Eternal Horizon: The Chronicle of Vincent Saturn (Eternal Horizon: A Star Saga Book 1) (32 page)

“Sure, change the subject. Well, all right then,
caveman
, let’s go.”

It was close to midnight when they left the mess hall, yet the planet was alive. The Urtans tried to savor every minute of their brief freedom.

“Is Exander ever going to trust me?” Vincent asked. “Or is he always like that?”

“He will, Vincent, in time,” Spaide replied. “Believe me, his attitude is outta control lately. Duell’s frustrated with him. But in many ways, he’s the most advanced Tel Kasar for his age, so he’s a bit arrogant.”

“A bit?”

“Well,
extremely
arrogant.”

“I just don’t understand why he’s still mad at me. I thought we already figured out I’m not the bad guy.”

“Granted, but now that Duell told him of the plans he has for you, he’s outraged.”

“What plans?”

“Duell wants to see you in the
mornin
.’”

“For what?”

“To begin your
trainin
’, of course. Exander gravely disapproved, but Duell believes in you.”

“Do you think it’s necessary?”

“If you want to survive, yes.”

They reached Vincent’s room. He stopped by the door and turned around, sulking. “I don’t know if I can control all of these… powers,” he said.

“Yes, you can.” Spaide looked him directly in the eyes. “Don’t ever tell yourself that you can’t accomplish somethin’. And you listen to Duell… he’s wise—even wiser than Oryon was, although he’d never admit it. Now, you get some rest, and I’ll get a hold of you in the
mornin
’.”

Without giving Vincent a chance to reply, Spaide whirled around and left.

Vincent sat down on the bed, staring at the moons and enjoying the cold wind that filled the room, destroying the ample folds on the curtains. Even at that moment, he expected to wake up. He closed his eyes and inhaled, taking in the clean air. The implication of Gaia liking him was still running through his head.
But I don’t belong here…
he thought.
What am I thinking? It’s probably another one of Spaide’s stupid jokes…

He then looked in the corner and noticed the small robot.

“Oh, well,” he said, getting up and reaching for the mechanical glove, “let’s learn about our new world.”

*

The two brothers were on the balcony atop the tower.

“Exander,” Damocles said. “Tell me, what’s on your mind?”

What’s on your mind?
Exander thought. Sometimes Damocles asked very ridiculous questions. “I want to get out of here!” he shouted. “Off this godforsaken planet and get him!
Kill him!
”

“Relax, brother…”

“How can you relax?” Exander faced Damocles. “After what we’ve found out? He killed her!
He killed our mother, Damocles!
”

Damocles looked down and said, “You’ve heard Duell… she couldn’t even speak—”

“
Don’t you dare defend him!
” Exander pointed his finger in the big man’s face. He then turned away to stare at the busy plaza and added, “The very second I become a Sage, I’m leaving…”

“Leaving? Where to?”

“To Xenon.”

Damocles nodded, realizing his brother was inconsolable. “Come,” he pulled him by the arm. “We must get some rest, for it’s getting late.”

“You go ahead.” Exander cooled down. “I’ll come in a minute. I just need some time to be alone.”

Damocles sighed and walked away, leaving Exander to his preferred solitude.

The Tutelage of Duell Kammasiarra

Vincent was inside a hall filled with red-skinned aliens that had sharp, pointy ears and dark blue hair. Some of them stood at the doorway, shooting at the incoming enemy with lead-firing, Earth-like weapons. The women and children were huddled in one corner, their cries intermixing with the gunfire and the agony of the dying that lay scattered on the floor amid puddles of blood

Where am I?

He stepped closer to the entrance and glanced outside. The entire city was ablaze to the point that it was impossible to distinguish land from sky. Where there once were buildings, now stood minarets of fire. Waves of Xenian soldiers scoured the city, chasing down and executing the helpless red aliens. Dozens of warships hovered overhead, hurling rockets into the structures. More bodies, by the thousands, were strewn throughout the rubble.

Vincent felt a lump form in his throat as he witnessed this unspeakable violence.

Not so far away, he saw a family of three running down an alley with soldiers in pursuit. The soldiers opened fire. The man fell to his knees, screaming to his wife and child to continue. They shot again, killing him, and persisted after the others.

He reached to his side and—much to his surprise—felt a hilt of a sword. He looked down and saw the shining blade of the Tel Kasar. Not giving it a second thought, he leapt ahead. An explosion wobbled the foundation, nearly knocking him off his feet, and a young man beside him collapsed with shrapnel in his head.

He continued forth, exiting the building and making it to the alley within seconds while dodging the multitude of blasts.

The Tel Kasar power…
I feel it…

The soldiers had the woman cornered. She clutched the child in her arms as one of them raised the rifle to her head.

Vincent jumped forth and slashed through the soldier before safely landing on his feet. He then ducked and stabbed the second.

“But sir—” the third said in confusion as Vincent plunged through him as well.

Vincent sheathed the bloody sword and extended his hand to the victim. “It’s okay.”

The woman withdrew, terrified.

“I won’t hurt you,” he assured, crouching down.

But it was to no use; she continued staring at him in horror.

He sighed and rose up. And then something caught his eye: his own reflection in the window of a nearby building. He swallowed hard and approached the glass. He was not human—a Xenian man with long black hair stared back at him.

“Who are you?” Vincent asked, and then looked at his bizarre apparel and at the surroundings.

Where
…

“But, then…
who
am I…?”

*

Vincent woke up out of the blue. He’d no idea what time it was or how long he’d been asleep, but it appeared to be past dawn by seeing the suns of Urtan begin their ascension on this beautiful world.

He looked up at the round crystal on the wall, which was a clock of sorts but with way more than a dozen symbols on its face.

“Good luck with that, caveman,” he muttered. He then threw off the blanket and sat up.

As he was regaining his senses, there was a loud knock on the door, and—before he could consent the guest—Spaide barged in, holding a bag and a plastic container.

“Good
mornin
’,” the Dirsalian said. “Sleep well?”

“Well, I—”

“That’s good,” Spaide continued, pulling out the contents of the bag. “Here’re some fresh clothes, a pair of shoes, and breakfast. Get cleaned up, eat, and meet Duell in the pavilion behind the west portion of the castle.”

“That’s great… thanks, but—”

“We’ve a long day ahead of us. I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be at the airstrip not too far away. We’ll catch up at lunch.” Spaide left Vincent without any explanation and stormed out.

Vincent yawned, got up, and proceeded to take a long shower, standing under the running water deep in thought.
What am I going to do?
He was lucky he didn’t get killed on the
Nomad
, but from the sound of it, he was surely going to die here.
I am not… not a warrior…
One thing was obvious: Duell brought him here to die. He began laughing at the idea.
If only Alex could see me now…

He found it convenient that the soap, toothpaste, and the rest of the toiletries were identical to ours. The towels were soft, made of a peculiar fabric that instantly absorbed the moisture. He then noticed his stubbly face in the mirror; he needed to shave. He started searching for any device similar to a razor but then gave up, remembering that the Urtans didn’t have any hair.

The silk clothes were identical to a Kung-Fu uniform and hung freely over his body. Spaide also brought him a pair of soft boots with split-toe soles.

The breakfast tray contained something that resembled a mixture of eggs and potatoes with oatmeal-type bread, some vegetables and a bizarre fruit juice.

Vincent quietly ate the food and exited the room.

Much to his surprise, the castle was very calm. He must’ve been one of the few who awoke at this early hour, probably because most of the Urtans didn’t rest the previous night and had just gone to bed. He walked (or rather, wafted because of his new gear) down the marble stairs to the main gallery and headed to the other end. Several Urtan soldiers passed by and bowed before him. He returned the custom, thinking of the utmost respect Urtans showed to off-world strangers. It seemed that evolution took a big leap on this planet, for instead of being carnivorous, aggressive reptiles, the Urtans were humble creatures and—on top of all things—vegans.

He found the exit and stepped outside.

A trail between trimmed hedges led him to a big hexagonal gazebo made of cherry-colored wood. It was located in the middle of the royal garden, its elevated position providing a view of the magnificent sea of plants.

Vincent ascended the steps and set foot on the padded floor of the pavilion. Duell stood akimbo in the middle, his back turned. He wore a white sleeveless jacket and a
hakama
skirt—similar to those of the Samurai. Not so far from him was a wooden chest.

“Did you rest?” the Xenian asked.

“I’m all right,” Vincent replied. “I stayed up mostly, toying around with the encyclopedia robot and learning the history of Pantegonia.”

“I see…” Duell turned around. “Your mind’s expanding.”

“I’ve never felt like that before… like I
want
to learn everything.”

“The endless desire to learn. That’s the secret to the brainpower of the Warrior Sage.”

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’ve also been having these terrible dreams,” he said.

“What kind of dreams?” Duell asked, his serious face showing signs of interest.

“Nightmares in which I’m a Xenian man… visions of war.”

“Those are memories, Vincent,” Duell said with a sigh. “Oryon’s memories.”

Vincent gulped. “What…?”

“Oryon had a dark past. He was one of the men who helped the Xenians conquer most of the galaxy. During those years, he had witnessed and committed horrible things, things that he could never forget…” Duell paused. “He swore that he will redeem himself of his sins and undo the horrors he unleashed on this world… I guess the task remained unfinished.”

“If I only knew what they mean… or what he’s trying to tell me…”

“I would say that he wants you to realize you have the power to succeed where he has failed. That it is up to you to undo the horrors I spoke of.”

“But how?”

“You must accept this power. Don’t fight it.” Duell began circling around Vincent. “If you keep vacillating, you’ll only confuse yourself.”

“I just…” Vincent raised a hand to his forehead. “I don’t understand…”

“He’s trying to tell you something—something you don’t want to believe.” Duell sighed. “We don’t have much time, but still, I’ll teach you what I can.”

“I’m not ready…” Vincent wavered, swiveling in place to follow the Xenian. “It’s too much.”

“Oh, is it? Will you fight to live, Vincent Saturn? You’ve been bestowed with a power far greater than you can possibly imagine, yet you falter! Why, Vincent, why? Did you not finally realize this isn’t a dream? Do you think the Order will spare your life when they get here? Or are you under the impression that the Republic will help you find your way
home
?”

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“You have no choice!” With those words, Duell kicked Vincent in the left ankle, sweeping him off his feet.

Vincent looked up at the Xenian with hurt and surprise.

Duell smiled wryly, looking down. “Get up and hit me.”

“Are you serious?”

The Xenian’s smile turned into a line. “Yes, I am,” he said and hid his hands behind his back.

Without getting up, Vincent lunged at the Xenian’s feet in hopes of tackling him.

Duell moved out of the way, and Vincent embraced the mat.

“Is it so hard?” Duell taunted.

“Damn,” Vincent fussed. He got up, jumped in place several times, stretched, and got into a fighting posture: left fist forth, the other under his chin. “I know martial arts myself,” he said.

“Good. Come on, then.”

Vincent stepped forward, swinging a hook with his left, barely missing the Xenian, and then threw a massive right, but the latter jumped away laughing. Taking the opportunity, Vincent swept around with a roundhouse kick.

Duell grabbed Vincent’s ankle and twisted him down to the ground.

“Okay… you got me,” Vincent said, catching his breath.

“That’s it? On
one
try? Get up and
hit
me.”

“Ugh…” Vincent got up, bowed to the Xenian, and retained his stance. “Okay.” He began approaching by taking little sidesteps.

Duell remained motionless.

Vincent threw a jab with his right hand, but Duell leaned to the left. He then came back with a left, yet the Xenian managed to dodge the punch and ended up behind him. Vincent spun in hopes of striking Duell with the back of his fist, but the Xenian ducked. He then tried to kick him on the side of the knee but missed again, and Duell pushed him lightly.

Vincent fell down once more. He slammed his fist on the floor. “Dammit!”

“Do it again,” Duell said severely.

Vincent attempted to punch the Xenian, kick him, or even graze him, but failed every time—Duell was obviously toying with him.

“You’re too… fast… I can’t do it… okay?” Vincent said after about a dozen tries, panting.

“Giving up so easily, are we?” Duell chuckled. “Well, let’s lower my odds.” He waved his hand, the chest in the corner opened up, and a wooden sword flew towards Vincent.

Vincent caught the stick.

“Now, you’re armed,” the Xenian said.

“Come on…” Vincent hesitated.

“Strike me!” Duell yelled out, once more placing his arms behind his back.