Of Heroes And Villains (Book 4) (4 page)

“That’s impossible,” James shook his head. “Five years?”

“A new type of Quietus?”

“If so, that means someone has discovered a way to copy some of Thorn’s experiments, which is highly unlikely. We torched everything. Arimus and I saw to it ourselves. No one else was with us that day, and we would have noticed.”

“You didn’t save any of the information?”

“Nothing.” James turned back to the group, eagerly awaiting answers. “I don’t know what to say. I will check it out personally though. That’s a promise.”

“Until then,” Catherine said, turning to Talia, “make sure you provide them with warmth, food, and care. Also, when they’re ready, take down a detailed account of what transpired. I would like to think more on this.”

Talia bowed and ushered the group to the door below on the right of the platform, where the quarters and guest rooms were held. Catherine and James waited until they were gone before they rose from their throne chairs. James stretched and yawned again, receiving another punch to his arm.

“Stop it, you’re making me tired,” Catherine yawned through a laugh.

“You should get some sleep then.”

“And you’re not?”

“I have a job to do,” he said solemnly. “Unfortunately, I can’t take you with me.”

“Yeah, right,” she smiled warmly at him. “Like you would if I had no responsibilities. I can imagine it now. You would be whining all night about how dangerous it was, and how lost you would be if something ever happened to me.”

“It’s more than danger. Sometimes the missions you send me on...I tell you, they keep me up at night. Like the one where I had to investigate the Langoran sewage system because they thought some stray Reds were hanging around.”

“Well, we both suffered from that one. The smell—it haunts me.”

“Which is why,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, “I must steal my kisses before I go. You know, take advantage of you
before
I go on my missions.”

“You can stop your lies right now,” she laughed. “You know full well that I
let you
take advantage of me. You may be the strongest warrior in the known world, but not when it comes to our private quarters.”

“I’ll accept that challenge,” he said, with a grin.

“Well then, Sage,” Catherine whispered. “Let me see what you can do.”

*              *              *

Bastion loved the rooftops of the village. They were easily accessible since all of the houses and shops were small, and the roofs themselves were flat and smooth. Everything was polished and refined—the product of a fire that the Prattlian, Alexander, had caused at the end of the Stone Era.

Bastion turned the page of his shiny, dictionary sized book:
The History of the Stone Era.
It was a beautiful and very informative tome that was given to every prospective student of the Sage Academy. The moment it was delivered on his doorstep by a courier, he had hid it under his bed, and he only read it when he was sure that both his mother and father were asleep. He assumed that his mother had received a copy as well, but who knew where that was. She might have burned it, leaving no evidence for his father to find. With that thought in mind, he wondered if she would attend the Sage Academy after their last conversation. Would she consider making a change, and pursue what she really wanted? It was hard to say.

Bastion took a deep breath of the night air, taking in the aromas of dinners being assembled and desserts being baked all across Allay. The insects were already warming up their instruments, and there was a soothing stillness in the air that eased his mind. The Sage Academy would open in only a few short days, so he saw no reason to hang around home. He would enjoy much rather read his book under the light of his eidolon, while listening to the sounds of the Kingdom he would one day protect.

He had left a note for his father before he left, scrawled out in the best penmanship he could manage, but he was sure his mother destroyed it once he left. He had told the truth. He had said that he was a Sage now, since he had released his eidolon, and most important of all, he hoped that he wouldn’t be shunned because of it. He promised to go home and visit on breaks, if they would have him. That was unlikely to happen, but he had done his duty nevertheless. He felt at peace, and it was a strange sensation. One that he was more than happy to learn more about.

He turned back to the previous page, realizing he had been reading, but not truly paying attention. Once more he scanned the text. He had already read about Lakrymos and the Sages of Old—those who had been fighting during the Siege of 88, when the Quietus had decimated their Kingdom. Of course, it was only later that Allay found out their enemies had been controlled, and forced to do it. The Quietus couldn’t be blamed entirely. Still, it was a mixed blessing that the Quietus had been destroyed in the end. Even though Allay hadn’t seen one in years, he still heard the worries of the people. There were more Sages than ever before, but deep down, they were very afraid.

Bastion scanned the text, skimming what he had already read a couple times already. He read of the Sentinel Academy, and how it was designed to find Sages, not turn its students into soldiers. He read in awe as Princess Catherine, Master James, Master Arimus and a few others, went on the journey for the five stones of power: the only instruments that could stop the green ether in the sky.

Bastion looked up from his book and stared up at the stars. They were once a hazy, dim glow, but now they shined as if they sought attention. He looked back down at the pages. The Princess and her seven Sages fought hard for the stones, but then they met Thorn, King of Zen-Echelon. It was through him they learned the truth—that he was the true enemy, and that the ether above was his doing. They learned that the ether trapped their souls when they died, and his plan was to eventually build an army—to one day fight against the Maker. He claimed to have already subdued the Dark One, but there was no evidence that that was true. Only that he had indeed kept souls in his grasp. Thorn was close to victory, but Master James and Master Arimus then made a discovery—the stones of power did not grant special abilities respectively. The stones were, in fact, all the same. Therefore, Thorn was not as powerful as they once thought. Just crafty.

With their newfound knowledge intact, they were able to defeat the King, but not without sustaining heavy losses of their own. Many villagers were killed from each of the Kingdoms, the Quietus were entirely annihilated, and even the Sages of the Today went down from seven to two.

Bastion sucked his teeth. They were said to be legendary, just like the Sages of Old, but he didn’t see it. Not after close examination. Chloe was undoubtedly the strongest among them, yet she held back too much of her power. He understood the need for restraint more than anyone, but if the situation was really that dire, wouldn’t she have let go of her inhibitions, just once? After all, the world was at stake. Instead, she died believing in the word of their enemy. Ridiculous.

Scarlet had too much of a vendetta. She was too worried about vengeance than the mission at hand. Another one that didn’t prioritize. The same with Dominic. He was the worst of all. To hold back your power was one thing. Turning against the very people you were working with was another. Did he really think Thorn was going to give him his heart’s desire? Achan died because he was careless. Kyran…well, no one really knew what happened to him, but Bastion assumed he had died like the others—in a fleeting moment.

Bastion shook his head as he studied the character profiles of the living and the dead. He understood that Queen Catherine wanted to reveal the faults and characteristics of the warriors as a lesson to future Sages. It was a lesson to all incoming Sages that they shouldn’t become engrossed in personal missions, or let go of their integrity. But all Bastion saw was that their defenses were exposed. An enemy would have the time of his life reading such literature. It’s not like all of the Sages of Today died…

Arimus of the Wind was still around, though the people hardly saw him. Since Catherine had taken over as Queen, he and his bride Ashalynn, the former Queen, spent their time on secret vacations or bunked up somewhere within the castle walls. He surely would have lost his fighter’s edge by now,
and
he was missing an arm.

Catherine was far too trusting. Again, he understood the approach. By exposing herself and the Kingdom, they proved that there was nothing to hide, and that unity and peace is what they cherished and desired most. It was hard to fight against such raw passion and love. But that didn’t mean everyone would fall for the rhetoric.

And then there was Master James, the greatest warrior in all of Allay. This was the great enigma to Bastion. He was a lot younger then, but he vaguely remembered stories of James before he became a Sage. Nothing extensive, just a little gossip here and there. Whispers of his laziness and his lack of ambition. How a young man of that caliber became Allay’s knight in shining armor was beyond him. He had seen Master James only once in passing.

His mother was going shopping in the market and she had decided to take him along. This was in the early days, before he had released his eidolon. She was squeezing melons and evaluating their ripeness when the Sage of all Sages passed by. Bastion stared in awe at the hooded and cloaked warrior, strutting through the square, waving curtly to the villagers and nodding in acknowledgement. But then, to Bastion’s horror and disgust…

James tripped and fell on his face.

He just…tripped.

Their greatest warrior. And not because another Sage had been hiding around a corner and had stuck his powerful toe out. It wasn’t because he was hit with an arrow, or attacked by a mob of Quietus. He simply fell over his own two feet.

Embarrassed and red faced, James climbed to his feet, nodded like his neck had lost its girth, and then sprinted away. Even the merchant they purchased from was wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he laughed, commenting on how that was the “James he remembered.”

That couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. How could a warrior of such finesse and raw strength be so clumsy and goofy?
James was a Sage though
. That’s what Bastion kept telling himself. The oaf had released his eidolon, and he had not, so who was he to judge? Perhaps it was an
intentional trip
, to ward off some hidden assassin. He figured that he would at least give James the benefit of the doubt before he figured it all out himself.

But then the day came. At the time, he was unaware that his mother was watching from a distance, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He had approached eidolon drawing differently than his peers. They would sit in the meadow outside the castle, or along the outskirts all day, attempting to pull their eidolon out every second. There was no patience. No preparation.

He didn’t know if it was true, but he had decided to prepare his soul for the hardships to come ahead of time. He would meditate for hours, just trying to build his confidence and his resolve. He refrained from too much junk food, therefore he avoided the new
Stuff and Gorge
at all costs. He figured that if the shell was strong, perhaps it would make the soul strong too. It might have all been for nothing, but he also realized that he only had one chance to pull out his eidolon. Only one chance to prepare his soul to take on the rest of the world.

He thought of it like a little baby in its mother’s womb, squeezed in tight and warm, and provided all the nourishment it could ever need. Once a baby was born, that was it. There was no more preparation. No more sustenance. There was no control on how the baby would grow from the mother’s end. It was from that point on, a self-sustaining individual, so to speak.

His theory was…if the eidolon was weak from the beginning, it could only get so strong from there on out. Each time it was pulled from that point on, sure, it got used to the outside environment, but that didn’t mean it could overcome it. That didn’t mean it was worthy to be used as a weapon.

Bastion had been in the woods then, taking deep breaths one after the other. When he was ready to unsheathe his soul, he placed his hand over his heart. He wasn’t sure if that was where the soul resided, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to give his eidolon the easiest extraction point possible, and he figured the heart was an important organ. He might as well try there.

He closed his eyes and kept the palm of his hand over his heart. And before he could open them again, he felt the hilt. He hadn’t even called it yet, and it was already yearning to be free. He wasted no more time. Slowly, he pulled out the blade, watching in awe as its width shrunk and then expanded rapidly—its colors rippling across the blade’s surface sporadically. He didn’t know what to think of it, but he wasn’t afraid.

And then, when the last of the eidolon emerged, he was reborn.

It was not an ordinary summoning. It couldn’t be. Because he had seen his peers summon their eidolons for the first time on many occasions. Usually there would be cries of shock and awe. They would rip the eidolon out of their body, and then they would be jumping up and down in the grass or screaming wildly, swinging their soul back and forth in excitement. They would start telling anyone who was nearby how happy they were, and how they would be a great warrior someday. It was all so…superficial.

But this…it was like being awake for the first time, and the rest of his life prior had been just a dream. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. And it wasn’t even his heightened senses, or the new power surging through his veins—it was his very being. Instantly, he was a different person.

He couldn’t explain it, even to himself. But suddenly, he had no taste for child’s play. Where once he would have ran to the meadow and joined in a game of tag, he now wondered how the pain he felt from his neighbors could be eased. He learned about the fragility of life instantly, as he felt the tree in front of him gasping its last arduous breaths. No one would notice that it had died until it had long withered and decayed.