Tyson sat quietly in his cell. A few hours had passed with plenty of food and water on supply, curing his hunger pains. Wernion stood guard facing the open door not engaging with Tyson’s attempts to talk with him. The power of the young human’s magics was eroded by his surroundings, but his ability to enter people’s thoughts was undiminished. He concentrated hard and allowed his mind to reach out and connect with all living things in his immediate radius.
He first encountered Wernion who was playing back what he had heard in the Ceremony Hall and he saw that his guard was confused about what he believed in. Then Tyson picked up thoughts from other brethren, feeling the fear and apprehension and realising that some great event was occurring which was sending shockwaves through the community.
Tyson listened hard and found mainly older female and children’s voices. Very few older males. He experienced fear and trepidation, a mother soothing a crying child who called for her father, only to receive no reply.
Odd, what was happening?
He searched for senior brethren but there were none. He tried the Queen but Festilion was impenetrable, surrounded by a curtain of seeming invisibility, which not even Zylar exuded. Tyson had never experienced so much power in anyone he had met so far in his travels.
It was during this wide search for information that on the outskirts of his ability he sensed a different mind-set. Some thoughts resembled those of the Pod but were different. He sensed the strong magics within them. Tyson then picked up Zeinonians’ thoughts who were accompanying a small force, similar to…yes the Changeling…like Zebulon.
He pushed his mind hard and picked up their leader, who was similar to Zebulon and on the same wavelength, same strength of purpose but subtly different. A hatred. A hatred that was so intense it hurt Tyson. He let out a stifled grunt as the strong personality pushed back on him. He rocked back and forward in his seated position.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Wernion, jumping into the cell. He saw Tyson with his head in his hands. His face was creased up in pain. Tyson didn’t answer. He was busy extracting his mind from the powerful grip of the leader of the group.
‘You are all in danger.’ It had been a painful experience but it yielded a disturbing piece of information.
Wernion felt the worry emanating from Tyson. He tasted it, all his body sensitive to the surroundings around him.
Tyson’s body tightened. ‘You have the magics?’
‘We all have the magics. We are the magics,’ said Wernion.
‘No, you have taken it further. You have already changed,’ said Tyson carefully as he probed the tall Pod’s mind. Wernion wore an uncomfortable look on his face.
‘You can tell me?’ cajoled Tyson. He licked his lips as the taste of the magics cascaded over him from the young Pod as he released his secret he had kept from his father.
‘I wanted to know what it felt like,’ said Wernion, scuffing his bare foot against the ground as a naughty child would when found doing something they shouldn’t.
‘The magics of course, letting it, and allowing it to live with you, inside,’ Wernion said quietly and with an element of regret.
‘You didn’t like what you found, did you?’
Wernion shook his head.
‘Instead of you controlling it, it is controlling you?’
‘Yes, I thought I could but I feel it growing inside me. Stretching and magnifying everything around me,’ said Wernion, uncomfortably as he rubbed his stomach.
‘I know the feeling, Wernion,’ said Tyson, seeing his gaoler for the first time in a new light, now understanding what had attracted him to this tall creature. They were kin, of sorts.
‘You have to let me go.’ Tyson stood up and Wernion, who had inched into the cell, suddenly realised his surroundings and his duty.
‘No, I can’t, my father would never forgive me.’ Wernion stood in his way, blocking his escape, hopping from one foot to another, clearly agitated and fighting inner conflicts of his role guarding the prisoner clashing against his liking of this strange alien in front of him. His confusion flooded across his features. Tyson repressed his impatience, knowing instinctively that he needed this creatures support. You didn’t win support by force; well, not the kind he needed now.
‘Something is happening, Wernion, there is a group of Changelings and Zeinonians approaching your brethren. They mean to poison the water and kill you all.’ He had his attention now.
‘They can’t do that!’
‘Why not? Your kind has attacked the Zeinonians’ sites with impunity,’ said Tyson, challenging the young Pod’s defence.
‘We only did that to protect ourselves.’
Tyson decided he needed to share what he was hearing with Wernion to provide the necessary wakeup call. Decision made, Tyson deflected the horrific thoughts of the leader of the group now making its way closer and closer to its final destination. The thoughts hit Wernion like a runaway train and if he could go pale then now was the time. His hands shook as he heard of the plan from the thoughts collated by Tyson.
‘Let me go? I can stop them.’
‘No, no, I can’t,’ Wernion refused but the unpleasant thoughts he was passed by Tyson’s nimble brain, hurt him, cut him deep – threats to his family and friends in an organised genocide. In despair he gave his acquiescence to the request.
‘Good, you have done the right thing,’ said Tyson as he stood up and moved to the front of the cell. As he approached the front entrance, Wernion stood in his way forcing Tyson to stop in his tracks. Tyson let out a frustrated yell.
‘Move out of my way, Wernion.’
‘I am going with you.’ It was a statement not a request.
‘Your father wouldn’t forgive you,’ said Tyson, looking up at the fearsome creature.
‘Too late anyway, I can’t hide my magics anymore. The Queen will pick it up and I will be executed in accordance with our law,’ Wernion replied. ‘At least allow me to save my family and friends?’
Tyson thought for a moment and then agreed. It would be useful to have someone with him who knew the tunnels. He told Wernion the direction from which he had heard the voice. The young Pod predicted roughly where the strike-force were; it would not be long before they reached the reservoir. They set off down the adjoining corridor until they reached the main interlinked Pod grid. Wernion leaned into a closet built into the rock. He pulled out two large coats, like raincoats. Tyson was puzzled.
‘We have to pass through the Mygolwich to intercept them.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Mygolwich in our tongue means “Provider of Life”.’ When Wernion saw the confused look still on his new companion’s face he elaborated. ‘It is where the liquid that sustains us collects. It comes from the winter and what you call the reflection period, channelling down into ancient deep pools.’ Tyson now understood, what he was describing was the reservoir. At that point they emerged into a huge cavern that stretched for miles. The silent, still, expressionless water lay as far as the eye could see. High above the water the huge stalactites hung menacingly from the rock ceiling, each one the size of an inverted electricity pylon, yet still they seemed well into the distance, such was the cavernous height of the natural ceiling. Moisture dripped into the lake, causing small ripples where it entered into the embrace of its fellow droplets. The water lapped up gently onto a shore strewn with fine black sand. The whole picture was breath-taking and Tyson stood at the entrance of one of what were many tunnels into this great hall of nature.
Suddenly, Wernion grabbed Tyson by the collar of his raincoat and pulled him back into the tunnel and thrust him into an alcove. Tyson’s anger flared and then he saw a patrol materialise out of the murkiness. Twelve strong, no weapons except the vicious claws that Tyson had come to respect. The patrol moved with easy strides as they swept the end of the cavern for any threat.
‘The patrols are weak tonight,’ said Wernion, watching his brethren undertake a task that he had completed many times in the past. They moved past them and then disappeared down one of the other tunnels. He saw the puzzlement on Tyson’s face from his comment. ‘I thought you could read minds!’
‘Usually, but the closeness of this ore and water seem to be suppressing it,’ said Tyson, ruefully.
Wernion didn’t answer immediately as he scanned the nearest reaches of the cavern for any other patrols. Assessing it was relatively safe to assume that there were no other patrols in close proximately, he explained his point.
‘They are massing to attack the Aeria Cavern tonight,’ said Wernion, quietly, still concerned that they may run into a patrol.
‘I need to get back. My friends are there.’
‘Many of my friends will die tonight, but we need to halt these people coming to kill my people,’ Wernion’s eyes flashed. Tyson knew he was right.
‘Where next, alien?’ Wernion growled.
Tyson ignored the barbed comment and looked at the different corridors. He fed his magic out. It licked the floor, walls and the rocks as it tried to penetrate the suffocating stillness.
The ore was overpowering. It combatted, fought against his magics. It seemed to resent his power. Tyson was rebuffed, once, twice and then he subtly shifted his mind and began to merge with the ore. He felt it enter his mind, getting used to his alien DNA. He began to realise that the ore was not a mineral but a living organism.
He gasped.
‘What?’ Wernion had seen the strange expression form on Tyson’s face.
‘It, it’s alive…,’ Tyson spluttered. Wernion smiled, his fangs poking out across his bottom lip.
‘Took you long enough, alien.’
‘Don’t you get it?’ said a now serious Wernion, ‘Why do we fight against the magics? Why do we fear the Malefics?’ Tyson shook his head, still taking in the recent information.
‘The ore is the first indigenous race of Zein – we evolved after and you are all aliens here and it resents that,’ said Wernion. ‘When the Malefics immersed themselves in the ore magics they became the host, living long and not having their own identity.’
Tyson recognised the truth of this feeling. He felt the magics gnawing away at his very soul but somehow his body fought back.
‘But we have this same ore on our planet which we never knew about. Are you saying that we are aliens on our own planet? We evolved there, it has been proven.’
Wernion shook his head. ‘Probably not,’ he admitted. ‘We evolved on Zein in close proximity to methir. We became one with our surroundings and accepted methir for what it was; a powerful living organism. It sounds like you grew and changed with the planet with very little contact with the mineral you call “zinithium”. That’s different.’ He then paused as if countering his first thought. ‘Mind you ask yourself the question who evolved first?’
Tyson was quiet for a moment. ‘If we choose to, though, we could leverage the magics this ore or organism produces?’ Wernion shrugged, not altogether interested in what may or may not happen on a distant planet. For Tyson it was a momentous issue. If the humans understood the great magics they could tap into, would they reject the chance of power due to the side effects? He knew the answer, magics first, worry about anything else second.
Wernion tugged his arm. He switched back to his study of what was around them. He picked up the Changelings and Zeinonians and pointed to a corridor off the great reservoir. Carefully they made their way to the entrance, keeping a wary eye out for any patrols. Tyson’s coat dragged on the floor but he ignored it. The coat worked, keeping the condensation and constant drops of water from soaking him to the skin.
The corridor was flanked by rough granite rock with flaming torches in holders lighting the way. They had travelled around half a mile in the dull spectre of the poorly illuminating torches until they stumbled into a break in the corridor where four tunnels met. They could hear voices emitting from a tunnel to the left of their tunnel, sound echoing against the bleak rock walls that glistened with water from the natural coldness of the stone. Wernion reached across Tyson’s chest and pushed him into the wall. Their position enabled them to see into the converging intersection and the three separate entrances. It was the one with the sound growing louder and louder that drew their attention and they saw the flickering light from a torch expand as the semi-darkness was consumed.
Tyson waited as he felt a strong surge of power in the magics and a quick glance at Wernion confirmed that he had felt it as well. It was menacing, not as dark from what Tyson had felt from Zylar but twisted, unrelenting and with a stone cold certainty to it. Tyson felt intimidated for the first time since he had experienced the magics affecting him. He wanted to run away but the strong arm of Wernion held him in place. Tyson felt the flare of the magics grow in him and his hands began to emit the comforting blue glow. The force-field wrapped around his arms and lazily travelled up his forearms. Wernion’s arm was beginning to struggle to hold the power in his grasp. Tyson felt Wernion’s fear at the strength of the magics inside his human companion.
The raiding party stepped into the cross section. Tyson heard Wernion gasp and he followed his gaze to the strange creature that stood regally at the front of the small group. He was a man but not like any other Tyson had seen. The flickering light of the torches caught his unusually coloured eyes, which shone in the semi-darkness.
Tyson drew in a deep breath as he remembered the Fathom clan members in the Core and their blank white eyes. His dread dissipated quickly. This was different. He felt an attraction, caused by the magics, to this powerful figure and the magics were also present in the other, similar creatures, he was with. He noted the different coloured tunics of the soldiers and there was a beautiful young woman talking in whispers to a vain, sallow looking man. A couple of the soldiers carried rucksacks that clinked with whatever was within them.
It was not Tyson that gave up their pitiful hiding place. Wernion suddenly pushed Tyson away and charged towards the commanding figure at the head of the raiding party. Tyson picked up what Wernion must have felt that this creature had come to destroy the Pod; the magics could not hide the drive and ambition of mass death which flooded the pores of this creature.
The Changeling, though initially shocked raised his trident and used it to blunt the attack and force away the charging Wernion, flinging the creature away from him onto the floor. Wernion was swiftly back up on his feet, the previous injuries forgotten; before he could charge again the sallow faced Blackstone attacked him with two extremely long seckle type weapons. He was ablely supported by the beautiful young woman.
Tyson knew Wernion would not survive a double attack for long. He threw his body into the space between the girl and Wernion and used his now activated seckle as a block. The girl’s eyes widened in surprise and Tyson used this element of surprise to throw her to the ground. Behind him, the man was trying to bring his weapons to bear but Wernion was fast and he came in close to the Blackstone man, nullifying the threat. His claw caught the man on the shoulder, ripping into his skin, the force causing one of the weapons to fall from his hand. Wernion was not interested in the Blackstones and he rushed towards the Changeling.
Jaida lay breathless on the floor with the shock of the power from the man supporting the Pod.
He is a Blackstone!
Shrugging aside her surprise, if he was a friend of the Pod then he was no friend of hers. She struggled to kneel up and before she could re-join the fight, an enraged Taio leapt at the strange man with his one surviving weapon.
Tyson tracked the move in slow motion and knew his magics were formulating. He confidently saw the attack and anticipated the blow. He didn’t want to hurt the man so he ducked the offending blow and used a quick spurt of power from his hand to send him clattering into the wall. Then the girl was upon him and she was quick. He blocked blow after blow, keeping in the corner of his eye that Wernion was now wrestling with one of the Changelings. Eventually he was able to make enough room to send a force-field shock that knocked her own force-field out of commission and allowed him to thrust her hard against the wall, where she crumpled to the ground, dazed.
Taio saw the woman he loved collapse of the floor and rage took over. He swung his seckle viciously at Tyson but it bounced off the force-field easily.
Wernion charged Myolon, who changed into a colossal reptile with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, a Xonian! He caught the young Pod by its scale covered muscular arms and in one fluid motion he threw Wernion into one of the walls were he lay unmoving, Myolon then moved in for the kill.
‘Myolon!’ The voice rang out with power and command. Myolon, with spittle spilling from his reptilian mouth, stopped in his tracks and smoothly turned to face his new opponent.
The rescue group had made good time with a transport dropping them close to another of Zebulon’s secret entrances. Once he had gained entry they had moved swiftly, guided by the majesty of Zebulon. As they had entered the intersection, Amelia had gasped as she saw Tyson. He is alive! Her heart jumped in excitement and it was only the restraining arm of one of Zebulon’s guards that stopped her running into the midst of the fight happening before her.
‘Zebulon, so nice to see you,’ said Myolon, his harsh rasp escaping his Xonian snout. Myolon saw the rest of the party and his eyes ran over the companions as he changed back to his Changeling form and reached out to one of his followers for his trident which he had dropped and one of his guards had retrieved.
‘Tyson,’ shouted Amelia and, pushing away her guard with surprising strength which even took the experienced warrior by surprise, ran to Tyson’s side, throwing her arms around his neck as his force-field dimmed. Tyson was pleased to see her and returned the hug before gently disentangling her from him as he became acutely aware of the power building in the room between the two Changelings.
‘Well, dear brother, long time no see,’ smirked Myolon as he twirled the sinister looking trident, ‘What do I owe this pleasure to?’
‘I am here to stop you releasing that liquid,’ said Zebulon, pointing to the rucksacks that the cowering Blackstone troops held.
‘Why so caring for the Pod, Zebulon? I remember a time when you embraced their extermination. You have gone soft!’
‘I came to my senses, brother. We were wrong all those years ago and you are wrong now. I will take the serum and destroy it safely,’ said Zebulon, seeking the residue of any goodness left in his sibling.
‘I can’t let you do that, Zebulon,’ said Myolon, as he squared up to his older brother, ‘I am no longer in your shadow, you left our people just when they needed you, now I am going to put right what you got wrong!’
‘If you release that into the Mygolwich the entire Pod will die. I can’t let that happen.’
‘You could try to stop me but I am too strong for you.’
‘We will see about that Myolon.’ Zebulon pulled his cloak off and the fine clothes under the cloak were impressive.
‘You dress well, Zebulon. Like your new tailor.’
There were shouts down the corridors with the Pod patrols, hearing the commotion, making their way through the tunnels to the disturbance. The two parties eyed each other distrustfully but also glanced down the four main corridors of the intersection nervously. This was not a place you wanted to fight a pitched battle in.
Pounding footsteps materialised into squads of the Pod defence patrols in each tunnel. The soldiers and Changelings put aside their distrust and took up position at each entrance.
Zebulon just smiled and with an outstretched hand sent a beam of blue light to two of the entrances. Myolon glowered at his brother, and not to be outdone he did the same to the other two entrances with the beams of energy slowly working down the entrance until a force-field was formed. The Pod ran into the force-field, which, with a flash, threw them back. The angry creatures hung back away from the painful light and shuffled back and forward, waiting for their opportunity.
‘So, brother, your powers are fully developed, I notice,’ said Zebulon. He saw Tyson and then looked across to the winded Wernion and tasted the vortex of magic in the air.
‘Met my human friend, I see?’
‘Yes, so much raw power but I sense an uneasiness in its use…you are becoming sloppy…I thought you would have tamed this creature a little more?’ said a mocking Myolon.
‘I can’t let you release that liquid,’ said Zebulon, turning his attention to the matter at hand and reiterating his position.
Myolon leapt at his brother swinging his trident viciously at his opponent’s head and Zebulon effortlessly shimmered and moved his body away from the blow whilst at the same time drawing his short sword from its scabbard. He swung the sword and caught his opponent’s trident in mid-air. There was an almighty clash of steel, forcing Myolon to tighten his grip to prevent losing control of his weapon. Zebulon then leveraged his sword so he was pinning Myolon’s trident to the floor using the strength of his massive shoulders. He then released the trident and thrust the sword at Myolon’s head. Myolon saw the attack and rolled away and the sword blade hit the floor rather than the flesh. Myolon sprang up, sweat pouring from his pores at the exercise, and he brought his trident up in front of his body.
‘Nice try, brother, but you are still soft,’ said Myolon with a grin which slowly disappeared, turning into a gritty and daggered look. ‘Now that is going to get you killed.’
The two brothers breathing hard stood transfixed, they knew this was a fight to the death. The rest of the group stood in silence, mere bystanders to an epic contest.
Tyson regulated his breathing as Amelia held him close, both stunned by the fight evolving in front of them. Something told them that the future of Zein rested on the outcome of this battle.