” He looked down
upon the tablet.

“The mystical tablets all carry different
ranges of powers,” he said. “Some of them are weaker, some
stronger. And the stronger the tablet, as I said, the stronger the
spell.”

“How strong is this one?” asked Ion, jerking
a thumb towards the tablet they were standing around.

Mantra shook his head. “The tablet we are in
possession of now is nothing at all. But it suffices for what we
require these days … as if we do perform spells like we did back in
the day of the great empire. Back in those days, we had possession
of the most powerful of them all. The most powerful mystical tablet
in existence. It was known as Valicros, and we used it and its
grand powers for the noblest of means.” He turned slowly, facing
them again. “Sadly, like most good things after the fall of the
empire, Valicros too was lost. It was destroyed during the
war.”

“Apart from creating demon armies and
setting them free, exactly what do these tablets do?” asked
Vestra.

Mantra trotted forward and place both hands
over the surface of this tablet, gazing at it for a second.

“Mystical tablets can be used to bring to
effect an entire host of spells. But usually, such spells are used
only in the most extreme circumstances, where they’re required. The
creation of the demon army through the power of Mezmeron, and
releasing them through the crystal are two such instances. But
there are other spells that can be effected for different means.
Let me give you a demonstration.”

He raised his hands over the surface of the
large tablet, and made a swift wave like motion over it with both
arms. With the three of them watching, he continued to make strange
wave like movements with both arms over the tablet. As this went
on, Ion glanced at the other two, both of whom caught his eye and
shrugged, equally perplexed. But before a minute or so passed, Ion
could feel the effect of whatever spell Mantra was working on take
place. He could feel the other two’s eyes widen as his own did…

The tablet over which Mantra was performing
the spell was beginning to glow in a fierce orange. Then, the three
of them edged back from the tablet warily: strange, fiery ropes
were beginning to form around the tablet. They were the strangest
sight Ion had ever seen. They looked like ribbons of flame, forming
out of thin air around the tablet as Mantra waved his hands. They
hung there for an instant, swirling and coiling on the spot, before
slithering about the rest of the room.

Ion’s heart caught for the meekest moment as
he beheld the sheer awe of the sight: it was like watching a group
of serpents set on fire swirling about in mid air. Mantra continued
to wave his hands, and the glowing tablet seemed to glow brighter
slowly. Leaping into the air at a faster speed, the flaming ribbons
shot across the room viciously.

For a split second of panic, Ion wanted to
turn and bolt out the door before one of the fiery ropes happened
to hit him and reduce him to ashes. He knew the other two felt the
same impulse as they watched the breathtaking but terrifying sight
of the fiery snakes shooting across the room, soon to engulf
everything. Then, as if sensing their fears, Mantra stopped waving
his hands, letting them come to rest over the tablet. At once, the
fiery ropes dangerously spinning about the room stopped and melted
back to thin air, leaving not the faintest trace behind that they’d
been there.

Qyro was the first one to break the stunned
daze that was clutching all the three of the students.

“That was
wicked.
” he gasped.

Mantra smiled as he walked across the
tablet, to where the three of them were standing. “Wicked … but
just as dangerous.”

“What was that?” asked Ion.

“That was a particularly favourite spell of
mine,” replied Mantra, coming to a stall before the three of them.
“It was taught by the masters eight millennia back, and is one of
the most dangerous spells to date. It is known as inferno. The
spell of the fire serpents.”

“If it’s so dangerous, what do they teach it
to you for?” asked Qyro.

“Inferno is a spell meant to be set loose in
a particularly tense environment,” answered Mantra. “mainly as a
distraction.”

“A distraction that can get you killed.”
observed Vestra.

“It indeed is.” said Mantra. “But the point
of it is to aid your side when it is clear there’s no other
option.” He turned and looked at the tablet. Its surface was slowly
cooling, no longer glowing orange as it was when he was performing
the spell.

“It’s a tricky spell, and it takes some time
when performed manually.” Mantra turned back to the three of them
with a frown. “It is important to make sure that the tablet is
completely intact and functional before trying a spell. If the
tablet is broken or damaged in a way, the spell that you’re trying
to achieve can go very wrong: at the merest touch, it could unleash
itself in an explosive, uncontrolled rate. For instance, if I had
attempted that particular spell on a broken tablet, it wouldn’t
have taken me more than a second to trigger it: but in the next few
seconds, the air would be swirling with a thousand of those fire
serpents trying to rip us all apart and burn the entire place
down.”

“That really is a lot of power.” said
Vestra.

“Not nearly as much as Valicros, and other
tablets that existed during the age of Sirengard.” Mantra said.
“The tablets of this day are a mere fragment of them. Valicros
would have been a hundredfold the power that can be channelled
through this tablet.” He jerked his head to gesture to it.

“Well, they seem like they were a heavy
load, though.” said Qyro, looking at the tablet ahead of them. “How
did you guys carry these things about over the ages?”

Mantra walked over to the large table, and
pressed a spot on the centre of its large surface. When he removed
his hand, the bulky table like object had disappeared in a bright
flash of light and in its place, sitting on the floor, was a
miniature model of it. A version of the same tablet reduced to one
tenth its original size scale.

Mantra picked up the small tablet, looking
at it for a second.

“The tablets can be compressed, if in need
to move about.” he explained, replacing the small scaled version of
the tablet back on the floor and turning back to them. “Anyway,
that’s enough of boring stuff for a day. Why don’t we show Ion
about the rest of the temple?”

With a nod, he headed for the door. With a
last look at the miniature version of the tablet at the centre of
the room, the three students headed after him.

Inhale … Exhale

The world seemed to turn vapor like,
vanishing into nothingness. All thoughts and sensations lay
stilled, and silence flowered inside of Zardin as he sat
meditating, unwary of what the time or place was.

Inhale … Exhale

And here, at the deepest realm of thought
that lay within him, Zardin found peace like no other. Calm like
nothing else radiated through his mind, as it connected to its root
source.

Inhale … Exhale

Zardin had now aligned with the host of his
being. He had breached his inner self, the core of his self. And he
was mesmerised by the beauty blossoming within him in here.
Entrancement flooded him.

Inhale … Exhale

This was where he belonged. This was where
he found all truths. All answers. And they transcended reason and
intelligence, struck with a clarity like nothing before … This was
where he learned
everything
.

Inhale … Exhale

And as he lay blanketed in the cozy depths
of the world within, he found the answer. He found the truth behind
his existence, the reason he was here. The reason he existed. And
the knowledge came with a crash of light.

Inhale … Exhale

This was his role. This was his purpose. The
reason behind his existence…

Inhale … Exhale

The message gushed up within him, carrying
the force of a hundred volcanoes blasting as one.

MY EXISTENCE … IS FOR THE WORLD’S
DECAY.
The voice exploded within him, seeming to set his
insides ablaze with a fury of purpose like no other.

As the warmth and peace cloaking him slowly
faded, Zardin slowly drew in his final breath, and rose from where
he had been sitting in the dark cave that he called his home. The
darkness here was absolute, and even to the sharpest pair of eyes,
nothing could have been made out. But to Zardin, there was crystal
clarity. The large hall of the multi chambered cave was completely
empty, with the ground rising and falling haphazardly around him.
The roughened walls and ceiling reflected the erosion the cave had
been left to undergo across ages.

Zardin placed his hands behind his back and
slowly strolled up and down the inside of the cave, collecting
himself. Analyzing all that they had now. And all they needed to
have.

He knew now what they needed to do. The path
they, the Xeni, had set foot on had not come to an end, yet. They
had things left to do.

Though the Nyon had acquired their crystal,
their present goal … one they were working towards with a smaller
vision, was unaffected by it. Of course, the crystal was their
ultimate goal, but they would have time to worry about it later on.
As of now they would still carry on, unhindered by the small
grievance caused by them by those wretched fiends.

With a final, deep breath, he turned and
strolled back to where he’d been sitting. He sank back to a seat on
the floor.

Through the silence outside, and the silence
inside, Zardin could hear them. The ghosts of the past … casting
whispers into his head. Zardin had learnt always to keep himself
free from all sorts of unnecessary distractions. But he knew that
this was a certain distraction that came in handy once in a
while…

The past.

Nothing could be more powerful than
listening to the echoes of one’s past … And using them to build a
resounding boom for the future.

The past was a driving force with a might
like no other. The past was a catalyst, a propellant towards a
man’s future. The past was a power untamed … unbounded.

But it equally painful.

As Zardin sat there in pitchless silence,
the whispers of his old grief played at the back of his head,
threatening to drag him back in time. To relive pains of eld. But
the pain was good. The pain was his instrument … his fuel that
drove him into the future.

Zardin drew in a deep breath, and gave
himself over to the whispers at the back of his mind … And he was
then flying back.

Back in time. Back in years. And he was
reliving what he had already lived.

Years back

Somewhere in the middle of a vast field
wiped of greenery, an aged man slowly pushed a cart of vegetables
down the expanse. He was in his seventies, a Redling whose dense
red fur was now missing steady patches, and streaked with white at
spots.

The man was travelling from a village
hailing closeby. Traversing down places like these and enduring
extremities of this planet, was all a well woven part of Elgar’s
life’s routine. A routine of an easy going, simple layman. Elgar
had spent his days as a vegetable vendor, pushing the same
vegetable cart between these two villages, and crossing the desert
in between. Aged as he was, many were surprised that he hadn’t been
dropped dead in the midst of crossing this desert, like the many
other bodies Elgar was customary to witnessing as he waded down it.
But despite his age, Elgar’s grit and his nerve had never failed
him. And he knew they never would.