PHOENIX RISING
PROLOGUE
FROM THE DIARY OF PROFESSOR YANA KIFRER
Day One of the Elemental Project
We have discovered, at last, the secret! An orb which holds the power, bound and not entirely ready to be released. So now we intend to create an orb for the Experiment, and it shall live! However, the method used to create this orb is unknown, and I fear it shall take a very long time to discover.
Day Two
We have chosen a substance to make the orb from – diamond, but obtaining and shaping the jewel may be more difficult than we had hoped. Still, we believe we have a way to infuse the orb with power, and so create the life force of the Experiment. SA/98-013 is progressing nicely. We believe it will be complete very soon.
Day Five
Finally, we managed to store power inside the orb. It is now safe inside our containment and analysis units. SA-98-013 is also safe and its body is nearly created. Soon… soon we will finally have defied God and done what only He is meant to do – create Life!
Day Nine
It stirred from its sleep today and we saw with horror what we had wrought. It is a monster. The Experiment cannot remain here – it must not remain in existence for long. A creature like the one we strove to create would be a disaster, but we could not see it… I am sorry. I have doomed us all.
Day Twelve
No! SA/98-013 is an abomination and now it is free to wreak havoc upon the world… This is a fate that I brought here with my own hands, and I must undo it. But I fear I am too late, for it is showing a power and intelligence beyond any of our scientists. Ah, if only I could see sooner that I was blinded by my greed for power, for I believed that the world would bow before me for my genius.. But now… we are going to die. Seuja is awake.
Chapter One
the beginning
There’s a myth in Kaldor City. They say that the ocean is a living creature, rearing up to attack those who trespass in its deepest, most vicious reaches. Often the myth became reality, as bathers were swallowed up by the fierce waters. In fact, in Kaldorian religion, any form of water is treated as a living thing, so as not to upset the ultimate, giant waves. So, when the first drop of rain landed on Ataka’s long black hair, he smiled and stared up into the grey sky with his dark-green eyes scanning the heavens, waiting for more to come. His wish was soon realised, but he hadn’t wished for what ended up happening.
Also in Kaldorian legend, they say that the clouds are the ghosts of departed souls who wished to become one with the sky. The rainfall is caused by the tears of the dead people, weeping for their lost home.
As I said, Ataka hadn’t wished for what actually happened; the clouds poured out their burdens (rain), and streaks of lightning flashed across the sky. Ataka pulled up the hood of the black and purple robes that declared him a member of the Guild of Philosophers, and set off across the soaked concrete pavement, heading for the mud-palace, as it was known by its inhabitants.
The mud-palace was in fact the part of Kaldor inhabited by those who had been orphaned or couldn’t pay for a proper house. Essentially a hundred square miles of mud, tarmac, concrete and wood, the mud-palace was the last resort for Kaldorians. Ataka was among those unlucky enough to be in that situation, but he had vowed to his dying parents that he would get a job in a Guild and save himself and his brother from the fate that awaited all mud-dwellers: death. Every week the mud-palace was purged of bodies, but people kept on dying. That couldn’t be helped, but it was happening far more than was necessary, and people from the lower-class parts of Kaldor were being forced into mud-life every day. This couldn’t keep happening, or the mud-palace would have to be enlarged to fill maybe a fifteenth of Kaldor.
Ataka strode through the gates of the mud-palace, quickly flashing an identity card at the guards. Everyone living in the mud-palace was issued with one to prevent someone sneaking in and staging a massacre. Thousands of people lived in the mud-palace, but Ataka was looking for a familiar face at the entrance. He soon found it.
‘Ataka!’
Ataka whipped around. Right behind him, soaked to the skin but grinning broadly, was the brother Ataka had vowed to save from mud-life.
Ataka stepped forward and embraced him.
‘Valdon.’
Valdon grinned again, withdrawing from his brother’s hug.
‘It’s good to see you again, brother.’
Ataka was the oldest of the pair at seventeen years of age. Valdon was fourteen, but managed to get into all sorts of trouble even without being the age at which, by Kaldorian law, you could be tried by a court. He wasn’t even old enough to have a sword or dagger, a necessity among Kaldorians. Especially those who, as Valdon did, wore the black and brown robes of the Guild of Warriors.
At this point, having now mentioned two Guilds, I think I should talk a little about the different types of Guild.
The most famous was the Guild of Seers. The black-robed Seers were gifted with the ability to see into the future, meaning that they could predict the happening of an important event and prevent or encourage it.
The Guild of Police was almost equally famous; as they walked around the streets lowering the crime rate in their black and red robes, they were hard to miss.
The Guild of Builders was the King’s favourite. That was no secret. They had built him a magnificent palace right in the centre of Kaldor, every one of the ten thousand black and white-robed men swarming around it and adding more blocks of marble to it.
The Guild of Magicians was made up of perhaps four hundred black and green-robed men. The Magicians’ was the smallest Guild, as only about a twentieth of the population of the universe as Kaldorians knew it could use Magic. Even those who could were often denied the chance to join by their friends and family – Magicians were highly distrusted and not encouraged to recruit. Ataka was one of those who could have joined but didn’t. He had learnt a little Magic on his own, but not enough to defend himself with.
The black and grey-robed Guild of Advisors served the King, who wore no robes, just his gold and steel battle armour, personally, the black and purple-robed Philosophers assisting them.
The black and brown-robed Warriors fought in wars, sometimes with voluntary peasants.
And finally, the white-robed Guild of Servants commandeered perhaps one hundred and fifty thousand people, each of whom served the members of other Guilds.
And now, back to the story.
Ataka gave his brother a searching look.
‘You got in trouble again today, didn’t you?’
Valdon looked as though he might deny it, then nodded.
‘What for?’ pressed the elder brother.
Valdon shook his head.
‘What for?’
Valdon said something very quietly.
‘Didn’t catch that, sorry.’
Valdon raised his head.
‘I broke Sirion’s leg in a practice bout.’
‘And what did Sirion do to deserve a broken limb?’
Valdon shook away the arms that had gripped his shoulders.
‘Lost control,’ he muttered.
Ataka sighed.
‘You didn’t remember that the Magical shields placed around you and your opponent in a duel only withstand moderate physical contact?’
Valdon’s eyes widened.
‘Physical contact,’ he whispered.
‘What is it?’ Ataka murmured. ‘What has piqued your usually non-existent interest?’
‘I… Ataka, I think I used Magic.’
Ataka took an involuntary step backwards.
‘So the power does run in the family,’ he mused.
Ataka then grabbed Valdon and led him to the section of the mud-palace reserved for the brothers.
‘What did the Magic look like?’
‘Blue beam,’ Valdon said. ‘Came out of the practice sword as I hit Sirion.’
‘You didn’t mean to do this?’
Ataka had never heard of a Magician accidentally using his powers. As novices they occasionally let loose with a little Magic as they became frustrated, or felt another powerful emotion, but the warriors were trained to empty their minds as they fought.
‘Think I was a bit desperate,’ said Valdon, shrugging. ‘My defence was nearly gone.’
‘As always,’ muttered Ataka quietly.
‘Oi!’
Ataka put on an ‘innocent’ face that wouldn’t have fooled a six-year-old.
‘That isn’t fair!’
‘But it is true!’ retorted Ataka.
Valdon tried to stare his brother down, before quickly giving up. Most people gave up after about three seconds.
‘Ok, so I need to work on not being so berserk all the time, now will you shut up?!’
‘Alright, alright! Talk about being touchy…’
Ataka turned away.
Valdon cried at him ‘You can’t turn your back on us!’
Ataka looked back.
‘Oh, really? Who’s ‘us’, then?’
Valdon clapped a hand over his mouth.
‘I’m – I’m sorry, I just keep blurting out strange things today… and I’m having constant déjà vu… I’ve even seen into another person’s memories, but I looked the man whose memory it was up in the library… this particular person died in the year I was born.’
Now Ataka was interested. His own brother, a – But best not to make presumptions. Who knows, his theory might be wrong.
‘Got any ideas?’
‘Sort of. I’ll get back to you on that one.’
Valdon’s face went white and his hands curled into fists. Ataka had already started to walk away, but he turned back as a hissing noise crept up behind him.
‘Valdon?’
Now Valdon’s eyes were red, the pupils vertical slits, like a cat. Smoke poured from his mouth and nostrils.
‘Tell… no secret… angry…’
Ataka pulled the giant claymore he normally fought with from its sheath. Valdon noticed it and hissed defiantly. Ataka pointed the weapon at him, and the creature flinched. It pulled something invisible from the air with each hand, and a strange tendril of darkness crept from the spot his hands had touched to his outstretched fingers, and seemed to solidify and form two discs. Ataka had heard about these strange weapons… chakra they were called; discs with razor sharp edges, a handle in the centre. The clever thing in Kaldorian chakra was that the outside had a flammable coating, but the handle was steel covered in a substance that would not catch fire. Apparently Valdon knew this for the weapon was set alight by Magic.
‘You Cast,’ whispered Ataka. Casting was the term used to describe the use of Magic, but there wasn’t much call for such a phrase nowadays.
‘Yes… Cast… Magic…’
‘What has happened to you?’
‘Not the boy!’ it hissed. ‘Me!’
‘Fine,’ said Ataka, and brought the claymore down upon its head.
Valdon opened his eyes slowly to see Ataka’s concerned face peering down at him. Ataka smiled.
‘You’re awake.’
Valdon felt as though he would rather be asleep, but kept his eyes open anyway.
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know. But what I do know is that when I hit you some sort of Magic came out of you. It destroyed the food stores completely.’
Valdon groaned. They shared food with their neighbours and he had seen them angry before. It wasn’t a sight he ever wanted to see again.
‘Now what do we do?’
Ataka grinned.
‘Now, my brother, we fish.’
As it turned out, it was over a week before they managed to get their fishing done. Valdon had almost reached fifteen years of age, and as it was traditional for a young man to receive his first proper weapon at fifteen, Ataka took him to the swordsman, Mort. They were greeted with a loud yell; Ataka and the twenty-nine year old swordsman and blacksmith had had a very close friendship in Ataka’s youth.
“Ataka!” bellowed the older man. He was rather round but his arms were incredibly muscled.
“Good to see you, Mort.”
“Vida!” roared Mort, and a young, blonde-haired woman emerged from a door in the back of Mort’s shop.
“Hello, Ataka,” she said.
“Hi, Vida,” Ataka replied, inclining his head. Vida was Mort’s fiancée, although much more peace-loving than her Warrior husband-to-be.
“This must be Valdon,” Vida observed. “He looks just like you.”
“Is that a compliment?” asked Ataka.
“For him or you?” Vida retorted slyly.
“Er, hi,” piped up Valdon.
“Honoured to meet you,” Vida told him, extending a slender hand to shake Valdon’s rather larger one.
“Yes, yes…” Mort sighed. “So what brings you here, ‘Taka?”
“Valdon’s fifteenth is coming up.”
“Ah!” Mort suddenly seemed a lot more animated. “So it’s a sword you’re looking for!”
Ataka nodded.
“Guild?!” demanded Mort of a rather shell-shocked Valdon.
“Warrior,” he squeaked.
“Aha!” Mort yelled in Valdon’s face. “A like mind at last!”
The swordsman turned to Ataka.
“You would not believe the amount of Philosophers we get through here who don’t know their pommel from their scabbard…”
Vida removed a piece of string marked with knots from a shelf on the wall.
“Right or left-handed?” she asked Valdon.
“Right,” he told her, looking rather pleased at the female attention.
Vida held one end of the string on Valdon’s right shoulder and, holding the other end to Valdon’s wrist, measured how many knots were in the section of string running down his arm. She then measured his fingers, palm and forearm, measurements rolling off her tongue as Mort noted the figures down.
“That’s it,” she told Valdon.
“Aye, you’re a real swordsman now!” laughed Mort.
Valdon didn’t really find this funny, but forced a polite chuckle anyway.
“Your death stick will be with ye in a couple days!” Mort yelled almost incomprehensibly.
“He means come back and fetch your sword tomorrow,” Vida explained.
The river bank was muddy and wet; Valdon, equipped with his new sword, struggled through it with his boots half-submerged under the muck.
‘How much further?’
‘Not too far!’
‘Good!’ Valdon yelled back, then cried out as his foot snagged on something and he tripped over to land face-down in the mud. ‘Hey?’ he spat through the stuff in his mouth. ‘Don’t leave me behind!’
Ataka turned back, exasperated.
‘What now?’
‘I twicked.’
‘You what?’
Valdon spat out the mud and tried again.
‘I tripped.’
Ataka burst into laughter.
‘How? You tripped on mud? Or your own feet?’
Valdon sprang to his feet.
‘I don’t know…’
He rooted around in the mud and fished out a polished black orb. It was about the size of a football, and looked strangely beautiful as it glinted in the dim sunlight.
‘This is what I tripped on.’
Ataka squelched through the mud to look at the sphere.
‘What is it?’
‘Not sure. I think it’s made of onyx but apart from that…’
‘It’s a rock?’
‘I’m not sure. But you know the really weird thing? It feels like its weight keeps changing, like it seemed really light at first, then it went all heavy and now it’s light again. It’s almost as if it’s controlling gravity…’ Valdon thought for a moment, and then with a yell, he dropped the black ball, which had begun to glow red, blue and green at the mention of the word gravity.
‘It burnt me!’
Ataka reached down, and sure enough, the ball was red hot to the touch. He whipped his hand away, and fell backwards towards the river.
‘No!’ Valdon cried – it was well known that the fish in this river were vicious and would drag a person under before tearing them to pieces. But as his brother fell under there was no splash or ripple, and the orb began to float around the area Ataka had gone under in. Valdon didn’t know what to do – take his chances with the fish to try and save his brother, run or investigate the orb further? He made his mind up in a split second, took a deep breath and dived in.
He could see nothing in the murky water, but felt nothing around him save for a few weeds. Where had the fish and Ataka gone? He swum further towards the bottom and froze as a bright light seared his eyes. Now his hands were over his face and useless; he was falling down into the water, down, down…
Thanks for reading, though I doubt you read the whole thing... anyhow, should probably be posting Part Two fairly soon. Open to constructive criticism, please let me know what you thought was good and what needs improving.
).
