Blade of the Lucan: A Memory of Anstractor (10 page)

“Yes, your big Deijen friend is in the prison under the city and I am working on a way to get him out,” Marika said.

“Oh thank the makers for a friend like you, Marika Tsuno,” Marian said as she climbed. “I am way out in the sticks, off the Felitian grid, so coming back to rescue them would have been a bit of a stretch for me.”

“That and you would have your hands full getting in there to try it,” Marika said.

“What do you mean?” asked Marian.

“I mean that they run a pretty tight ship inside of that station, and though I never got a chance to check out the prison network, I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t littered in recorder holos and guards. This is going to take a true professional to get them out, Marian. It is above your station, if you know what I mean. I’m going to have to blow some things up and murder troopers to get inside of there. What I will need you to do is to get us a transport for the escape, once I have them outside the walls of the city.”

“I’ll get it done,” Marian said evenly.

“That I know for a fact you will,” Marika said. “You’re no assassin but you’re a great Phaser, and above all else, you’re reliable.”

I
was foolish to have come back without him
, Marian thought as she stood at the edge of the mountain, staring down at the ruins of a temple that sat on an island in the middle of a secluded lake. Had she not climbed up the way she had to gain the apex, she would have easily missed it. The structure was several hundred feet below where she stood and what bordered the lake was a thick jungle, untamed, and endless from what she could see.

Marian coughed. The cold air and lack of a good night’s sleep made her body struggle. She felt as if she was getting sick, but she was not going to let that slow her down. She lay in the grass and put the scope of the rifle to her eye. She used it to scan the ancient, stone building but there was no movement to indicate that anybody still lived there.

She scanned the tiny island on which it stood, and noticed that it had grass and weeds that grew liberally where they could. There were no traces of a broken path where feet would have stepped, or tools near the water where they would have fished for survival.

I wonder if the Mera Ku monks had the means to communicate with the resistance from that temple,
she thought.
Of course they did; Rafian had practically lived there. Though the drop was lethal if she tried to descend, it was worth investigating in order to make contact with the resistance
.

She took out one of the crystals, taped it to a large stone, then got to her feet and gauged the distance. She took a step and heaved it over the edge, and after a pause and the holding of her breath, she cheered as the stone fell in the grass near the temple. Again, she got to the scope and scanned the area to see if anything or anyone had noticed the stone.

When nothing happened after a couple minutes of watching, Marian used another crystal to open up a portal. She stepped through the torn reality to emerge on the island where the crystal rock had dropped. The hairs on her arms stood up and a deep chill caused her to shiver as she observed the ancient building in front of her.

There were two large statues bordering the door, facing one another in fighting poses. The one on the right reminded her of Rafian: he was in robes and seemed calm as he held the hilt of a sword at his waist. His opponent—on the left side of the door—was more aggressive and he was unarmed, with balled up fists.

She could tell that, for a long time, the temple had been taken care of, but now it was old, mildewed and quickly becoming a part of the grassy island’s landscape. She summoned her strength, pulled out her knife, and ascended the stairs that ran between the warrior’s legs. When she got inside, she expected it to be pitch black, but the holes in the damaged ceiling brought in beams of light that illuminated an empty room with a spiral staircase leading down. Marian shouldered her bag and moved her hand to the hilt of her blade as she descended the dark, musty staircase.

When the stairs leveled out there was a large, circular room whose floor—or lack thereof—dropped off into darkness. There was light here on the tall walls, stacked torches that seemed to require no fuel or power source. Marian’s heart went to her throat as she gripped the wall near the staircase. If she were to step too far to the left or right, she would plummet to her death. Or something worse.

She saw that the platform was the only surface in the room. It stretched out toward the center like an arm, then stopped and became a large circular platform bordered on all sides by decorative stone chairs. She stared at the platform and tried to imagine her husband sitting on one of the chairs, discussing the politics of their world with other powerful monks.

Cautiously, she walked across the stone bridge, staying as close to the center as she could, dropping a crystal just in case, and keeping another between the fingers of her left hand. The platform was only about six feet in width and when she reached the center she inhaled loudly, happy that it hadn’t thrown her off or crumbled beneath her feet.

When she reached the center, a noise from above her startled her even more. The ceiling of the temple began to spin and a number of motors began making noises around her. Suddenly, a spotlight illuminated the chairs and a beam of light shone upon where she stood.

“So, you guys would come in here as a group, sit on those chairs, and your leader would stand in the center and talk,” she said. “Was my Raf the leader?”

She walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. The stone chair felt like heaven to her backside and she closed her eyes and soaked it all in. The motors grew silent and the light dimmed, and suddenly there were words in her head, words that sounded like Rafian’s but spoken in Tyheran.

I have received word that our beloved order is corrupt... not one, but two supposed vipers have been let in and I assume this is the cause for our inactivity. After talking with a close friend within, I was told that one of the accused is a person I myself had brought in. The thought of it makes me sick, and as I sit here making this recording, I am almost assured that they are incorrect in this assumption.

There is also talk of a supposed “dark one” within our order, secretly manipulating members with threats and spies. It makes me laugh, partly because I cannot fathom anyone of that importance. This should make things interesting for those who want drama, but I’ve decided to stay out of it all. I am just disturbed that someone I brought in could be a snake. 

Another issue that has surfaced is that of jealousy and hate for my new wife. A beautiful woman like Rienne will always have admirers. Even the ghosts of her past return to haunt her with taunts and threats. For me, it hasn't been much different. After telling Iharia about my wife, she revealed to me that she had always loved me. She sounded as if she was merely teasing me but she assured me that it was genuine. How sad, she was quite an impressive monk and first student … our time together (sigh) better I let it be. If only I had known her true feelings. 

I think back to an earlier conversation that I had with Iharia about the old order. She feared them back then, and hid herself away when they called her. “Not all actions deemed as necessary are good, Iharia,” I had said. “So I understand why you hid: the old order blinded itself with strict rules that were built out of fear.”

The image of a beautiful, young Ranalos girl appeared in Marian’s mind as the words faded, accompanied by a deep feeling of sadness.
She jumped
, Marian thought as she stood up from the mysterious chair.
She jumped to her death when Rafian told her about me. And how was I able to hear his comm-link?
she wondered.
It has been ages since he was here
. She looked down at the chair and saw that lights were now dancing along its stony surface.
Everything here is unnatural
, she thought.
I won’t be sitting there again
.

She found it difficult to fathom how Rafian had kept such a tragic and heartbreaking event from her back when they were living in Cally. He had always seemed so happy and sweet to her. She felt as if she didn’t know her husband. She knew that he did love her, but felt that he didn’t trust her enough to share his real self with her. Then there was his need to be with women other than herself. Most times their love felt predestined, like one of those romances in the vids, but then he would pollute it, and remind her that he had slept with every woman in the Anstractor galaxy.

There was a knot in her throat as she thought about Iharia, and how she valued her life so little that she didn’t want to live without the love of her master.

“You will never drive me to suicide, Rafian, that I can promise you,” she whispered.

As she made to exit the strange meeting room, she noticed that there was a panel on the side of the chair nearest to the stairs. She marched over to it and touched it and a loud noise brought her to attention. She looked around, expecting to see troopers running down the stairs, but was only greeted with silence.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then the platform began to vibrate and stairs grew on the side, leading down into the blackness. As the stairs appeared, more torches turned on to light the way. Marian threw caution to the wind and began to descend them. After a few minutes of this mysterious descent, she found herself inside an enormous arena bordered on all sides by tall, stone statues.

There were old bones on the ground, and on the walls were murals of robed men and women performing different forms of martial arts.

“You trained here, didn’t you, Raf?” she said out loud as she walked around the arena, taking in the layout of it all. “This seems like the sort of place that secretive monk orders like your Mera Ku would send its new recruits. Here you would have to fight for the glory of becoming one of them, reaping the powerful benefits. How many men did you have to kill, husband?” she whispered into the air, but she knew that Rafian would never tell her.

“You trained your beloved Iharia, made her into a weapon, then broke her heart when you told her about me,” she whispered. “Spirit of Iharia, I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know about the Mera Ku, about you, about my husband’s powers …”

Powers, powers, what sort of powers did a ritual in this scary place grant its members?
she wondered. Mera Ku monks had a mystic meditation that they used to heal and punish in equal measure. She didn’t know much about them, other than the tiny hints that Rafian would drop whenever they spoke about it. The monks were secretive, dangerous, and of a limited number; that she knew.
I wonder if there are any left,
she thought.

A slight breeze touched Marian on the back of her neck and she spun with her knife ready as her backpack fell to the floor. There was no one there and the only sound came from the echo that the bag made when it hit the ground. She was annoyed and perplexed by the entire thing so she quickly picked up the bag and dusted it off.

“Okay, I am in a ruined temple that has a lot of mystic power. Wait, no. I am in a ruined temple with a spirit or two that probably hates me,” she said, and then sighed before running up the stairs to the platform. “Nothing happens without a reason, and the chairs seem to tap into messages from the past. Phaser up, Rhee; you need to find out more,” she said, then sat down in the chair that held the control panel.

She was seated for a while before she reached down and touched the panel to bring the stairs back up. When they were all raised and the place was silent, she felt her mind drifting once again and in came Rafian’s voice, low, dark, and sad.

Lucci is dead; the brothers that I bled with for these last two years are all dead. All that I have left is Mera Ku. I want to stop coming to the temple; it isn’t the same without Lucci. This path is such a lonely one, I thought that marriage and the success we’ve had as a resistance would make things easier, but alas—.

Marian stood up and collected her things. She didn’t know why she was able to hear her husband’s old recordings within the temple, but she didn’t like it. The entire thing felt like eavesdropping, and there was nothing to learn from it other than pain. To be honest, it was just too much, too much of him, and she was still not ready to remember him the way she did when she had fallen in love with him.

She ascended the staircase to the top floor and as she made to exit, she noticed that there was a door that she hadn’t seen before. She pressed it and it slid open, leaving a cloud of thick dust that forced her to hold her breath.  She stepped inside and torches similar to the ones she saw downstairs illuminated a sort of library. There were many desks with wooden chairs and walls lined with books, scrolls, and holo-recorder chips. She almost jumped with joy when she saw lights dancing on the equipment, for it meant that they were functional and it was what she needed to call for help.

~ * ~

Marian dusted off the equipment, then sat down in front of one of the recorders and turned it on. The planets of the Lucan galaxy appeared above the platform in brilliant, holographic detail, and she used her hand to rotate them, smiling with nostalgia. She touched the planet Lochte and it grew in size until it was the only orb floating in front of her. She looked at the dark yellow surface and the algae in the atmosphere which made the planet appear a muted orange from a distance. On the planet’s surface blinked a number of lights and when she touched one, the hologram shuddered as if experiencing interference and a low voice asked her to speak the password.

Oh no, Marian thought, and then sat for a minute, trying to figure out what the password would be. She thought of Rafian and the things he would do and say that were of the Mera Ku. Nothing came to mind and she stood there panicking, expecting that at any moment an alarm would blare out and the temple would begin its self-destruct sequence.

“FOR THE ALLIANCE!” she blurted out suddenly, remembering the words Rafian had used so often when he was with his resistance fighters. A dark cowl that hid the details of an aged face appeared above the platform and the old, cracked lips moved up and down, then words, deep and frightening, echoed into her head.

“WHO … ARE … YOU?” it asked, and Marian didn’t know what would be an appropriate answer. She thought about using Rafian’s name: it would be in the Mera Ku and the resistance database. But what if it was some sort of ancient trick, made to catch liars who would steal a monk’s identity?

She froze, her eyes large and frightened as she looked at the dark figure’s face. It’s a Mera Ku thing, she thought; it will require a Mera Ku answer. If it was on Anstractor and within the Phaser Academy, the appropriate answer would have been “a person, I am a person,” but Mera Ku monks delighted in being invisible.