HTG - Chapter 166 ( End of Book Three )

Dargo

Chapter One-Hundred-Sixty-Six: Echoes of Destiny - Part Three

Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

Solar System: D-447

Location: Orarak City

The mana in the air is still strange, like a void has been made that slowly fills. I have seldom seen a god inhabit the body of a mortal, even then, it was nothing like that. Zarae… her command of mana is… absolute. The language she spoke through him, what did she say? What words did my mortal ears not parse?

“Tavjac Mordow,” Victoria says, slowly rising, she swallows, then looks at the boy, “You agreed that we could have him.”

My master does not answer, Arkon squints at my master, as though trying to pierce the veil of mana that shrouds him to ascertain his bound. He gives the impression of a normal mortal with the mana he shapes around him. It is many thousand years too soon for Arkon to see through my master’s disguise though.

This may be the first time that Arkon has seen him in this form. I am sure he is curious as to who he really is. I wonder what he would say if he found out that he had known him by another name, another face. My master’s threads weave longer than any mortal I have known, rivaled only by the gods and their plans.

I feel his handiwork here, there is a familiarity as he looks at the boy still, something beneath the surface, like he cares about him. If I had not known him for thousands of years, I would not recognize it as such. But it is there, faint as the whisper of winter’s first snow. How long has he known this boy? Did he help lead him to this path? I can assume why he watches over him. He wants the boy to free the one he loves… Krotha.

But she is tainted by the years in the Abyss of Dashkatul, tainted by the dark ritual she performed before she entered it. A once bright light… smothered by darkness. I hear her in my dreams sometimes, ever since I was foolish enough to try and use Dashkatul. Without the Etherius Prism Flower, I would have been lost… like Amon…

Amon… if… if he frees Zarae, in turn freeing Krotha… wouldn’t he also free Amon?

There is a pulse, a strange sensation that rises in my cold heart, like an ember of hope long past finding kindling once more. If he opens the seal upon Dashkatul… Amon will become free again…

I shift my body, my thoughts being swallowed by the dream I had not dared dream for a thousand years since I failed him, since he was consumed by it like all the others. If I help this boy grow stronger, then I can free Amon. It will… my mood sours… I must not forget what I felt before, that fire in him… it is primordial… it is wrath itself.

I could guide him though, with my master’s help of course. What kind of bounder would he become? What bound could he break? With Zarae guiding him, there is no limit to the height that he could achieve, perhaps even stepping into the Realm of the Gods.

A shiver runs down my spine. A sudden urgency to connect myself to the boy despite my hesitations. He needs a good teacher. He needs a master to guide him. My master has stabilized his body for now, but it is breaking, I can feel it.

We must reshape him, if he breaks another bound, he will die, I am sure of it.

It is Arkon that breaks the silence that had fallen between the four of us.

“He almost broke an Etheric bound…” Arkon says, eyes peering at the boy again, “That’s not supposed to be possible since he already started the Netheric boundaries.”

I blink, looking at the boy again… did he? I didn’t even notice. Arkon must be mistaken though, it is impossible.

“According to who?” my master queries with a small smile.

“The gods.”

“And who are they in the face of destiny? Nothing more than sand in the wind of change.”

My master has acknowledged it. Then it must have happened. I turn to look at Arkon, why did he feel it but I did not. That and the armor he wears, there is a strangeness to this man. An unnatural ability perhaps.

Victoria peers at the boy, “When my… research team studied him, they found that his body was not aligned to either type of mana, it was indiscriminate.”

Research team, that’s rich. From what my apprentice Solara told me, they tortured him and countless others for months.

“Impossible,” Arkon says, tilting his head, “All bodies have a type.”

“Yet… his did not. We couldn’t rune…” Victoria pauses, “If you agree to let me have him, I’ll share the research notes. They are quite interesting.” She turns to my master, “Tavjac, you said we could have him.”

My master does not reply again.

“Are you not a man of your word?”

“I am a man of many words.”

Arkon’s eyes shift at this and measure him intently.

“They will not be pleased if you take him,” Victoria says sternly.

My master chuckles, “Oh? And how will they stop me?”

She grimaces, “You do not want them as your enemy.”

My master turns and looks at her, the edge of his eye level with his large wide brimmed hat, “Oh?”

“Perhaps we should let the boy decide,” Arkon suggests, trying to ease the tension.

“Easy for you to say, he’s in love with one of your daughters,” Victoria sneers, crossing her arms.

Arkon’s eyes narrow at Victoria.

“Did you think I didn’t know she was your daughter too?” Victoria cackles, tilting her head, “Why else would I take her under my wing. I’m collecting everything precious to you, dear Arkon.”

Scorned indeed. No matter. My master would not allow her to kill either. They are his descendants after all. No doubt they play a role in his plans as well.

There is no choice for Victoria and Arkon if my master wishes to decide. He is only a breath from breaking the last mortal bound and ascending to the Immortal Realm. He has been since before his love was taken by Fate’s Prison. There are few in the Realm of Mortals that can challenge him. Even if the Theocratic Imperium sent their armadas after him, he would barely notice. Even I cannot hope to challenge him.

“Perhaps he should decide,” my master says pensively, “Much has been decided for him already. Perhaps he has earned the right to choose.”

“Preposterous, and have you considered if he chooses someone other than us?” Victoria protests.

“Then he does.”

“No, I do not agree,” Victoria says coldly, “Neither will my master.”

Who is her master? They must be allied with Leora in some way. This much I am sure of. Why else did I need to assist her?

I step forward, “Regardless of where he goes, I volunteer to be his master.”

My master turns to look at me, a wry smile curls on his lips for but a moment.

“To that I can agree,” Arkon says.

This surprises me, though only a little, he probably will want me to train others in his house as well. No matter, so long as I can shape the boy.

“They will not like you being the boy’s master, Dargo,” Victoria gripes.

“Oh?” I tilt my head, “Why?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

Her face is still covered in blood from when I shattered her armor. Her flesh has mended though. Good for her, she’s not completely hopeless. Still, I would rather feed my foot to an Adaran Snuga beast than teach her a single rune. With a soul as tainted as hers is, her master is no doubt also wretched.

But who is her master? Someone that can negotiate with mine… they must be in the eighth or ninth bound. The list is very, very short for who it could be.

I feel the protection we had from the gods prying eyes waning as my own goddess steps into view. She is smiling as she looks down at the boy. Arkon turns to his side, his goddess must be there too.

Victoria whispers quietly so only her patron can hear. She does not look pleased with whatever they have said. She looks angry, the expression fades after her runes burn into her skin for a moment. A form of punishment. I know Balencia’s runes, the ones that burned are not hers. Whose are they?

“We will allow you to take the boy, for now,” Victoria says, shifting her stance and covering the smoldering rune, “However, when he comes to take part in the trials and become a Knight Commander, he will become my squire,” looking at Arkon with a sinister grin, “Just as both of your daughters have.”

Arkon turns to his goddess then back to Victoria, “We are agreed, so long as you deal with this… situation.”

“Naturally I will ensure all record of this event is expunged.”

“I do not mean kill the people the boy saved to do it,” Arkon says with a cold gaze.

“We have other ways, besides, Helenius is a small house in a small vassal of the Imperium, the fuss will be… minimal.”

I cough to draw her attention, “The use of my Edict?”

She rolls her eyes, “I will testify it was in self defense, and in the defense of my squire’s lives.”

“Mm, very well then.”

“Anything else?” she practically growls at us.

I’m tempted to add more to spite her, especially since I don’t like the amount of tasks she gives my apprentice Solara. However, whatever I do will likely increase the annoyance she faces. No matter, it’s good for her to have a tough instructor. Gods know that I am not firm enough with her. That’s the problem with teaching them from childhood, sometimes all I see is the little girl with red hair that used to pick me flowers on sunny days.

“Then we are agreed, should the boy choose to join my house, then he will be our charge.”

“He shouldn’t have a choice,” Victoria groans, shaking her head, “What is with you two, hmm? A hundred years ago, neither of you would have tried to save this city, you would have watched it burn. Now I have to do double the work to fix this bullshit, you’re growing soft, and my rival can’t be soft, so shape up Arkon, grow some fucking balls again. Or did you lose them when that bitch died?”

My master looks at her, “Your tongue seems like it wishes to be rid of you.”

Victoria swallows and backs away slowly, giving a feigned smile before leaving.

Subtle master. Arkon might notice something like that, or is he going to tell Arkon who he is? Perhaps he will return to their house to watch over them more closely with his other face. What was the name they knew him by? Artemius… yes that was it. He’s used that name twice before.

“You should stabilize him with Farka’s third,” my master says, removing his hand from the boy’s back, as soon as he does the boy begins to bleed again.

He groans in a fever dream, speaking in the old Kuwathi tongue.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

My master simply smiles before the wind takes him.

“Tavjac,” Arkon says curiously, “What do you know of him?”

I sigh, “More than most.” My hand splays onto Kalon’s back, runes hover above, but they don’t hold easily. It’s like they’re being repelled the closer I try to place them to the seat of his soul.  

Arkon does not ask about my master again.

***

When we arrive on his oversized dreadnaught, I am pleased to see the fighting has stopped. Inquisitor Victoria sent a proxy to all sides as we fought. Apparently, she told them they would become marked by the Imperium for death if they continued. Something that as an inquisitor she doesn’t actually have the authority to do without a writ. No matter, the fight ended, but the wound will fester if untreated.

I suspect that whoever her master is, they didn’t want a larger scale conflict drawing attention to this system. Which means, whoever it is may not be working with the Imperium.

If the Gallec Empire and the Republic of Hekate fight in earnest, it will surely be the fuse to a much larger war. With a sigh, I realize that I may be able to bridge the gap. My relation with house Draconis is decent, though I suspect it will worsen if I do not return their heir apparent.

How could I though? After this, the emperor of the Gallec Empire may demand her head as tribute for the disobedience of Draconis for nearly starting a war.

Politics. The lowest form of entertainment.

“Kada!” the boy Arrum yells as we move Kalon on a floating stretcher, my hand can’t leave his body, lest he die. If he dies, so too does the hope of freeing Amon. Yet if my hand moves, I could prevent Krotha and all the others from being freed, they are surely tainted…

Conflicted does not begin to describe how I feel.  

Arkon shoots me a glance, as though he feels the conflict in me, he is perceptive. I should like to test him and see how strong he really is. He carries Kotina splayed on his shoulder, she should wake soon.

“Let me see him!” Arrum yells.

Arkon’s knights keep him back. His spirit swells as he tries to fight them, there is potential stirring in his soul. There are many with them that have potential.

“Father, they live?” Lunara asks, rushing toward us, Solara is close behind her, eyes wide as she looks at Kalon on the stretcher. I sense she has a strange attachment to the boy, similar to Lunara’s, yet not as deep, not as… profound, not yet at least.

“They do,” Arkon replies, shifting Kotina on his shoulder.

Perhaps it will do well to help Solara manage her emotions to have her train with them.

Ah, but politics. Damn politics.

Though if I ascended in ranking with the Theocratic Imperium, I could easily become an Inquisitor, I could then align myself with house Ravena, if I was an inquisitor, I could challenge Victoria and take Solara as a squire, then she’d be honor bound to follow me wherever I go. A loophole perhaps. It would surely piss off my goddess if I pledged to her rival’s house. A prospect that might be entertaining. Hmm, choices. So many choices.

I see one that I had kept my eye on before, I am surprised to see her here of all places, given her lineage. Adona of house Helenius. She is with a woman who has green hair and green eyes, her soul feels like a normal person’s… yet there is a strangeness to it, like she is suppressing it. Perhaps I am imagining it.

Still, so many of the Kuwathi here have remarkable potential.  

“Arkon, the Kuwathi that were in the Colosseum.”

Arkon shifts his gaze at me, “What of them?”

“What will happen to them?”

“We are already collecting them,” he turns, issuing orders to his knights.

“Already, why?”

“The heir apparent issued the order in my absence.”

Lunara did? She is like her mother then. A kind soul that was taken too soon. She will be a good influence on the boy. He needs tempering. There is much savage rage in him.

As we walk through the ship, I see many shuttles filling the hangar bay. Two souls of remarkable quality like the boy Arrum run towards him. Red hair and blue eyes, they almost look like twins. I recognize them as ones that I foolishly gave to Mallock. They seem healthy though, strong even.

“Haki? Daki?” Arrum exclaims, stopping his fight with the Knights to turn to them. They grasp him tightly, “I thought you both dead… by the gods it is good to see you.”

The three of them are ones to watch. There is another with them, I recognize him too, he works for Arkon I’m pretty sure. I never learned his name before, but there is something strange stirring in his soul, like a light that grows with the beat of his heart. It gives me pause as I stop with Kalon and the stretcher.

“You, come here,” I say, beckoning the man.

He approaches warily, which is to be expected, the last time I saw him, I was not kind. Arkon looks at me but says nothing as he waits.

“Who are you?”

“I am called Fennec, sir.”

“Who is your master?”

“I… don’t have one, but my lord is Arkon, sir.”

His soul… it feels free, like it is unbound somehow. The mana in him flows near perfectly. What trickery is this? I have seen him before, and he was not like this. What is at play here? I spin around, there are so many souls with potential gathered here. Like an army of prodigies waiting to be shaped. Nearly everywhere I look more souls that can rise given the right guidance. House Ravena is going to become very… very strong… I think I might enjoy it here after all.

“Is that Kotina, lord?” Fennec asks Arkon with a furrowed brow.

“Yes,” Arkon says cooly.   

Kotina finally stirs, opening her eyes, she adjusts on Arkon’s shoulder, “Um, lord, you can set me down.” Her face is flushed as Arkon sets her to her feet, she gives Fennec a glance before adjusting herself.

She looks around at the other knights who stare, “Get back to work,” she barks, rubbing her head, she finds my gaze and gives me a glare. Apparently, she didn’t enjoy the nap.

“Why is he here, lord?” she asks.

“Report to medical and get cleared, I’ll brief you later,” Arkon says.

She salutes, but I can tell, she wants a rematch. An interesting prospect, she is quite skilled for being in the sixth.

“Kotina!” Lunara yells, rushing past the knights to grasp her tightly.

“I’m here, I’m here, mind my ears, I feel hungover.”

My feet stir again and the stretcher moves forward. Arkon did not demand it of me, he has been accommodating but not doting. There is mutual respect that can be built from this arrangement.

“Arkon.”

He turns but doesn’t stop walking.

“What would you say to me joining your house?”

He stops and turns to look at me fully, his gaze is appraising, more so than his age should allow.

I suppose if nothing else, the next century is bound to be… interesting.

[ End of Book Three ]