Elementis 1: The Heir to the Stone (10 page)

Twain froze, watching a weapon-less Lynk, stop at the feet of the beast and begin to reason with it. "Let me just warn you, I’m very oily and my serdar is full of bones—move aside please," he said, tilting his head up to the thing.

No one had told Lynk that you cannot reason with a hungry, thirty-foot monster, even if it had understood one word, which it hadn't. The sanga leant down to Lynk and flicked a clawed finger at his head, sending it rolling across to land at Twain's feet. Rage surged through every vein in Twain's body. Lynk had taken him three years to finish, but it wasn't the painstaking work that made him mad, Lynk was like a younger, less intelligent brother to him. Twain shot up at the monster, giving it a blow to the face, a blow to the neck, firing again and again. The sanga roared. The other two sanga roared in tandem. Willow attacked with speed, slicing open the ankle of the nearest sanga with the blade of Skull, ducking below the swipe of the beasts claws. Jonas shot away at the flesh, barely burning the short hair that covered the sangas bodies. The three of them moved around with pert agility, rolling, jumping, striking and shooting as quickly as their weapons would allow. One of the sanga slammed a giant foot down on top of Jonas just as Willow flew through the air and rolled them both to safety before a double-fist crashed into the ground beside their heads. Willow sliced at one of the hands and Jonas ran down the energy on his blaster, firing at full capacity. No matter how many shots were fired by Twain and Jonas, or how many small chunks of flesh Willow cut out of their petrous skin, this was a fight they would not win. The beasts were toying with them, playing with their food. One of the sanga roared with a tone that had more purpose than one of intimidation.

"He's calling for the others," shouted Twain, as he blasted up at one of their faces.

Willow looked up at the roaring beast; his head was tilted back sending the roar up into the sky. She threw her arm back, launching her sword at his throat. The blade pierced through his neck and the call was muted with a sputter of ingested blood. Willow ran. Jumping up the legs and climbing the chest of the pure black structure, she reached the neck and held on to a tuft of fur as she twisted her sword at a sharp angle further into the beast's wind pipe and slid Skull free to make her back to the ground. The giant dropped to its knees, clutching its blood pouring throat. Willow jumped down as the beast fell flat. Twenty tons of muscle landed on top of her with a crushing blow. She lay underneath the suffocating weight with one arm free and clawing for escape. There was no escape. Her scraping hand gave up trying and came to rest on top of the grass.

Another rampant sanga ploughed through the trees. It was bigger, stronger and louder. Twain knew instantly, that this was the mother of the three children. She saw one of her babies lying still on the ground. She stomped across and rolled its body over with a gentle shove. It was dead and so was Willow. The mother roared with a call for help that brought four more sangas storming through the forest. Jonas and Twain came together back to back surrounded by seven angry sangas closing in on them. Their weapons were useless. Jonas's strength was no match, he knew that from the dents these things were putting into the ground with their fists.

"We need to get out of here," said Twain.

"I was just starting to enjoy myself!" said Jonas, firing at the eye of a closing sanga, who blocked any further pain by shielding his face with his mighty arms. "Keep them busy, I need to help Willow," he blurted out to Twain.

"Keep them busy?" Twain shrieked, panic-stricken at the thought of his impending death. This wasn't quite how he expected he might die. In battle maybe, though he thought he could outsmart most enemies. It's why he looked forward to Guard training so much, he couldn't wait to start fighting the dydrid, perhaps building some gadgets and weapons that would make him a legend of the Guard. But these things were unstoppable with the weapons they had. His thoughts turned to his mother as he watched Jonas running over to the princess, leaving him alone to fend off seven sangas. His mother's kind face popped into his mind, he wouldn't leave her, he couldn't. Twain pushed all thoughts of death aside, stood strong and shot at eyes and nostrils and any other sensitive part that delayed the sangas approach for more than a second. He ran at one, rolling beneath its legs. He ducked and bobbed to avoid the numerous claws that came at him.

Jonas made it over and took Willow in his arms, shaking her. She was lifeless, her metal skin felt as cold as frosted stone. Jonas laid her down flat, pounding his fist into her heart, watching her face for any signs of revival. There was nothing.

"Try the blaster," Twain shouted over, yielding a stupid look from Jonas.

"What is wrong with you!?" Jonas shouted back, thinking that Twain had only wanted to make sure she was dead instead of save her life.

 "Set it to stun," he shouted back.

Jonas got it. He swivelled the dial on his blaster to a soft stun. He placed the gun over her heart and pulled the trigger. She curled outwards with life, filling her lungs with gasps of air and coughs. Jonas pulled her across the ground to rest her dazed head up against the arm of the dead beast beside her. She was barely conscious but she was breathing. Jonas told her to stay where she was, gulping with the thought of returning to battle the sanga.

Mad man Twain moved in-between and around feet and buried fists, not taking his finger off his blaster once. Eighteen shots a second ploughed into different parts of the beasts bodies. Then his blaster energy ran out. He was helpless. A beast clawed down, bringing two hands hard in towards Twain. Jonas tackled Twain to the ground, his blaster flew out of his hands away to the side, and the follow through of the claw scraped past the upstanding hairs on the back of Jonas's head. Jonas rolled over and the boys lay there next to each other, weaponless, motionless, and about to die. The mother sanga rang out another howl. Her children moved aside as she raised a giant fist to the sky and closed in for the kill. Jonas and Twain, deafened by the noise, shut their eyes and waited for the blow. The roar got louder. The boys braced for the impact, but the blow didn't come. Jonas opened his eyes and nudged Twain's arm. Twain's tightly squeezed eyes peeled open with caution one at a time. The two of them began to laugh. A cytherean fleet of light-propelled helicopters hovered above and shot the flesh off the mother sanga with a beating of laser cannons and missiles. The sanga retreated to the forest in seconds.

The choppers landed in the field, Hawk jumped out and retrieved Lynk's body while Twain collected the head of his droid. Jonas ran over and gently shifted his hands beneath Willow's body lifting her across to the safety of the helicopter. He handed her over to the medics. She was in shock, icily cold but still alive.

Jonas looked over to the battle-scarred face of Hawk. "How did you find us?" he said, over the noise of the swooshing light-propellers.

"An old dekapod appeared on our radar. We figured you had something to do with it," Hawk told him, talking loudly. "Wherever you run to kid, your father will find you!" he said, with a telling tone. "Now let's get you home, he wants to see you!"

Chapter VIII

A History as Unclear as the Future

Witakker walked into the Guard training centre to speak with Calyx's protectors. He watched as Menace held a sniper blaster hard into her shoulder, shooting away at a holographic jungle scene where enemy soldiers came out of nowhere for her to assassinate. Spectrum was wired into a running machine, sprinting at pace, the rate on the reader measured a heart defying fifty beats per minute. Cortex held his hands out loosely, standing over a topless Goldheart who bench pressed with a metal bar that began to bend under the weight piled onto each end. Witakker stopped besides the heavy metal plates, watching as Goldheart strained for one more repetition, filling his muscles with overstrained and bursting veins.

"Why don't you try running sometime Procto, you never know when you'll need to run?" said Witakker.

Goldheart forced the weight up and onto the rest. Sitting up, he looked at Witakker with confusion. "I'd rather fight than run," he grumbled.

"I have seen bigger men than you running from things your imagination could never conceive," said Witakker. "Now gather around please everyone I need to speak with you."

Menace placed her weapon down. Spectrum unplugged his monitor wires, slowed his machine and dropped off the end of the running mill to join the others.

"Jonas has been found," said Witakker. "Your new orders are to protect him."

"We don't like the kid. He can't be trusted," Cortex blared. "We have to rescue Calyx!"

"Lucas, watch what you're saying," Spectrum told him with a sharp edge. "This is an order, how many times do you need telling!?"

Cortex turned away in annoyance.

Witakker was used to Cortex talking out of turn; he would not need to add to Spectrum's dressing down. "Regardless of whether you like him or not, you will protect him, is that understood?" Witakker confirmed.

The protectors nodded.

"We need this boy a lot more than he needs us. He just doesn't understand yet what it is we ask of him," he said, looking into each of their eyes. "There are circumstances here that you do not know. Do not let me down!"

"Should we not be made aware of the circumstances?" asked Spectrum.

Witakker looked at the leader, giving thought as to whether or not it was wise to let the truth be known. "Goldheart, Cortex, Menace, leave us will you."

The three of them groaned for being left out.

"All right, but Spec will tell us anyway!" said Cortex.

"He will not tell another soul," Witakker said, staring hard at Spectrum. Spec nodded and the others left the room.

"I cannot tell you what the circumstances are, it is not my place. But what I will say is that Jonas, as you know is half dydrid and half cytherean. He is identical to Calyx in almost every way, and the fate of our race and many others depends upon him," said Witakker.

Spectrum sighed, it was unlike him to question any orders but he felt he had to. "Why can't we get Calyx, Witakker? This Jonas, he's not got what it takes. He's had no training, he doesn't know what we're up against—he's been a ship-spider his whole life, if that isn't enough not to trust him!"

"He has a long way to go, agreed. But we cannot reach Calyx without risking his life and Jonas is here now, he will learn."

"All right," said Spectrum. "But he'll probably get us all killed, so don't expect us to like it."

Witakker smiled. "I didn't expect that you would!"

*

Outside in the palace gardens Uly waited, standing alone in the cooling afternoon air. Cleaned up and changed into one of Calyx's stretched-cotton outfits, Jonas walked out through an opening to the gardens as four brilliant blue eyes full of uncertainty met for only the second time. The sight of seeing his father again brought sadness to Jonas's soul. His wounds were raw, his heart was sore. This man had no love for him but Jonas had no choice. He could not run away from this place as easily as he had hoped for two reasons. Firstly, as Hawk had said, the king would find him it seemed, no matter where he went, and secondly, Willow and Twain. In the very short time that he had known them, they had become important to him; he didn't know why he just had that feeling.

"You didn't mean it, did you?" said Jonas, keeping a close eye on Uly's reactions.

"I will not send you back to Kroyto, no," Uly said, bowing his head in an unspoken apology.

"Even if I still refuse?" said Jonas.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then the answer is still no, even if you do still refuse," said the king, smiling at Jonas's sternness. "Walk with me. I have something I wish you to see."

Uly and Jonas strolled side by side down a stone path through the palace grounds. Calming water features and shapely hedgerows lined their walk. They both placed their hands behind their backs at the same time without even noticing. Jonas had never walked alongside his father, in fact everything they did together would be a first. He decided not to over think his current situation. Jonas had no idea where it was leading.

"Is our prisoner recovering well?" Uly said, filling the silence with small talk.

"Prisoner?" said Jonas, having not thought of Willow in such a light.

"She will stay with us until Calyx is released unharmed."

"She tells me Calyx is angry," Jonas said to his father, in the hope that he would begin to see sense and consider rescuing his other son.

"He will understand," the king said. "Just be careful."

"How careful?" asked Jonas.

"Willow owes you her life. I am sure she’ll not forget that. But she is still the enemy," Uly said, with an annoying tone of righteousness in his voice.

"She is not my enemy," Jonas replied.

Uly stopped and turned to his son as Jonas stopped and turned to his father. Jonas stood still waiting for more advice that he wouldn't listen to. "Do not trust her so easily," Uly said, looking down at his son with unease.

Jonas didn't want to get into it. He turned his head to the side and looked up at a temple that stood a short way in front of them. The entrance was guarded by a line of open pillars wrapped in creeping vines. The king took the hint and dropped the conversation. He walked on to the temple and Jonas followed. They climbed a few stone steps and beyond the vine strangled columns Jonas saw two rows of rectilinear statues facing each other, carved with realistic detail from a clean white stone.

"The line of Krestwell," Uly said. "From the first king, Valdoor, up to your grandfather, Shardwey," he added, pointing out to the statues.

Jonas moved to stand in front of the statue marked "Shardwey Krestwell". He gazed up at his grandfathers tired old face. "My grandfather? What was he like?" said Jonas.

"An honourable man, and a story for another time perhaps."

Jonas moved along the line admiring the faces of kings before him, "These are all my ancestors?" he asked.