Chapter 19

Kanchi’s vast dunes soon gave way to craggy yellow cliffs and canyons, mountains, and basins. The sun was setting, turning the rock faces an eerie red hue, and so it was appropriate that the area was dubbed Bloody Bluff. One of Kanchi’s great natural beauties, and it would have been a tourist hotspot had Mabahse, the crime warlord, not made his home there. Nestled in the cliffs sat Mabahse’s palace and all its grandeur.

Giant sandstone columns bore the weight of a grandiose roof, orange and yellow windows dotted the cracked walls adorned with chiseled alien artwork from a civilization long past. An arching bridge connected the rest of the structure to a tower topped with a shining beacon which sat alone atop a spiraling mountain. Directly below was the main gate, which could accommodate a small cruiser and it had in fact done so on multiple occasions. Someone might have thought the massive structure was some ancient, abandoned ruins were it not for the hive of starships buzzing about, coming and going.

Abel saw none of it. All he could see was light leaking through the weaves of burlap over his face, which reeked of toron body odor. Tight cuffs shackled his hands, a sharp jab prodded him forward by Numar’s ax-lance. Abel felt more foolish than ever.

Blurry silhouettes danced around, glasses clinked together, and the smooth beat of music slightly overpowered the low murmur of a happy, talkative crowd. Abel could see a slit of sandy purple rugs if he angled his eyes just so. PLOP. A drip of something gooey hit Abel’s shoulder; he arched his neck ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of some brown liquid running off his robes. Nostor owls, Abel fumed to himself.

Suddenly the hood was ripped off, Mabahse was hunched over, his beady yellow eyes examined Abel and then Rougar, who was also in shackles. “Well done Numar,” the stench of Mabahse’s breath was devastating. “But what of the assassin drone? I hear that one is worth almost as much as the boy.”

“Destroyed beyond recognition,” Numar said proudly. “Got his sword though, probably worth somthin.” He held up the sheathed cadami sword to show proof of his deeds.

“Pity about the drone yes,” Mabahse said turning to Abel and Rougar. “It warms my two hearts to see you in chains at last Rougar...this does not surprise me. But how did you manage to get yourself captured, Abel Reyleonard? A Progenitor, I did expect more out of you.”

Abel remained silent. Thankfully Mabahse leaned back in his throne, out of breath smelling range.

Mabahse scratched his fat gullet, eyes squinted. “I wonder how much your father, Emperor Reyleonard, would pay for your safe return, hmm?

“Ha- my father wouldn’t shell out a single credit for me. He’d sooner melt this whole palace to the ground with me in it.”

Mabahse roared with laughter, the rest of his court laughed along with him as well. He leaned forward and cupped his hands, his voice turned deep and his court knew to silence themselves at once. “Then the two of you will be today’s spectacle,” he said. “Kill them,” he ordered with a wave to his guards.

Numar tossed the cadami sword in the air and the cuffs fell off Abel’s wrists; he snatched up his sword, unsheathing its blue brilliance. Abel, Rougar, and Numar stood back-to-back, ready to take down any guards that stood in their way and overthrow Mabahse.

Everyone had their weapons drawn, but no one made a move- the guards seemed to be terrified, likely considering the last time they chose to fight Abel.

Mabahse rose to his full length, his rage bubbled like lava. Towering over his opponents, he heaved up the giant hammer by his side. “BETRAYAL!”

The music picked up to an energetic tempo and the court chanted: “Ma-bah-se, Ma-bah-se, Ma-bah-se!” Adrenaline coursed through Abel’s veins; he’d enjoy an easy triumph over such a lumbering hot-headed opponent. Dodging inevitable ground shaking hammer swings would come first, then it would be a simple matter of severing the tendons on the back of his knees. Mabahse’s gold-plated armor would be no match for a cadami sword.

“STOP!” A voice shouted from behind.

Mabahse stopped in his long striding tracks. And the entire court became silent, the music screeched to a halt, even the nostor owls stopped their hooting to see what was happening.

Abel turned cautiously to see a man wearing square lensed glasses, a cadami sword was at his side. He wore a duster over a set of brown and white robes, the standard loose-fitting style common among Amani Progenitors. Tucked beneath the folds of fabric was a dense armor plate that would surely protect the user from most plasma fire. Scratched and tarnished, and proudly displayed at the armor’s top center, was the Amani crest of the fierce Wrath Lion consuming a star. He strolled up the center of the throne room; others gave him a wide berth. Two small disk-shaped drones hovered around him.

“Abel?” The man asked.

The adrenaline and excitement wore off in an instant, the muscles in his arms turned to jelly, though his heart started pounding more quickly. Abel had no words; he had never fought another Progenitor before, not when it was life or death anyways.

Rougar hissed, and Numar muttered a curse.

Mabahse returned to his throne, setting his war hammer down with a thud that shook the floor. He sat, watching without a single word, and wore an oddly neutral expression.

“My name is Roy Morrell, Progenitor Knight of the Amani Kingdom.” He said calmly but firmly. The man had not drawn his weapon, but Abel was not about to let his guard down. Roy had no discernible intentions to attack, for the moment. “You are Abel, correct?”

There was no lying to a Progenitor. Abel lacked that talent. But he would at least try to mask his fears the best he could. “Yes,” he said with artificial composure.

“I could tell, I was told you have a red eye, very interesting. And that’s a unique fighting stance you have. Your sword is especially bright, it must be new,” Roy said with an air of kindness. “But I’m going to need you to put it away and lay it on the ground.” He took another careful step forward, his sword still not drawn.

“No,” Abel shot back, not faltering. A head-on fight against Roy would be impossible, and it’s not like Rougar or Numar would be much help. Time needed to be bought until backup arrived. “My mission here does not concern the Amani.”

“I know, I know…” Roy took a single step closer. “Rougar told me everything. You’re here to arrest Owlen for murder. That’s a noble cause.”

Abel shot a look at Rougar, who was growling; his eyes darted side to side and lacked their usual confident fire.

“Rougar, if you would, I suggest you leave while you have the chance. I sense everyone here wants to kill you.” Roy put his hands on his hips looking around the court of onlookers as if they should all be ashamed of themselves.

“Until next time Abel Reyleonard,” Rougar growled. Then he put his weapon away and disappeared into the crowds.

“Yeah, sorry, kid. Try not to die,” Numar said, then he too left out of sight. No one cared about the ashan or the trodarian anymore; all eyes were on Abel and Roy.

Those cowards! Abel gritted his teeth, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter; adrenaline raced back into his body.

Another step closer. “I can’t let a Tuyet Voi Progenitor go running around this planet.” Slowly, he took another cautious step forward. He was difficult to read, actively masking his intentions. On the surface, it appeared he was genuinely trying to resolve the situation peacefully, but that could have been a trick and a difficult one at that.

“Stop,” Abel said abruptly, waving his sword. He searched for a way to reach for his com-link without notice, but only doing so in short intervals. If Roy sensed his opponent was trying to call for help, he might just decide to attack right away. “How did you find me out here?” Abel made the slightest movement for his com-link.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“These little guys,” Roy said conversationally, gesturing to the disk-shaped drones, survey probes. “An incredibly talented dronesmith programmed them to look for small cadami signatures.”

“Clever,” Abel said as he subtly moved himself to his communicator.

“Don’t,” Roy cut in.

Abel winced.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He showed his hands to ‘calm down’ as he continued a sluggish advance. No more than thirty feet away now, then he stopped. His brow furrowed. “You’re just a boy…”

Briefly, Abel felt inner conflict, a chink in his mental armor, but it was quickly patched up, swallowed, and obscured. It was now or never, Abel lunged to attack, capitalizing on the only opportunity he was probably going to get. Cyan light flashed intercepting the blue blade. The two swords clanged and hissed violently.

Falling into a trance-like state, Abel let his senses and muscles flow freely, lashing out with several quick strikes. Impossible odds or not, he was all in now. Allowing his muscles to fall back on memory, he relaxed his mind to concentrate on anticipating his opponent’s attacks. But no attacks were coming; Roy was only deflecting each incoming blow with ease.

Reorienting his mind to focus more fully on himself, Abel performed a flurry of flowing swings, each one colliding with the other sword. He lunged out with swift stabs to put some distance between him and Roy, then Abel pulled out his com-link. A gleam of cyan swiped right through the communicator. The device fell into two sizzling pieces. The precision strike was imperceptibly quick.

Stunned, but for just a split second, Abel rounded his weapon in an arch. Roy met his sword with much greater strength, knocking Abel off balance. Roy brought his sword down with lightning speed, barely missing as his opponent dodged.

Abel could hardly keep up, his heart beat out of his chest, his mind was on overdrive reading each strike. The attacks kept coming; Abel’s muscles screamed and begged for rest. Roy had committed himself to offense now, which meant he was easier to read, easier but not entirely predictable. One thing was for sure, he was not trying to kill.

It was a long shot, but Abel decided it was the only chance he had at winning. Against all his teachings, muscle memory, and self-preservation instincts, he dropped his guard, leaving himself completely open to the incoming cyan glint. Then its path faltered, sailing right overhead. Now Roy was wide open, Abel swung upwards but caught nothing but air. His adversary was already out of the way.

Both Progenitors stood several feet apart, a break in the fighting. “That was an interesting trick Abel,” Roy said, his breathing calm.

Abel heaved gasps of air into his lungs, and sweat poured over his face.

“Listen-“ Roy continued, “-I don’t want to hurt you. You see that. Come with me, and you’ll be safe.”

“I won’t be your prisoner,” Abel said with some effort.

“You won’t, I promise.”

Abel needed more time to catch his breath. Eyes darting around, it was like the throne room was frozen. Everyone looked on with either horror or interest; Abel wasn’t sure. Then he noticed something odd: Roy’s grey-blue eyes looked exhausted with purple rings under them. “You’ve had the visions too, haven't you?”

Roy’s bright smile faltered slightly. He twirled his sword gracefully and returned to a relaxed upright position. “Have you ever had to take care of five children? They sure are a handful,” he said with a shrug. “Please, put your weapon away. I’d love to tell you all about Lucy.” His smile was back.

Abel had no idea if he was lying or not.

“Listen, maybe we can work something out so that we both win here. I’ll take you in, and we’ll find a way to turn you back over to your master. I would get a lot of political flak, but I really don’t care about that.”

“I can’t just leave.”

“I will also see to it personally that Owlen is brought to justice. I know the man; I know he’s a bad person. It was wrong for the Amani to turn a blind eye to his crimes.”

“I’m not out for revenge or justice. I serve my father’s will; I must fulfill it myself.” Failing to bring Owlen in would bring upon unbearable shame, which was one thing. Being captured by an Amani Progenitor and letting him take credit for getting Owlen? Abel would sooner die. He held his sword up and fell into a fighting stance once again. Fire burned in his veins.

Making no effort to hide his sadness, Roy fell into his own stance. “I won’t go easy on you forever, Abel.”

For a moment, nobody made a move; the room was silent apart from the low hum of the cadami blades. Then there was a rumbling, a slight quake traced the ground. Dust and tiny pieces of rock fell from the ceiling, and the nostor owls fluttered from their perches, hooting and squawking furiously. The crowds rumbled with uncertainty.

“INCOMING!” A voice shouted. Immediately the crowds scattered aimlessly, screaming.

The next moment, BAM! Something big came crashing through the front gates with deafening force into the throne room. It looked like a ship, but Abel didn’t look for long as he dove out of the way of chunks of rock and metal. He huddled behind one of the enormous support pillars, hoping with every shred of his being that it would hold up. Fire spewed forth, engulfing the ceiling. A flaming, smoking metal mass screeched to a halt.

Opening his eyes, Abel peeked around the column once he was satisfied that it was safe. The once ostentatiously built throne room was now in total ruin; dust rose from the smoldering rubble scattered about intermingled with black smoke and flames, which crackled and smelled like burning fuel. Screams echoed beyond the dusty haze, and a handful of unlucky patrons had been crushed by debris.

The metal mass that had caused it all was, in fact, a ship, one Abel recognized as a light freighter. Although it was hardly recognizable now, its front smashed in on itself, forming an intricate mural of dents and bends.

“Commander!” Rex shouted as she emerged from the wreckage; her electronic voice sounded strained. She beckoned urgently, “this way!”

Nimbly skirting up and around mounds of rubble, Abel darted towards Rex, wondering how in blazes she expected them to escape. Roy was almost an afterthought; whether it was the shock of witnessing the crash or the desire to make a speedy escape didn’t matter. He just wanted to put as much distance between him and that Progenitor as possible.

Rex pointed her rifle directly at Abel, the glowing orange eye slits behind the weapon sights looked menacing. “Rex what…” Abel began, but he stopped short feeling the all too familiar primal desire to kill, and it was directed at him. Without a thought, his muscles coiled and he ducked, naturally falling into a fighting stance, under the green plasma bolt in a fraction of a second.

Abel reached for his sword, but again he stopped short, feeling something behind him. Pain. He spun around to find Roy sprawled out on the ground, his chest sizzling and black smoke rising. He was down, but not for long. Abel slipped his hand from his sword’s hilt and continued towards Rex, who was already running and signaling to follow.

“Sorry for that, commander!” Rex shouted, sounding more proud than apologetic. “Hurry now, that won’t work on him again.”

A booming roar came from behind, a boulder-sized chunk of sandstone rolled over, Mabahse emerged covered in a layer of dust, fire was in his reptilian eyes. “ABEL REYLEONARD, I’LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS!” He hefted his giant hammer up and started charging, the whole palace quaked with each footstep.

“Right, hurry faster!” Rex shouted.

Without a reply, Abel followed Rex into the wrecked fuselage. They came into the cargo bay. Boxes were overturned and scattered everywhere. “I found a two-seater flyer here earlier,” Rex said as she whipped a tarp off a two-engine hover repulser that had remained remarkably intact. “Get in, we are leaving!”

Rex palmed the loading bay door release, but the mechanism strained and whined, unmoving. The pounding footsteps were rushing ever closer. BAM! The whole ship shifted violently; Mabahse was trying to smash his way in.

“COME OUT OF THERE!”

Pulling out her rifle, Rex fired off two green flashes, and the bay doors dropped down with a loud clunk. She climbed into the driver's seat, switched on the ignition, and with a lurch, they sped off through the gaping hole in Mabahse’s fortress.

“WOO-HOO!” Abel cheered, looking back at the smoldering palace. The winds of freedom rippled over the flyer’s windshield right through Abel’s brown hair. “That was incredible!”

“A calculated risk,” Rex said, sounding rather pleased with herself. “Numar called me and said you needed back up. How happy I was to cause some carnage.”

So Numar had not wholly abandoned the mission; Abel would worry about that later, there was something more pressing on his mind now. “I suppose shooting at me was a calculated risk as well?”

“Ah- yes, Commander. A dangerous method, I know, but it was the only way to land a shot on the other Progenitor,” Rex replied tactfully.

“A method taught to Progenitors. You are just a drone.”

“Yes, commander. I am just a lowly old assassination drone with no technique or finesse,” Rex countered sardonically. “Honestly, I thought maybe I had garnered more respect than that by now, commander. I’d at least expect a: thank you for saving me. I am so lucky to have you around Rex!”

“That technique requires that I sense you are trying to kill me,” Abel argued. “I can’t detect a drone’s thoughts, or processing, or however it works for you.”

“Are you so sure, commander? A drone so masterfully built such as myself is just as sophisticated as your squishy brain.” Rex said with pride. “I was testing a theory of mine that you would be able to detect some trace of my intentions. My internal motivators are beyond any technology you likely know of. I am no ordinary drone, commander,” she concluded.

“Maybe…” Abel eased up a bit. He did not like the idea that a drone took it upon herself to run risks like that. He sighed. It wasn’t a very comforting sentiment, but Abel had to admit that Rex indeed was no ordinary drone, plus she had saved his skin after all. “Right.” He said dryly as he let his head lean into the seat, glad that they were safe. “Well, things did not go as planned. Rougar and Numar just took off, and Mabahse is still alive. And now the Amani know that we’re here. We must find Owlen, but we should probably lay low for a while until the heat dies down. We’ll resume the search later.”

“I agree,” Rex said. “I do have a plan already set in motion, however.”

“One that involves risking my life, I’m sure,” Abel replied, half-ironic, half expectantly.

“Er…no, commander. Not this time.” Rex handed over a datatab. “Our assassination attempt on Mabahse failed, but-” Rex reached over to scroll over on the datatab. “-Numar found out that person, you know the one that attacked Owlen’s old base, is some dronesmith in Onesto.”

“I don’t suppose he could give us a name?”

“Afraid not, commander.”

“Figures, more searching for us to do then. Let’s just hope he’s willing to help us now that Amani Progenitors are tangled up in all this.” Abel smirked and looked out across the clouds. “We’ll need to tread cautiously; I suspect this dronesmith is incredibly dangerous.”