Transcendence, page 6
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
“Wha—Grey!” Nico called out.
Before anyone had a chance to react, I zipped past Randall and into the room as soon as the door opened. Once inside, I sidestepped on instinct, barely dodging a force that sent Randall crashing against the corridor wall.
I had heard about Cecelia’s peculiarity, but going against it head-on made the stories seem like bedtime tales.
Bracing myself, I ran toward the center of the large room where Cecilia lay convulsing. A look of panic struck her face when she spotted me. The mysterious girl Headmaster Wilbeck had brought in was an irregularity amongst ki users. Even the most capable practitioner would, at most, be able to produce a small gust of energy with his ki, but Cecilia’s ki pool was so vast that she was able to send torrents of ki.
But she wasn’t able to control it, and from what I’d heard the others say, the outbursts of ki were caused by even the slightest disturbance of her emotions.
While many ki users would consider this power a gift, for a teenage girl like her, I could only see it as a curse.
Going solely on instinct, I awkwardly dodged the blasts of ki that shot at me. One hit and I would be unconscious at the very least.
Cold sweat rolled down my face as I played tag with a near-invisible force that had the power to break my bones like a twig.
I felt a slight breeze and rolled instinctively to my left, narrowly dodging another burst of ki. A loud thud resounded on the wall behind me where it struck.
I stretched out my gloved hand, hoping I would be able to reach Cecilia, but my instincts kicked in once more and I jumped clumsily to the right. Another thud echoed behind me.
“You can’t!” Cecilia said through gritted teeth. “You’ll get h-hurt.”
She was lying on her bed, which had been demolished; pillow stuffing and mattress foam lay scattered around the floor. I began crawling toward her, immediately rolling when I felt another burst of ki coming. This time, though, the edge of the blast managed to skim my right arm.
I restrained my shout and forced myself to crawl faster, ignoring my throbbing arm. Desperately reaching out with my left hand, I willed as much ki as I could muster into the glove Nico had made and prayed that my idea would work.
I placed my palm just above Cecilia’s stomach, where her ki center was. Exerting all my ki, I felt Nico’s glove throb.
Cecilia gave a pained gasp, her almond-shaped eyes growing wide, then closing as she fell unconscious. Locks of her blonde hair fell over her face and her flushed cheeks began draining back to their original creamy color.
I tried to stand up, but my body refused to listen. I had overexerted my ki.
How pitiful, I thought, before joining Cecilia in her slumber.
ARTHUR LEYWIN
“Sir! Please, wake up!” An unfamiliar voice startled me awake, dragging me out of the unwanted memories in my dreams.
My vision focused and I was able to make out the shape of a woman, her features cast into shadow by the light behind her. “Sir! I’m begging you. Please, we need you bathed and prepared for Commander Virion’s speech!”
The handmaid shook my arm gently, but I turned away from her, still half asleep.
“Move out of the way. I’ll wake him up,” a familiar voice grunted, and a loud crackle resounded from its direction.
I immediately sprang to my feet, catching the projectile of lightning in my hand.
“Bairon. A displeasure to see you again,” I said sharply. I was still in a foul mood from my argument with Tessia yesterday.
“I see you’ve learned some new tricks,” Bairon responded, his hand still outstretched.
It had been over two years since I had last seen the blonde Lance. He hadn’t changed much, except that he had cut his hair short and the scowl on his face was even harsher.
“Don’t you know it’s dishonorable to attack someone from behind?” I asked, hopping off my bed.
“Well, we’re at war,” he shrugged, then turned to head out the door. “Now get changed. The rest of the Lances are already at the teleportation gate.”
I watched as Bairon, whose brother I had killed, walked out of my room. He and I would always have our differences, but I understood what he meant when he said that we were at war: both of us were invaluable.
The handmaid timidly approached me. “Sir, please. I hate to keep nagging but—”
“It’s all right, Rosa. I just got direct consent from Commander Virion to speed up the process,” another, much bulkier handmaid interrupted as she stomped in, pulling a large cart covered by a sheet.
The handmaid named Rosa glanced back and forth between her coworker and me. “Are you sure, Milda? I don’t think we should do anything to offend—”
Milda held up a meaty finger to silence her associate. She then turned to me with a stern gaze as she began rolling up the sleeves of her blouse. “Now, sir, if you’re not in the mood or you’re not capable of washing yourself, I’ll be more than happy to get into the shower with you and wash you.”
I inadvertently took a horrified step back. “No, no. I’m very much in the mood to wash myself.”
“Very good,” she said. “After you wash, please dress in this set of armor Lord Aldir prepared for the speech today.”
Milda dramatically removed the sheet from the cart she had brought in, revealing a mannequin dressed in a stunning suit of armor—which I would soon be wearing.
Chapter 7
From The Balcony
“I look ridiculous,” I grumbled, hobbling closer to the mirror to study myself.
The plated armor was gaudy and inefficient in design. My chest and shoulders were protected by silver pauldrons and a gorget that reached up to my chin, allowing for only minimal movement of my neck. Even more restricting, my hip and thighs were guarded by tassets that prohibited me from raising my legs. The subtle detailings on my gauntlets and greaves matched those on the breastplate, and a blazing red cape fell down to the back of my knees, covering the large, decorative sword strapped to my lower back.
“You look awe-inspiring, sir,” the timid handmaid said as she began tying up my hair.
“Anyone who can fight proficiently while wearing this death trap deserves my respect,” I replied, trying to lift my arms above my shoulders.
‘Well, at least you’ll look impressive to the crowd,’ Sylvie pointed out from my bed, still half-asleep.
Zip it! You’re lucky I’m not making you wear any armor, I shot back.
‘My scales are my armor.’ Sylvie arched her back, stretching like a cat as she nimbly hopped off the bed.
“There! All done,” the handmaid announced, carefully placing a golden band to secure my hair in place. “Your armor isn’t just majestic to look at; I see it has protective runes engraved into it as well.”
“I understand the armor, but must I wear this sword? I have one of my own, and it’s a pretty nice one too.” I took Dawn’s Ballad from my dimension ring.
The timid handmaid touched her short brown hair, and her eyes shifted away uncomfortably. “It’s… it’s very pretty, sir, but—”
“It’s too thin! It doesn’t make you look powerful!” the bear-like handmaid cut in, firmly securing my pauldrons with her meaty hands. “Perfect. You’re good to go!”
I gazed down at my teal-bladed sword, masterfully forged by an eccentric asura, and slid it back into its sheath. Then, with a deep breath, I put it back into my dimension ring.
As I walked stiffly out of the room, Sylvie, still reluctant to speak out loud unless we were completely alone, chirped in my head. ‘I bet your new armor is really going to impress the crowd.’
I’m hoping to stay on the sidelines through this whole speech. I know Virion wanted all the main players here today to raise morale, but I think the Lances are enough for that, I sent back as we made our way down the empty hallway.
The residents and most of the workers inside the castle had been allowed in earlier this morning so they could find a seat in the crowd. I hadn’t gotten a chance to see my family today, but they’d left a message with the timid handmaid saying they looked forward to seeing me up on the balcony.
‘I can’t believe Virion decided to hold the speech at Etistin, though. Isn’t that where the Alacryan ships are heading?’ Sylvie sounded concerned from her spot, nestled on my shoulder.
I think it makes sense. It’s a bit of a wild card, but if done right—and I’m sure that’s what Virion is shooting for—the crowd will see our force as much more imposing up close than their ships from afar.
‘I guess.’
Even walking down the stairs was a task in the bulky armor, and I became more and more tempted to just jump down the center of the spiral staircase, regardless of who might inconveniently be at the bottom.
The sharp ringing of my metal greaves on the stone pathway echoed throughout the narrow corridor, alerting the two guards stationed at the teleportation chamber entrance to my approach. When I reached the familiar iron doors, each guard welcomed me with a courteous bow before they began unlocking the imposing entranceway to the circular room.
“Everyone is waiting inside,” the augmenter guard announced. Then he slid open the metal door, revealing the central figures of this war.
It was an impressive sight. Bairon Wykes, Varay Aurae, and Aya Grephin, the three remaining Lances, were clad in decorated white armor just as gaudy as mine. Closest to the teleportation gate, Virion had shed his black mourning robe, replacing it with a lavish olive tunic that draped down past his knees over a pair of silken white trousers. The tunic’s adornment made it clear he was a noble; it was trimmed in ornate golden embroidery to match the golden sash wrapped around his waist. A bronze circlet lay snugly just above his brows, and his hair fell loosely over his shoulders in a curtain of white.
Standing adjacent to the commander, the pinnacle of authority in this war, were his son and daughter-in-law, Alduin and Merial Eralith, Tessia’s parents.
Alduin wore a silver tunic of similar design and decoration to his father’s, while Merial wore an elegant silver dress obviously meant to match her husband’s outfit.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Virion said with an approving nod as he gazed at my attire.
“Commander Virion.” I dipped my head respectfully, then turned toward Tess’s parents. “King Alduin, Queen Merial. It’s been a while.”
“That it has,” Alduin smiled, rubbing his chin as he regarded me with a scrutinizing eye. Merial responded with only a faint nod.
I then turned to Blaine and Priscilla Glayder, the former King and Queen of Sapin.
“King Blaine and Queen Priscilla. It’s been even longer,” I said with a polite smile, bowing as much as my armor would allow.
Blaine had aged since the last time I had seen him. More streaks of grey lined his mane of fiery maroon hair. His silken black tunic, underneath large gunmetal pauldrons that covered his shoulders and collar, gave him an intimidating aura. His wife, Priscilla, on the other hand, had chosen to wear a fluttery black dress, heavily embroidered with delicate silver flowers in a metallic thread that twinkled as it caught the light. Her black hair that glimmered in a hue of blue was tied up, exposing her neck, which seemed almost pure white in contrast to her dark attire.
The two kings and queens couldn’t have seemed more different from each other, but each of them carried an air of dignity that I knew could only stun the crowd waiting for them.
“You’ve grown,” Merial pointed out, her sharp eyes seeming to look through me rather than at me.
“Growing comes with age,” I replied.
“Of course it does,” Blaine grunted. “And you’ll continue to grow, not just in height but in strength, which is what I need from one of my best soldiers.”
I glanced back at Bairon and Varay, Blaine’s Lances, and shook my head. “Regardless of my roots or race, with a war of this scale, I’d like to consider myself a soldier to this continent.”
“It’s finally nice to you meet you, Arthur.” An elderly dwarf who had been standing alongside Virion and the two kings and queens stepped forward, getting between Blaine and me as he extended a hand.
Though he only came up to my sternum, he stood ramrod straight with his shoulders squared, making him seem taller than he actually was. A scar ran down the left side of his face, going through his closed left eye and all the way down to his jaw. However, the eye that was open exuded a gentle quality, belying his rugged appearance.
I accepted his large hand, noticing the sandpaper-like texture of his palms. “I apologize for my ignorance, but I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you.”
“No, we haven’t met,” he chuckled. “But I’ve heard quite a bit about you from the letters Elijah has sent back. I am Rahdeas.”
My eyes widened in recognition. “You’re—”
“Yes. I’ve been Elijah’s guardian since he was an infant.” He looked at me with a solemn smile that sent a sharp pain through my chest.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get there in time to help him,” I said, lowering my gaze.
Rahdeas shook his head. “It’s not your fault. That child was always a magnet for trouble.”
Clasping his hand in both of mine, I stared straight into his eye. “If he’s still alive, I’ll bring him back to you. I give you my word.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, letting go of my hands, which somehow seemed so fragile now.
Virion spoke into the silence. “Rahdeas is the new delegate for the dwarves. We’ll be going on ahead first,” he said. “The gatekeeper will receive my transmission and signal you to go through when the time is right.”
The six of them walked through the gate, and the teleportation room became silent. I made a mental note to spend some more time with Rahdeas. I was curious as to what young Elijah had been like, and about the man who had raised him.
I felt a light tap on my shoulder—or rather, I heard a light tap on my shoulder plate. Turning around, I came face to face with the elven Lance they called Phantasm.
“We’ve seen each other before, but I’ve never given you the pleasure of introducing myself.” She smiled coyly, tucking her wavy black hair behind her ear as she dangled a hand for me to accept. “My name is Aya Grephin.”
There was something off about her voice—an enticing timbre of faint sweetness, spoken at a volume that made you want to lean closer to hear what she had to say. Everything from the allure in her voice to the way she carried herself made her seem irresistible. Every motion she made with her hands and fingers made my eyes focus on them, but it didn’t feel natural. I felt the magic in her voice.
“Well then,” I said with a smile, taking a step back. “It’s a pleasure being formally introduced, Aya Grephin.” I knew she was waiting for a kiss on the back of her hand, but I grabbed it and shook it instead.
“I hope we can get along,” she said, her smile unwavering as she snatched her hand back. As I watched her turn around and stride back to her original spot, hips swaying, I began to grow uneasy.
Aside from her conspicuous seductiveness, I knew the remaining elf Lance was no joke just from being near her. I had seen for myself that Varay was stronger than Bairon, but I’d yet to see Aya fight. From what I’d been told, she was supposedly one of the deadliest of the Lances. Now, having been up close to her and having her stare at me, it was clear those claims weren’t baseless.
Varay, who had been silently studying me, finally spoke. “I see your training has gone well. You’ve just stepped out of the initiate silver stage and into mid-silver.”
In contrast to Aya, Varay held herself in a very reserved and dignified manner. I noticed that she had cut her long white hair off—it came to just past her neck now. Her bangs were pinned to the side, revealing a scar just above her right brow, small enough to be missed if you weren’t looking closely. Her dark brown eyes were sharp and her brows seemed to be perpetually furrowed as she continued peering at me.
Sylvie hunched over, baring her small fangs at the Lance. It’s okay, Sylv. She’s an ally, remember?
“I’ve yet a long way to go if I want to get into white stage,” I said to Varay, prying my eyes away from her intense gaze.
“Not as long as you might think,” the white-haired Lance responded.
“What does you—”
“Gatekeeper! How much longer are we to wait?” Bairon interrupted, impatiently tapping his armor-clad foot on the ground.
The elderly gatekeeper flinched. “General Bairon, Commander Virion has not—Ah! I just received word from him now. Please enter!”
Bairon made his way toward the teleportation gate first, apparently eager to be free from either the confines of the chamber or the company of the other Lances. I understood how he felt.
‘Well, that was uncomfortable,’ Sylvie thought.
Tell me about it. I motioned for Aya and Varay to go ahead of me. The curvy elf threw me a wink as she swayed past, while Varay’s expression remained stony.
As I stepped through the teleportation gate, the scene around me blurred. Upon arrival, I cringed at the sudden difference in noise level. Cheers erupted from below, and the floor trembled beneath us.
We had arrived in a large rectangular room that led out to a spacious balcony where Virion and the kings and queens stood, waving down at the crowd. They weren’t alone—next to the adults were Tess, Curtis, and Kathyln, all waving at the immense crowd which I could see even from where I stood.
“Please, Generals, be ready to go on Commander Virion’s signal,” a thin handmaid instructed as she tidied Aya’s hair, which had been blown back by the frigid ocean wind.
“Generals?” I looked at the handmaid in confusion.
“Arthur, Lady Sylvie, I see you are finally here,” a familiar voice called from behind me.
Looking back over my shoulder, I spotted Aldir. He was seated in front of a tea set, a cup in his hand while his third eye stared at me.
“And I see that you’re staying in the shadows,” I greeted the asura as Sylvie dipped her head in a nod.
