The Rising Sun: Episode 5 (5 page)

The present

Fighting back the hopeless feeling, Galinor
kept dialing on his z-com. he kept dialling for master after master
… But none of them were answering. In all speckless honestly, he
didn’t expect any of them to. He knew they were all gone. It was
highly unlikely that anyone had survived that cursed battle, which
the Xeni had thrown upon them in surprise…

But his heart clutched the front of his chest
as he realised he had been wrong…

“You’re alive!” he shrieked, staring into the
holo screen with a familiar face in it:

Mantra, the master he had just tried calling,
had suddenly picked up. His face stared out of the holo screen,
standing in a strange, indiscernible background. Some sort of a
hallway. In undoubtedly a lavish looking place.

“Galinor?” Mantra’s brows contracted, as if
wondering if what he was seeing at was real. Then a look of
profound relief flooded his wizened features. “Thank the heavens. I
see we aren’t as alone as we thought we were.”

“What’s happening, Mantra?” asked Galinor,
hearing the desperacy in his own voice. “Who else is alive? Who
else made it?” He paused, trying to spot something familiar amongst
the background Mantra was standing in. “And where are you?”

“I’m here on something important.” said
Mantra. “Something
crucially
important.”

“What do you mean?”

Mantra tilted his head slightly, his frown
deepening. “I see there’s quite a lot you need to catch up on. Very
well, brace yourself…”

Galinor thought that the discovery of another
master being alive would bring a new of hope … He had been terribly
wrong. After hearing what Mantra had just told him. After hearing
the situation … he almost wished he hadn’t called him.

“They’re blowing off ten planets?” he asked,
his voice high pitched. “One hour each?”

But Mantra wasn’t finished … he went on, and
now there was a break of hope in his tone.

Watchmen!
Galinor felt the world
suddenly twist around him. Mantra went on, telling Galinor of how
Ion was now ferrying the crystal across the outer spectrum, to the
priest, Nalrez, to have it destroyed. Meanwhile, Mantra, Dantox and
the watchmen were intending to find and tear down the ten
bombs.

“Tell me where you are,” said Galinor
sternly. “I’m joining you.”

To his surprise, the aged master shook his
head. “We have more than enough forces. The watchmen, Dantox and
myself alone can handle this. You, on the other hand have a far
more important task at hand: not getting caught by the Xeni.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Xeni will be looking for us,” said
Mantra. “For survivors. And if they catch you, they’ll weed
everything out of you, and we don’t need that. The plan that you’ve
just heard - especially regarding the crystal and whatever’s
happening to it - needs to stay very well veiled. We don’t want it
falling to the Xeni’s ears. If they learn of it, they’ll try and
stop Ion, and get the crystal from him.”

“So, I just stay here?” asked Galinor,
frowning.

Mantra drifted to thought for a moment.

“For now, yes.” he said, nodding. “When
developments occur, I’ll have you informed, and you can join us.
But for now, stay where you are. And don’t risk getting yourself
caught by the Naxim, or worse: the Xeni.”

“And what’re you upto?” asked Galinor, eyeing
the elegantly decorated hallway the master was now in.

Mantra sent a brief glance back, down the
long hall he was in. Then, softly, he said, “I’ve gotten a lead on
finding these ten bombs.”

Galinor knew that, with Mantra’s powerful
mystic senses, he would have managed to have a trace detected on
something, or someone, in almost no time … He felt a swell of
gratitude for the fact that despite the utter desperacy of this
grave time, the ancient master was left alive. Mantra was a boon to
them like no other, and he was the reason they had endured for
eight thousand years, without dying out.

“Well, Godspeed.” said Galinor, with a curt
nod. “And good luck.”

“We’ll be needing a bit of both.” said
Mantra.

And with that, and a final nod, Mantra cut
the link. The holo screen melted back to thin air, leaving Galinor
standing alone amidst the vast wilderness of this planet he had
landed in.

The memory, suddenly so distant, played over
in his head. … Jedius pressing the small conch onto Ion’s hand …
his warm smile … his last words…

“
Keep this as a reminder that I’m never
too far, Ion…”

He was right, Ion thought, smiling. Jedius
and Ion had never been far at all … they had remained together,
linked … The conch was the link, the conch that contained the power
of Elderon … they were linked always by the force of good and
harmony. And they ever would be.

Ion steeled himself and brought his mind back
to focus. This mission was not his … it was his master’s. It was
for the ideals that his master stood for … the ideal of a better
world. A good world. And his master’s vision was Ion’s driving
force for his life now.

“
I’m never too far … Ion.”

The slight rumble of the hull, as the ship
blasted through space, was the only sound heard through the
silence. Up on the four holo screens raised over the table, the
same dark stretch of space could be seen. Glinting with the light
of a thousand stars.

How or from where all of the twists of the
passing day occurred, Ion had not the faintest idea. And the newest
twist in the series invoked far lesser awe in him than it would
have at any other instance: the surprise of Jedius’s token being
the Grael conch melted into the heaviness of the past few hours. A
past few hours that seemed to have crossed all horizons known to
the world ‘surprise’.

Ion couldn’t process the fact that just a
past few hours back, he had been worthlessly hunting down one of
his employer targets in Sacrogon. That seemed to have set the
wheels in motion … and less than twenty four hours later, he was
part of a desperate quest to save the world.

Qyro and Vestra’s memories cast an iron hot
scorch over his mind, so that there was a new fire in his resolve.
His loss would now be the Xeni’s as well. Vestra, Qyro and every
one of the masters that they had lost … They had to win for
them
. To avenge them. So that their deaths were not lain
aside as in vain, and wasted. They had to bring down the Xeni for
them.

Seated cross legged on the pedestal, Ion let
his thoughts flow through two dimensions: he had to make only the
meanest conscious prod in order to get Flamebird’s attention, which
was now his own. With Flamebird’s technical systems now woven into
his own, Ion could estimate the distance to the destination planet.
The time taken for this voyage would be just over an hour as Mantra
had said.

Presuming that nothing eventful happens in
between, of course.
he added, correcting himself.

Armono, Majestron republic, Cluster 46

Crostox was the most developed, thriving city
in the planet of Armono, capital of the Majestron republic. The
city was raised with a touch of artistic elegance in its advanced
build. Its buildings were all constructed with a refined metallic
substance, all of them polished and smooth. They all touched
magnificent heights, rising to over hundreds of metres over the
ground below: the city itself was a mid air construct, with the
ground between the giant structures barely visible.

Regulated streams of vehicles flowed about
over the sky and in between the buildings. The night had fallen,
and a tinge of blue filled the black sky resting overhead the city.
Thick beams of light swiped the sky from across ground at
distances, enlivening and lighting the entire city.

Inside of a restaurant high on one of the
towers of the city, Ranor sat with his back against the wall behind
him, a plate of food on the table before him. His eyes wandered
over the entire scene before him and the posh demeanour of the
place. The waiters strode about in neat suits, their postures
straight and confident. A faint musical tune played through the
speakers on the ceiling. The only sounds disrupting the musical
silence were the murmurings of the people around as they talked,
and the clatter of knives and forks on china.

Since the newsflash with Redgarn had
occurred, everything in this planet had come to a near standstill:
the crowd he was now witnessing in the restaurant was a meek
fraction of what it would have been in any other normal day. But
even here, as those willing to brush aside what had happened and go
on with their lives sat about the restaurant, an atmosphere of
suppressed panic could be felt stretching across the air like a
dark shadow.

But Ranor saw no reason to worry about that.
He knew he was right in being least bothered as could be, about
this whole grave scenario. Feeling mildly bored, he lay down his
fork and watched the proceedings about the restaurant. The waiters
strolled around carrying trays of well cooked, steaming food high
on their hands, serving the scarce customers about the large place.
As the night scrolled by, the crowd grew in the restaurant.

Ranor’s mind was still faintly dwelling over
the reason he had made this short trip to Armono, one which he had
now fruitfully fulfilled and would be leaving soon. He ran over
everything he now needed to do, now that this hectic trip – one
which he had anticipatively awaited for long – was over.

Bringing himself back to the present, Ranor
twiddled with the fork on the plate again, growing aware that the
restaurant was now more crowded than when he had entered. Although
not nearly as crowded as it could have been on any ordinary day.
The seat opposite to him had been taken a newcomer, and the
chatters of the crowd was now drowning the music played.

Stretching his hands in a wide, yawning
gesture, Ranor sat straight and smiled at the man ahead of him. And
he realised who this man was.

“Well, well, well,” said Mantra, an impressed
look in his face. “A Xeni smiling at a Nyon.” He nodded. “What are
the odds?”

“The smile was for a civilian here, whose
facing his last hour alive,” replied Ranor, quickly overcoming the
shock of seeing that face. “And I
thought
you were one.”

Mantra placed both hands on the tablet,
allowing a moment’s thought. “I presume you’ve come here to set the
trigger to the bomb you’ve placed on this planet?”

“There’s no need for that.” answered Ranor,
in a tone that suggested that the two of them were really doing
what they seemed to be doing – chatting casually in the middle of a
restaurant. “All ten bombs have been placed and triggered to
detonate at the exact time as we promised: one every ten hours. The
only two people who have the power to trigger the bomb before the
allocated time are Zardin and Redgarn.”

“What are you here for, then?” asked Mantra,
his tone just as casual.

“I was just sent to check it.” replied Ranor,
sliding a hand over the seat next to him. “Zardin and Redgarn
thought someone needed to check just this particular bomb: it was
the most important one for us. The Majestron republic is the most
powerful and the most thriving republic there is. And this, its
capital, is the most populated planet, and the greatest one in the
entire spectrum.” He gave a humorless smile. “We thought it we
would start with it, and give the people of the spectrum a bit of
sizzle
.” He stopped smiling and grew serious. “And the
Majestron’s police forces are annoyingly sharp. So I was sent to
make a double check on the bomb.” He leaned forward towards Mantra.
“You see, the Xeni don’t leave any loose threads … nothing to
chance.”

“Except the survival of four of your Nyon
enemies,” said Mantra. “Which will prove to be your most costly
mistake.” His tone sharpened, and his hazy eyes bored into Ranor.
“You will now tell me where the bomb of Armono is. Along with all
others. And one thing you better understand is that you don’t have
a choice.”

Ranor laughed softly to himself, his eyes
unleaving Mantra’s.

“Is this turning out to be funny?” asked
Mantra.

“No,” Ranor shook his head. “This is turning
out to be tragic. For you.”

Mantra smiled. “We’ll see just how tragic
things get unless you give me the location of the bombs.”

“How’d you manage to find me?” asked
Ranor.

Mantra raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

“Of course,” said Ranor, shaking his head
slightly. “you probably traced one of us through the shifting
energy fields - sensed your way to finding one of us, and got lucky
enough to be near enough to me.” He chuckled again. “I forgot I’m
talking to the eight thousand year old one.”

“Eight thousand and eighteen.” corrected
Mantra.

“And that’s just how far it’ll get.”

Mantra withdrew his hand from the chair and
leaned forward on the desk, no longer smiling. “Give me the
location of the bombs … and maybe you won’t be joining some of your
friends in hell.”