Elementis 1: The Heir to the Stone (27 page)

"Fix it," he snarled.

"Immediately, my Zohr." The corporal bowed, walking away in a hurry.

The Zohr's thoughts became clear. He still had the stone. He still had the power of the Esla Maven. He did not need to show any weakness. "As soon as we return I shall watch the surviving cythereans join me or die in the rivers of Gulga," he told Mutus, keeping his eyes fixed on the stone. "And then our rule begins," he said, putting his mind at ease with his own words.

And without knowing it, Twain, his mother and all of the captured people stuffed into the old recycling plant were on a countdown to death or dydrification. Those cythereans who were not strong enough to survive the transformation to the carbotanium blood structure could only die from the process. It was meant to be so. The Zohr wanted only the strongest and purest of the populations which he conquered to survive.

"The boy. What about him?" Mutus noted, concerned that he was a problem.

The Zohr twisted his head towards Mutus. Two pairs of silver eyes locked together in tension. "He can rot in shame on Destus until I return to finish him." the Zohr sputtered.

"Can you destroy him?"

"I can destroy anything!"

Mutus pushed further, "His mind grows stronger. He controlled you."

The Zohr rose from his throne. "He controlled nothing! He’s as week as his father was," he bellowed, staring his son down. "Whatever was in that vial gave the child the power."

He dropped back into his seat and took a moment's silence. "Ready Mercron to leave Aquilla. I want no more time wasted!"

Mutus bowed and retired from the deck. The Zohr opened his hand flat, the stone sat in the middle of his over-wrinkled palm. An orange dot shone like a pupil in his silver eyes as he stared at the Elementis. His plan had taken some unexpected turns but he had won back his stone. Uly was defeated, the cythereans were on the cusp of extinction and with the launching of Mercron, he was about to embark on the largest scale of cleansing that history would ever know. He closed his palm around the stone. His face remained as solemn as the moment Jonas had taken control of his mind and control of the stone. There may be two competing for the mind of the Maven now and the question of Jonas joining forces with him was a fools thought. The boy would have to be killed, with or without the stone.

*

In the cold night of the forest, Shardwey's diamond body lay deep in the flames of a burning fire. Beneath him, mixed with glowing logs and kindling, burned the bodies of the lost Guard. Flames of pink, gold and bluey-greens flickered in the eyes of the men who watched their friends burn. Jonas stood closest to the fire, gazing at the glassed figure of his grandfather. His heart was empty of all feeling, the Zohr had seen to that, and his face was numb with defeat. Not even the warmth of the flames could soothe his broken expression.

Candles of light floated through the darkness of the evening trees like swaying firefly, drifting towards the mourning cythereans. The villagers emerged from the forest with flamed torches in their hands, joining the ceremony to pay their respects and say their own goodbyes to the latest victims to die in the wake of the Zohr. The gathering of Guard parted to make way for the geisendorfers as they shuffled towards the fire. Two rows of men carried five, twig-woven body bags above their heads, as Spectrum, Cortex, Goldheart and two senior Guard stepped forward to take the bodies from the crying hands of the small men, placing them as gently as they could on top of the flames.

There were no words as they watched the flames burn. Jonas fell into a daze, the dancing flames had taken his mind away from where and why they stood in this place. Menace moved up beside him and whispered a "wake up Jonas" in his ear, bringing him back to reality. The people expected someone to say something.

Jonas quietly cleared his throat, took a breath, and stood up straight. He stared deep into the fire. "We wish the fallen a well journey," he began. "We return them to the universe in the hope that they may find more happiness in the next life than was chosen for them in this. May the spirits watch over their souls."

Jonas moved closer to the fire, his body appeared as a silhouette to all who stood behind him. He turned to the silent whimpers of the people and spoke with all of the wisdom the Zohr's war had brought to the forefront of his mind.

"If any of you ever think to yourself that being alive does not matter, it does. Everything matters. Every move, every thought, every touch, every kiss. Everything matters. Life is special. We are given such little time; do with it what you can. Do everything in your being to give each other what you can. Your life and every life around you has a purpose, do not let it go to waste," he said, speaking from the depths of his heart. "Love more. Laugh more. These are the things that matter."

Jonas walked away from the fire, moving through the middle of the huddled Guard as they swept aside, and he disappeared into the night of the forest to be alone. The geisendorfers sang a sweet song of life around the fire. The melody of sadness carried through the trees with a soft freezing wind, but the kindness of the song's words were still not enough to appease Jonas's troubled mind. The failure was great. He wandered in a dark daze for some time going over in his mind how different things could have been if other decisions had been made. Why didn't his father at least try and save Calyx instead of coming for him. Why in all of the Krestwell history did someone not figure out how to destroy Oreaus. And why was it that all of the world collapsed when he had stepped into power. Peace was at an end for every civilization in every star system and Jonas was at fault.

Jonas returned to the village where the cythereans made beds in the communal halls for the night, huddled together in close quarters, wrapped in fur blankets and cosy enough for sleeping inside a block of ice. Tomorrow, it had been agreed that the village would begin to build new ice houses for their guests and make the furs which they would need to adapt to a new life on Destus. There was no other choice; they would most likely never leave this planet.

Everyone slept late into the night, everyone except Jonas. He sat alone on a pile of logs outside the village hall. The tall ice spires of the building rose up above the smaller houses but still the Guard inside could not stand up straight. Alone with his thoughts and a clear black sky above him, Jonas held Skull in his hands, twirling the sword into a dent the point of the blade had cut into the ice floor. Willow was the only one he could speak to and ask for help. But the Zohr would be keeping a close eye on her movements and her mind. She would not be able to rescue them. Jonas was full of hope that Twain and Hawk were still alive. He had no way of reaching them with a message, but when the Zohr would return and he would not, the message would be as clear as if Jonas had spoken the words himself—it was over.

Menace crouched down, crawling through the small porch way, leading out from the village hall. She unwrapped a fur blanket from around her shoulders and tossed it beside Jonas. Stretching her tight arms out into the night air, she stood watching Jonas spin the sword with a desolate look across his face.

"What are you doing out here? You need sleep just as much as the rest of us," she said, as sweetly as a mother.

"I’ll be fine," Jonas said, looking up, not even realising someone was standing in front of him. "You get some rest."

"She’s a lucky girl, having someone like you think of her," Menace said, smiling down at Jonas.

Jonas stared at the decorative handle of the swords crystal eyed skull, "How can I think of her when I’ve lost the Elementis!?"

"We will return home and you will see her again."

"We can’t get home, if we even have a home, Reeka," Jonas said, using Menace's birth name for the first time. It felt right since they were no longer at war and there was no need to keep up the traditions of the Guard. "It’s gone. Everything has gone!" said Jonas.

"What about hope, Jonas? There is always hope," Menace said.

"No more hope!" Jonas said, with all the sadness of his heart. "My whole life has taught me that hope is just a way of delaying unavoidable disappointment."

Menace sighed. Her warm breath misted from her mouth into the freezing night air. "The world is too beautiful to give up on, Jonas," she said, looking up at the stars. "I hope you are wrong…

Now get some sleep," she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and returned back through the tiny door way.

Jonas looked up to all of the clusters of galaxies in the sky, thinking of all of those people who didn't know what was coming for them. "I hope I'm wrong too," he said to himself.

He rested Skull beside him, unravelled Menace's blanket across his legs, lay back against the logs and closed his eyes.

*

Under the starry sky of Aquilla, Twain sat over the edge of the conveyor belt on the seventh unit along, no longer afraid of the heights or the river below, having completed the climb across a sheer cliff face several times now. To his right, six shutters were secured and to his left, eight dark holes remained open, and with them several more death-defying climbs remained. Far beneath Twain's dangling feet, the flickering image of two trade moons danced on the river's surface below. Twain looked up, all too aware of the fact that the moon he held in his eyes was his father's moon. His body lay dead somewhere up there.

"You have to be here, Mother, you have to be!" He whispered to himself.

His head sunk into his chest and he closed his eyes. Why does the world have to be so cruel? he thought. Would it ever be possible to live without war? Twain promised himself that should he live through these darkest days he would do everything in his mind to fight all evil. He wanted to be just like his idol, just like Jonas. His friend was an inspiration, not that he would ever realise it himself. Jonas had been turfed to one side as a baby. He had not had the easiest of lives, that was clear for Twain to see. And yet he had been brought here by force to Aquilla and had pushed the difficulties of his past aside as if they had never happened. Jonas had his struggles still, Twain knew it, but the way he coped so naturally when everything was against him—Twain wanted to be like that. Something inside Twain told him that he must always stay as close to Jonas as he could, something told him that Jonas would need him. He just hoped that Jonas was still alive.

Twain knew there and then in his soul that he would go to any length possible to train like the ancient esla. The eslanic secrets were dead, but Twain wanted to find them. He pledged to himself as he stared at those moons that he would help to stand up to the Zohr and whoever else intended to cause so much pain to the hearts of innocent people. He was meant for it, he felt it in his heart. That's why he had built Lynk, so that when that moment came as they passed Jonas in the street, he would see Jonas hiding in the shadow. He had built Lynk with the capability to locate the planet for Jonas to find the Elementis—it all made so much sense. Yes, he thought, I will dedicate myself to sparing others from feeling the aching and hatred which was stirring inside of his own war-warped mind. Hate is, of course, not the only outcome of war, Twain continued to think to himself. War drives people to change, and where there is evil striving to do evil, so must there be goodness striving to do good.

A hand touched Twain's shoulder, making him jump. It disturbed his thoughts and made him all too aware that he was sitting high above a river filled with exopedes. A cytherean man leant down behind him. "Come inside, lad," he said. "You’ve done all you can for today, we have a bed made for you."

Twain forced a smile, carefully got to his feet, and walked inside to the sounds of sniffling and sobs in the darkness. He lay down and curled up on a bed of clothes, looking out of the unit at the moon lingering above the horizon of the adjacent cliffside. He stared at that moon for what seemed like hours, his only thoughts were of seeing his mother's face smiling down at him. Everything he did was for her, and as he wished to do more for her still his eyes gave way and he fell asleep lying amongst the last of his people.

*

Hawk patrolled the planet keeping an eye out for survivors, of which he had already picked up several wounded soldiers and taken them on board. At least he felt like he was doing something then and not feeling as helpless as he did waiting around for Jonas to return with the Elementis. He flew above the trees, the night-vision scanners displaying the blue coolness of the forest floor below. A flash of red came and went on the screen. Hawk doubled back and slowed the craft. This time around he saw a long line of red-bodied soldiers marching through the woods. He flew the ship level and moved along the line. It was endless. Hawk scanned all the way to the end of the marching enemy soldiers. On the horizon at the end of the line, the chilling shape of five blue claws appeared. The fantom soldiers had left the wreckage of Enterra and were returning to Mercron. Fighters and transport ships came down from the skies, returning from Enterra and the trade moons. Hawk knew something was going on, but what? he wondered.

Hawk flew closer to the fortress and zoomed in on the soldiers entering through the gates to the city. "This doesn’t look good! Where are you, kid?" he said to himself, wishing Twain was there to figure out what the Zohr was up to next. He didn't have any idea as to what was going on wherever Jonas was either. It was a waiting game that Hawk would have to play. There was nothing he could do here on his own.

*

Caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Jonas lay uncomfortably cold on top of the pile of logs he'd unwisely chosen to sleep on. Beyond his closed eyelids it seemed as if the sky had suddenly turned from night to day, but he wasn't ready to wake. Jonas told himself that he was dreaming. He knew it was still nowhere near morning, no matter how long he'd been lying there awake with his eyes closed. A warm calming breeze blew over his face, bringing the blood rushing back to his frozen cheeks. Not only had the morning come too soon but the summer heat was a welcome feeling. Except Destus never had a summer. It was a singular season planet with snow falling for most of its 493 days of the year. Jonas opened his eyes, expecting the warmth and light to disappear from his dream, but they didn't. The lights blinded him, he shielded his face with his hands outstretched, keeping one eye closed until his open iris had adjusted to the light as the other blinkered open. He brought his hands down, getting to his feet. He tilted his head right back staring up at a floating spiked sphere moving through the sky above his head.