Trojian Horse

“Get Maloch here,” Reeger instructed as he entered his quarters.

A messenger that was always stationed at the door scurried away on his mission while Reeger threw himself on a seat in his living quarters. He gingerly took off his armour taking special care around the area where the armour had been pierced although the wound had already begun healing. They had made away with the sword but it did not matter now. He had beaten them and soon they would all know it too. Thoughts of Hethios face when he saw the limp body of their champion brought a smile to his face. Maloch disturbed his day dream.

“My lord,” he said bowing low.

“You know what has happened here I presume?”

“Of coursssse, my lord.”

“You must be commended for your work Maloch.”

“Thank you my Lord.”

“You really are unique. I have never encountered one such as you on my ship. How is it that so much time has passed and your talents have gone unnoticed?”

“My Lord, my time had not come.”

“If you keep this up you will soon be indispensable to me.”

“My Lord,” Maloch said bowing low.

“I need you to coordinate the attack. I need some time to recover. The faster the better.”

“Because their champion is dead?”

“Because their champion is dead.”

“Surely by now they will know that there is no place they can hide that we…you, will not find them.”

“They will not surrender. Once you have given them instructions follow Roue and his company back to the Vulpeculae city. I need to know what happens next.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Go then,” Reeger said noticing that Maloch was still hanging around.

“I have a gift for you my Lord. A suit of armour more worthy for a warrior like you. I laid it next to your cabinet.”

“I see,” Reeger said. A nod dismissed Maloch who quickly disappeared from the room.

There was a certain air of intelligence about him which often made Reeger wonder where Maloch had been all this time. He would have surely noticed one who possessed such attributes before. It was as if Maloch had materialised out of nothing at precisely the right moment he needed him. Were it not for the fact that Maloch looked like the Dracien he would scarcely have believed it. There was something more to him. Something that even now he could not quite figure out.

His mind went back to the events of that day, whichever way they measured a day on this planet. The light faded only a little but the sun never set. In this case, it would be suns. Never. They had been here for at least ten Terian days but he was starting to lose track of time. It was unusual having to deal with never ending daytime. He rather relished being in the darkness. Making him invisible, more dangerous, strike more fiercely. He had already struck the first and most decisive blow but he wanted to press his advantage as soon as he could. Morale would be low in the Vulpeculae camp which of course he was hoping for but he knew how desperate prisoners could impose great damage before being put down. Hethios could not be underestimated.

From what he understood of the Thalios it would dissipate into the universe, into nothingness, once the vessel was killed until it coalesced around some other worthy being. It was incomprehensible how the Thalios continually chose weaklings to do its bidding when more powerful beings such as himself would be more worthy of its power. He was superior in every aspect to the destitute Ser-ooit boy who barely knew himself much less being able to understand the kind of power that the Thalios could provide. Unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of the Thalios power barely escaping with his life the last time he had been confronted with the Thalios power. He had felt the Thalios presence before. As if another being occupied the being that was in possession of it. He had not felt that presence coming from Zibulo.

The last time he had felt that presence around Zibulo was when he had been stuck on that insignificant Ser-ooit rock watching them fighting their insignificant wars. All they wanted was another chunk of their rock oblivious of how insignificant they were on the cosmic scale. It made no sense to him why they had to take part in their pathetic wars when there was more than enough to conquer above their heads. If only they learned to look up. Ser-oos, the blue wanderer, was not even the most fascinating of the planets in their system. At one time Mer-oonit was the centre of their system. An empire that crumbled because of how rapidly it grew. Their little Ser-ooit minds would probably require centuries if not millennia to reach the level of achievement his dracien had achieved, though the Dracien remained primitive in many ways. The presence in the cave that night so long ago had banished him from his time travelling exploits. The only thing powerful enough to do that was the Thalios and somehow it had chosen Zibulo.

The experience of time travel using the sword was an unusual one. It was unlike anything he had ever been through. He understood very little of it when he did it, very little of the consequences of such a thing until it was too late though it was nothing a little splicing couldn’t fix. If not for his altered structure he may not have survived the ordeal, necessary though it was. He had to find out if the prophecies concerning the boy and himself were true. At the time they seemed to be true but now he wasn’t sure. The boy was supposed to be his reckoning and yet he had so easily dispatched of him. It was the first time he heard had ever heard of the Thalios choosing a human, beings that were not the strongest, smartest, fastest, or bravest of the millions of races even in their own quadrant of the galaxy. How could the Ser-ooits birth the one who was meant to destroy him? The prophecy had been horribly wrong. He would not waste his time with such wistful thinking next time. Nothing and nobody could defeat him now.

It was curious that the boy and the Vulpeculae should wind up on this planet. Whatever it was called, it was impossible to spot unless one knew that it existed. Its existence was a mystery in itself. A planet surrounded by four very different suns and yet somehow, they wound up here hidden from roving eyes and at an opportune time Roue happened upon this place. Somehow it felt as if he was missing something. It felt as if it had all been too well orchestrated to end like this. He felt that there were other forces at play, forces whose existence he knew nothing of. Anything that required power in the universe required forces that were often poorly understood, forces with agendas few could understand. Though he had just about won there were so many questions that suddenly needed answering.

Who had taken Zibulo to Hethios, to the Vulpeculae? Why them? Surely it would have been better to hide the boy somewhere else, far from anywhere he could reach in pursuit of him. Why and how had they come to be here on this planet? Why had Roue led them here? He felt an uneasiness about the whole situation. There was one thing he hated more than losing and that was not knowing. And it seemed he knew very little, only what he was supposed to know.

Something was certainly amiss but he hoped he had done enough to avert the crisis. The boy was dead. The Vulpeculae had fled the last time in order to survive and even now they were no match for him if they chose to fight. The blade had served its purpose being the only weapon that could contend with the Thalios in his mind. The question of why the boy attempted to break out the prisoners crossed his mind but every explanation he could think of just seemed unreasonable. He would certainly never had made such a pointless sacrifice even if he had full control of the Thalios and access to its power. His prisoners had some connection to Zibulo, or rather Arien. It was not clear what that connection was but he was sure there was one. He called into question the decision to let them go instead of just eliminating them when he had the chance. The sword was now back in Reinon’s hands again and though her spirit had been broken she could still become a threat considering she knew more of its secrets than he did. She would have to die when they met again, so he could repossess that sword.

He stared out into the distance from the observation room. The green trees, the mountains in the distance, the blue sky and swirling blue-green waters below all seemed in such serene harmony. He walked out of his quarters and made his way to the armoury two corridors down, opening a large metal cabinet at the farthest end of the room. He saw a plain large wooden box placed next to the cabinet. He assumed this was the armour Maloch spoke of. His wound had completely healed so he could begin donning his armour for the last battle. Donning himself for the occasion was part of the pleasure he afforded himself when preparing for battle although he imagined this would be more of a slaughter rather than a battle. He opened the wooden box and saw the grandest armour in dracien history.