The Chronicles of Soone: Rebellion's Fate Read online

  THE CHRONICLES OF SOONE

  REBELLION’S FATE

  BY

  JAMES SOMERS

  www.jamessomers.blogspot.com

  Kindle Edition

  2011© James Somers

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  HEIR to the KING

  Year 9042: Planet Castai-Rex

  A steady wind blew across the plains that night, causing Wynn to stoke up the fire burning inside the custom fire pit within his living room. The whole space was very open, and he liked it that way. The whole back wall was capable of opening up onto the courtyard beyond where he liked to train and teach his students.

  Many of the soldiers in the Castillian army had decided to extend their training into the Barudii warrior arts, well beyond the normal military regimen. The war had been over for fifteen years now and the military had been on stand down since two years after the last of the Baruk were disposed of. The soldiers reported for regular training, but were otherwise free to conduct their own personal lives.

  An increasing number of soldiers had become interested in knowing more about the concepts and tactics used by the Barudii of long ago and had began to come to Wynn for the training. He had been reluctant at first, but as his duties lightened with the end of the war and more people turned to him for additional training, he had decided to begin his own formal program. It brought him a nice income and provided him another means of keeping his own skills up while contributing to the overall well-being of the people.

  Wynn sat at his desk near the screened wall leading to the courtyard, now bathed in moonlight. He liked the feel of nature and tried to keep his home as free from overt technology as was convenient. Only one of his students possessed Barudii psychokinetic abilities, but still they were mastering the ancient fighting techniques that predated the Way.

  The fire flickered with the wind as he continued his writings in preparation for tomorrow’s class with his students. He began to sense something around the edge of his consciousness—the feeling something or someone was approaching. Wynn stopped writing, but did not move. His eyes closed as he tried to fix his mind on what the disturbance might be. Then he had it. A feral Horva had come within the confines of his perimeter wall around the courtyard.

  This dangerous form of Horva, which had been produced by the Vorn military regime, had managed somehow to survive in the wilds of the planet after the war. They only rarely ventured into populated areas when their food shortages ran low. It appeared one was hunting for food on his property now and likely Wynn was the intended meal.

  Wynn stood looking out into the courtyard. With his mind he cut the lights, leaving only the firelight flickering behind him. His eyes quickly adapted to the moonlit courtyard beyond. He did not see anything moving yet with his eyes, but his mind was focusing in on a life form—definitely one of the feral Horva.

  His blade leaped off of a wall-mount across the room and into his outstretched hand as he opened the courtyard access door. Wynn moved quickly and silently into the courtyard toward the figure he sensed hiding in the foliage beyond. Suddenly he sensed the creature coming down fast on him from behind. He whirled around with his blade, slicing the air behind him, but there was no attacker. He searched again with his mind, but he could not sense anyone now.

  Wynn was completely perplexed. He had been quite sure of his senses and now he was out here cutting air in the dark like a fool. He sensed something again, but it was a different. He clearly perceived a bathosphore coming up behind him. He whirled again, expecting to find it there, but again there was nothing.

  “What’s going on here?” he muttered.

  Then he heard something approaching, rolling across the ground. He looked down, finding a wooden ball twice the size of his fist rolling toward him. Simultaneously, six others came from directions all round him. They were nothing more than wood and yet they were under someone’s control. He realized what was going on just as the balls leaped off of the ground to attack him.

  He dodged several as they swirled about him. As the wooden balls closed in, Wynn struck them each in turn, dividing each until only one was left. As it came at him, he seized it with his own mind, halting its advance.

  “All right, Kale, where are you?”

  Realizing another trick on his senses, Wynn turned back in time to meet his real attacker. The darkly clad figure flourished two kemsticks at him. Wynn tried to meet each strike, but they were so fast. He wondered how the boy had masked his presence so well.

  Wynn began to lose ground in the fight and pushed out with his mind against the boy. Kale sailed backward through the air, somersaulted then landed on his feet again. The boy linked the ends of his kemsticks together, forming a staff with adomen rods on both ends.

  Kale sent the staff spinning at Wynn’s head. He ducked below as it passed over his head, thrusting the tip of his blade through the linked hilts. The weapon came apart and spun off to the ground. Wynn turned back to find Kale gone.

  With a knowing smile, he walked back into his house. He was amazed by the young man’s ability to disguise his presence and trick his senses so effectively. The King’s heir was growing up. I think the trials tomorrow will be very interesting indeed.

  ☼

  When Mirah had prepared the morning meal, she called for Tiet. Then she walked to their son’s room. The door opened. Beyond, in the large room that contained a bed, some personal effects and room enough for personal training, sat her thirteen year old son polishing his personal set of kemsticks. He didn’t look up as she came in.

  “Good morning, Mother.”

  “Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

  “In a minute…I have to finish prepping for the trials.”

  “Today’s the day. Are you excited?”

  He looked back, smiling at her. “I hope Father’s eating a big breakfast. He’s going to need it today.”

  “I think your father has been ready for this day since the day you were born.”

  “He won’t go easy on me, will he?”

  “He loves you too much.”

  He smiled again. “Good. I want to earn this.”

  Mirah turned and walked back to the dining room, leaving Kale to finish his preparations. This day was the biggest day in a young Barudii warrior’s life. The trials confirmed one as a man and a warrior, worthy to fight in real combat if necessary.

  Kale had eagerly awaited the coming of his thirteenth birthday for several years now, training side by side with his father and Wynn Gareth. Though they were the only three Barudii known to be living, the tradition of training and trials to manhood continued.

  Kale was required in the trials to fight a group of elder warriors. Since Wynn and his father were the only ones available they would be the ones to test him. According to the archive files, very few of the young warriors facing the test ever defeated the elders that tested them. Kale had no such expectation. He planned to surprise his elders today.

  ☼

  Commander Zurig looked at himself in the mirrored door of the lift as he ascended to his private meeting with the Vice Commander of the Armed Services, Estall of the Aolene clan. He opened his mouth, examining the inner lining which shifted tones quickly to pink flesh from a greenish hue. His eyes flared before settling to the appearance of the man Zurig had once
been when he was still completely human—that had not been so long ago.

  The lift stopped at the appropriate floor of the auspicious Gladstone tower where the Vice Commander had his residence. Zurig was one of the few men able to gain such a meeting with Estall and that was very important. It was exactly the reason Lucin had chosen to use this host for the task. He had told Estall that the meeting was necessary because of dissension that was building within the Council of Twelve and the Vorn constituents under them concerning Tiet’s rule as King.

  And while there truly was dissension building among the council members, Lucin knew exactly what forces were at work instigating the trouble. Now it was necessary to add another piece of the puzzle for gaining the power he wanted. Everything was going according to his plan.

  He walked out of the lift and found the door to Estall’s quarters on the twentieth floor of the tower. Two guards stood at the entrance, but they quickly stepped aside when they recognized Zurig. After all, he was their commanding officer. One of them entered the proper code and the foyer door slid open, allowing him to enter. The door beyond was partially made of glass. Estall answered it personally. He motioned for Zurig to come inside, greeting him in civilian attire.

  “How are you doing, my friend?”

  “Well, as you know, things are disturbing of late,” Zurig said.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I fear things may turn worse than we’ve expected. The council members have all been challenging the King’s decisions regarding the rule of the Vorn. The rift between the Castillian and Vorn populations has grown as well. The word on the street among Vorn civilians is that they should have someone from among their own race ruling over them.”

  Estall listened, his expression grim.

  “I don’t know how long it will be before the council makes an open move to disassociate themselves from Tiet’s leadership and elect their own.”

  “It still doesn’t seem hopeless to me,” said Estall. “The Vorn warriors within the military are still loyal to the king. That has to have a positive influence on the whole situation.”

  “I’m not sure that will do it. You may be a bit detached from the men as the Vice Commander. My own observations have been more telling. Behind closed doors, many of the Vorn warriors are changing their views about Tiet, probably due to their civilian loved ones and loyalty to the Vorn council.”

  “I had no idea it had gotten so far, even among my warriors. What can we do, Zurig?”

  “Perhaps we can maintain some control over the situation if Tiet could be persuaded to make some of the concessions the council has been asking him for.”

  “He’ll never give in to those demands!” said Estall. “Frankly, they’re ridiculous.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but if he doesn’t compromise with them we could be looking at best at a break between our races again and at worst a civil war.”

  “Do you really think they would take it that far?”

  “If they feel as strongly about the issues as they’re presenting to the public then who knows what they’ll do,” said Zurig.

  “They’ve already created a rift between themselves and the Horva—all the Horva took their families and settled back near Nagon-Toth because of it. It’s just racial hatred, pure and simple. There was never a good reason for it. The Horva made peace with us and they would never attack us.”

  “That may be so, but the Vorn still perceive a threat and they’re acting on their beliefs, right or wrong,” said Zurig. “And with Tiet unwilling to break his affiliations with Grod and the Horva, what else can we expect?”

  Estall remained grim as he got up. “Excuse me a moment.”

  He went to the restroom down the hall, leaving Zurig there on the sofa. But he did not remain there. When Estall opened the door again, Zurig was there glaring at him. Before he could ask the man what he wanted, Zurig’s hand smashed into his face.

  He proceeded to push Estall back into the restroom. The door shut behind him. His hand covered Estall’s mouth, shoving his head back into the mirror on the wall, shattering the glass into a web of fractures. Zurig’s hand then proceeded to morph and push further into his throat. Estall struggled but his old friend had overwhelming strength to subdue him. A lack of oxygen soon claimed him as consciousness faded and everything went black.

  ☼

  The intercom on Daooth’s shuttle came to life with an incoming message. He tapped the panel. A video image of Ultis Thau, the council delegate for the city of Onnith, appeared on the panel.

  “Daooth, we are convening an emergency session of the council in two hours. Your presence is required.”

  Daooth wore a look of disapproval on is face. “Councilman, I have a previous meeting that I must attend during that time, is there any way that I could be excused and briefed later?”

  “No. I would remind you that as a representative of the council your first duty is to us—”

  “I was under the impression I dwelt under the authority of the King first and foremost, as does the council,” he interrupted.

  “Your duty should be to your people first!” Ultis shot back. “As for the King’s authority over this council, that is questionable at best. You will report to the council chambers in two hours.”

  “I’m sorry, Councilman, your transmission is breaking up…”

  “Daooth, we—” Daooth cut the transmission. He still did not understand the radical change of view spreading through the Council of Twelve toward Tiet’s rule. Gradually, more and more council members had come to view the Horva under Grod’s command as a threat.

  There had been no reason at all for the change of mind. It had come about mysteriously. Once the council had subscribed to it, the civilian population of the Vorn began to be swayed by the sentiment as well. Having been unwilling to sever the peace between himself and the Horva, Tiet was quickly branded as a traitor to the Vorn. His leadership had become the target of constant scrutiny of late. It didn’t take much insight to see that the council would soon move to remove Tiet’s title as their king. The threat of civil war was floating around.

  In his own mind, he believed Tiet was right to hold fast to the peace. Grod, whatever he may have been before the Baruk war, was certainly no threat to the Vorn now. Strangely, he had actually taken the whole situation quite well, though he insisted his warriors to return to their lands near Nagon-Toth rather than stir the pot of conflict. Many of these warriors, including Grod, had taken wives from among the Vorn and had started families in the time after the war. When the Horva had pulled out, they had taken their families with them and had not made any effort to reintegrate back into society.

  Castillian and Vorn relations had certainly suffered because of the situation. The Vorn generally followed the council and the Castillians unanimously held Tiet’s position of reconciliation. The situation was growing more volatile by the day.

  Daooth’s shuttle careened around an outcropping of rocks. The fortress of Nagon-Toth came into view. Grod had agreed to provide a place for the trials to be held today. It was hard to believe thirteen years had already passed since the birth of Tiet and Mirah’s son.

  Kale was certainly proving to be a child to be proud of, following in his father’s footsteps. It would be nice to one day see the young man lead—if there remained a people to be led.

  He landed the shuttle on a landing pad at Nagon-Toth. Upon exiting, Daooth was greeted by General Grod himself.

  “General, how are you?”

  “I’m well, my friend, and you?”

  “Things have been better.”

  “Ah, the council still vilifies us—as usual?”

  Daooth could only offer him a half-hearted smile.

  “Don’t worry, Daooth, we’ll manage to get through all of this. I’ve seen Tiet handle more dangerous situations.”

  “Yes, but public opinion can be a sly enemy to defeat.”

  “True. Anyway, today is a happy day. Let’s try to put those matters awa
y for the time being and enjoy it for the family’s sake.”

  They walked on toward the site chosen for the trial of Kale Soone, which lay beyond the perimeter wall of the fortress. The area was a nearby crater site which allowed those assembled as spectators to line the rim for a fantastic view of the action a hundred feet below in the hollow.

  Tiet and Wynn were standing at one end where they prepared for their fight against Kale, who remained at the opposite end of the crater floor. Between them were large boulders that had collapsed out of the crater wall and remained where they had fallen.

  ☼

  Kale felt very confident. He sensed his father and Wynn at the opposite end of the crater talking with one another. He sensed their awareness of him as well. He did not perform any physical exercises to prepare, but his mind was alive with activity, taking in every inch of the battlefield available to him, even the weather above.

  This was of particular interest to Kale at the moment. He looked up to the overcast sky—the prelude to a coming storm. No matter the rain, if it came, they would not stop the trials. One must be ready for any situation and use every opportunity afforded by it. Wynn had mentioned that to him on many occasions and Kale had been a good student.

  Kale watched the dark clouds hanging low overhead as heat lightening flashed through them. Excellent, he thought as he pulled two of his four kemsticks to his hands. Then he began to walk across the crater floor toward his adversaries.