Remnant of the Aether

[Lord_S_Gray]

Remnant — Part 4 — Dominance

“Commander,” Sixth said with a nod of respect, “We have discovered that A Sith Lord continues to rule on Prakith, I suggest we venture there next,”

He gestured behind him “Third and Fourth have secured the best…quality…vessels we could find, Seventh and Fifth are at this moment assembling provisions with the Abyssian worshippers,”

Ninth simply indicated assent in the aether.

“I concur, if we can find a real Sith still ruling…we can overthrow the Lord and take their demnses resources for ourselves,”

Byss had resources but the allocation of ownership was diffuse, even accounting for the Abyssian slaves population.

It would be too difficult for the six of them to impose their authority, each baronage was too under resourced to provide what they needed, and the internecine conflicts too endemic to impose their control over multiple ones.

Leaving Byss to fall into chaos was preferable. 

Much easier was to kill a System Lord and take his place, lieutenants would fall into line with a short cull of the ambitious and underlings would shrug and continue work indifferent for whom they toiled beneath the masters whip.

<Plunder what else you can, we leave in six hours>

<<<<>>>>

Over-King Gar-Kiou-Zan III, Lord of the Sith, Ruler of Nine Systems, Tyrant of Prakith, True Heir of Darth Ruin sat upon the Dagger Throne, his courtiers, behind a line of heavily armoured Kingsguard, assembled on either side of the Black carpet that lead from the ornate Obsidian doors through the red-orange stone hall to the Eighteen Steps to the Throne – one it was said for each of the Princes Lord-King Gar-Reik had slain to claim Prakith then build the Eternal Fortress.

It was a wearisome display of grandeur Chancellor Teshk sighed.

The Eternal Fortress, built long before even the Sith, was decaying, many wings collapsed, sub levels long buried.

Of the ‘Nine Systems’ only three were occupied, Prakith itself, Hedara a scrappy semi fertile world where some 3 million helots toiled below subsistence for food which was shipped back to Prakith, and Gernon, a tiny trading station the only link to the wider galaxy that paid only lip service to the Over-Kings Authority and went about its business paying its tribute with a grudge.

The Over-King himself…was not a Sith Lord. 

If he had any ability in the Force, as the Chancellor understood it, it was due to his being a long long distance descendant of Gar-Reik, certainly the paunchy sweaty 5 foot 7 man had shown no indication of magical, martial or…frankly in any ability.

The ancient tarnished jewel encrusted gauntlets and neckpieces built when the Sith System Lords ruled over mini-kingdoms in the Deep core, sat heavily on the Overkings pallid flesh.

“Over-King, Dread Kiou-Zan III, Lord of the Sith, Ruler of Nine Systems, Tyrant of Prakith, True Heir of Darth Ruin…” Lord Spymaster Kyssh boomed in the resonant chamber as the nobles whispered and bickered in their throngs.

If Darth Ruin were to appear… the Chancellor thought the nobility would drop dead…the Over King included…

“I bring word from our agents across the stars,”

All twelve of them…

A fleet of barely 60 ships…perhaps 40 serviceable, and 100 merchant ships meant there was little hope of installing a spy anywhere, and the competency of the Lord Spymaster outside of courtly politicking to achieve his station was dubious at best.

“We have word that raiders have destroyed Mamzer Station, the population brutally put to the sword…it is now populated by scavengers and looters…”

How is that different to normal… the Chancellor wondered fidgeting with his Staff of Office.

“…They say it was destroyed by Star Vampires…the dreaded Anzat!”

A gasp spread through the over dressed nobility, a sigh from the Over-King.

The Spymaster spread his arms wide toping theatricality would make up for his paltry third hand news.

“And more, our agents report that the Baronage of Byss is in chaos, a civil war exploding across the system, Lord Over-King surely now is the time to claim your inheritance!”

And give you a Baronage…] The Chancellor had to refrain from weeping at the stupidity, every few years there was a push that they should conquer Byss, ‘reclaim our ancient territories’.  The fact was Byss was just as wretched as Prakith, even if they could take it they could never hold it.

“The Fleet Stands Ready!” Supreme Admiral Foush boomed, his chest covered in more medals and insignia plaques than he had active ships or winning battles combined.

The over kind offered a bored glance to the Chancellor, Teshk gave a single shake of his head.  Appointing Teshk and letting him run the ‘Kingdom’ was the only intelligent thing the Over-King had ever done, so long as Teshk kept him supplied with boys and booze he was satisfied to let Teshk take care of the real business.

“We will consider these events…” The Over-Kings voice weary and weak as he sagged on the throne

“…and return to….””

KOOOOM

The ancient obsidian door burst open, the air in the otherwise stilted chamber gusting as the Kingsguard lethargically armed their Power Halberds, the ancient weapons crackling and sputtering teal energy against their golden armour.

At first it seemed nothing was happening…then finally Teshk saw, three enormous beings, taller than Byss Sentinels in Armour so Black they were almost lost on the wide Black carpet strode forward the tile cracking beneath each step.

The Nobility stood aghast the few Kingguard with any intelligence began to back away as three more entered behind them..

Dhhooom  the Obisidan doors closed of their own accord.

Ninth surveyed the visual scene about her, she had long since etched the Aetheric and thermal information in her mind.

Adapting to the slow speech of Outsiders she spoke.

“Over-King Kiou-Zan…you are a Lord of the Sith,”

The trembling pile of fat flesh didn’t know what to do, menace oozed off these creatures.

From stupidity or pride, most likely the fromer the Over King leaned forward

“I…I am, Dread King of the Nine Systems…who…who am I speaking, err being petitioned by that is?”

Ninth smiled beneath her Aegis helm.

“In the tradition of the Sith….” She drew her sword taller than anyone in the room from her back, the Kingsguard still present trembling.

She tossed it to the floor, it broke the floor beneath with its weight.

“…I come to take your Kingdom by taking your life,”

Wide did not begin to describe the Over-Kings eyes at this point, his bottom lip trembling he looked toward Teshk.

Teshk had two options, stand with the Over-King and be slaughtered by these giants…or….

Summoning up his courage Teshk banged his Staff of Office on the podium.

“A Challenge is made according to the ancient Rite of the Sith, the Over-King must accept or forfeit his crown….”

Never had Kiou-Zan moved so quick or used so much strength as he gripped Teshk’s robes now

“What are you doing, KILL THEM!!”

Teshk struggled against the bloated fool as some of the Kingsguard fired a bolt from his Power Halberd’s clumsily attached gun…the bolt stopped millimeters from the muzzle…then slowly slid back inside….

Finally pushing the fat kind off Teshk yelled

“the King assents!”

“Sorry you old twit…” he whispered as the terrified paunchy man was dragged by invisible hands toward the Black creature.

The Nobles either ran about like headless Yorvits or stood in shocked stillness as the ‘duel’ began.

The Over King lifted three feet off the ground his head was grasped by the enormous black hand.

The splattering crunch was masked by the terrified shrieks.

Ninth quickly sloughed off the blood, bone and brain with the aether as she stepped toward the throne, her Squad suppressing the crowds panic with a blanket calming and compliance press upon their weak human minds.

She gazed for a brief moment at the ‘Dagger Throne’ it would be unlikely to hold her fully armoured weight…unfortunate, she would likely be the first being worthy to sit upon it for many years.

She stood in front of it instead the being with the staff of office offering a slight nod as his face became wan the closer she was to him.

The Nobles began to settle under the malign influence, they were backstabbers yes, but unlike Byss they were not economically independent of the Crown, the population here were adapted to taking orders from a single Throne. 

A throne she now occupied.

<Now> she signaled her squad  <We begin>

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 1

Descent of the Anointed

He sat alone upon the dunes of the Scorching Sea, the stars bright and tinged a rich blue –the colour of the Gods like woad on his skin carefully prepared from the Isatis Tinctoria of the steppes over six nights of Incantations – one for each of the Sacred Hextarion.

Winds off sand hot against his otherwise naked skin Arr-Kesh-Six-Finger meditated upon the Six Gods.  Born with six fingers on his right hand, he was favoured of the Gods and Spirits, the old priests had taken him from his family to be raised among them in their monasteries on the edge of the Scorching Sea – liminal between the life of the lush plains and the death in the desert.

In the vast emptiness the Priests would come to commune with the God of Chaos and Death Whose Name is Concealed and Whose abode is the Scorching Seas.  None of the Gods could be neglected, however fearsome each must have its due. 

Taking up the small pouch of leather beside he dipped is fingers into the Avyasa salts mined along with the rich blue coppers beneath the ground, the bounty of the God of Chaos and Death Whose Name is Concealed.  Spice upon his tongue the journey beyond the body into the Realm of the Lower Spirits began.

Upon his sixtieth name day he would complete the Six Fold Path, the first in 23 generations to do so…

If he survived.

The God of Chaos and Death Whose Name was Concealed was fickle, the Avyasa could grant visions but also kill – even now he felt its power burning in his limbs, the Gods laughter in his ears.

Puppet of the God he thrust up and staggered in sharp movements forward into the desert – deep black gave in to colours, green, yellow, turquoise twisting around and through him as he stepped upon the plane between God and Man.

Cascades of red lashed like waves at his feet – cold as the mountain monasteries, sharp bristles of enormous serpents that bound the world’s circumference passed his skin painfully, the voices of the Old Priests hammered his ears with incantations he had heard decades before.

In the Sky a light bloomed red and orange main the halo of blue stars seem dark.

It blossomed fully and came toward him.  He reached out his arms to embrace the Spirit the God’s sent him.

But it did not reach him.

The Spirit fell like lighting to the ground up ahead, sands a wave that crashed over his naked body, a blanket to shroud him in death.

He did not choke on the sand that filled his nose and mouth but embraced it, if the God of Death desired his ending this day, he welcomed the transition that would take him to the Palace of the God’s.

The scratching of the sand on his face did not end, it was cast further off by hot winds.

Rising up wavering in his steps he saw a blue glow emanate from behind a lip of sand ahead emanating heat, sand compacted and hard as he clambered the embankment that the impact of the Spirit had left.

There in a hollow made by the Spirits landing he saw it. 

Amidst sand turned to glass by the heat was a Spire of metal as large as minaret blue fire licking from its openings.

A Djiin was dancing naked aflame, the creature stirred from its dwelling beneath the desert and was now frantic in exhalations to the Gods.

The flame finally consumed it as Arr-Kesh slid painfully down the side of the crater, glassy sand slicing into his feet and arms.

The Spire began to shake…Sacred blue leaching from within.

A burst of holy wind and the Spire opened, within was a silhouette in Blue flame.

Arr-Kesh fell on his knees, embracing the painful heat and worshipped the Spirit.

<<<<>>>>

Spirit broken as her body, confusion and pain all around.

Her sister, Iralaea, had made her move and struck against the demonic creatures that had taken them from the Village, she’d killed four and set Marlaea loose, quickly they had pried open the hideous box they kept her infant son Maekyn within.

With the aether they had looked for a way out of the Flying Cart, but there was none, just more demons, with lighting staffs and sticks that fired metal. Something had broken and the cart went spiraling.  Marlaea had wrapped herself in the aether about Maekyn a telekinetic shield strengthened by a mothers love…Iralaea tried to help but something struck her head….

Now she was truly alone – the demons had taken everything from her, husband, father now sister – they could not have her son too.

As the Flying cart thrashed and tore apart around her, she burned every last piece of herself to feed the aether shield about her son to keep the sparks and shard of metal from his delicate skin, till finally after an enormous hammering thump the chaos ended.

The peace brought no consolation, her body was flaking apart for using the aether more than a Guardian could dare in the space of minutes, jagged pieces of metal were lodged in her, all her efforts had been on the bubble about her son.

She needed to find help with her last breaths – she hurled the side of the flying cart open to….

A…desert was that was it was called, only Guardians left the valley. All around were flaming chunks of the demons and the flying cart, all was death and madness except.

A man, thin and wiry naked with blue paint rocked and bowed, rocked and bowed to her…

“OH mighty Spirit,” he chanted
“By the Six Release me from the Flesh, By the Six Release me from the Flesh!”

His words made no sense, but she had no choice.

Arr-Kesh looked up as a Divine Mother Skin electric blue swept toward him the image buringing into his eyes as she reached out a bundle to him,

“M…m…Maek…”

Marlaea couldn’t go on, her body wafted back into the aether, the embrace of her Goddesses on partial consolation as her son fell into the worship outstretched arms of Arr-Kesh.

“Maekal!” he screamed knowing he would have to scourge himself for uttering the name of the Child of the Gods that cried in his arms as the Divine Mother vanished into holy Blue Flame.
 

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 2

Twenty Five Years Later

A sea of blood red robes swept behind the palanquin that rested painfully on the backs of 60 slaves, bodies disfigured from hunching under the groaning weight of quartz and lapis throne atop and the equally heavy weight of the Righteous One – the Chosen, the Child of the Gods, Anointed of the Eternal Powers.

For a being of divine luminosity the Anointed was laden with earthly weight Hssan’Kres thought.
For nearly three years Hssan’kres had labored beneath the palanquin, or as servant to the Anointed in the Holy City Xenosh…even were he to escape he would never recover fully in body…and the weight of hatred had long since eaten his soul.

All Hssan’Kres had seen for hours was the back of Jolmnir Jolnirson, once Jarl of the northern mountains, like Hssan’Kres he had been beaten, shamed and forced into servitude. Jolmnirs skin once white as snow now ruddy itching red in the desert sun, Hssan’Kres own darker skin was more resilient…a small mercy…such was all that was left to him.

The whip let off a bellowed order and the slaves gently lowered the palanquin as ‘virgins’ sprinkled lotus petals before it.  His daughter was among them, serving the Monster that posed as a God. She should’ve been Headwoman by now, after Hssan’Kres himself, Headman of the Ingetii Grazeland Tribes passed to the soil.

A bruised eye, bandages on her back and a look of despair were her attire, beautiful cool flowers dropped from her basket to remorseless sand.

Behind legions of red robed warriors in perfect formations.  Hssan’Kres recalled when they had come to the Ingettii…

The apostles had spread the word of the Anointed across the disc of the world, Hssan’Kres as headman welcomed them to preach, observing the sacred laws of hospitality, gently informing them the Ingettii had their own Spirits and the Ancestors, they did not accord with the Six Fold Path of the Hexatrion. The apostles gained no more than polite nods.

Months later the Red Robes arrived in force behind the very palanquin Hssan’Kres now carried, demanding submission to the Anointed or his ‘divine wrath will fall like the blue cursed lighting upon your heads.’

And so it had been.

The throne groaned as the Anointed stepped off body glistening, white skin that never tanned, musculature firm and sleek…yet wrong - joints too flexible, arm muscles unusually shaped to allow inhuman articulation.

A teal loin cloth and heavy head piece all he wore as the tan robed warriors across the no mans land eyed him, behind them hundreds if not thousands of Ch’mel Nomad cavalry, there had to be at least 10,000 – the last opposition to the Anointed tyranny upon the face of the Middle Realm – from the Frozen north, the sweltering east and the swamp ridden west, all had fallen to the Anointed except this, the Endless deserts of Shbiia, of all the places Hssan’Kres had been forced to walk this was the least hospitable by far.

 “Children, I am Come!” the sweet arrogant voice of the Anointed boomed like the thunder across the desert, more fanatical followers collapsing on their faces in worship at every utterance.
“Lift your eyes to the Truth, through me know the Divine!”

Three Nomads men stepped forward, boldest in black with rich gold tassels spoke, voice firm, but a whisper compared to the Anointed.

“I am Juba’Kun’Saba, Son of Juba’Kun’Saha, Grandson of Juba’Uhn’Sura, Chief of the Juba. You who call yourself Anointed are not welcome here, this is the land of the Totem of Shbiia we will not forsake the God of our Fathers.”

…I will not forsake the Spirits of the Ingettii or my Ancestors Hssan’Kres own words three years earlier echoed in his head as he choked back sand from small dust devils.

“Behold!” Juba’Kun’Saba called drawing a strange dark green sharpened shard from deep within his robes
“The Sword of Shbiia, that is in the old tongue Knnarth Kshuuk”
Hssan’kres almost smiled, the translation was, very roughly, Slayer of God’s

Jolmnir grunted and rubbed at the red scar in his neck – the Anointed had not merely beaten him in single combat but shamed by slicing across his neck in a round with Jolmnir’s own enchanted weapon Hlfdan’s Axe, said to have been infused with the Soul of the Frost Giant Yggmir…it now sat forgotten among a pile of such weapons in the corner of the Throne Room in the Holy City Xenosh.

Now came the formalities. 

Despicable as the Anointed was he abided by the Old Law of Battle.  As large as the Middle Realm was, it was sparsely populated, should 10,000 men die in a battle an entire region would be depopulated for centuries, so it had been that in ancient times battles were fought with posturing of armies and combat between champions alone or in small groups, the loser acknowledging their Gods or Spirits were the weaker than the victors forced to acknowledge their power…until a another challenge. 

This was the Old Way, this was how Hssan’Kres had fought.

This was how Hssan’Kres had lost.

He tasted the blood in his mouth once more from the Anointed’s back hand, the grip in his chest from the eldritch power of the Godling, his daughter had made ready to attack, but Hssan’Kres had held a hand to stop her - better submission than annihilation. 

After three years he still wondered if was a mistake.

“You will stand as champion with your trinket,” the Anointed called behind his mask as his retainers caught up waving large paddles to provide cool air, others holding parasols, priests reciting battle hymns and incantations.

“We three and our brothers, sons and nephews will,” Juba’Kun’Saba replied. Risky – it meant more men in the fight, but should they lose all those with a claim to be chief would be dead, Hssan’Kres had forbidden his daughter doing the same, whatever happened to him the Ingettii needed leadership…

Her willowy malnourished form among the other enslaved daughters of chiefs, Jarls and Kings showed the error of his decision.
 
The Anointed raised his hands, blue lighting forking between his fingers sending a tang into the air, the suddenness of the sorcery causing all but a handful of the Nomads to waver. 

“I stand alone as Champion,” the Anointed smiled casting off his sapphire inlaid golden bracelets and face mask to the sand covered in quickly withering lotus petals.

“Come,”

Hssan’Kres did not wish to watch another humiliation, but it would dishonor Juba’Kun’Saba to turn away, still he prayed to his Ancestors and Shbiia God of this desert that Juba’Kun’Saba and his folk died well and never knew the indignity of the slavers lash…

…a glint in the Anointed’s eye reminded Hssan’Kres how vain prayers were.

Nearly two dozen Ch’mel cavalry rode forth, truly there must be many brothers, sons and nephews of these three…likely cousins and close friends.

The lean animals charged, swift even the best Ingetti spears would struggle to strike, their riders curved swords like white lighting in the noon sun.

The Anointeds retainers fled to safety behind the Guard of the Burning Seal – the most zealous of the Anointed’s followers who castrated themselves, sliced out their tongues so they could not sin against the ‘Child of the Gods’.

The Godling himself moved faster than the eye could see, air elbows hammering into the raw sides of the Ch’mel sending them sprawling into sand.

Juba’Kun’Saba charged as the sand whipped furiously till only shadows could be seen…bodies flew out broken. 

The Anointed though a dissolute hedonist was no weakling, ‘eating’ the minds of his enemies, taking memories of warfare -  Hssan’Kres had no respite in sleep from his slavery for the nightmares of when his mind was ‘eaten’ for the ancient Ingettii Path of the Spear - a venerable and deeply honored set of tales, techniques and poetry from his ancestors.

In the depth of the dust cloud Maekal, Child of the Divine Mother, the Keeper of the Blue Light of the Divine, the Anointed, wove between the hopeless fools, they thought to confuse him with numbers, but that worked against them, he intensified the winds that kicked up sand, the Nomads were used to sandstorms, but not focused blasts. 

They swept low from their saddles to decapitate, superior dexterity kept him under or caught their arms hurling them off, two with lances sought to impale him, grasping their sharpened stakes under each arm he dropped low, his greater weight causing them to fly from their saddles.

Juba’Kun’Saba saw his chance, the Anointed crouched holding the two lances beneath each arm, raising the Sword of Shbiia he…

Danger flashed in Maekals mind…True Danger…divine reflexes allowed him to skid even on his knees, but not before the blade hit true.

An explosion of red sensation filled his back as the Sword of Shbiia cut into his upper shoulder, rarely was metal enough to cut his skin…the physical damage was insignificant…but there was something more to it…

Hssan’Kres gleefully heard the cry of pain from the dust storm, somehow…somehow…the Anointed had been struck.

The Guard of the Burning Seal rushed in triangular advances, three groups of nine men, the Nomads saw the breach of the Old Law battle, Ch’mel riders behind kicked in spurs and charged.  The Red Robe archers unleashed.

A true battle began.

Hssan’Kres grabbed Jolmnir’s shoulder,
“Brother this is our chance!”

Jolmnir turned, his face obscured swiftly by the dust, a moment of hesitation, lost as somewhere among the other slaves there was a break out, chaos was taking over.

He nodded and clasped Hssan’Kres hand,

“We find your daughter,” he yelled over the din of battle.

Red shields locked against the cavalry, Arrows whistled through the manmade sand storms, scouts buried beneath the sands in no man’s lands swept up from their holes to strike and war-hounds were set loose, the sky filled with flaming canisters of tar from catapults, ancient las carbines fired off in orderly ranks at dual wielding Nomad berserkers high on hashish. 

Maekal dropped as he the very life force flowed from him, never before had he felt such…dozens of so called magical weapons had been wielded against him, most half rusted relics of bygone era’s…this had bite.

Juba’Kun’Saba spun back, the Sword of Shbiia was heavy for its size, he had spent a month in ritual purification before entering the Cave of Metal to retrieve it from the Cradle of the Totems Eye, made offerings of flesh and blood to Shbiia as he explained their need for protection from the Anointed. 

Shbiia heeded his calls.

Maekal trusted greater speed to round on his attacker finding him struggling to lift the blade above his head.  Maekel momentarily considered Aron-Ka’s suggestion he wear armour, Maekal had rejected it as heresy to think his divine body needed any such protection against the trivial weapons of mortals….

Pouncing up something heavy slammed Juba into his side, a rider less Ch’mel knocking into him, denying chance again.
 
Hssan’Kres yelled his daughters name, Jolmnir armed with a discarded shield covered his back through the dust and blood-filled melee.  His bare feet finally met the scrunched lotus leaves, hopefully he was close, but in the confusion she could be anywhere.

Maekal retreated from the collision regaining his feet swiftly, irritation filling him as he felt the deaths around him…large losses meant less slaves to serve his pleasure, less workers to mine jewels, less converts…his fist balled with the divine flame that came so naturally to him, sand in the air turning to glass as it struck the flickering energy.

Juba’Kun’Saba finally saw him, fists a glow with daemonic energy. Like a beacon in the night Hssan’Kres caught sight of the Anointed aflame, it would be over soon…but damned if he would return to slavery. 

Maekel unleashed his fire upon Juba’Kun’Saba - Hssan’Kres rushed him from behind.  He expected Juba’Kun’Saba to simply incinerate as so many others had before.

He did not. 

The flames parted around the Sword of Shbiia, the astounded nomad chief’s despair turned to elation a second wind lifting his arms. 

Maekal stood dumbfounded as Hssan’Kres rammed a broken lance into his back.

The shattered wood scarred and cut the bare flesh, Maekal spun the tormenting divine flame, Jolmnir caught it on his shield which rapidly melted.

Juba’Kun’Saba drew every ounce of strength lifting the sword up above his head, with all the weight gravity slicing down.

Godlike reflexes saved the arm, but the bicep was slashed open, more pain and physical damage than Maekal had experienced coursed through his body, he cried out as he poured more fire ineffectually against the wielder of the Sword of Shbiia, even while Jolmnir and Hssan’Kres did all they could to drag him down.

“DIVINE BRETHREN Help ME!”

A telekinetic wave that was visible as undulations in the ubiquitous storm of sand burst from the Anointed, Juba’Kun’Saba fell to the ground spent, Jolmnir clattered into Hssan’Kres.

Maekal was quickest up despite his wound leaching ruby blood, he danced over the sand and stomped on Juba’Kun’Saba’s chest blood exploding from his mouth caught by the cloth wrapped about his face to keep sand from his mouth.

Jolmnir recovered just in time to ram Hssan’Kres back down as a Ch’mel rider charged past blades in both hands, straight for the Anointed, who took the cuts on his forearms before howling another screech to the Eternal Powers that knocked the rider off.

“We need to run!” Jolmnir grabbed Hssan’Kres, but Hssan’Kres pulled him toward Juba’Kun’Saba’s prone form.

More warriors surrounded Maekal before he could reach them, petty mortals, but with his injuries difficult to defeat.

Hssan’Kres skidded next to the fallen Nomad chief who sputtered as the last strength he had was given to lifting the Sword of Shbbai toward Hssan’Kres

Something passed between the eyes of the Nomad Chieftain and the Headman of the Ingettii Plains, recognition of a fellow leader, fellow resistor

“…take it…” Juba’Kun’Saba rasped

“…wield it…the Caves of Metal…Kill the Beast…” were his dying words. Hssan’Kres took the blade of another Spirit, another clan…yet the only weapon with power to destroy their common enemy.

“Quickly!” Jolmnir grabbed him up, another fallen weapon in his hand as Maekal was surrounded by the Guard of the Burning Seal in a shield wall, each of them covered in scratches and blood from the fight to reach their God.

“That way now!”

By the time Maekal reached Juba’Kun’Saba the battle was petering out, the Nomads fleeing into the labyrinth of canyons to the south.

And the Sword of Shbbiia cradled by a once beaten Headman with naught in his heart but the hope for revenge.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 3

Milaea

“…I was out of it, completely,”
“I know how that feels” Ari replied with a knowing smile
“…and when I finally opened my eyes…”
Ari leaned closer as the finale of Milaea’s ‘Most Embarrassing Moment Ever’ finally arrived
“I saw Sofa in her bed….”
Ari didn’t flinch at all
“So some time between she’d come in and just gone to bed, she must’ve seen” Milaea explained giggling nervously

Still Ari seemed unphased,

Finally it clicked that like Kiraea, Ari probably retained Aethan sensibilities around privacy, or rather lack thereof.

“oh…of course…that would’ve been embarrassing…I remember it frustrated Saani a lot when I’d walk into her and Kazics room while they had were…well…they kept changing the lock combination on their bedroom door, I thought it was a game to crack it, I didn’t understand Outsiders keep things like that private at the time.”

Now Milaea laughed sparing a glance through the transparisteel to the looming Black Obelisks in the Array Chamber.

Even as they talked they were filtering through signals received by the Array, with three Obelisks now they were getting far more coverage, but in reality it just meant more false signals.

A sudden crackle interrupted the increasingly warm conversation as the Obelisk Array lit with flickers of blue lighting between the five enormous pillars.

They instantly went to work hands and minds activating the consoles they had just been working on tweaking, re connecting the critical transmission lines as they minds grabbed innumerable filtering orbs tweaking and refining the signal in real time.

It was rare to be present when a signal was received, it allowed them to more rapidly refine and cleanse the signal than working off a recording, 

They worked swiftly and efficiently, a positive synchronicity that was only growing stronger with each day they spent together.  Without a word they felt what each needed, checked and adjusted each calculation minds near completely one.

They rose at the same time heading into the Observatory, orbs in each hand adjusting the vectors and back casting the wavelengths as they went, by the time they entered the vast chamber filled with luminous and ever sharper images of the Aetheric map of the galaxy they had narrowed the signal to a single sector and even cleaned it enough to hear exact words

“Divine Brethren Help Me?” Ari, or was it Mili said, their connection so deep as to make the distinction barely meaningful

“Clearly an Aethan signal, but the terminology is odd, perhaps simply adopting an outsider vocabulary…” even as they spoke, they tracked the pulses and echoes of the signal deeper into the Sector, stars zooming away as they cut the options back to a mere hundred or so systems.

“Likely, fear levels in tone indicate more surprise than danger, and undertone of…amazement that he?”
“Yes He…masculine sub waves present in aetheric aura,”

“That he could ever need help…” hands swept through the holograph like image of the stars

Tracking, tracing until finally…

Both voices sweet and in tune.

“There,”

<<<<>>>>

Valens

A tunnel of blue energy churned before them into a series of parabolic lines that retched in inverse angles into each other.

“Ease off the deceleration,” Valens guided arms crossed across his chest as he stood behind the pilot’s seat a gentle and constant tug on his memories from the chairs occupant as she learned.

The lines receded back into pinpricks upon a veil of blackest night, mostly white at this distance but a few blue, yellow, or the inky red of ultraviolet light beyond the range of most sentient being’s optical senses to even observe.

”And each one of these Suns has another land beneath it?” Valens asked as they pulled out of hyperspace, between jumps.

“Other planets they have, some many dozen, others none at all, each planet may be home to numerous cities or villages, or none at all,” Yoda replied

“Are there truly so many…” Valens whispered the question edged with fear at the enormity of the galaxy compared to the cloistered valley which until a month ago had been all he had known to exist.

“How many planets occupied there are, how many sentiments and life forms, none can know, vast is the galaxy…” Yoda paused sensing the rising anxiety in the young man

“…vast is the Force that connects all together,” Yoda added hopeful the unity of the force would calm the overwhelming revelation of the vastness before Valens.

“And then transition main power to the sublight engines…” Yorna stepped out the process in exiting hyperspace breaking the brief reminiscence that Valens banished to the under levels of his 6th consciousness.

Teaching Yorna how to pilot and navigate had drawn back out the memories of how Yoda had taught him some 22 years ago.

Losing himself in technical instructions he replied

“The sublights will draw on auxiliary power initially to avoid a situation where you exit hyperspace to a dead stop, but yes once the hyperdrive has completed it stabilization cycle go ahead and transition,”

Yorna nodded and deftly swept her hands across the polished rounded levers and gentle blue lit buttons of the consol.   

She was learning fast under Valens direct tutelage and sharing of his memories, though it was an uncomfortable situation for Valens, he was not a natural teacher, and Yorna had been affirmed a Guardian on the same day as himself and Jarys…

And it was for this very reason he suspected Yorna had asked for him to teach her. Growing up she had always been able to see through him – her gift was always a piercing but empathetic ability to understand others, the softer version of the more penetrating interpersonal skills Karintha possessed.

The Persephaea slowed to 20 per cent sublight in the inter system void - taking the Aertemisaea Class Destroyer meant Yorna would have to learn everything about the ships operation, control and maintenance.

The ship steadied effortlessly, Chiss inertial dampeners far more elegant than the clanking Corellian ones in Yoda’s ship.

The ship shook as it pierced uncomfortably through the atmosphere,

“Travel to other lands seems dangerous…” Valens noted his knuckles white as he gripped through the padding to the durasteel arm rests, superhuman strength denting the metal

“…especially if this metal is all that is between you and this void without air you speak of.”

Yoda could not disagree - to travel across billions of kilometres with only a hands width of metal between yourself and the vacuum did seem insane. Once again Valens bluntness offered the master a moment of mirth.

“True danger there is, risk in travelling even to places familiar, yet also much reward,” Yoda smiled

“Something bothering you Val?” Yorna smiled as she checked coolant levels

It had been decades since anyone called him ‘Val’. Even if her knowledge needed a catch up her emotional senses were sharp as ever.

“Just thinking on my first time piloting…” there was no point trying to hide his thoughts from her.

“Yoda has been on your mind much of late…why is that Val?”

He ignored the question for the moment glancing at the control 

“Everything seems in order next step is…”

A sudden heavy pulse came to both of them through the Link Orbs on their belts, the aetheric connection felt of urgency, hope and focus. Instantly Yorna sent hers to the space between the console and the view screen where an instant later Milaea and Aresaea’s figures appeared.

“Yorna, how are you feeling,” Milaea asked straight away,

“Better,” she smiled in return “Much to learn though,”

“Of course. We just got a signal through the Obelisk array…a single sentence ‘Divine Brethren Help Me’…”

“…analysis indicates Male, first stage adult, 20 to 25 years old, vocabulary indicates strong outsider influence…”
“…the location we’ve narrowed to the Xentolian Cluster, just outside the border to Hutt Space and the Outer Rim,”

Valens frowned his practical mind searching for anything about that cluster – he knew nothing,
Yorna meanwhile held a thin smile as she noted how Milaea and Aresaea spoke like one across two bodies.

“There is only the most basic information about the cluster, seventeen systems containing 6 Class O hypergiants….”

“No known population centers or even mining, Jedi archives only featured a single entry itself copied from a centuries old navigational record…”

“…we’ll leave soon on the Aethenaea but you’re currently only 9 hours away at full speed,”

”To Abregado-rae we are headed,” Yoda smiled “Pilot us there you shall, in my room I will be, wake me when we arrive,”

Valens was about to speak when Yorna got in first 

“We’ll head there at once,” she smiled “Transmit across the recording, I’ll use the Aetheric nexus on the Persephaea to pinpoint the system then transmit the location to you,”

She has this under control, Valens sighed with relief She doesn’t need me to hold her hand thank Goddesses

“We’ll be there in a few days…the Pershepaea Nova is in an active state and might hold us up.” Milaea added

Yorna’s eyes narrowed in focus, determination and confidence firming her aura.

“If a person is asking for help we can’t delay, I’m already inputting the co-ordintates,”

<<<<>>>>

Arr-Kesh

The wound to his shoulder and back was already sealing, a bright pink patch against the alabaster purity of the Anointed’s skin. 

Around Priests and devotees chanted, pledged months of fasting, years of abstinence in gratitude for the Anointed’s victory and survival, others toward the rear of the Hall of the Living God scoured their bodies in emulation of the minor wounds the Blessed Child had received.

Arr-Kesh looked upon the frustrated countenance of the Anointed and clapped his hands.

“Begone!” his voice resonant with the Authority of the Eternal Powers as he held the Six sided staff of the Supreme Prelate of the Middle Realm, Chosen Guardian of the Anointed the Six Fingered, the Blessed.

Without hesitation the throngs left, the Guard of the Burning Seal with them.  Vast white curtains gently swayed in the wind between the columns of the airy courtyard, rich lapis lines in hexagonal patterns carved in each column, palms and ferns absorbed heat from the nearby desert sun.

The whole palace had been built on the Edge of the Sands of Shbiia by slaves after the battle, some thousand or so had died to have it ready in time.  The set back in the battle meant they would require a few days at least to rebuild supplies and rescout the terrain for a further push, in the interim nothing less than a palace would do for the Anointed – and of course his Supreme Prelate.

Maekal’s face remained scrunched in irritation.

“That yoog!” the God Child spat
“What in Pathalam was that sword the Ch’mel mounter used against me?”

“The Sword of Shbiia Blessed,” Arr-kesh said coolly not wishing to provoke the Divine being into a tantrum.

“Cursed thing….weapon of daemons…” Maekal swept back his long hair, ringlets of golden brown fluttering the evening breezes as he poked at his wound,

“yoog…and worse…two of my slaves turned on me…”

Good… Arr-Kesh thought, An object to place his rage upon rather than indiscriminately

For nearly twenty four years, four by six, had Arr-Kesh guided and raised the Child of the Gods the Divine Mother had placed in his arms.  The child was a prodigy growing strong and intelligent under the guidance of the Priests and greatest scholars of the Middle Realms, but was frustrated by the limitations of mortals and quick to anger and violent rages.

Upon his second Sixth year, the age of twelve as they called it the Great Unification had begun, Arr-Kesh had taken the Child to claim his rightful rule over the Holy City of Xenosh.  The credulous and poor believed due to the display of the trivial abilities the Godling possessed – conjuring fire from his hands, lighting from his eyes, raising rocks and men off their feet with a nod.

It was up to Arr-Kesh to discern he True meaning of the Child Gods coming, to understand the signs in the Stars, to prove to the Priest, the Monks, the Ascetics and Theologians that in Maekal was made flesh the Saviour, the Promised One, the Pure Child promised in so many sacred texts.

“It was Hssan’Kres…” Maekal brooded lips twisted in scorn
“An Ingettii I beat 1,451 days ago…he served on my Palaquin for his blasphemy…”

Arr-Kesh could never fault Maekal’s memory, as was fitting a god he recalled every detail of his life in the Middle Realm, yet could not recall his Divine existence prior to that.  Over the years Maekal himself was able to debate holy men and preachers, using their own sacred texts he could memorize in a day to prove his Divine mission as the Holy Unification continued…of course for those cities, tribes and kingdoms that did not accept the Sacred Truth…

“…he has a Daughter among my Virgins….” Maekal hissed

“Throw her to the Dreng!” Makeal stood, his body rippling with divine rage “And find that Ingetti yoog…”

The Anointed stalked to his private chambers

“So It is Spoken, So shall it be Done Holy One,” Arr-Kesh bowed neither pleased nor displeased with the reaction.

Maekal paused only long enough to sneer.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 4

Hssan’Kres

Wailing women and walking wounded were his greeting in the narrow Wadi, its dried river bed covered in thick canvas tents.

He had managed to latch onto the fleeing warriors of the Totem of Shbiia after the battle, straggling back across the deserts with them, the Anointed’s army pursued for many miles, but was wise enough to turn back from getting too deep into the desserts, whose in hospitability had been the main reason the Anointed had left this to be the very last of his conquests.

Fortunately the warriors of Shbiia knew the ways well, all the water holes and firm sands.

As he joined the main group they had stared, not at his deep black skin, nor Jolmnir’s pallid white skin and red hair, rather the fact he carried the Sword of Shbiia that Juba’Kun’Saba had thrust into his hand before dying.

He tried to offer it to the leaders of the Tribes, they all made strange signs of warding and refused.

“The Sword of Shbiia had Chosen you…” Kana’Lop’Seha the leader now Juba’Kun’Saba was dead had explained one night.

“It is gifted by Shbiia only to those who Need to wield it,”

“Your Chief, Shbiia rest his eyes,” Hssan replied adding the commemorative he had heard from the others discussing their losses,
“Gave it to me as he was dying as I was the only one there, it was not a chosen gifting,”

“You were there because Shbiia willed it, so you must wield it…” Hssan could see how he leaned away from the weapon.

“This weapon, it harmed the Anointed…in all my years carrying the Palaquin I have never seen any weapon harm him so…surely it is better to be wielded by one skilled in the sword when next we meet the False God in battle,”

“Shbiia gifted it to you,” Kana repeated solemnly in the ruddy orange glow of the fire upon a desert plain, the blue of the stars above blotted black by the casting glow of the nearer light.

“The Knnarth Kshuuk is an ancient and deadly thing that sword, even the oldest Magi know not its full tale, only that in times of great need a warrior who enters the Cave of Metal may claim it, when the danger is passed they return it to the cavern…but they never leave…that is the price Juba was willing to pay, now it falls to you…”

Hssan nodded, everything had a price, how much more to wield the ‘Slayer of Gods’. 

“I often wondered why I kept going, why I was didn’t…perhaps this is why…” he whispered mostly to Jolmnir.

“We’ve seen no other weapon that can harm the Anointed for more than a few more moments…” the hoary larger man replied, his skin red as ever from the sun despite the rags he used to cover it in the day.

The thought had turned again and again in Hssan’s mind till they reached the Wadi, helped as best they could with the wounded, and burying the dead that had been retrieved.

There were other outcasts here not of the Totem of Shbiia, men from the jungles in the South East with flat eyes and coned heads, riders of the rocky steppe,  even a Samu’rai warrior o the far west, truly this was the last of the great circle of the world not conquered by the Anointed.

As he found a place among the warriors a small group came before him – women in rich blue robes.

“You wield the sword?” an aged Bibi – grandmother – asked, face the only visible skin coarse as leather with age.
Hssan stood.

“I carry it,”
“I a Juba’Dhuja’Sabi, widow of Juba’Uhn’Sura, grandmother of Juba’Kun’Saba,”

Hssan bowed in reverence of the aged and wise woman.

“It is true then the sword has been gifted by Shbiia to you…” her voice was a crackled whisper like the snap of the whip on a Ch’mels hind quarters.

“…though Juba wounded the False-God-Child it will not be long before he marches forth again,” she placed her hands on his cheeks in blessing.

“What Juba could not complete you must, purify yourself then go to the Cave of Metal to receive Shbiia’s blessing so that when the False God returns, you may finish what Juba began and slay the demon for the salvation of all the Middle Realm.”

<<<<>>>>

Yorna

“What is your assessment,” Valens stood as always arms crossed behind her as he controlled the Persephaea’s sensors fixed on the planet below.

After arriving at the edge of the Xentolian Cluster Yorna had taken to one of the three Aetheric Nexus aboard the ship, using the recording Milaea had transmitted to a Link Orb to seek out the exact system the signal had come from.

The Nexus was a large Chamber of Bloodstone that drastically increase the range of her senses in the aether, and tracing the signal was in essence no different to tracking a Vorynx or Gobril as she had just…

No it wasn’t months ago…it was twenty years ago I tracked a Vorynx, or played with Gobrils or Gormin…wandered the fields with Kiraea, or listened to Karintha’s stories…

She refocused, the World – no galaxy – was much bigger now and she had to adapt quickly.

“No signs of significant artificial power readings or radiation wakes from hyperspace travel…either they don’t have space faring technology or use a completely different kind of technology to what we do…”

She looked through the sensor readings further, in essence it was not so different from reading tracks in the forest, or tasting the pollens and blood in the air on a windy day, it was all about observation and deduction.

“Atmosphere and overall global temperatures within standard habitable parameters…a Person could live here, humans as well…”

She used the View screen to zoom in on the largest land based clusters of life forms she could sense in the aether.

One in particular appeared as strange - a cluster of square and domed shapes, large triangular cloths in brown and tan on the edge of a desert holding at least a fifth of the planet population in temporary accomodations.

“A camp but enormous…” she reached deeper trying to feel out the nature of the people there,
“Fear…adulation…despair…triumph…so many conflicting emotions…”

“As are all such places,” Valens noted, the confusion natural, Yorna had never seen a city before, that concept foreign enough, the idea that there could be a division in the emotional state of the People even more alien.

“Why do their Guardians not allay the fears and imbalances I feel,”

“Not all societies have Guardians as we do, not all Outsiders are untied even when the same race, they permit inequalities and dissonance to persist,”

“Why is that?”

”Why is That?” he asked as he looked upon the huddled masses of starving thin reptilian Moochers in the streets of Abregado-Rae, so close to the clean luxurious towers built on the profits of the manufacturing and smuggling trade nearby.

Yoda once again found himself struggling to articulate a complex social problem to Valens…things Yoda took for granted – economic inequality, intergenerational poverty, market failures and power imbalances - were utterly foreign to Valens collectivist tribal society, he could not comprehend that members of the same race could not be in constant agreement or peaceful equitable commerce.

It made Yoda reflect why he as a Jedi took such things for granted….there was no logical need for such poverty, yet still he had to explain its persistence to a literal mind.

“Poverty…a wicked problem it is…feeds upon itself, the greed of some leads to the suffering of the many,”

“Do these ‘few’ experience no surge of…hormones related to empathy to elicit such behaviors?” 

It intrigued Yoda how often Valens assumed a biochemical or neurological solution to every problem….as if every problem was best solved by editing genetics.

“Perhaps, however shame and guilt negative emotions are, inspire action and change they do not, resistance and defensiveness they promote…”

Valens face remained perplexed as he glanced around the impoverished streets thick with grime and neglect.

“A Jedi’s role,” Yoda refocused “To combat these things it is, by inspiring empathy, sympathy, generosity it is, an example we are through selflessness,”

Valens made no reply, they simply walked on,

“Val?” Yorna asked

“It is simply the way all Outsiders are Yorna,” he half lied.
“What else do you see?”

She looked more closely at the ‘holograph’ of the site.

“A hexagonal pattern in the centre, controlled, well laid out with large avenues and ordered tents…a military encampment…but around that chaos, followers, hangers on of some kind, so many…but why?”

“To learn that,” Val said solemnly gazing into the picture
“We need to get groundside”

<<<<>>>>

The vastness of variety of the galaxy hit every one of her senses at once.

This was the first planet outside of Aethas she had been on.

Smells, sounds, sights… the crowd…Goddesses the crowd! She had never seen so many beings in one place before.

They had landed in a Karintha Class Assault Transport – the naming after her now revived Aunt making her smile still - atop an inaccessible mesa far outside the city-camp located at an oasis on the edge of a desert and savannah region.

Their armour hidden beneath thick brown flaxen robes stitched by Kassyndra they had found a rough road in the desert and went unnoticed among the throngs heading to and from the enormous accumulation of temporary tents and pavilions of all sizes and colours, canvas animal hide, flax - along with vast metallic ‘Coal churners’ as Valens called them, archaic motorized vehicles out of use in the Republic for millennia.

It was the people she noticed most - the variety of different facial profiles and skin tones she realized compared to the majority she was quite light.

“An adaptation to the sunlight in their native land,” Valens explained quietly “In some places it carries additional social meaning as ‘race’, this is distinct from species…see there”

He gestured swiftly to three men standing debating the value of a necklace of ruddy gold inlaid blue

“The two near are human with dark skin, the one behind a hybrid-Zabrack, his skin also darkened but the horns and facial scarring distinguish his race…”

“Human….they look almost like us…but…” she couldn’t articulate the feeling

“They seem wrong, malformed to our eyes…our brains are designed to recognize the faces of People…variations in colour and profile will always appear…disgusting to us…but over time the disgust response will temper…”

”Your assistance is appreciated Master Jedi,” the Gado bowed, his lanky organ filled limbs covered in fur rustling up a disgust response in Valens beside him.

Yoda nodded as they headed back out of the Municipal Centre.

“This troubles you apprentice?”

“It does, he is lying to us,”

“Not the mission, the Gado themselves,”

“They are…unappealing to my senses,”

“As I am Valens?”

The young man paused, unusual at the best of times, but seemed to decide it better not to lie

“Yes,”

“Racism an insidious evil it is…” Yoda warned “Understand I do, in your case the suddenness of diversity a shock is…be cautious disgust does not turn to disdain…consider this, a book by its cover one does not judge,” Yoda smiled to cushion the lessen

Valens looked puzzled

“All books have a leather cover, they differ only in size…and many books in the Temple have no cover they are electronic…”

Yoda sighed as another colloquialism went over the poor boys head.

“Rather…judge not a being by their appearance, but the content of their character”

Valens remained silent for a time as they headed into the twisting streets. What Yoda could never comprehend fully was Valens sight was not just across regular spectrums of visible light, but in the Force as well, an inheritance from Miraluka progenitors to see a beings Force aura clear as their face – it was this that disgusted him most.

“I will meditate on this lesson at the next opportunity master,”

<<<<>>>>>

The bustle was constant, the sound of talking unending, Yorna had to block out some of her hearing to avoid overstimulation as they wandered through the ramshackle lane ways over headed by wires and line from which hung banners in various states of disrepair of a thousand designs.

The settlement of canvas was clearly not permanent, but why such a vast number of beings, many unsuited based on their skin colour to this climate, had come to this place remained a mystery. This was not an auspicious place for trade.

The streets were full of beggars Valens had warned of, even more noticeable were the various ‘Priests and zealots’, men – and only men it seemed -  in voluminous robes of intricate silks, or ragged and starved in intentional penance, other with mere loin cloths holding an arm or foot in the air black from rot, some banging their heads on the ground or chanting to beaded strings.

“Thoughts?” Val asked

“A highly religious society…but…not a single orthodoxy, the difference in practice and words of their chants…but there is still a single focus, something has drawn them all here, focused their beliefs,”

“Indeed…that is what troubles me,” Val said but revealing no more of what he meant, Yorna understanding he wanted her to figure out the situation for herself as part of her training.

Many of the streets were overhung with clothes lines and shade clothes, tattered and worn by the searing sun, the heat compared to the cold of the Persephaea was uncomfortable to her still as she adapted.

“We need to learn who is in charge, what the political situation is,” Val went on as they strode through out of the crowded shanty town areas they finding the wide streets separating portable wooden barricades and barely clothed sweating men with metal around their necks hauling stone and sand to erect a more permanent wall.

They were overseen by Red Robed men with strange sticks of metal that patrolled the area

<Plasma Arquebus, antiquated weapons…> Valens explained, a brief mind trick to divert attention from themselves. Combined with the coal powered transports the technological level of this world was clearly low and the denizens largely living hand to mouth.

A sense of expectation prompted Yorna to deduce further.
<These men are in a position of power over the others…building defenses…a gap from the main populace…a sacred place or military installation>
<possibly both> Val noted
<Are these with the metal around their neck slaves?> she asked
<Yes…see the marks of old wounds, their thin bodies, old war captives…but the true clue to it is in the aether…>
<Yes…> She felt them out <beaten, broken…they are…alive but not living>

<Such is how outsiders treat any whom they have power over> he added as they slid around the edge of the growing fortifications, behind which were far more opulent tents and larger Coal Crawlers.

Where are the women…. Yorna wondered noting the foot traffic so far was all male.

“That we must determine too…” Val added

“We could simply tug the memories of a guard or citizen…” Yorna began

“But for now…”


”Feel out the situation…the traffic, the motion…all through this the force….”

They sat atop a chunky and less than well maintained traffic control tower just outside the Abregado-rae space port.  Valens had a fine tuned…indeed somewhat disturbing…ability to read the intentions, thoughts and feelings of individuals, but had no experience whatsoever in analyzing a group situation, it affirmed Yoda’s view that Valens training was focused on some kind of policing in a village setting where everyone was known to each other.

“There are many thousands master…integrating it all is impossible….”

“A city a planet a soul it has beyond the sum of individuals, this you must see above each mind…connected together, commonalities, fears yes, hopes also,”           

He felt the tentative reach of Valens mind, it was expansive and strong but still seeking fixed points of strong minds.

Yoda relaxed himself as best he could - This would take some time….

“…but passively,” Yorna explained “we can find what we need,”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 22 — Divinity — Child of the Gods — Part 5

Yorna

She followed the threats of intent, motivation and obedience to a vast amalgam of wood and canvas surrounding a natural depression in the oasis sands.  Outside throngs of market stalls sold shady wears and aromatically spiced meats on open fires as crowds bustled in and out to the steady crescendo’s of raucous applause and moaning boos.

Jostling between the flood of people, an aetheric ‘slip’ about them to deter people noticing their wide figures under the cloaks, they soon found themselves in what was some kind of pit for gladiatorial games.

Valens was quick to mark out the guards dotted about, long halberds with deep red cloth, a contrast symbol of fire blue on their polished but worn helms.

Yorna focused more on the beings, finally sensing a few women among the crowd – not from sight but scent of what she had learned were typical human female hormones.  All were fully covered in black robes, even their faces obscured apart from eye slits.  It was a stark contrast to the men many of whom were shirtless in the heat.

None were without a thin leather or even metal cord attached to belts about their waists held by a male nearby.

<Why are the women covered?> She asked <And so…controlled>

<It’s not uncommon to see such gendered power imbalances> Valens telepathically replied with a ‘sigh’ even as his gaze fixed on a wide focal point amidst the stands, opulently draped seats surrounded by fan bearers waiting for some beings of import to arrive.

<While there are some matriarchal cultures, perhaps Eighty percent of humanoid dual gender species are effectively Patriarchal…that is the non-child bearing gender holds greater social and economic power.>

His ‘tone’ turned bitter
<They use their greater physical strength to dominate rather than protect and devalue the females role…>

Yorna could scarcely comprehend such a thing, it was an utter inversion of her own culture, combined with the sheer novelty of everything that pushed onto her senses it was beginning to take a toll.  One she knew Valens could sense.

<I’ll be fine> She pre-empted
<Just so much to take in…>

Her overstimulation was only enhanced by the events in the arena pit itself.  The Crowd jeered and clapped as a bizarre creature with four large insect like legs but a snapping crocodilian like maw slowly ground its prey – four naked men covered in cuts and bruises whose starving ribs showed through dried skin.

<What are they doing!>

<Some kind of public punishment…> Valens explained

<Yes…they aren’t clapping when they hit the beast, only when it strikes them…>  The depravity of outsider cultures was becoming ever more apparent to her…but she had to remember this was one of billions of cultures in the galaxy.

Another of the naked men was rent to chunks of meat by the beast, which itself bore the wounds of lashes and whips, forced to fight far from its habitat.  Yorna felt empathy for the animal and the men.

A Guardian should stop such an abuse, there was no need for such outside of open war, yet as Valens had re-iterated it was not their place to intervene in others disputes, to do so was dangerous.

The last of the naked men died with screams drowned by cheers of thousands as heavily armored warriors paraded around the edge of the ring, tamers dragged the crocodilian creature back inside the depth below the arena and on the main viewing box near naked women appeared dispersing petals and ointments upon the floor.

A sickening feeling overwhelmed Yorna as the men who held their own women in shackles beneath stifling black robes ogled these women, and worse, in public, they were followed by men in priestly robes, incense burners and banners in curved scripts, chanting and proclaiming the coming of the God as the naked women upon whom Yorna’s attention was fixed knelt submissively before the throne.

Through a mist of incense, clothes in a rich blue loin cloth and full facial mask with a curved halo around the golden face, inlaid with lapis and sapphire the God approached followed by his attendants.

His muscled body was shown off to the crowd, oiled and glistening, the scent of perfume reached Yorna across the vast colosseum, no doubt filling the eight or so thousand other spectators senses as they fell silent and bowed in reverence.

A nudge from Valens and she also knelt so as not to stand out to the heavily armored Red warriors who scanned the crowd for any not showing due submission to their ‘God’

“He cometh, the Mighty, the Invincible, Son of the Gods, Blessed by the Hextarion, Promised of the Esshene, Conqueror of the Middle Realm, the Anointed!” Bellowed a man so fat he must weigh six times the average she had seen of the other humans.

The crowd remained bowed until the God took his throne.

Behind the golden face mask the voice was amplified by the aether across the arena and tiered seats.

“Blessed are You that witness Us in Flesh!”

Yorna already disliked this ‘God’ for not protecting its People, for allowing such hideous treatment of females, the arrogance sharpened her annoyance.

“Our Enemies are damned in this life and the Next Five, These you see are children of Sin, Unclean in their Courses, Daughters of those that would defy Us!”

A gate clanked up at the edge of the arena, more women, naked, bruised and bloody were pushed out.

“See the Daughter of Hssan’Kres, Ingettii Chief who defied Us Twice, In Our Mercy We spared him the First Transgression, there can be no second reprieve!”

He pointed an accusing finger at the women.

“And see those that are of her kin, and clan, to the Sixth degree shall the Wicked be Punished as it is written!”

He raised his arms in time with the iron gate opposite the one the women had been forced out, another creature hulking and predatory with a large orange brown main and dripping teeth stalked out with hungry remorseless eyes of black over a tongue flickering to pick up scents.

<No…they wouldn’t…>

<There is no end to the depravity of outsiders against their own> Valens replied to her shock.

The beast soon began working toward the six huddled women, confident of its meal – it had done this before.

<I can’t permit this> Yorna’s telepathic words cut off any argument Valens might’ve made about the need to be discreet, to avoid becoming entangled.

Much like Milaea and Aresaea, Yorna had a strong sense of right and wrong, but more than those two and much like her sister Kiraea, Yorna would act upon her inclinations with little fear for repercussions, like Karintha she was assured that she acted with the guidance and blessing of the Goddesses at all times.

She scanned the environment even as she leapt into the sandy pit – 150 regular guards in light armor,200 heavies had arrived with the ‘Anointed’  Only a few dozen were armed with antiquated las and black powder weapons, most bore crossbows and steel bladed weaponry.

Her Mark 1 Guardian armour, comprised of ultradense blackstone, featuring Chiss sensory and shielding technology, Macro MASER rifle, pistol and implosion grenades were insurmountable Technological advantages – Aethan biological and aetheric abilities combined with her Guardian training made her worth a thousand or more such warriors.

With only the subtlest instruction Valens moved in the opposite direction toward the higher seats where he could cover her from above and rain teleporting arrows on any who challenged her.

The beast snarled and pounced at the cowering unclothed figures.

It flew back even before Yorna hit the centre of the Arena, her high flip landing without a grain of sand disturbed.

<<<<>>>>

 

Maekal

His eyes widened as from nowhere a figure appeared in the arena, the Dreng flying backward on a gentle current.

A deep brown cloak unclasped and light eating black helmet removed a vision of Divine Beauty gazed toward him.

“I am Yorna Daughter of the Three Goddesses of Aethas, Visitor here, I take these women under my protection by their authority,”

“What is this insolence!” frothed the rotund Nenk-Kssar, his announcer whose depth of voice was only exceeded by the abyss of his appetite and fattened stomach.

“Kill this uncouth bitch!”

The Guard of the Burning Seal rapidly leapt over the edge of the stands into the ring, the Dreng seemingly insensate lying docile before the woman whose red hair and marble face seemed all too familiar to Maekal.

No sooner had they drawn their swords than the Guard fell to their knees, a power Maekal had only sensed in himself being twisted in the currents of the Spirit realm about her.

“If you are the God of this world do not hide behind your followers, nor punish your own people so cruelly!” her voice firm enhanced by magick as his own often was.

“Rabid!” Nenk huffed his face red as the crowds stood aghast at a woman defying the Anointed.

“A Woman made rabid by the blood of her cycle no doubt! Get up and slay the Blasphem….”

Maekal and Arr-Kesh, who had been unusually silent, turned to see the fat herald lift off the ground cackling and grasping at his throat.

Yorna was not of a mind to take such an action herself, but Valens could not allow such an insult to a female of the People to go unpunished.

Tracing back the source of the magick Maekal stood and stared at the second warrior in black, standing atop one of the recently erected sandstone columns, arrow drawn looking straight at him.

There was something so familiar about the Magicks they used…so like his own Divine powers…

More Guard leapt behind the woman, aiming for the girls.  Deciding she needed to make a more impactful display Yorna theatrically flicked her wrist and sent blue bolts slamming into their chests, half melting the steel.

The Guard all drew their weapons as panic exploded in the crowd.
 
Arr-Kesh face dropped with terror as an Azure Divine power not related to fertility, but war, was shown by a Female,

Maekal beneath the mask grinned to the point it pained his jaw.

“Lay down your Weapons, my Divine Brethren have Arrived!” 

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 1

Maekal

The standoff was quickly subdued, the girls to be executed escorted by the Guard of the Burning Seal out of the arena given clothes, water and even a Palanquin to ride.

As they marched under guard through the streets of the encampment toward his temporary palace Maekal saw the other man remain at a distance, drawn whenever Maekal looked, always positioned perfectly among the tents and growing walls, unnoticed by the slaves and guards nearby. 

The procession was lined with the rabid populace, word of events at the arena spread like fire, Apostolic Riflemen kept the curious throngs at bay.

It was immediately apparent to Yorna this Aethan boy – for boy was all he was from what she could smell beneath exotic perfumes – was of supreme prominence of this world.  It was a jarring inversion of the tales Jenaea, Maeson, Kassyndra, even Jarys had to tell - enslaved, cast into the lowest rungs of planets they were hurled upon.

She stayed close to the newly freed women, there was no disguising the desire of the priests and prelates to continue with the execution of girls whose downcast looks and submissive posture spoke of years of crushing abuse.

A marble staircase to the vast complex of tents of gold and purple at the center of the six rings at the core of the enormous camp, gleamed in the sun, freshly carved runes on the face of each step kicked up as the guards ascended before a throng of women in white showering petals for the Priests and the ‘god’ to walk upon.

As they began the ascent they passed statues and monoliths still under construction, workmen covered in white marble dust pushed aside for the caravan.

The Guards snapped and demanded the nearer throng’s kowtow – amidst the crowd far larger and more varied than within the arena she noted some scuffles brutally suppressed.

The Temporary palace was upon a hill made by the toil of hundreds of slaves, indeed the arena pit was the result of their creation of the hill upon which Maekals palatial tent stood rather than an intentional effort.

From here Yorna could see the shimmering desert horizons and how tentative and impermanent everything of man seemed against the endless sands.  There were more priests, bald in simple loin cloths to greet them.

With fluttering fans and horns the God’s arrival was announced, Palace Priests pulling open heavy onyx doors to a more solid structure within the Anointeds/

Maekal proceeded forth indifferent to their adulation, crossing the Great Seal for which his personal Guard was named, a vast ancient circle of arcane metal replete with symbols and images none had yet been able to translate – the direct language of the Gods that had frustrated his occasional attempt to crack it.

He sneered at the Seal, its intransigence offended him, if he had more examples of the writing he could begin the process of finding patterns in the lexicon.

Valens watched from just outside the palace perched carefully on a recently raised pillar proclaiming this as the ‘Temporary Seat if the Holy Anointed’, well aware this Boy could see him, and now curious about the Seal he crossed. 

”What language is it?” his apprentice asked as he shone a light on the contents of the wooden crate they had opened in the depths of the warehouse, an ancient datadrive, the software damaged unfortunately but still so finely etched with insignia of Predor to whom it belonged.

“Rakattan…an ancient species, once rulers of a cruel empire, such relics a great value hold to some,”

The smuggling of such artefacts explained much, but still Yoda felt there was more to this mission to Abregado-Rae than mere black market trading. Yet he had a more immediate issue.

“A problem apprentice,”

”It seems…inefficient for so many different languages to be used…why does not everyone simply use Basic?” Valens asked as Yoda sighed inwardly again.

Cultural diversity seemed almost…anathema…to Valens, at first Yoda thought it a result of his apprentices monocultural tribal society…a few years, it seemed more ingrained - an unconscious unwillingness to accept that any other society but his own was…Necessary

“Value in retaining a native tongue there is, some species unable to communicate with sound waves as we do yes, but also identity, thought, experience tied into the language it is.  The limits of the language the limits of your imagination…”

“Consider the word ‘datadrive’, this word, this noun, unknown to you it was on your homeworld, a new word you’ve learned, a new object, and new possibilities for storage of data…”

Valens mouth moved to counter, Yoda knew exactly what he would say, Valens pragmatic mind would reflect that the name for an ‘object’ didn’t matter, the object was real and tangible, Yoda needed a more…conceptual example.

“Consider also, the Force, a word not know to you, yet another way of understanding that which you did already use, the implications of this word, consider again Democracy, Ecumenopolis, philosophy, metaphysics, multiculturalism, all words derived from other languages into basic at some point, for concepts unknown to you, explainable only by complex sentences previously, if understood at all…open new vista’s other languages do…my own verbage unusual some see, but another way to consider the galaxy with a different order of words yes?”

His apprentice slowly parsed the information

“It’s value lies in innovative potential…a being who speaks a language…like the Gaevin,”

By this Valens meant Givin, Yoda smiling at the ironic humour that Valens own native tongue was a heavily accented Archaic form of basic.

“They think in mathematical models, they could…be inventive in ways another species cannot…by permitting many species to interact one can harness creativity one’s own could not attain in isolation…”

There was an edge of…ambition? excitement…in Valens voice as if he had struck pure latinum – and intended to exploit it.

His reminisces distracting, Valens almost missed the quarrel below.

“No woman may sully the Seal, go through the servants entrances,” a thin sycophantic priest, bald with tattoos of runic script etched where hair once had been screeched holding hand before Yorna as Maekal crossed over it with a sigh, he was impatient to speak to this Spirit alone.

Yorna eyed the man and In turn felt the eyes of the vast throng the Anointed was surrounded with upon her.

“Very well…” she agreed to respect this custom

“Take the Blasphemers around,” Arr-Kesh ordered his raspy aged voice resonant with authority as the Guard of the Burning Seal moved to take the women who should’ve been sacrificed in the arena but for this…dameonette Arr-Kesh thought…interference.

“As you have spoken so shall it be done…” the Guard captain replied guiding the women away as the Onyx doors hauled from sacred Xenosh parted and the Anointed strode in.

As soon as the vast doors closed the world behind him he tossed off the annoying head piece, it clattered and bounced before the attendants picked it up, by which time he was already deep in the vast columned palace no longer having to slow his pace for the mortals tedious procession.

Vast gossamer white sails, fountain courtyards and petal covered pools he indifferently strode past – then statues that acolytes ‘woke’ and ‘fed’ each morning to the very center of the complex where a garden of marble and lapis bedecked with zephyr silk cushions from the Tien Rivers stuffed with down from Mallards of the far north were primed and plumped for him to recline into, wines chilled against the summer heat in pitchers waiting for him.

He guzzled down a whole pitcher…then another before ringing one of half a dozen small bells each with a pitch ordering his servants to attend to different needs. 

The carved dividers opened and a bevy of his vir…well…once virgins were brought in for his entertainment as Arr-Kesh finally catching up with a puff strode in.

“Anointed, we must consult the texts, the coming of this Spirit…or Daemon woman was not foretold, we must be on our guard for,”

“By the Six….” Maekal sneered “Isn’t it obvious, from the Revelations of Tiamat, And then came before me the Virgin, who said ‘Behold Faithful Servant Your Works are nearly done, and I will witness you ascend to the Glory of the Six,’…”

He leaned forward even as the virgins prostrated before him, the celibate old man never could disguise his distaste for Maekals…indulgence of earthly things, indeed had tried so often to dissuade him and keep him from it, but as Maekal grew in strength and will he had to concede.

Even so again the young Gods impeccable memory of the texts served him well…though it seemed he had taken some liberties with the translation of certain verbs.

“The damn Ch’mel lickers are the only ones who defy me,” Maekal strode to the virgins sniffing the air about them for one that pleased him to ‘enjoy’

“And we march upon them in three days time, she has come in accordance with the scriptures -  Once they are defeated the whole world will acknowledge my Divinity, this woman from the arena is the Virgin spoken of to witness my triumph and then I will ascend back to the Six fold Heavens…”

He cupped the chin of one of the girls

“And then I will reward all my servants in the Middle Realm,”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 2

Yorna

They were guided on a long path around the hastily built palace, slaves still toiling to shore up the foundations upon shifting sands – an apt metaphor Yorna thought for this society.

They had mistakenly deified a child of the People.

“no…no…” one of the women Yorna had saved suddenly backed away from the entrance carved with what seemed strange Panthera genus creatures

“I won’t go back there!”

There was a crack. 
But it was not the Guard slapping the insolent female as he intended.

It was his forearms snapping as Yorna caught his blow before it struck, she overestimated the strength of the human bone and crushed it by using enough force to stop an normal Aethans arm instead of ‘limiting’ her strength as Valens advised was often necessary when dealing with other species.

The creature barely grunted as another of the interminable array of Priests interjected.

“What is this disobedience! Be silent and…”

Yorna gripped his throat with her mind to silence him.

“What is the matter, what happens here?” she asked the woman, there were six all told, most seemed sheepish but a darker skinned one eyed her conversation.

The Priest gagged on the lack of air as Yorna kept him silent, the other Guards wary of intervening against their Anointed’s ‘guest’

“Speak…it’s alright, they won’t hurt you while I’m here,” Yorna soothed earnestly

“It’s…where they take us to serve the Anointed, Six Bless him…he uses us and…I don’t want to go back there…I’d rather have died in the arena!”

Yorna straightened

“No one will use you...” she said firmly enough that Yssa’Kres, daughter of Hssan’Kres whose escape during the battle had led to her being condemned by association, believed in this strange powerful woman with all her heart.

“Lead on priest,” she released him
“I must speak to the Anointed as soon as possible,”

Sufficiently cowed the priest lead then through the bowels of the make-shift Palace where stoves and store rooms were innumerable to feed the army of priests and holy men above, old women toiling over boiling vats of laundry to ensure all was pristine for those blessed of the Gods.

The thrumming sound of the servants gave Yssa her chance

“Are you…the Kore Soteira?” she whispered

“The what?” yorna replied

“Forgive me!”

“Forgive what?” Yorna whispered,
“You are free to speak as you please, I don’t know what a ‘Kore Soteira’ is….”

“The Maiden Saviour, who will deliver this world from the Great Oppressor…the Anointed…”

“I haven’t come here for that, only to find a lost kinsman who I believe is this Anointed,” Yorna replied honestly noting the woman’s unusually dark skin and strange fat nose, indeed they were all so incredibly different it was astounding to her.

“Tell me of yourself, your name, mine is Yorna…” Yorna went on as the clang of blacksmiths hammers drowned any chance of being overheard.

“I am Yssa’Kres, daughter of Hssan’Kres, of the Ingetti, honoring my ancestors and the Spirits of the Grazelands,”

Yorna nodded at the solemn introduction and sensing Yssa’s pride.

“I sense the Grazelands are far from here…”

“Very…the Anointed came years ago with his armies when we refused to abandon our Ancestors and Spirits…he defeated my father, the headman…one of hundreds of leaders since, he took me to his harem as he does the most beautiful of all the women he finds as he conquers cities, villages, the whole Realm bows to him they say, or soon will…”

“You are his captives?”

“Slaves…fortunately he showed no interest in me…he is taken by those with light skin and crimson hair…like yourself…and…” she glanced back to Auuri who had been the one unwilling to return to the palace – the niece of a Jarl of the North her once white skin had been tanned by the harsh suns of the holy city over the years.

“The girl who didn’t wish to return…” Yorna pursed her lips as she began to understand the situation
“This Anointed is acting unjustly and abhorrently…I will put an end to it,”

Yssa stopped in her tracks, memories of hundreds of men and women defying the Anointed with those same words racing through her head.

“Many have said such things…” she gazed into the kind but firm green eyes of the Aethan woman.

“You are the first I believe can do it,”

<<<<>>>>

Yssa’kres description of the Anointed debauchery seemed understated as she saw through the floral carved grates into the opulent courtyard marred by the indifferent use then discarding of pretty little human women.

Little for they all seemed so small to Yorna’s eyes, while better fed she suspected than most of the population of this world, humans still seemed so…fragile…insubstantial compared to People.

“These will have to remain here,” the latest of the insufferable Priests squeaked
“They are no longer worthy to enter the Anointed’s presence, only pure virgins untainted by any lustful thoughts may enter the Harem, are you one such?”

Yorna raised a brow plotting her response when the ‘Anointed’ intervened

“Just let her through!” he called tossing off another woman “The rest of you get out,”

“After I have your word they will not be harmed,” Yorna insisted taking her protection of the women very seriously.

“Fine have them fed and watered,” Maekal sighed.

As Yorna stepped through the silent guards and women all departed, only an old man she had seen beside him earlier remained.

“At last!” Maekal gasped with faux exasperation
“I’ve been waiting for you to come for so long, it’s getting so taxing remaining on this mortal plane…with just these petty little things to distract me…I am ready for my ascension,”

Yorna was not expecting that.

“Your Ascension…”

“Back to the Six Heavens once my task is done and the Middle Realm has been unified in worship to Us, Children of Hexatrion, Blessed of the gods, only one hold out remains and they will kneel or die within days.”

“Kneel or die…you intend to force these to worship you as you did the Ingettii?”

“Of course, in accordance with the Essene Hymns and the Autroch Prophecies, I have brought the Gathering of Souls, forged the Sacred city, all the Pieces of the great Seal have been found, and so you have come to witness my last task…”

Maekal was no fool, he could read faces well, and could see clear confusion on this other Child of the Gods

“You are here for that are you not….”

“I am here to take you home yes, to another world far from here…one you were taken from as an infant, do you remember your home at all?”

“No…my memories only begin when I was found by my Mentor…Arr-Kesh who has cared for me How do you not already know this…” he said suspicious of her.

“Anointed…what is your real name,” Yorna asked

Maekal shared a glance with Arr-Kesh

“The sacred name would be known to a true God,” the raspy old man said, his voice scolding even when gentle.

“I am not a God,” Yorna replied calmly, “Nor are you…Maekal” 

The name was easily taken from the old man’s surface thoughts

“And what I have seen of what has become of you saddens me greatly, forcing others to worship you or killing them, using females even of a lesser species for your enjoyment, this needs to stop now, you need to release these women, use your power to put an end to the patriarchal systems of this world and admit to the populace you are not a God, then and only then can we leave this world for our own”

Maekal was wide eyed and stunned with confusion – she said in one breath he was not a god, then demanded he use his powers as one…

Arr-Kesh parchment like sun worn skin boiled red at the insolence

“You blaspheme here in the presence of the Anointed…you….” He seethed fists clenching

“Succubus, trickster, witch! The Six Curse yo…..”

Before he could utter his curse he was lifted off the ground hands round his throat gasping for air.

Maekal nearly jumped as Valens appeared as if from nowhere a finger raised in an unnecessary physical gesture for the grip he had on the irritating ‘holy’ man.

There was a minor pang of worry in the young Aethan boy at his foster father being levitated and choked, but it dissipated into laughter momentarily

“Ha, even the Supreme Prelate cannot insult a God, you should have known that Arr-Kesh!”

The old man could not hear his foundling, his mind racing between scenes from across his long hard life – from the beatings at the hands of the elder priests as a child when he was disobedient, to his equally brutal treatment of those that denied the Divinity of his ward – how Maekals arrival had been a vindication of Arr-Kesh dedication to the Six, validation of all his sufferings and self-abnegation.

Valens sneered at the almost comical meaning this deluded Outsider had given to Maekals arrival – what Arr-Kesh saw as a ‘Descent from Heaven’ was a crashing slaver star ship, the Blue Divine Energy of the Holy Mother, an Aetheric Shield by an Aethan woman to save her child.

This humour turned to fury as he saw what Arr-Kesh had used Maekal for, using the Aethan child comparatively godlike biology to spearhead a Crusade across this world to placate his Gods.

With fierce scorn Valens twisted Arr-Kesh bones ready to snap them apart.

<Wait!> Yorna counselled telepathically
<He has used Maekal, another Outsider exploiting out power for their own ends, he must be punished>
<He also cared for Maekal as a child, fed and clothed him, kept him from harm, was like a father to him, to destroying him now would hurt Maekal and be a grave ingratitude, spare him Val…for now>

Maekal could hear the whispers of the Divine beings speaking through their minds but was unable to pick the words that trickled too fast.

With a crash Arr-Kesh fell upon the mosaic floor, mind and body reeling.

“I saw you following from on high, are you a Seraphim protecting the Divine Virign?” Maekal asked Valens

<Goddesses…he is completely taken in by this old man’s religious madness…> was Yorna’s comment.

Maekal appeared healthy especially compared to the other humans of this world, he would’ve been barely a year older than Milaea, an infant at the time of the Devastation.  Yorna had to smile at the thought that meant that – given she had been effectively dead for the last 25 years - he was slightly older than she was.

But far less mature, pampered all his life…

<A life of luxury rather than desperation…you will have to be patient in re-educating him…>
<I will have to be?>  Val asked as Maekal desperately tried to understand what they were thinking

<I think you should handle this, I want to learn more of this world and Maekal by speaking to his enemies – who knows a woman better than those truly dedicated to their destruction>

“We are not Seraphim, or divine beings, we are People, Children of the Goddesses of Aethas as you are, but you were stolen by alien beings as an infant, lost on this world far from your home…as I said we are here to take you back when you are ready.” Yorna replied

The near disastrous experience with Taryn had proven the danger of ‘extracting’ a Person in depth with another culture too quickly, and given Maekal was in no immediate danger they had time to ease his transition.

“Yes of Course…I must complete the Great Unification…” Maekal again not able to comprehend the true meaning of her words hearing through the prism of his own beleifs.

“Uh…Valens here will discuss your…preparation…I wish to see the women under my protection released somewhere they will feel safe, can you arrange this, and guarantee until my return there will be no more executions?”

Her face was sweet, voice firm but not harsh, Maekal could not refuse even if he wanted to.

“I’ll have some acolyte arrange it…” He glanced to the struggling form of Arr-Kesh

“Supreme Prelate see it is done,” 

Arr-Kesh was clearly in pain, but Maekal cared nothing for his discomfort, a worrying sign of indifference to one who had cared for him – however harshly.

This would be a long process indeed.

<<<<>>>>

Hssan’Kres

Every day more and more gathered in the two wadis he could see from his place of purification, and more in those he could not.

He had to bathe and scour himself with the purest white sands for two days, Juba’Dhuja’Sabi assisted where she could explaining the niceties of the exotic ritual. Jolmnir visited in the evening updating him on the gathering of the army.

“They’re from all over, this really is the last stand against the Anointed…” he said chewing on the rough foods, distasteful though it looked Hssan would’ve gladly devoured it had he not been forced to fast in preparation.

The Jarl shook his head,

“I just hope I die in glorious battle and lifted to Val’Ha’la rather than see him win…”

“You think he will destroy us?” Hssan asked

“Have you ever seen him lose…O’dan knows what comes next…”

They’d both heard, over and over again, the chants of the Anointeds priests of prophecies that once all submitted to the Anointed across the Middle Realm he would be ascended to Godhood and the Hextarion would bring the End of days, when their worshippers would be raised to the Six Paradises according to their deeds, and the unbelievers….well they both had heard the hours long description of the tortures of the Ice Hell.

“…are you purified yet?” Jolmnir asked in return

“Another day…then…Ancestors know what I will see in the Cave of Metal…but it may be the only chance we have.”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 3

Valens

The crackle of fires in the torches and scones was the only sound in the librarium.

Hundreds of tomes, scrolls, books, palm leaves, even stones and entire tree trunks, variously inscribed with sacred writings of the myriad cultures of this world had been hauled here on the Coal Churners as part of the ‘Anointed’s’ moving palace.

Valens took them all in one by one, the language was easy enough to translate, most had varied only a few degrees from Galactic Basic after being cut off from the rest of the galaxy, some written languages used different scripts but a few moments was all that was needed to learn the alphabets.

They told innumerable tales of Gods, Spirits, ancestors, but there were common themes of the writers chosen people being brought peacefully or cast out violently from the heavens, that Gods had once walked among them and would return, images of some of the divine beings bore more than a passing resemblance to other images he had seen in the Jedi archives of both the Celestials and the Rakatta.

Valens hypothesis was this world had been settled by the Rakatta or Celestials, one of the thousands of worlds where they waged war and then abandoned, the human slave population spreading across the planet making new homes, memories of their former masters becoming legend, then Myth – early hopes of the return of their masters trans morphed into a longing for divine release of the appearance of a Savior figure.

It was easy to see how an Aethan child could fit into this role preened by a zealot like Arr-Kesh, sent from above, with powers and strength beyond the imagining of the barely fed populace.

And it made the task of de-radicalizing the boy all the greater.

Leaning over a lectern made of some kind of vast animals femur Valens stared into the compressible but rambling script of genealogies and incoherently difficult laws written in tiny lines on thin paper that seemed to resent the monotony of the so called sacred words.

In a fit of annoyance he slammed the lectern over scattering the words to the ground.  It was all so much irrelevant drivel written by the desperate and ignorant, nothing of it was true and real. 

He would have to show this boy the true nature of the Aether and the galaxy.

Determined he strode back through the halls to the Anointed rooms, Maekal was there with his overly adorned generals, each bearing impractical books of sacred lore on their backs.

“Divine Brother we are planning the final conquest of the Middle Realm, please bless us with your thoughts!” Maekal beamed excitedly.

Taken off guard by the boisterous welcome Valens cautiously approached the table they were huddled over. 

It featured a scale model of a desert plain replete with canyons and dried rivers filled with tiny intricate models of ivory representing cavalry and infantry.

“See here, our scouts have found their encampment, we’ll over the main force directly and engage them here…meanwhile I’ve already dispatched 3000 of my best troops to take a wide arc to assault their camp while we meet them in the field,”

Maekal smiled viciously

“They will have nowhere to run back to this time!”

He exuded pride in his own efforts but something else Valens could not understand, yet that made the ever present Arr-Kesh seethe with jealousy.

“A reasonable plan…but…” he lifted a model with the aether causing the generals to gasp.

“Make sure to keep some of your ambush forces far to the rear to catch the few that do escape when they are tired,”

“Yes…yes…see that it is done!” Maekal demanded “Now leave us, there is much to discuss with the Divine Herald.”

With reverence the Generals nodded and departed, the slaves sealing the door behind them.

“You too Arr-Kesh,” Maekal sneered with a sideways glance

“Anointed I…”

“Should leave,”

A pause and another bitter glance to Valens the Supreme Prelate left.

“What a bore he is,” Maekal as soon as the doors closed,
“Can I interest you in some of the Middle Realms delights, wine, fruits, women?”

Valens ignored the offer as Maekal poured himself a large glass of wine.

“The Prelate is using you for his own delusional ends,” he looked more carefully at Maekal who could barely conceal his mischievous smile.

“But you know that don’t you,”

“Ever since I first got away from him for more than an hour…he revels in the rank to Supreme Prelate, having priests kowtow to him as the ‘Blessed Six-fingered’…all the while thinking he will be ascended when the Unification is complete…but we both know the truth.”

This was interesting.

“The Truth?”

“Of course, no human can ascend beyond the First Heaven, as it is written ‘All shall have their reward for righteousness according to their station, for the Hextarion judges all the righteous according to their ability’ a mere mortal can never truly ascend to the greatest heights.”

Any hope Maekal actually understood washed away.

“Maekal, whatever you believe will occur after your ‘unification’…it will not, you are not the Child of a God, the sky above is not home to the realm of divinities, it is an ever thinning accumulation of atmospheric gases held to the planet by gravity, beyond that is the emptiness of space – we can travel it yes, but it is not full of spirits, only other planets like this one and creatures just as fleshy as you….”

Valens breathed in, something rare when he was off world.

“I know this is hard to comprehend…I was the same no understanding of the galaxy…all those texts and tomes…their cosmologies are invariably false, morals irrelevant…this is not the only planet, the black of night is not the veil of the Hextarion to keep divine light from overwhelming mortals …your powers are real but not unique, dozens of our kind wield them, thousands of others across the galaxy,”

Maekal stood stone still for a moment

“I knew this would happen, you’ve come to test me…”

Valens was desperately trying to be patient as Yoda had been with him…it was a struggle.

“No I’ve come to bring you home, but not before you understand what that means, we’ve made that mistake before with another of our family, Taryn.”

“You’re good,” Maekal laughed “I can feel your sincerity, but I know the words of the false prophets are wrapped in truth but serpents lie within to ensnare the soul,”

Valens hands clench, pondering simply knocking him unconscious or directly pushing his own memories onto Maekals mind – the boy had strength in the aether to be sure but nothing in comparison to him.

Yet he knew he couldn’t. 

Yorna was right, Valens had to learn how to Teach,  not so much for Maekal but for…

For Sofa…

Everyday her eagerness to start a family grew.  That was what Yorna had not been able to pry him, his true fear was not failing in teaching her, she was a guardian, intelligent, strong willed and self assured enough to make do with his limited guidance …but children….his children…would be entirely reliant on him

“Maekal, you need to listen carefully – I don’t deny the possibility this Hextarion is real, we have our own Goddesses, but you are not one of them, you are a member of a race that compared to humans only seem godlike…”

To emphasize the fact he lit his fist with aetheric fire.

“Everything you can do I, Yorna and all of us can, and better,”

“As can all Seraphim and Djinn from the lower heavens,” Maekals sighed as if bored, agreement only emphasizing his lack of comprehension.
“such is the pain of having to descend to the Middle Realm, but I undertook it humility and mercy toward man,”

Irritation grew as options narrowed.  Showing him the ship or any technology wouldn’t work, Valens recalled the ancient saying ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’.

Perhaps…

“You are able to sense others at a distance yes?”

“Of course, it is part of my budding omniscience,” the young Aethan said with sincerity matched only by arrogance.

“Then reach out now…”

"Just around you, look."  Yoda's patient tone had adopted an edge of irritation.  "Everything around us, feel."

Valens stared at the Jedi Master, the look on his face telling, as if he were a sprinter being asked to crawl.  "...And now?"

Even now Yoda was forced to admit that like with so many things his apprentice showed incredible strength and facility when it came to the Force: when first instructed to use telekinesis to lift a small pebble, Valens lifted a boulder.  Or when Yoda had told him to use the Force to assist in a leap over a three-meter fence, Valens had instead leapt to the roof of the adjoining building.  And when Yoda had entered the final program instructions for drone practice, Valens had insisted that the Jedi Master use all eight available.  Simultaneously.

Mentally Yoda shook his head.  Whenever it came to anything martial or concerning combat, Valens was far beyond any Padawan.  He had to suppress the involuntary laughter that threatened to erupt forth.  Padawan?  Valens had outstripped Jedi Masters, powerful ones too.

But he could also be incredibly unexperienced with other aspects of the Force...

"...And now, feel...do nothing, only...feel..." Following his own instructions, Yoda opened himself fully, feeling the individual rocks within the ground, the grass in the field, the trees surrounding them.  But also the small animals surrounding them: from the native marsupials in the trees to the insects flying in the air to even the worms in the soil... "Feel."  Yoda carefully watched.

Valens' face didn't change nor did his demeanor yet Yoda could feel the man project the Force ever outward, covering a vast area.  Even larger than Yoda could truth be told.  ...The more reason to teach I must... He thought.  Instead, he smiled.

"Good...now feel the Force as it surrounds us, permeating everything." His smile became wistful.  "Feel...Life it is.  This, THIS is what need we learn."  He raised his hands.  "Life."

Valens took a breath.  "Yes, Master.  I feel the life, the life of everything around me."  Even though his tone didn't change, Yoda could sense Valens change, "I learned this as a child; it was necessary to ensure that the village was always aware, always secure, always protec--"  He suddenly swallowed hard, as if Valens couldn't finish the thought.  Yoda knew that there must be something deeper there but Valens had never spoken of it...perhaps he'd been unable to protect his own home?  But before he could ask, Valens continued.  "Master, this is nothing that I haven't already learned."

Yoda wanted to rip what little hair he had out.  "Not what I meant is it.  Feel you should, ONLY feel.  The way of the Force is such.  And of Life."  He tried another angle.  "Valens...focus not on what is outside...inwards you must feel..."

Once again Yoda could feel the currents of the Force as Valens--quite literally--wrapped it around and within himself.  "...Master I feel that all of my body's organs and tissues are nominal."

Yoda let out a sigh.  "No, no introspective you must be..."

Valens cut him off, not out of any insolence or disrespect but rather sincere curiosity...and confusion.  "But did you not first tell me that I must expand the...Force..." Always a pause... "...Outwards?"

"Well, yes but..."

"And then that I should do so within myself?"

"Yes, yes...I..." Yoda fell silent.  It was not a question of language; Valens Basic--much like his Force aptitude--was excellent.  Instead, he knew that it was a matter of context.

Put simply: Valens still had trouble grasping colloquialisms.  Once again taking a calming breath, Yoda affixed a smile upon his face.  "At fault am I.  Try this another way I will."

He just hoped that his patience was greater than Valens' confusion.

“A petulant waste of time,” Maekal snapped,

Just as Valens had himself so deeply misunderstood the lesson then, felt the material of his surrounds but not comprehended the meaning, so Maekal now sneered at the sensation that only affirmed his ingrained beliefs. 

He felt the slaves, the priests, the boil of resistance in the desert, and beyond that, yes other beings in the Stars, but to Maekal that was simply further evidence it was the abode of the Six Heavens.

“I hunger for pleasure, join me or not,” the anointed dismissed even as he left the room leaving Valens alone.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

 

Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 4

Arr-Kesh

“What is this!” he screamed at the lowly bald acolyte
“A stain upon the paths which the anointed walks, clean it then fast for two…no three months!”

“Yes Blessed one!” the quivering creature bowed as Arr-Kesh unleashed the raw pain of his summary dismissal.

These appearance of these daemons did not bode well, did not accord the scriptures as he understood them. 

And he, the Blessed the one chosen to guide the Anointed, Child of the Gods could not be wrong in his exegesis.

A woman-form warrior must be a ploy of the Old Enemy he reasoned stalking to the library as the cool night airs swept up from the desert surrounding. A succubus yes, the male her daemonic companion…

“By the SIX!” he screamed as he entered the library to find precious tomes scattered on the floor, the Great-Yoruug leg bone lectern smashed upon the floor.

“Desecration!” he hastened to pick up the divine words in the dim fire light…but there upon an upturned page he saw it the passage revealed via bibliomancy

‘The One Beast cometh in two forms, male and female it comes, daughter of sin that dishonors her maidenhead, son of destruction that stirs discord.  Woe to whoever listens to their counsel’

“Yes…yes…they are the Beast…and by the Hextarion, I shall not let them impede the Great Unification!”

<<<<>>>>

“See here!” Maekal said excitedly in the Treasure room the next morning, his ‘guest’ having neither eaten nor drunk, nor likely slept.

“All these belonged to chieftains, heroes, braves…this Katana!” he excitedly lifted it off the runs and presented it to the daemon.

“Belonged to Joshen Tsuji, greatest swordsman of the Kynsh Isles of the west…” arrogance turned up his lips in a smile
“I killed them all so easily,”

Valens remained unimpressed an silent, an uneasy lack of response as Maekal waited for some kind of praise as he was accustomed to from every other being of the Middle Realm.

None was forthcoming.  So far as Valens was concerned there was little to accomplishment in having slain barely fed humans wielding paltry weapons, only a handful of which could’ve even breached Aethan skin.

“You’re right, such crude weapons!” Maekal cast the sword to the ground with a clatter to fill the absence of acclaim.

“Come I’ve something else to show you,” 

Arr-kesh followed behind quietly as Maekal swaggered about as he had all morning intent exposing all his accomplishments to this strange being for reasons Arr-Kesh could not understand.  It was no working neither gold, women nor the finest ointments and silks had impressed this daemon.

They came to the small balcony overlooking the Camp where the Guard of the Burning Seals 3rd company stood at attention, -300 strong they had been in a ready pose in full armor for 4 hours already.

“My finest troops, still nothing compared to my power for course…” he went down among them with a flourishing acrobatic leap. The Daemon stepped off and landed with an indifferent thud.  Arr-kesh had to wind down the freshly finished wooden stairs.

“See their utter discipline, complete dedication to me!” he went up to one of the statue like warriors and drew the dagger from his belt, sliding it up and under the Guards shoulder plate, rich red blood flowing out.

“By their faith they are free of pain!” Maekal almost giggled as he twisted the knife.

It was of no interest to Valens either.  He remained unmoved by this ‘show and tell’

“Not a true legion of Seraphim, but as close as I can manage from this imperfect clay of flesh,” Maekal complained of his Guard, though Arr-kesh sensed a little hurt in his voice.

A brief tour of the camps around the makeshift palace and they came to the Harrowing Court.  Typically placed in the centre of every encampment, among the regular soldiers, it featured concentric hexagons of rusted iron poles driven into the ground from which hung dirt blackened cages in which deserters, heretics and other miscreants were placed to die.

In the desert sun the metal changes heated to extreme temperatures searing their flesh. 
Arr-kesh gave a wry grin at one who pleaded weakly for water. He would have all the water he could wish in the Ice set fifth hell for his heretical thoughts once his body gave out.

“And this…” Maekal slapped a coal chugger, wide, low and long. 
“Upon this we parade the traitors each day through the streets, to remind them of the punishment that awaits those who turn from my worship in this life and the next.”

Brutal displays were hardly shocking to Valens who used them to cow his own enemies when needed…but something about this display seemed off, he followed the threads of the aether to the pleading man.

“What was this woman’s crime?”

“Oh you’ve picked a good one!” Maekals said excitedly snatching a spear off a guard to poke at the wiry old woman whose feminine nakedness disgusted Arr-kesh more than her depredation.
“This bitch preached that the Hextarion are not eternal gods, that I am not a god, but a man,”

“You punish and fear the truth, hide behind an army of fanatics…” Valens replied fixing Maekals gaze or the first time all morning
“…it shows how weak and frightened you are.”  He now looked to Arr-Kesh.

”By force and compulsion,” Yoda said as they wandered the sickeningly humid backstreets where gang colours yielded privilege and threat in equal measure
“These crime lords seek to rule….” He gestured to a body on display, a warning in aurebesh branded into the skin
“Violence, terror a show of power it is not, weakness, fear within externalized it is, power fast accumulated yes, but quickly lost when built upon negative emotions and coercion it is,”
Valens nodded beside him tying it to other lesson Yoda had taught
“The quick and easy path you spoke of?”
Yoda nodded grimly
“Punishment compliance it might gain shortly, but never confidence, never trust – a fist forever clenched cannot be, in time weak it grows, loose its grips, and power held by that fist slips away with it.”

The Daemons face was like Obsidian, grave and dark in countenance, words sharp and glistening.

“Everything you’ve built will crash in days like so many fast burning empires before, the need to repress shows your claims to power are falsehoods,”

“You lie!” Arr-Kesh snapped “Deceiver, our power is evidence of the truth of the Hextarion’s power and blessing, never has all the world worshipped one pantheon till now through the grace and mercy of the Anointed’s coming and Unification…under my guidance,”

“Your Hextarion may be the strongest Gods of his world, but I assure you there are armies far larger, Gods far greater across the galaxy, this planet is one of millions, your so called achievements are insignificant.”

There was bitter experience in Valens words, he knew for a fact Gods were only as strong as their worshippers, existing in symbiosis…his own Goddesses had been unable to protect the People from the overwhelming strength of the Outsiders.

“Does not the fact you still face defiance at every turn teach you something?”

“Heresy fester in the heart of those that love Sin over righteousness, that cleave to the darkness of unbelief!” Arr-Kesh bristled,

Yet Valens was looking at Maekal alone, a momentary flicker of doubt in his aura.



 

Yorna

The Ch’mel were ornery creatures, constantly stopping and starting. 

Yorna was glad she was simply too heavy in full armour for one to carry her.

She walked beside Yssa’Kres Ch’mel leading her own on the dusty path into the deserts.

Maekal’s Supreme Prelate had provided them with mounts, food and some currency in the form of silver, his bitterness growing with each concession fulfilling the ‘Anointed’ promise, his face still flushed with blood from Valens choking.

They were given safe passage and an escort to the edge of the table lands about the encampment, from there they were on their own, seeking out the few tribes still free of the Anointed’s domination in the hidden Wadis.

The women slowly gained confidence as the days passed on the journey. For the first week they were constantly looking over their shoulder waiting for Guards of the Burning Seal to run them down and return them to captivity.

Slowly they came to trust they were in fact free, and began telling their stories to pass the time.

All had been leaders of their tribes, village or the daughters, sisters, nieces of such leaders, taken by the Anointed for his pleasure after their submission.

Some had been trapped in the harem for years, others months, all felt the sully of being held in chains resolved only to survive, nothing more. 

All held the same opinion of the Anointed, fickle, demanding and childish, blessed with incredible strength and intelligence, manipulated by Arr-Kesh out of indolence into action to further his vision of Unifying the Middle Realm under the worship of the Six Gods of the Hexatrion, believing that achieving such would result in the Six Gods raising their servants to immortal bliss.

Yorna doubted this prophecy was accurate, indeed the nature of ‘Prophecy’ as the women explained seemed at odds with her understanding of the Gods – A God assisted and aided their People directly when they could, they didn’t play strange games or ask them to subdue others – Her Peoples Goddesses were Her Peoples, they would not want another people to worship them, especially not by force. 

It seemed more likely that this Arr-Kesh was using his Six Gods will as a cover for his own ambitions, and Maekal as the means of achieving what he as a mere human never could.

But there was another prophecy that intrigued her even more
“Yssa, you called me the Kore Soteira, savior Maiden, what is that prophecy,”
The dark skinned woman shifted on the mat they sat around the camp fire on, close to the heat to stave off the ice night of the desert.

“When the Anointed began his conquest, it is rumored the worshipers of the Six gods came upon a monastery of the Taijits, men of the mountains who believe in the balance and opposition of all things, for every black there is a white, every evil a good.  It is said before the Anointed killed them one spoke a prophecy…that as a Boy united by arms, a Maiden would divide with words, as long as the Boy had reigned with terror, the Maiden would be swift with mercy, that when all was contained, all would be set free…over the years the slaves turned it into a belief that, at the final moment a Maiden that would undo in days what the Anointed had spent years uniting…when you showed the power of the Gods…I thought perhaps…”

Yorna thought upon it deeply the next day almost missing the approach of other riders.

“Up head…” she said to her fellow travelers
“Eight more on the right, twenty on the left,”

The women looked stunned, Yorna forgetting they lacked her range of sensory organs. 

Over a dune eight riders came.

“As you foretold!” one of the women gasped.

Their Ch’mel were much larger than the women’s, armored and wearing carefully embroidered harnesses.  They surrounded the party of women, Yorna stepping forward.

“Who Are you that come to the Land of Shbiia!”

“I Am Yorna, Daughter of Aethas, with me are my friends who seek shelter from the Anointed’s rule.”

“Spies for the Anointed, I have seen these women among his slaves during the Battle!” another rider sneered

“And when has the Anointed ever been heard to parted with his virgins?” the first rider asked
“hmm follow and we will hear your story,”

They were lead for two hours to a small canyon where a camp was hidden in the folds of the rock, fifty or so men and as many women waiting, lookouts with las-arquebus and crossbows high on the escarpment.

Even as they dismounted Yorna felt a surge of emotion and a burly red haired and skinned man rush forward.

“Yssa!”
The dark girl looked perplexed
“I do not know you Northman,”
“No but I you, I am Jolmnir, I was in bondage with your father Hssan’Kres, how are you free of the Anointed, did you escape in the battle,”
“Yes we would all like to know,” The lead rider said.
“Kana’Lop’Seha,” Jolminr said “I vouch for this woman, though I never met her, I know from her father she is a woman of honor and discernment.”

“The Daughter of wielder of the Sword…” Kana considered

“Very well, let us sit exchange salt, water and story.”

Jolmnir joyously explained how he and Hssan had not only escaped the Anointed, but also witnessed a weapon that could harm him, Kana nodding and noting that had he not seen such he would not believe it – and so it was he did not believe Yssa’s tale of her rescue from the Dreng in the pits.

“You say this woman has the power of the Gods!”

“We all saw it!” Yssa insisted
“They are not god like powers,” Yorna explained “All of my people possess such… we came here to find our lost kin, we believe Maekal, the anointed is he, I came to learn from his enemies about what life he has lived,”
“So you claim to be a Child of the Gods too!”
“No more than you are the child of Shbiia of the Scorching Sands,” she shook her head
“Even so…” Kana placed his hands on his belt where his scimitar glistened ready.
“You wish proof…” Yorna sighed.
“Very well.” She pointed
“Those rocks.”
With a gesture to emphasize it was her over two ancienct partially covered stones levitated off the ground. 

The Ch’mel nearby brayed, the other riders and attendants cowered.

To add emphasis she sent a spiral of lighting to strike one, turning the orange stone black with heat.

“O’dan’s beard….”
“Shbiia protect…” Kana said eyes wide as a Ch’mels lashes were long

<<<<>>>>

He was filled.  All the hunger from his fast drained away as he held his daughter once more. Astonishment and joy mingled as the gathered crowd celebrated the return of the former slave girls, and the entire encampment was ablaze with the story of their rescue by the strange Sorceress with red hair ‘Yorna’.

“My child…I never thought…”
“The Ancestors bless us father,”
“I doubted…doubted so much…but I see now this is the straight path for me…the sword…the cave…”
They parted but remained holding each others arms
“My daughter, I have been chosen by the God of this land to wield a great weapon against the false god in the coming battle, first though I must speak to the God itself in a cave of metal, for this I fast and purify myself,”

Parting fully Yssa nodded
“Then return to your preparations, the Anointeds forces muster quickly,”

He looked on her with great pride, she still had the heart of a Headwoman, sacrificing her own desire to speak with him for the greater good.

Across the tables full of what food could be spared, Yorna spoke with Juba’Dhuja’Sabi, the old woman who as was fitting seemed in charge of the camp.

“And the Anointed has not sent his armies to your land of Aethas?” The elderly nomadic woman asked
“Aethas is…very distant.”
“In the North no doubt where red hair is common.”
“Ah…not quite…very…very deep south.” Her eyes were on Hssan, or rather the sword on his blade, a strange black-green that whispered with poison intent.

“Kana says you come to remove the Anointed as was foretold,”

“I don’t know about being the Saviour Maiden,” Yorna replied
“But my brother and I will take the Anointed as soon as he understand the truth,”

Dhuja looked puzzled
“What truth?”
“That he is not a God, that each tribe or village may have its own gods as they please and are chosen by the spirits.”
“Your magic’s are so great?”
“No…but my Will is…Tell me Elder, all you know of these troubled years.”

<<<<>>>>

Arr-Kesh

Ranks of thousands from the inner six rings of the camp, the Vangaurd simply trampling the worshippers and followers tents that cluttered the outskirts so the army had a clear path to begin their match.

All in deep reds and browns the army had been provisioned and armed, Coal Chggers refueled, Ch’mel and Equin’o cavalry readied to cut off the enemies escape.

Arr-Kesh gazed from the highest watch tower as they proceeded out.  They were so close, with this victory the Unification would be complete, and his ascent to the Sixth Heaven to gaze upon the faces of the Hextarion for eternity in rapturous Bliss assured.

“You see!” he heard the unusually excited of Maekal come from the stair way as the steps grounded under his weight.

“The largest army the Middle Realm has ever seen! I devised new means of organization, checkpoints, distribution, marching and bivouacking for the very purpose!”

Behind him the daemon male looked unimpressed

“A fitting practice for when I take command of the Holy Legion to Destroy the Enemies of the Six don’t you think?”

Valens was only mildly impressed - the armies operation was fluid, its ranks and formations solid, but hardly inspired.

“Within two days we will have them.” Maekal leaned forward pushing past Arr-Kesh as though he were not there.
“Those Ch’mel mounters will be fodder for my cannon…and I will personally slay 36 of the yoogs…”

“Your overconfidence is a weakness,” Valens replied matter-of-fact.

Arr-Kesh suppressed a grin, long had he wished to say so himself.

“What weakness can a God have!” Maekal snapped childishly
“My armies have never known defeat!”

“Your armies have never faced an equal, nor have you,”

The exchange puzzled Arr-Kesh, the daemon spoke almost…wisely?

It infuriated Maekal who trembled with annoyance.

“I am a GOD no one is my equal even a Seraphi…”

SMACK

“I’m not a Seraphim and you are not a God, the sooner you accept that the sooner we can get off this wretched planet,”

A red pulsing hand print marred Maekals face where the Daemon had hit him.  Maekal had been struck before of course, but this was…different…every other time Arr-Kesh had seen it was a lucky act of often suicidal desperation to land a blow in a battle.

This was dismissive, patronizing, a parent disciplining a wayward child.

Arr-Kesh had no idea how Maekal would react – indeed Maekal didn’t know how to react.

“I’ll show you…” the Anointed finally sniffed

“…I’ll defeat their entire army MYSELF!” he finished skulking off leaving the two older men with only the sound of drums and pounding boots.

“What is your intent Daemon,” Arr-Kesh finally said

“By the power of the Six I compel you to speak!”

He raised a powerful Runic Stone Totem from his robes and thrust it into Valens face - one of many he had the Priests and aesthetics up all night preparing to contain and defeat the creature.

Indifferently Valens grabbed the object and crushed it in his genehanced fist leaving the Supreme Prelate with naught but dust.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 23 — Divinity — New Revelations — Part 5

The Cave of Metal

The Rider leapt from the ch’mel that near on collapsed having een raced so hard across the sands.

“They MARCH!” he yelled across the wadi, Ch’mel, Equin’o and the vast shaggy Banthoc all peering up as warriors of a hundred tribes and a dozen lands hastened the sharpening of stakes and binding of armour.

“Then there can be no delay,” Dhuja said as Hssan sat atop a crest overlooking the main camp, body dry from the sand bathing.
“You must enter the cavern at once and seek the God’s blessing, it is just over a half days ride from here, Kaban’Din’Soo will show you the way.”

With solemn determination Hssan hefted the back green blade, its ancient hilt of ivory and dried sinew felt familiar in his hand now.

“Is there anything else I must know,”

“Only be swift,” Dhuja finished before having her handmaid summon Kaban.

Yorna felt only disappointment Valens had been unable to convince Maekal of the truth of who and what he was.  But her curiosity regarding the Sword and the Cave of metal was greater.

Seated around a workbench of wicker covered with unmade arrows Yssa spoke.
“If my father falls, I will take his place as Champion, Yorna daughter of Aethas will you join us against the Tyrant?”
“I…” she glanced aside eyes following a man who must be Kaban among the shelters where a light wind was drifting sand along the makeshift paths.
“You can defeat the Anointed I know it with your sorcery.”

“I will observe and hope to find another way to end this…I need to head off for a little bit, but I will be there I promise.”

<<<<>>>>

The path was long and winding.  Hssan could tell Kaban was talking a circuitous path to avoid anyone following.

They headed toward a chain of rocky mountains, a hundred canyons within creating a labyrinthine complex of red and orange stone which they reached just as night fell, blue dusk light and a full moon all omens of great or terrible things to come.

Even so Hssan could not help the feeling someone was following…not on Ch’mel they would’ve heard it surely…but on foot how could they keep up?

Passing through a canyon barely wide enough for one mounted rider to fit they came to a large opening were a strange mountain with a hollow inwardly leaning coned top stood before them.  IT looked as if a God had stabbed their fist down into the mountain long ago shattering it open.

“The Cave…” Kaban said as he slowed making a sign of protection across his forehead
“Is up that path then down, you will see the glint of metal, follow it, I know no more and will proceed no closer.”

“Thank you friend,” he nodded with appreciation dismounting.

Atop the canyon ridge Yorn looked on the strange sight from above.  There was a great hollow in the mountain, in filled over time by sand and rock…still it appeared something enormous had crashed into it’s center, or exploded out of it – it was impossible to tell.

No time to waste Hssan with the Sword of Shbiia upon his back climbed the rocky outcrops old legs struggling a little at the ascent, so focused he did not notice the lithe woman bounding effortlessly up only a hundred metres away.

In the sandy pit in the center of the crater he saw the first glint of metal.  How such could be in the open and remain untarnished was beyond him.  Half sliding down the sand hill he touched it…it felt hard and astoundingly cold.

“Hephaestiun…metal of the gods…Ancestors protect me…Shbiia show mercy.” He invoked as he proceeded down a rockier path lined by more metal glinting in the star light.

Yorna too paused, the metal was hard and square edged, there were some metals that formed naturally in their lattice this way but few…perhaps Val would know…

Suddenyl she realized she was somehow…not blocked from the aether but…bubbled.

What is this… she expanded her senses and found the reached a limit some two hundred meters from the rough center of the cratered mountain.

Again curiosity overrode teridation and she went on.

Less rock and more metal greeted Hssan as he went on, strange serpent like ropes over his head, a strange yellow green light emanated from the increasingly dark metal walls…this was truly an enchanted place.

A sudden spark like lighting from one of the thick ropes over his head made him jump and bumped into another on the wall – its texture was strange on his arm, unlike anything he had ever felt, like rubber take from trees to chew on, yet harder and more flexible at the same time.

There was a strange sound coming from below, like and endless deep low groan of a wounded animal, it did not pause fro breath or stop.

To Yorna it sounded like the engineering deck on the Persephaea.  She kept to the shadows behind Hssan, observing cautiously.  This appeared to be a technologically advanced building of some kind – a bunker perhaps, or city long buried?

With every turn, every step Hssan saw wonderous and terrible things he could not explain or understand, the cave was not long, perhaps 50 meters, but the terrifying things all about slowed his progress.

At last he saw a blue light up ahead.  Firming himself he strode into the main chamber.

His eyes struggled to adjust to the brighter light.  He almost wished he hadn’t when he saw within.

The walls were covered by forbidden symbols of the Great Seals glowing greed, strange low walls replete with white and blue gems that glowed, a large circular podium in the center with more glowing gems that spun magically about.

He knew not whether he was in the Middle Realm or a Heaven or Hell.

Fascinating…. Yorna thought sliding in behind some kind of control room…

Val would be sure to know that the symbols meant.

Sudennly there was a flash, Hssan was bathed in light.

“Mercy Shbiia mercy!” he called fearing it was the Glory of the God’s gaze which no mortal could survive.

A flash for light the size of his fist in the podium turned to the ghostly form of the God itself.

Hssan fell to his face as Yorna peered more intently.

“Oh Mighty Shbiia do not cast me down!!!” he pleaded

[Life Form Detected – Determining Parameters – Initiating Neural Recognition] the voice was like the wind in a cave , dead and echoing.

Yorna quickly recognized it as a ‘hologram’ like Val had shown her earlier, the round light behind it the projection device.

[Scan Complete – Slave Caste Human-Class-D BASIC Vocaublary – Initiating Interaction…]

It leaned toward Hssan, he felt the hairs on his head and back rise from the electrical energy.

[Greetings Slave – Rise and receive instruction]

Trembling with fear and reverence Hassn lifted his eyes.

The God was beyond imagining, a conical head over a languorous body, eyes poked from stalks on the side of ghostly head.

“Bimma-soo…Biima-soo…” Protect me he chanted to his ancestors in the old tongue.

[Zero Rakattan Detected - Device - Knnarth Kshuuk Located – Prime Directive Celestial Annihilation Must be fulfilled Processing Strategic options]

Rakattan…Celestials…. Yorna would need to ask Valens what these words meant.

[Slave] the God spoke again
[You are Directed to signal the nearest Scout ship of the Infinite Empire and return the Knnarth Kshuuk and The Shbiia’s Command Data Recorder to the Predor.]

A strange hiss from the back of the dais and a cylindrical glowing device rose.

Data recorder… the pieces fell into place for Yorna at once – this was not a cave of metal, this was a ship!  The Data recorder was the equivalent of what Valens had shown her mere days earlier on the Persephaea, the so called ‘black box flight recorder’.

Hssan looked on in utter awe and confusion he could hear but not understand the words as he quivered before the God

[This Unit Repeats – Slave You are Directed to signal the nearest Scout ship of the Infinite Empire and return the Knnarth Kshuuk and The Shbiia’s Command Data Recorder to the Predor for fulfillment of Prime Directive Celestial Annihilation]

“Yes…Yes I am your slave…I will…I will annihilate the Celestial….” it was one of the Anointeds many titles, a rare one saved for the hour long recitation of his name, but one nonetheless.

[Slave You will be rewarded for your efforts.]

Reaching out gingerly Hssan took the proffered device which glowed, the ‘Command Data Recorder’, not doubt an object of immense power.

“Thank you mighty Shbiia,” he said more confidently even as he backed away.

“I will obey…I will obey…” his voice faded as he left, never noticing Yorna at all.

[Scanning…Life Form Detected – Determining Parameters – Initiating Neural Recognition] The scanner now swept over Yorna.
[Unknown Species Detected – Recording Observations]

“You are Shbiia?” she asked confidently

[This unit is Decimator Class Vessel Serving Predor T’alak – Shbiia’s Virtual Interface – do you have a query?]

“Yes…how did the Shbiia come to be here?”

[Error that information is classified for Rakatta Personnel only, hallowed are the Master Race]

She grimaced, clearly this ancient device would yield no useful answers.

“Can you tell me how long you have been here perhaps?”

[15,363 standard years, 47 days, 9 hours and 23 minutes since atmospheric breach.]

“Amazing…is this ship generating the aetheric bubble?”

[Error that information is classified for Rakatta Personnel only, hallowed are the Master Race]

“hmmm…” she didn’t particularly want to spend all day playing a guessing game of what was and was not ‘classified’.

“I’ll return at some point with my friends, they’ll know what to do about you.”

<<<<>>>>

Valens

“Move it!” Maekal yelled over the droning of the riders.

Unusually he was walking to the battle himself, as if to prove his god like stamina.

“Lazy yoogs,” he said to Valens as if seeking a confirmation.

Valens said nothing merely walking along side at a normal pace, for he and Maekal it was some 25 kilometeres per hour placing them at the front of the Vangaurd.

Val! I’ve seen something amazing! Val?! Yorna burst into his mind
Maekal’s head begun swinging wildly searching for the source of what to him was a persistent whisper.
What?

A place called the Cavern of Metal, there was a Ship in there called the Shbiia, it said it belong to the Rakatta Infinite Empire

It spoke?

A Hologram did! she excitedly transmitted to him all she had seen across their Aethenaea Cortices.

what does it all mean Val?

It makes sense now…why there are no force sensitives on this planet…the Rakatta used aether sensitive slaves to power their vessels, the ones left over to labor lacked any power…the humans of this world are their descendants

She well knew how strongly the aether flowed down families, if none had any strength how could their children.

As to this sword of Shbiia…there is an old legend of a weapon called the dagger of Mortis, the only weapons that can kill a Celestial…

Yes what is a Celestial, Hssan thought it mean Maekal?

No…though he might think that – they are a race of beings from ancient times who ruled over much of the galaxy, they were said to be God’s, extremely powerful in the Force, they created many strange monolithic devices the purpose of which even the Jedi don’t know…but at some point they entered a war with the upcoming Rakatta Empire…
Yorna nodded as he telepathically communicated what little he know of the ancient beings
So it would stand to reason they would create a weapon to kill these Celestials… she deduced
...The Sword of Shbiia…oh Hssan is headed to challenge Maekal with that weapon…

No harm will come to him while I’m here Valens assured

Does he understand yet?

No I…I don’t know what to do perhaps…perhaps if wins this battle and no ascension to godhood occurs that will convince him he has been wrong all along

A hard lesson the ever empathetic Yorna replied as Valens looked back to Maekal who looked increasingly annoyed he couldn’t make out the whispered telepathic conversation.

But possibly the only one that will work

Yorna stopped her leaping across canyons and over dunes for a moment

But can we really allow this to happen…let these two sides kill each other?

Their fight is not ours to interfere with, if we do we may only confirm what Maekal believes about us making it all the harder

Valens was right, there were no good options, intervention risked affirming false beliefs, not intervening only risked Outsider lives – outsiders who were already at war and even without Maekal would continue to fight.

And if they simply knocked Maekal out and took him with them…well that would only throw more fuel on the fire of their zealotry –some would believe he had ascended, others he was dead…more war, more death over meaningless assumptions.

It is hard…but we saw how taking a Person too quickly can cause problems with Taryn…Maekal needs to learn on his own.

<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

FINALLY got caught up!

With things developing at breakneck speed, it seems that both Mili and Ari have been able to refine the process of finding their lost Aethans (not to mention the 4th-Dimensional time-bending for further retrieval  ).  I've said it before: LSG is THE authority of Temporal Writing Rules    As an aside, I'm liking where you're taking us with Mili and Ari (fitting given how they are the physical avatars of two of the Aethan's goddesses).  More of this, please!

OK, I was lucky enough to be able to include Maekal in "Schisms" and had an idea of his character...but THIS characterization is phenomenal!  It would make sense that a young man full of hubris would have been molded by a zealous would-be conqueror.  But this also underscores that--despite being in the futuristic technological "galaxy far, far away"--there are still countless planets bereft of said technologies.  Unsurprising then that such cults of personality would arise surrounding an obviously advanced being compared to the indigenous populous.

Which brings me to Valens and Yorna: how will they respond and ultimately decide upon how to extricate their lost foundling from this society?  That Valens would consult his own memories concerning his own experiences (and his Master Yoda) is telling enough that they are trying hard not to repeat the mistakes of the past (e.g. Taryn).

I can't wait to see where you take us next^^

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 24 — Divinity — Fall and Ascent — Part 1

Battle of Shbiia

Morning broke cold over the desert.  Ranks of resistors held the high ground before the Anointed larger army, cavalry hidden behind dunes to the east, artillery to the west.

Their army was as varied as the religious and beliefs of the Middle realm, all manner of arms and armour organized as best as Kana’Lop’Seha could to make use of their skills…if it came to it.

He still hoped the Old Ways would be enough, that rather than fight the monotonous ranks of Red warriors, Hssan’Kress would plunge the Knnarth Kshuuk – Slayer of Gods, the Sword of Shbiia into the false deities heart.

Yorna and Valens watched from opposite sides, both still uncertain what the right course was, grudgingly accepting the procession of Maekals fate for want of a better choice.

The Anointed himself strode confidently forward to the music of a 200 man band of lute, Sitar and Tabla’s, virgins dancing, throwing petals before him, priests chanting and making vows of fasting and mortification for the Anointed victory.

Arr-Kesh sat atop his Palanquin flashing a confident smile to the Captain of the Burning Seal -  he had secret orders to dispatch the daemon who had taken Maekal in with a cadre of Arr-Kesh most loyal warriors during the confusion of battle – he had provide them with the most potent of enchanted weapons from Maekals fallen foes over the years, a hundred Nuns had given their lived to soak their robes in holy anointed blood to protect them from sorcery on Arr-Kesh orders.

Of course this meant, whatever the outcome of the battle of champions, Arr-kesh needed to begin a full battle.

He still could not understand why Maekal humored the daemon, why he even sought approval from him.  Was Arr-kesh not the one who fed him, held his hand as he first walked, recited the scriptures to him every eve?

No, Arr-kesh was Supreme Prelate, above such jealousies, this was a holy war he was fighting.

The indulgent parade reached the center of the no man’s lands, a stark contrast to the simple figure of Hssan’kres, who in the best emulation of Ingetti robes the Nomads could craft walked forward alone.

“Children, I am Come!” the sweet arrogant voice of the Anointed boomed once more like the thunder across the desert.
“Lift your eyes to the Truth, through me know the Divine!”

Hssan sneered and spat.

“So you have said a hundred times, no more! I Hssan’Kres of the Ingetti challenge you False God!”

“One man!” Maekal laughed
“One man against a GOD!”

“One man, honoured by a dozen Gods and the Ancestors and Spirits of all the tribe and nations!” Kana’Lop’Seh called
“Shbiia is with you!” he added
“And O’dan!” Jolmnir added
“Ghaness!” a brave of the Inco River
“Izungi and Izamti!” a Sa’rai warrior
“Xentochal!” a chief of the Amat Jungles of the East.

It started a chant of names of the Gods, ancestors and spirits that overwhelmed the Anointed’s band and singers with its gusto, turning his countenance sour.

“All defeated the Hextarion by my HAND!” Maekal spat back throwing off his headdress.

“Your Gods were weak! I am the True GOD that I AM!”

The chanting continued, unabated despite his protest, a psychological boost to the rebels that brought solidarity between so many different tribes.

Somewhere lost in the thrumming noise a voice whispered Aetheaea, Aeprodaea, Aertemsiaea

“You hear all the Gods that defy you!” Hssan called back silencing the chant
“All these Gods fight you in me, make ready your Soul for death!”

With a piercing ululation Hssan charged gripping the Sword tightly.

Frothing Maekal ran to meet him.

Her mind ready Yorna prepared to intervene…she need not have.

Confused by Valens words, desperate for his approval, furious at the defiance Maekal was unbalanced and haphazard in his attack, despite his enormous biological advantage Hssan avoided the lithe swords.

Yorna watched more intently as the sparring continued with no definite advantage – she could sense a power coming off the Sword of Shbiia – perhaps an enchantment much like Aethan weapons that enhanced Hssan’s strength and speed, not enough to overcome an Aethan, but combined with Maekals unstable state enough to survive.

“YOOG! I’ll have your heart eaten by the Dreng, your daughter Hexagonized for centuries!” Maekal spat thrusting and slashing unable to find purchase against the Ingetti.

Hssan kept silent and focused, his feet never still, a bounce in them at all times as he had been taught on his beloved plains.  He was not a swordsman, and perhaps that was why he couldn’t get a blow in, muscle memory kept trying to use the weapon as a spear.

“You will not defy your GOD!!!” Maekal yelled again in frustration as Valens eyes narrowed on the fight with intent interest – not merely the one against Hssan, but with Maekal…he was close…so close to breaking…if Hssan won Valens job would be done for him!

Arr-Kesh looked on with horror – his own elevation to divine glory rested on the ingrate boys shoulders, and he was losing, the old Prelate knew the signs, Maekal was on the verge of throwing a tantrum – a warrior like Hssan would not miss any opportunity.

Flicking three fingers on his thigh he signaled.

With raucous booms the Brass Skorpio’s fired their first volley into the massed ranks of the Rebels.

Three shots fell short but four hit, heated steel ripping limbs and shattering torso’s splaying blood across the front rank.

“Coward!” Kana’Lop’seh cried
“FIRST RANK FIRE, SECOND DIVIDE, ARTILLERY FIRE AT WILL!” he yelled

Yorna’s face dropped, stunned as Valens on the other side was as the battle exploded beyond even the two Aethans ability to contain.

The air crackled with las weapons older than the republic, the twang of unleashed trebuchet and catapult, the droning thump of black powder cannons.

Thousands of red shields locked in perfect order among the Anointed army to block the fusillade, as others opened fire over their heads.

Cavalry on both sides rushed into bloody skirmishes against each other before they could hit the infantry in flanking maneuvers.

“I SAID I WOULD WIN THIS WAR MYSELF!” Maekal was apoplectic at his general and Prelate for intervening for doubting he, a God would win!  So much so he forgot entirely about his enemy in the here and now.

Hsaan’Kres thrust forward just as Yorna gripped his arm with her mind, the blow fell short and sliced thinly into Maekals back, the blood spurting out turned his rage back on his true opponent who was soon lost as the enormous  Banthoc war animals, a double size Bantha with a platform atop carrying crossbow men, they trampled up the dust and buffeted Maekal over as Yorna mentally dragged Hssan away. 

She simply could not let Makeal be harmed by that sword.

The front lines clashed, the Anointed troops breathless charging up the dunes, the rebels somewhat wrong footed in the slippery sands, steel, iron, wood, bronze and copper sought flesh beneath hide and metal armour as the din of arrows and artillery grew.

By the dozen men, and women on the rebel side died from the artillery until Kana led a Ch’mel charge to capture the Anointed’s main guns, only to be chased off by his pike men, but not before setting the barrels of blackpower alight, the explosion rocking the whole field.

“Where is HE, WHERE IS HE!” Maekal lunged his blades into a Banthoc’s legs, shouldered any warrior who neared him to the ground, blood in his nose seeking the fanatical object of his hatred in the delusional belief he was still in single combat.

Expertly weaving through the ranks Valens sought the young aethan out, las shots and swords turned aside by his telekinetic shield. 

Finally he found Maekal in the midst of three dead Banthoc, covered in blood tearing a mahouts head from his shoulders.

“You see!” he yelled to him

“I told you I would kill them all myself, I can do it! We are GODS!”
Finally at the end of his patience Valens gripped the boys arms lifting him off the ground violently shaking him.

“WE ARE NOT GODS YOU FOOL!”

A Ch’mel rider seeing the strange occurrence made to charge, Valens briefly released his grip to send a bolt of lightning into the creatures body flash frying it to death.

An action he realized belatedly confirmed his divine powers to Maekal.

“We couldn’t protect ourselves from a band of slavers and mercenaries as pathetic as these!” with another counterproductive move Valens hurled half a dozen Sa’rai warrior in full armor away from them, a shimmering shield of blue deflected arrows and stray las – bolts, the sand settling within the protective field Valens had created only making Maekal look at him with greater admiration for his divine powers.

“I buried the bodies of hundreds of our People with these bloody hands! I watched my first wife’s heart cauterized by a saber before my eyes! How can I be a God!.”

His face was caked in sweat and itching granules of sand as he yelled through Maekal to his own youthful arrogance, ignorance and lust for destruction.

“I only survived this galaxy because of the generosity of a Jedi Master wiser and kinder than I could imagine…a master…I don’t honor enough…how can I be a God…”

The ground shook with thunderous trampling footsteps as a Banthoc charged and bashed through the kinetite shield.  Dropping Maekal Valens spun, grabbed and drew his bow in a single motion before sending the blue glowing arrow through the beasts brain and up into the mahout and warriors on the platform, slaying the entire crew of 8 in less seconds.

Maekal stared in envious astonished glee.

He wanted to be like him…to have powers like Valens, thought they were the next stage of his ‘ascension’ not realizing the years of pain, loss and struggle Valens had paid for such stamina and abilities.

Darting to his feet Maekal rushed another Banthoc nearby, leaping and slamming himself into it’s body to knock it over, crawling through the tough hide onto the fallen platform, tearing into the humans with ravenous delight while Valens stood staring, his Blackstone bow bouncing off the occasional las arc.

It was then Valens finally realized what Maekal was doing – had been trying all this time - he was trying to impress Valens

Maekal threw the broken Mahout away and dragged anther hapless soldier with the aether to head butt to death.

“SEE I’ll find HIM with the Sword and Kill HIM then I will be worthy of ascension!”

Maekal saw Valens as some kind of…authority figure, divine overseer, parent whom he wanted to prove himself to.

He doubled down on this rushing from the charnel ground he had created to begin making another, Maekal no longer differentiated between friend and foe, ripping red robed men apart as well as the variegated rebels.

“They’re nothing! NOTHING WE ARE THE GODS, they are our TOYS!” his voice was near frantic

Valens stomachs dropped as he saw for all his anger, all his frustration, he had utterly failed to convince the boy - now rushing to the one thing on this planet that could kill him - of anything rendering the Aethan Guardian silent and lost.

The engines groaned sputtering flecks of blue plasma as the whine of generators overexerting pierced through the thick azure haze of the planets upper atmosphere – Yoda had to wear a sealed survival suit, his apprentice on the edge of the durasteel platform pockmarked from the extreme acidity of gases stood, face set against the backwash of the ships engines face twisted in fury.

Unusually for Valens his hands were out gripped in fists as he grabbed the frigate with the Force dragging it with all his might back to the floating city in the toxic clouds.

The Frigates lower turret turned and opened fire on him, a grunt of effort Valens dodged to the side as the gases lit a curious orange in the blaze of green turbolaser fire into teal clouds.

“Let it go,” Yoda said gently but firmly.

Valens offered a quick glance, then straight back at the Frigate redoubling his telekinetic grip on the tons of doonium trying to break orbit. Valens depth of endurance in the Force was prodigious, but to hold back a frigate burning engines at full sublight was draining even him especially in the corrosive atmosphere his enhanced body could just tolerate.

“Let it go apprentice,” Yoda reiterated.

Valens didn’t look this time, again just tightened his grip even as the Frigate slowly edged away.

They had been pursuing the slavers for two months,  traced them this far…but a mere hour too late to prevent the tip off, their warehouse in the floating city emptied, Valens flow walked an hour to overhear the conversations. Yoda had struggled to keep up with his apprentice encumbered by his sealed suit, reaching it just as the frigate lifted off…

“Let it Go Valens,”

Valens teeth were gritted, sweat – unusual for him – was pouring off, Yoda could feel his connection to the Force, deep as it was, straining – size might matter not but in truth there were limits to how much raw Force energies could flow through flesh and blood before it was damaged.

Desperation leached off the crew of the frigate, someone with a semblance of either madness or genius hit the hyperdrive.

The displacement boomed out, the strength of the shift of pseduomotion caused a repulse in Valens telekinetic grip hurling him backward.

Yoda leapt forward to catch him as best he could.

Tumbled round they finally stopped against an old guard rail.

Out of nowhere an overly heavy fist slammed a hole in the druasteel as Valens rose on his knuckles,  then to his knees, eyes narrow and bloody with determination.

“Let it go…” Yoda reiterated

“Gone they are, lost our opportunity, failed we have,”

“No…” he seethed

“We can still find them…If I Flow walk through the temporal plane….”

Yoda shook his head, as it was Valens flow walking abilities were risky enough and likely to draw the ire of Grand Master Kimar – though sometimes Yoda sensed a disturbing…curiosity?...in the Grandmaster.

“Accept failure, limitations Mortality! we must, all we could - we have done, no more could we do…Let. It. Go.”

“LET IT GO MAEKAL, let it all GO!” Valens cried through blood and terror of war.

The boy paused a brief flicker of sanity out of the rage…

A moment Valens lost as he dove away from a blade thrust at his back.

Eight, no twelve Guards of the Burning Seal surrounded him with different weapons, some glowed with innocuous charms, others had real presence in the aether.

The muted men rushed him three at a time, sword flashing out Valens sliced one weapon apart, bisected another warrior, but they dropped back and were replaced by three fresh warriors.

The chaos of the battle limited his motion and Maekal slipped away in his frenzy.

A heavy hand lifted Hssan up.  Jolmnir, his face bleeding from a cut just over the eye.

“What…where is the Anointed!” Hssan said instantly, he’d been dragged by some unseen force for meters until the battle erupted and the charging hooves of Ch’mel and boots of men forced him to shelter in a lip of sand.

“There toward the Banthoc…” Jolmnir pointed to where a dozen lumbering beasts were surrounded by las and arrow fire…one suddenly fell with a groan.

Hssan spun immediately, Jolmnir caught his shoulder for but a moment.

“Die well brother,”

With a nod the two parted never to meet in this life again.

“What is happening?” Arr-Kesh screamed

“Who is winning where is the Anointed!”

The General’s nearby ignored him, sending off riders with orders rapidly, angered by the sudden explosion of a full battle.

Where are the Seraphim! was the real question he wanted to ask.  This was the Final battle, the world was about to be unified was it not!  It had to be, the whole of the Middle Realm bowed to the Anointed but this group.

He was the Supreme Prelate, who had cared for the child of the Divine Mother! He could not be wrong.

“Oh yes you can,” Yorna said from behind, anger just creasing her eyes.

“You fool you set this whole battle in motion because of your jealously! That Maekal finally found someone who he needed to earn the respect of instead of being given it as his divine right!”

“BITCH you speak to ME in…” once more he felt his throat constrict as Yorna turned to the generals, her eyes flashing purple with righteous power.

“Send orders for a full retreat, the killing stops NOW!”

Horns blared, the Anointeds soldiers had never heard such before, for never had they been called to fall back!

Yorna Valens knew as he took another head, the assassins down to 4 of their original twelve, not without a few decent glancing bows for mere humans it had to be admitted.  But he needed to get to Maekal and fast.

Hssan reached him first and saw him truly for the first time.

Hunched, dripping in black with blood and viscera, some even his own, the so called Celestial appeared as a wretched Nezuko – a blood thirsting demon – yes this was the Anointed exposed for what he was, a tyrannical parasite that needed to be ended.

Occupied with dismembering some poor sod Hssan staggered forward, the air thick with evaporating blood and heat mirages in the noon sun.

Gripping the swords handle as he would a spear he rushed forward.

With spastic instinct Maekal spun and hurled a telekinetic wall – the Swords eldritch power spread it round him as it had the first time, the weary Aethan boy spun too slow.

The blade sunk into his left pectoral, it ground into diamond lattice bone and into the lung and expensive non-human liver and lymphoid equivalent organs before slicing back muscles open and puncturing the skin behind.

The Anointed fell forward, his dense body of 200 kg taking Hssan with it who lost his grip on the sword as stood dumbfounded he had actually done it.

Blood and aether flowed from the wound as Valens skidded to his side, fresh notches in his cloak from the last bodies he had left behind.

Desperate he pushed Maekal over and saw the blade lodged in him.  Valens went to grab the blade.

A piercing shriek filled his head and blast of energy sent his arm spinning – the Slayer of Gods, the weapon created by the Rakatta to kill beings more Force than Flesh resisted the touch of any sensitive to the Force.

Valens looked over the body searching for a solution, finding none but to simply pour healing energy into the child to keep him alive.

He had done this, he had let this go too far…another…ANOTHER Person he had failed.

Hssan watched the sorcerer work his magic, red lighting from his hand into the anointed – truly the Seraphim had come.  And it was distracted.

A discarded sword in his hand Hssan crouched and neared as he would hunt a Cougash in the beloved plains of the Ingetti, his home from which the fiend had driven him – he would take his head for it.

The damage was severe, Maekal’s body trying to isolate and reroute blood flow, Aethan gene engineering was resilient but had limits.

Danger flashed in Valens mind – without thinking he turned Red to blue with a torrent of Aetheric lightning enough to knock Jarys off his feet.

It flash immolated Hssan’Kress, the blade melting in his hand as the battle died with him.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 24 — Divinity — Fall and Ascent — Part 2

To Win a Battle and Lose a War

“…he,”
“stable for now we need to get it….”
“I can’t touch it its repels…”
“…ready?”
“HUMAN take that sword out of him,”

Sudden blinding red consumed the ambiguous sense of self once more.

“Only…Rite of cleans…”
“Delusional fool, keep him stable I’ll get the Medi-pack,”

He was drifting away into a deep endless sea…sinking…

Why wasn’t he rising, ascending, was that not the promise of the Prophecies?

Had he won the battle? How could he not? He was a God?

Wasn’t he?

Then why was he feeling the blazing red of damage, injury…more than ever before?

Had he been wrong, mistaken? No how could a God be wrong!

Unless…

Unless he wasn’t what they said he was….

<<<<<>>>>

From Order.  Chaos.

The Rebels were, despite ferocious resistance, defeated.  

With the Anointed deep into the fray the General’s had taken command and used their greater numbers to encircle the enemy fully – it cost a large number of lives truth be told, but no matter, all those who died in the Sacred Name of the Anointed were guaranteed a place in the Third Heaven.

The Succubus had used her vile arts to make the Generals order a retreat, too late for all but a handful of rebels, but irritating nonetheless…and then disaster.

The retreat order had not reached the ambushers lying in wait for the retreating rebels and so most had been cut down, though scouts reported a number had made an escape.

Militarily it was a Victory.

Eschatologically it was a disaster.

There was no triumphant parting of the heavens, no descent of Legions of Seraphim to raise the Anointed up to Glory and the Supreme Prelate at his side.

Out of the blood and sand haze the Daemon had walked glowing furious red carrying the Anointed a green blade through his chest.

Soldiers, prisoners all had seen the limp form of the Godchild carried to the Succubus.

Unable to touch the malefic weapons themselves they had a General take it from the body, then with their nefarious devices from under their robes plastered vile runic totems onto the Anointed body, refusing the prayers, incantations and spells offered by the Priests and Nuns as ‘worse than useless’.

The retreat back had been rapid and silent as confusion and truth spread through the ranks.

Arr-Kesh sent out the order none were to speak of what had occurred to the Anointed on pain of Hexagonization – but he knew it would spread nonetheless.

Hidden behind the curtains of his palanquin the crowds at the enormous encampment were waving banners and sounding horns jubilantly await the Anointed to proceed victoriously and with full divine honors sweep them to the Six heavens according to their due.

Instead they were met by downcast faces of the soldiery and a hurried rush to the Palace in the middle of the military encampment.

“On the floor,” The Succubus ordered as the daemon lifted him to the ground before the Onyx doors had even closed.

“We need the medical equipment on the Transport, we can’t stabilize him alone much longer…it’ll take an hour or so, can you hold him?” Valens asked

The wound Maekal had received from the Rakattan weapon designed to kill Celestials was grievous physically and aetherically.

Lung, upper liver, lower lymph node cortex and pectoral and back muscles were all sealed shut by coagulants, and then patched by bacta strips from Valens and Yorna’s belts to help avoid infection.  Shatterpoint healing could restore it, but not effectively without a heavy dose of specialized fluids and proteins to serve as raw material to build new tissues – all of which was on the ship. And it was too risky to move him any further.

“Just…hurry back,” she replied keeping pressure on the physical wound while doing her best to stem the real wound.

His Aetheric energy was ‘leeching’ out like blood, his aura had been pierced by the Sword of Shbiia as much as his body, weapons designed to kill a Celestial were horrific to an Aethan.

It meant his natural Aether based healing responses were all suppressed, the red lighting flowing from first Valens now her hands to help him was in essence transferring her instinctual healing energies to him…but even that was getting drained by the gaping wound in the aether – they were trying to keep a bucket with a hole in the bottom full.

Valens vanished in a flash of aether enhanced speed.

“You have done this….” Came a whisper behind her through the stunned silence of the priests and servants to see their God fallen.

“You have denied me…the Anointed…his glory, turning our armies away at the last minute while you daemon love stabbed him…” Arr-kesh voice was a hiss.

“I see it now…yes Succubus of Me’phon…she had her ryx hound wound the knight Behmand to nurse him back to health as a ruse to extricate his oath to perform any deed she wished in recompense, only to defile his body with immoderate lust!  It was not tale but prophecy! Guard k…”

Her hand flying from Maekal for barely a second she sent the irritating Supreme prelate into the Onyx doors with a thud.

“Silence!” she needed all her energy to keep Maekal from slipping away.

The city was bubbling about to froth over as Valens raced through it.  Word had already spread that the great victory they had all been awaiting, the final battle in the Great Unification had been won and lost in the same instant.

The rebels were dead, yet the rebels had won.  

For as soldiers spoke to healers and traders, and they to vendors and peasants, as priests and aesthetics cried out in confusion the word spread like fire – the Anointed had fallen and been carried back like a wounded bloodied boy.

There had been no great revelation, no rapture.  The closest thing some experienced as the sun set was seeing a shadowed figure tear through the streets faster than any Ja’guan.

As Valens raced through the streets he barely paid heed to the growing number of camp followers and holy men and women opening locked chests, turning out hidden pouches where totems, symbols and runes of their old gods and ancestors had been hidden from the Zelous followers of the Anointed.

He was in the desert proper as they began whispering in angry huddles, taking up arms.  

‘He was killed on the battlefield’
‘An Ingetti slew him’
‘The False God has fallen’

Nervous guards agitated from the reports they were hearing on the watch towers on the outer ring for the hexagonal far wall saw that the fires and pyres grew in number by the hour.

Crowds gathered at the outer fence line where the severed heads of ‘heretics’ gazed down with rictus glee at their vindication.

A religious tyranny built on strength of arms and the reputation and visible miracles of one man was undone when the witness of hundreds had seen that ‘God’ bleed and collapse at what was to be the moment of his final triumph.

Some wept and sought forgiveness of their gods for abandoning them, aesthetics thrashed their flesh and wails were heard even in the Palace as Maekal lay teetering on death as his priests watched the Sorceress or Succubus sustain him with red fires.

Others quietly packed their belongings and beat a retreat from the shanty towns.

But more – far more - decided now was the time.  A hundred secret societies, a dozen militant guilds had patiently waited for this moment when the Anointed was weak and his armies Zealous energy at its lowest ebb.

Known agents and informers of the Anointed’s Inquisiton were muffled and stabbed, guard patrols overrun.

 By the Seventh Bell the uprising had begun.

<<<<>>>>

Picking himself from the floor Arr-Kesh vowed he would never be so humiliated again.

“You…traitorous mad bitch….” He muttered under his breath as the priest and Guards stood in the entrance hall dumbstruck and leaderless.

Standing to his full height while Yorna remained fully concentrated on keeping Maekal alive he called to them.

“Destroy this demon who seeks to prevent our Victory for the glory of the SIX!”

Oh Vorynx! Yorna reeled as the first blow was struck – but not as she feared from one of the mute zealots.

Marble and wood shattered inward as a boulder of flaming stone crashed the roof inwards killing a half dozen priests beneath it.

Outside the three outer rings of the Hexagonal Military encampment at the center of the tent city were a riot of confusion and chaos.  

The uprising had breached the walls as the dispirited Legionnaires of the Anointed fell back, within the outer rings they found little resistance from the injured exhausted soldiers who had just ‘ won’ against the rebels.

Amidst the frenetic violence of the oppressed killing any who wore the Anointed’s symbols and colors, a sapper team had thrown off their armor and allegiance, had taken hold of a catapult and fired it straight up at the palace to avoid the ire of the motley crew of vengeful slaves bearing down on them.

Hounds barked and screams followed as the chaos grew and grew.

Once more having to stagger off the ground Arr-Kesh turned to the Primus of the Guard of the Seal.

“KILL THEM KILL THEM ALL!”
There were still three companies of the Fanatical Guard in Barracks, two had returned from the battle and four more were on their way as part of the still yet to arrive rear guard – some 2500 in all, enough to suppress this petulant uprising.

Quick hand signals and the Guard sent two of his own to give the order, they would show no mercy and protect the Anointed at all costs.

Now the Succubus… was gone.

“Where did she go!” he yelled at the Primus
“Bring a company to find here she can’t have gone far, you priest bring me that Sword!”

His body was quivering, he could not lose Maekal, he was the key to his own Heavenly rewards, Arr-Kesh would not let his decades of faithful commitment to the Hextarion falter at the last second.  He was supreme Prelate, second only to the God-Child himself!

So he kept telling himself.

Hurry Val! Yorna willed as she pushed through the apartments seeking a place to hide, Maekal’s form on her back.

She felt a wet slick as the bacta patch sloughed off, spinning into a corner behind a Divan she grabbed what costly fabrics were at hand to keep the mess of red and white from overactive immune cells pouring out macrophages contained.

Outside the ruckus was growing, of the six rings around the Palace four were now breached, a unity developing among the aggrieved baying for the blood of the Priests and Supreme Prelate.

It was then they encountered the Guard of the Burning Seal.  Insane devotion mingled with marital prowess and Heavy armour to dissuade the rabble of much hope of proceeding further.

In the dim light of stars and fire their zweihanders ruptured bodies and divested enemies of limbs.  They pushed into the ranks of the unbelievers and formed tight rings of six back to back, creating pockets of slaughterhouse control, ignoring the odd spear or sword that struck them, their armour deflecting all but the closest range las shots.

Heavy rumbles and a crash and the fifth wall was down as a coal chugger crashed through disgorging dozens of desert nomads with scimitars to come round the back of the Elite guard.  The ululations and cries caused not one jot of fear as the Guard culled in the name of their Beloved Anointed.

The Primus stalked the rooms of the palace with his Praetors, the Supreme Prelate carrying the heinous weapon, the Sword of Shbiia that had wounded his lord so much.  The elderly Prelate could barely hold the weapon let alone wield it effectively but refused the Primus silent gestures to take it.

“I will not be denied the satisfaction of slaying the filthy woman!”

Yes the enemy was always in the body of a woman, filthy and supple.  

He could see the fires blaze outside the decorative screens, all seemed to be falling apart, but not, this must be the plan of the Six gods…the Prophecy must be fulfilled!

Only when the whole world Knelt in perfect submission to the Six would they come and bring the Glory to Man…yes this had to be it, the final battle was not in the desert with the Nomads
“…but here, now…the liars and heretics have exposed themselves, a ruse, the Anointed has used their Succubus against them to bring out the liars and apostates…yes…yes…this is the Truth and the Glory…”

The Guard would kill them all, all the false ones would die two deaths this night, in body then soul in the freezing hells of the liars and fornicators!

“Glory to the Six! Glory!” he yelled as they searched another room upturning every object of leisure and luxury…these too he would destroy…his eyes chanced on a young priest, head shaved rummaging in a chest.

“What is this why aren’t you searching for your GOD!” he grabbed him then failing to raise the sword to beat him dropped it to slap the insolent child

The mad old man’s pause Gave Yorna just the break she needed, darting out her hiding place, the weight of keeping Maekal alive beginning to take its toll.

The Primus thrust his fingers forward the guard rushed, Arr-Kesh dropping his random beating to join them.

Over furniture and under willowy curtains that divided rooms she made for the servants entrance of the palace, only to find herself cut off by more advancing guard.

Were her powers not devoted to keeping Maekal alive they would be little trouble, but now forming up round her double handed swords ready to strike she could only try and play for time.

“He’ll die if you touch either of us!”

“A God cannot die!” Arr-Kesh sneered,
“Your time is come succubus, you have failed, you sought to prevent our victory, instead you have hastened it, yes ‘The Dark shall be bringers of the light and reveal that which writhes in the heart’ all the traitors are now shown for what they are!”

He stepped forward clenching the Sword of Shbiia, its nefarious power seeming more focused in his grip creating a troubling hazy distortion to the aether.

Maekal groaned as more energy slipped away from him, she was running too low herself.

The Primus gently moved as if to take the sword from the Prelate but again he refused.

“You’re no god…just a tiny man who wishes he was one!” Yorna delayed

“Silence disgusting impure woman!”

Shouting intensified with the more frequent crack of las-carbines, the fighting from below was now within the palace walls. The Guard began to waver in where to place their attention.

Yorna’s enhanced Vestibular sense that detected a large mass drew her attention elsewhere.

“What are you waiting for you sick little imp!” she darted back, “Are you afraid to touch me and soil yourself with lust!”

Face contorted Arr-Kesh would hear no more,
“Mict'Lan'Tecuh'tliiiii!” He screamed the forbidden name of the God of Death and Chaos even as the wall shattered inward behind him.

Chunks of fresh cut stone slammed into his chest as the entire wall and ceiling crunched inward.  Bolts of pure red stuck and ate like lava into the Guards armour.

The Primus grabbed the Sword off the Fallen Prelate and rushed only to have an arrow denser than any material on the planet slice through his abdomen from Valens bow.

Blinding white lights hovered behind the Aethan adults black silhouette as he guided the ship in behind the wall shooting from its open ramp.

Rebel and Guard alike looked up in awe as the Black dagger with small glinting purple and red lights hovered above them.  Some fell to their knees in worship, others fled in terror as its arrival shattered the palace open.

Stepping down Valens drew his sword as Arr-Kesh screamed incoherent words, half the Guard collapsed in prayer, the other half obeyed and ran into their inevitable death as Valens wove through them silent and fatal as any God might.

Hefting Maekal up with the last of her strength Yorna leapt onto the ramp and dragged the dying boy into the ships port room where the medical equipment was.

One last thing… Valens noted heading to the Sword of Shbiia – he couldn’t touch it, but the barely breathing Primus could.

“Throw it onto the ship,” he ordered bearing down on the mind already fading as blood loss diminished function.

Obediently it hurled the weapon up the ramp with its last ounce of strength.

Finished Valens turned to leave.

“WAIT!”

He glanced back.

“Forgive me lord, take me with you unto the Heavens, I did not recognize you Mict'Lan'Tecuh'tli” Arr-Kesh pleaded to the Death and Chaos God of the Hextarion.  

Of course he had come in the guise of an enemy, such was the way of Chaos, how had the Supreme Prelate been so blind!

“I have served faithfully for all my years…cared for the God-Child” he held up his six fingered hand even as astounded rebels and Guards crowded in awe and terror behind him

“See the blessing you gave unto me!”

Indifferent Valens leapt back onto the ship and closed the ramp, leaving Death and Chaos behind him.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 24 — Divinity — Fall and Ascent — Part 3

Valens

His body was repairing, if slowly.

His connection to the aether….

Ensconced within an Aetheric Nexus chamber on the Persephea Maekal was covered in drips and stitches from their rapidly administered triage.  The Nexus ability to create an isolated system within the aether meant no energies left or entered keeping the drain from his aura wound mitigated, and in a promising sign the rest of him was drawing unconsciously on the aether once more.

Even so until Milaea or Kassyndra could assess him it was too early to tell if he would survive.

Another Person Valens had failed.

“Hey,” Yorna comforted as he sat outside the chamber, the ship in hyperspace to rendezvous with the Aephrodaea

“Milaea revived me and Karintha from dead, she can work out how to solve this, especially with Ari to help her….and then you can help teach him all about the ship like you did for me,”

“I cannot teach him…” Yoda admitted in the darkened silence of the mediation rooms of the Northern Tower.
“…too set in his own way of thinking, too old…too strong to be molded”

Soryu sighed feeling his friend’s frustration overwhelm the Force.

“I can’t teach him…even if he survives…” Val whispered his eyes on the floor

“I don’t have the patience or ability to teach him what is real, to guide him…” he looked up to the saddened face of Yorna.

“Val we all have our doubts”

“Yoda…we all have doubts, all think we are doing more harm than good for our students, ma…”

He checked his near slip up, saying ‘Maker knows’ was a dangerous thing in Kimar’s order.

“Many is the time I felt I couldn’t teach or even guide Sofa, struggled to deal with her…eccentricities and vulnerabilities, but we learned from each other how to grow together…”

“All teaching is learning together,” she knelt placing a comforting hand on his knee.

“Wise and comforting words my friend…the situation different is…a grown man in his own culture Valens is,”

Valens shook his head,
“He’s too deep in, and I can’t…I don’t have the tolerance to deprogram him, I just want to shake the delusion of him…make him comply…and…”

“A culture that…unfortunately has been destroyed…he has nowhere else to turn, he needs your guidance Yoda, if he challenges what you teach it’s because he respects you’re wise enough to really consider an alternate point of view,”

“Val he can’t go back, not now…he looks up to you like a Father, Maekal never had a figure whose respect he needed to gain before, even Arr-Kesh, he has no one else to turn to,”

”And yet if I fail?” was Yoda’s solemn reply
“Consequences of my failure upon myself accept I will…but not that which harms others,”

A shadow fell across Val’s face as it lowered ever further

“Father…I can’t be a father…what can I teach, impatience, arrogance, violence…how to kill quickly, how to destroy, and despair…it’s them I would fail, and I can’t risk it.”

Yorna finally understood, Val was afraid of failing his own children, and in Maekal he saw a test case he was already floundering.

 “What if it’s the same if Sofa has a baby…”

“My friend…” Soryu reached out to his colleague, smaller in body but far greater in wisdom, in need of his own now.

“You’ve already helped steer him from that, is not the fact he remains with us a sign – I’ve never seen a padawan so quick to change their habits or reflective on their masters words. Trust yourself as well, perhaps he will grow beyond you, may already surpass you in some ways, but is that not what every teacher hopes?”

“He already trusts you, wants your approval, give him that validation when he does what is right, that’s all, and he’ll teach himself by copying you,”

Val only shook his head

“I’m no role model…a machine, a weapon,”

“No you’re a husband, a brother, a friend, just be that! You have the example of Old Andis, Karintha, and especially Yoda to help you when you’re uncertain,”

”Teach by doing, act how you want him to be and he will emulate it,” Soryu insisted

“Yoda failed,” he stared into her eyes at last

“Ten years and he couldn’t make me accept Jedi beliefs, paying in blood and bodies – how can I do in weeks for Maekal what a wiser man couldn’t do for me in years…”

He sighed as he came to his conclusion

“I can’t let Maekal, Sofa, anyone suffer because I failed,”

”Yoda,”
“Val,”

”The most certain way you will fail him, is if you turn away as he needs you most”
”The most certain way you will fail, is if you turn away when they need you most”

<<<<>>>>

“hmmm….” Yorna placed the orb down as Valens still somewhat glum entered the war-room behind the bridge.

“Did you reach them?” he asked, they had some initial problems with their communications orbs, the Sword of Shbiia seeming to have a distorting effect until they placed in the second Nexus chamber to seal it off- having to use a cargo droid to lift it.

“Yes, Kassyndra is on route with Jenaea and Sofa…they seemed distressed…”

“Distressed?”

“Something had happened, but the connection wasn’t strong enough to understand quite what.”

Just what we needed… Valens though ruefully before checking the chrono, they would rendezvous in just over two hours.

“I’ll see what I can do for Maekal,” he said confident Yorna could handle the ship - and anything else - far better than he could.

In the nexus Maekal lay still and quiet, medi-scanners indicated brain waves in a deep sleep pattern.

Kneeling beside Valens placed his hand over the patched wound, healing was not his strong suit…he was designed as a destroyer of life not a generator.  Repairing, supporting, guiding all seemed inimical to that nature – let alone the thought of creating life with Sofa…

”More than who we are we can be, grow we must always, and only into forms we are not can we grow, for good or ill,” the diminutive master said as the setting sun glowed orange cutting through the slat windows to the mediation room.

“As I am now a good teacher for you I am not, and you are a good pupil for me neither…unchanged incompatible…”

Valens felt a stab of worry, Yoda was his best connection to these Jedi to lose him risked everything – had he pushed back too much too often?  Or more likely the Jedi had seen that his true loyalties were as fixed as his genetics.

The Jedi Master’s smile broke tension and brought calm.

“But together growing, two vines intertwining rather than opposed -  Together we can learn, our differences the support upon which the other may be lifted to a new height,”

Valens had grown so much with Yoda from where he started…learned so much…and gave so little credit to the fact for the bitter memory of how they had parted.  Yet his old master still had lessons to teach in the memory of their times together.  As did Yorna in her way…

“Val…” he whispered how long since he had heard that….

But more than any other Sofa…how he missed her even after only a few weeks apart.  Every assessment of their personalities said they never work…yet they grew together.  It had been hard, painful…but now…

He could do the same again, learn along with Maekal as he realized his true place - not among six Gods of the Hextarion, but the demi-gods of the Aethan People. 

 That emotion buoying him, Valens began rebinding and coalescing the cells and soul that lay wounded before him.   

<<<<>>>>

“So where is he?” Kassyndra asked without delay stepping off the ramp at the rendezvous point at a spatial ‘dead zone’ – an unusually empty region between micro sector star clusters on the fringe of the inner and deep core.

Valens and Yorna had expected Milaea and Ari to come as promised weeks before, that they hadn’t meant something very pressing must’ve arisen.
 
“Nexus chamber one,” Yorna replied

“We’ll fix him right up,” Kassyndra said motioning for Jenaea to follow laden with various totems and orbs.  The older woman paused

“Sofa will explain…”

Following out behind them Sofa could see the distress all over her husband, and curiosity and worry on Yorna.

“Well looks like you two had a blast…” Sofa blew out.

“Had a blast?” Yorna queried unfamiliar with the axiom
“I’ll explain later,” Valens whispered.

“Well as bad as things are here…” Sofa went on, down cast as he was her husband at least seemed comforted by Yorna’s presence, a sibling’s closeness in the way she stood beside him, a part of his past recovered for which Sofa could only be grateful even as she delivered what would be shocking news about his other adoptive sister.   

They would need that now more than ever.

“I’m sorry to say, they are worse back home…”

She took a deep breath, this was news that would shatter both their hearts.

<<<<>>>>