25. Xandor
Chapter 25
Xandor
Divine
N oroth and Krogoth pounce like mountains of muscle, each clutching onto Logarn with unbreakable grips. The mad youth continues to thrash and squirm like he’s possessed by an entity from the netherworld, but my friends’ arcweave holds remain unyielding. My brave Tyrxie, undeterred, keeps her steady hands on Logarn’s head, her eyes closed in quiet concentration.
An ear-piercing scream emits from Logarn, carrying a shocking level of pain and terror that almost gives me pause. “You’re killing him!” Rocks pleads, her voice frantic, matching the chaotic scene.
“No, don’t stop!” I urge keeping a close watch on the writhing Logarn. “Only through suffering can he break free.”
Tyrxie’s hands continue to pulse green, as Logarn’s struggles become weaker and weaker. His legs give out from under him, and Noroth and Krogoth relax their hold, allowing the youth to fall to his knees. Tyrxie’s eyes snap open, a look of wonder and exhaustion on her face. “I did it, I bridged the circuit.”
Before I can reply, Logarn bursts into heaving sobs, his brown eyes looking at each of us as if for the first time. “I... I, oh Gods, what have I done!” he wails, his voice laden with sorrow. It’s jarring to hear Logarn’s voice carrying any emotion. He crumples into a ball at our feet, the intensity of his crying heightening further.
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” Rocks says, struggling to be heard over the heaving cries. “It’s like he’s experiencing every emotion at once, as strongly as possible.” She shakes her head.
“Tyrxie has restored his mind,” I announce, placing a hand on my love’s shoulder. “But Logarn is experiencing a cascade of repressed emotions, like a blind warrior having his vision restored only to stare into a blazing sun.” My eye shifts to Rocks as I try to explain. “Every pain, every doubt, every longing, every joy, every killing is now his to bear—I only hope he is strong enough to endure.”
“Noroth, take him to the medical lab. Have him checked out,” Krogoth commands as the two help the youth to his feet, his body shaking with sobbing. Noroth nods as he places a massive arm under Logarn’s, leading him out of the room.
An awkward silence lingers as the others stare with downcast eyes, lost in thought. “I’m so proud of you, Tyrxie,” I say, giving her a squeeze. Yet my words don’t reach her or Rocks and Krogoth, who stare at Tyrxie in disbelief. It twists my heart that my love is not getting the respect she deserves. “Don’t you know what this means? Our youth can be healed, our future generations saved!”
“Yes... yes,” Krogoth nods his head, coming round to the notion. “Assuming there are no adverse effects,” he posits.
A flash of irritation rises in me, but I suppress it, remembering they’re not aware of the same things as I. “Trust me, any other method would have resulted in the same. They must process all that was repressed. It’ll take time, but they’ll be the stronger for it—we’ll all be stronger for it.”
“What about you, Tyrxie?” Rocks asks with an outstretched hand and a look of concern. “You are unsure.”
“I was unsure,” Tyrxie agrees with a nod, her gaze shifting to me with a smile that warms my soul. “It was frightening hearing Logarn’s pain, thinking I was hurting him. But if Xandor says he’ll recover and live like normal, I’ll be happy.”
“And you’d be happy to do this for the others?” Krogoth interjects, as I detect a hint of eagerness in his voice, his excitement at the prospect growing. “There are hundreds of thousands of our youth who’ve been corrupted.”
Tyrxie gasps as she looks at me, but I keep my face expressionless, not wanting to influence her decision—this is her burden, her glory. “Um, it might take a while, but since I know where to look, I know I can do it faster.” She lets out a charming chuckle. “But we should restrain them next time.”
Her answer was ordained. All future versions of my love are filled with the purest honor. Yet hearing the words spoken overwhelms me with pride and joy. I scoop Tyrxie up in my arm, spinning her around. She squeals in delight, warming my heart. “I’m so proud of you, beautiful soul,” I say, setting her down.
Krogoth beams at Tyrxie, placing a massive hand on her shoulder. “You have my thanks, and the thanks of all Klendathians. Know that you’ll receive much honor for this, and our eternal gratitude.” He finishes with the Klendathian salute.
Tyrxie returns the gesture with what must be the cutest Klendathian salute ever witnessed. “It feels like the right thing to do.”
“Krogoth, Rocks, there’s something we must teach you if we are to avoid disaster,” I declare, carried by elation from Tyrxie’s decision.
“What disaster?” Rocks asks, clutching her belly with a nervous glance towards Krogoth.
So many to choose from! “When you arrive to meet the other clan chieftains, one will rise to challenge you, and you will be consumed in his vengeful flames.”
“No!” Rocks gasps, covering her mouth with a hand.
Krogoth frowns. “Let him challenge me. None can match my power,” he asserts, his eyes glowing purple with intensity.
“Listen, old friend,” I place a hand on his shoulder. “This is not just a contest of skill and muscle. It involves Gods-gifted powers. If you can’t control yours, you will be killed in his wrath.”
“Tell us how, Xandor,” Rocks pleads, looking between Tyrxie and me. “We tried a bunch of different things, but nothing worked. Except that horrible fight against Gorexius.”
“It’s easy with hindsight!” I exclaim, laughing. Krogoth and Rocks exchange a confused look, while even my Tyrxie gives me a pitying pat on my arm. “Because I can see the future paths?” My words only elicit more frowns. “Anyway... We’ll practice in the training halls, in case you open a tear in the viewport or the command console,” I say, gesturing towards Krogoth.
“You’d think he’d tell better jokes, knowing the future,” the bratty little Rocks whispers to my sweet, innocent Tyrxie. The pair fall in together as Krogoth and I lead the way towards the training halls. The black marble corridors are bustling with warriors coming and going. Most are young, unseasoned, with short-hair and the characteristic blank expression of the corrupted.
“So, did the Nebians accept all our terms?” Krogoth inquires as we round a corner.
“All of them,” I smirk at Krogoth, enjoying his look of surprise.
“Even the ten billion credits?” Krogoth asks with eager disbelief.
“Every credit. We should’ve asked for more!” We laugh as Krogoth slaps me on the shoulder. “Wait till you hear this. They’re going to give selected warriors laser weapons to be overseen by their teams. Felixus is one of them. He’s still on the Nebian ship.”
“Excellent,” Krogoth beams, nodding his head. “Having Felixus will be a great boon. You’ve outdone yourself brother, I never dared hope for so much.”
I grimace, the more difficult memories are still raw. “It was a close-run thing, Krogoth. The Nebians blew up our ship. We were held against our will. I was tortured for answers I could not give. Only because of my Tyrxie did I survive to get an audience with the Imperator and his Consuls, and even that required much bowing and boot licking. Stubborn bunch of arrogant short-stuffs the lot of them.” I chuckle wryly.
“But you did it, like I knew you would. My finest warrior, combined with a charm no female can resist. The only doubt was if you could keep a respectful tone,” Krogoth says with a laugh.
My pride swells at his words, knowing Krogoth is difficult to impress. “I showed them more respect than they deserved,” I sigh, knowing the paths required it. “Noroth is to be honored as well. He fought with bravery and skill. As solid a warrior at your side as you could hope for.”
“Of course, he continues to impress.” Krogoth nods. Many warriors incline their heads in respect as we travel. My sensitive ears pick up Tyrxie asking Rocks how she met Krogoth with eager enthusiasm, as Rocks giggles, recounting how Krogoth hunted her on Earth to bring her to this very ship.
We enter the training halls, denoted by the weapons aligning the walls. The large space is bustling with activity, a stark contrast to the last time I was here. Young warriors bare-chested, wrestle and train with weapons in sandy arena circles, while others climb and mount platforms, trying to outperform each other’s efforts. The air is thick with the smell of sweat—sweat of hard work and strength being honed to a laser’s edge.
Krogoth claps his hands together. “Everyone out!” He roars in his battle voice, stiffening my back and almost deafening me. The passive faces of the youth give no sign of annoyance as they rush to obey Krogoth’s command. Once the last warrior streams out the door, our group moves towards the room’s center.
“So, what’s the secret, Xandor?” Rocks inquires eagerly.
“It’s deceptively simple,” I laugh. “You’ll curse yourselves for not thinking of it sooner.”
“As long as I can keep Krogoth from being burned to a bloody crisp, I’ll be happy,” Rocks retorts, her fierce protectiveness of her Mortakin-Kai doing her honor.
“Hold on to that feeling, Rocks,” I say, inclining my head towards her. “Feed it, stoke it until your heart blazes like a glorious sun in the void of space,” I gesture towards Krogoth. “You too, brother. Only together can you unleash the full extent of your gifts.”
Rocks closes her eyes, her breathing heightening, while Krogoth stands, his eyes flicking between Tyrxie and me. “You can use any emotion... even anger and hate,” Tyrxie interjects, her teeth clenched as if she’s channeling sympathetically with them. “You can feel it inside, like a joining, being connected.”
Krogoth nods with a knowing smile—anger, an emotion we Klendathians wield like a weapon. His fists clench, his chest rising and falling with great breaths, charged like a venefex about to pounce. Rocks gasps, her eyes flicking open, now awash in hues of purple. “I can see it!” she exclaims, amazement in her voice yet her gaze appears glassy. “The world of flaming emotions that Machsin could see.”
“Pebbles, I can sense your essence in mine!” Krogoth says with elation. His purple eyes glow and mist with jarring swirls of hazel. He extends an ominous arm, filling me with concern, for his power is immensely dangerous.
“Careful brother,” I urge with a placating hand. “Away from the hull or us.” I let out a nervous chuckle.
Krogoth laughs. “Relax, Xandor, I’ve done this before, like a dream within a dream.” His arm points towards an empty portion of the training hall, and an orb of shimmering nothingness appears, like a black hole sucking in the light and anything unfortunate enough to be close. Tyrxie gasps, holding a hand to her mouth as my heart thunders in my chest.
“You two should be closer,” Krogoth laughs, pointing at Tyrxie and me. Suddenly an immense force pulls at my left side, dragging with irresistible force until my love and I are unceremoniously pressed together in an embrace that’s anything but comfortable or natural.
“Very funny, Krogoth.” I sigh, with a calmness I don’t feel. But I know Tyrxie and I are safe, seeing the future paths. “Like giving a wild borack the ability to fire plasma,” I jest.
The immense pressure falls away as quickly as it came, and my Tyrxie exhales loudly, clutching me in desperate panic, filling me with annoyance at my old friend. Krogoth’s face takes on a look of concerned regret. “Little Tyrxie, I never meant to scare you.”
“Apologize, Krogoth!” Rocks demands, her voice carrying an unnatural element that pierces the senses and reverberates in the mind in an unsettling way.
Krogoth freezes as if stuck by a torrent of icy water. His eyes bulge and his body trembles, hinting at an internal struggle. “My profound apologies, Xandor and Tyrxie,” he mutters through tight lips, and to my amazement, he prostrates himself before us. I look at Rocks in disbelief as she stares at her Mortakin-Kai with growing concern.
“Stop, Krogoth,” Rocks urges in her normal voice, rushing to help the bowing Krogoth from the ground. She might as well be pulling on a mountain as Krogoth continues to bend before us. I exchange a grimace with Tyrxie, the sight of my friend’s dishonor turning my stomach.
A power to reduce the most noble warrior to disgraceful debasement.
A shudder cascades through me. Thank the Gods Rocks is on our side. “Project into him. Or he’ll be like this for a while,” I say, looking toward Rocks. She nods, taking a deep breath to focus her attention on Krogoth. No words are spoken. Something unseen and unique to her Gods-given gift takes place, releasing Krogoth from his mental servitude.
Krogoth jolts upright, his breathing ragged, looking at Rocks with a frown. “That was... unpleasant,” he intones.
Rocks places a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Krogoth,” she says, shaking her downcast head. “I had no idea that would happen.”
Krogoth smiles at her, leaning down to rub his nose against hers—the big romantic. “You two possess the most dangerous gifts. You’ll need to practice, learn to control them, and summon them at a moment’s notice.”
Krogoth nods, his eyes a little distant, while Rocks fondles her Elerium necklace, her mouth scrunched up. “This chieftain who’ll challenge Krogoth, why can’t I just command him to stop or even...” She looks away. “Kill himself?”
“You could, but it won’t end well.” I smile at her, already having seen the future paths where Rocks does those very things. “The others will know you acted against him in a dishonorable way. And any command you give will only last minutes.” I let out a short laugh. “Unless you plan to live together, it’ll only delay the inevitable.”
“Hardly!” Rocks scoffs, “As if I’d live with some asshole who wants to kill my Korgy,” she asserts as Krogoth places an arm around her shoulder. “But thanks,” she nods to me and then Tyrxie. “Thank you both for giving us a chance.”
“Happy to help,” Tyrxie says sweetly, inclining her head.
I grin at Rocks. “More than a chance if you both practice.” I can already see the future paths leading into oblivion fading away, becoming weaker at my intervention. It fills me with relief as the results of losing Krogoth would be catastrophic—not to mention I love him like a blood brother.
And just like brothers—sometimes there’s sibling rivalry. “What do you say, Krogoth?” I nod towards a rack of wooden weapons. “A friendly duel to shake some dust off.” Rocks frowns, Tyrxie gasps.
Krogoth glances at Tyrxie and then at me. My heart pounds in my chest, eager to test myself, eager to prove myself worthy. His expression shifts to pity, unwarranted and twisting my stomach with shame. “After our last bout, and now with your impairment. I would not wish to shame you, brother.” He shakes his head.
He thinks me even less of a contest than last time, but things have changed—I’ve changed.
“Careful, old friend, you may end up eating those words.” I glare at him, my tone an icy promise. Krogoth continues to scrutinize me, as if weighing every ounce of my being, probably imagining how to defeat me in a way that’ll let me save face before my Tyrxie. He is a good friend. “If I give you a poor contest, I’ll never ask again,” I promise, sweetening the deal.
Krogoth sighs, an irksome look of concern in his purple eyes that scuffs my pride. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, stalking over to the weapon rack, selecting a large rectangular shield that covers most of his left side and a wooden ax. “And I have a long memory,” he chuckles, betraying a hint of menace.
“I better win, then,” I reply, turning towards the other weapon rack. “Eight hundred years is a long time to go without my regular beatings,” I jest, knowing If I have the strength to follow the paths, he won’t land a single blow—if.
I frown at the array of wooden weapons, lacking a large enough sword to mimic my new laser weapon. Instead, I opt for a long staff, grasping the firm wood in my hand, admiring the many dents and spits along its length—each one a tale of its own. “Xandor,” Tyrxie whispers, taking me by surprise, clutching my wrist.
“Oh, hail my love,” I retort with a smile, gesturing with my staff. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re crazy,” Tyrxie mutters, glancing over her shoulder at the towering Krogoth. “He’s voiding massive... and not to mention scary.” Her voice is almost inaudible.
“Krogoth?” I peer back at my old friend, his eyes glowing purple as he swooshes his ax round in wide testing arcs that distort the air. “He’s a big softy,” I laugh as Tyrxie’s sweet face drops like I’ve just declared space is white. “Besides, it’s a friendly bout. I’ll be fine,” I promise, rubbing my nose against hers, enjoying the incredibly soft feeling of her.
“Okay... Just don’t get hurt,” she pleads, to which I smile and nod, loving the way she looks out for me.
“Saying your farewells, Xandor?” Krogoth mocks, shouting over, now swinging his massive arms in rotating circles.
“She was just asking me to go easy on you,” I laugh, approaching the sandy arena ring, swinging and thrusting my staff in testing movements. “This staff counts as a sword,” I gesture with the weapon, holding it near the bottom.
“Fine,” Krogoth waves a dismissive ax around, his impatience not motivated by excitement like my own.
“Wait,” Rocks interrupts our testing swings and limbering bodies. “If you can see the future, what’s the point if you know the outcome?” She asks, as Tyrxie moves to stand beside her on the outside of the ring.
“An excellent question, Rocks.” One that sometimes keeps me up into the long, silent nights. Rock’s face softens looking at me, and I curse myself for being careless with my thoughts. “The future is almost never certain. Knowing the correct choices is one thing, but having the strength to follow or the ability to convince others to act in their best interest is another.” I let out a sigh before my gaze shifts to Krogoth. “And it’s in that uncertainty where the fun lies.”
Krogoth smiles, towering above me, his broad muscular body heaving with untapped power. “Well said. And that’s why I sent you to speak to the Nebians,” he laughs. As our eyes lock, my body grows tense, the adrenaline coursing through my veins threatening to pull the Rush from my golden gaze. There’s a part of me—the prideful Xandor that has yearned for this moment my whole life, and now that I’m at the precipice, it almost overwhelms me.
The sands shift as Krogoth inches forward behind his massive shield. I spring to my left, flashing a thrust with my staff, aiming for his unprotected side. He recoils, tilting backward with a speed someone his size shouldn’t possess. My blow falls short as Krogoth smirks at my bold strike, setting the tone for what’s coming.
Images and visions of Krogoth’s barrage of assaults flood my mind, each possible action leading to cascading overwhelming options. Krogoth bursts forward, swinging his ax in rather lazy strokes that crisscross and flow into a steady assault. I catch a few with my staff, his great strength shaking it and vibrating my arm. The others I nimbly leap back from.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” I tut, feeling annoyed that Krogoth seeks to test me like a novice Prospect, not treating my challenge with the respect or honor I deserve—I will force him! I grip my staff tighter, sucking in air, letting it fuel me, pumping my molten blood through my veins like rivers of boiling lava.
I stalk around Krogoth, flicking jabs that snap and crack like bolts of golden lightning. He whirls around, pivoting with haste, deflecting with his shield or ax. But I’m just getting started, my speed increasing with each iteration pushing him harder. High, low, left side, right side, I test each angle, trusting and chopping the sound of my staff clacking like thunder in the heavens.
Krogoth smiles through the blur as he matches my incredible speed. Already, my brother and I are reaching heights none but we can ascend. I hear my sweet Tyrxie gasp as the steady snap and bang of weapons and shield ring out, frequent like heavy hailstones falling, our limbs invisible to anyone lacking our focused power.
“Get him, Krogoth, right on his big head!” Rocks cheers, causing us both to grin between our frantic blows.
“His head’s not big!” Tyrxie shouts, taking the words from my mouth—my perfect female. “It’s just a bit bigger than Krogoth’s.” My soul is crushed.
Krogoth is buoyed by his female, while I struggle with humorous despair—my weak point cruelly assaulted by all sides. My hulking opponent goes on the offensive, content that I am his match, that only I can give him a worthy fight. He unleashes his fury with brutal kicks, shield bashes, and ax swings.
Countless premonitions assault my mind, with some treacherous options offering salvation only to lead to a dead-end moments later. It’s dizzying making the correct choice, having only a fraction of a second to decide. This contest is pushing my mind and body to their breaking points—Krogoth Star Eyes, the avatar of our Gods—a terrifying opponent.
Yet there are victorious paths, few and difficult, requiring perfect technique, demanding precise timing and execution. Krogoth is much stronger and isn’t missing an arm and eye, but I’m faster—I can win. Krogoth roars, pressing me to the edge of the ring. I dance around the edges, flashing out thrusts, knowing when he’s baiting me and which jabs may give him an advantage.
There’s doubt in his eyes now, as we spin around the tiny arena—too small for ones such as us. Mighty demigods infused with the power of the Gods, their chosen noble sons. I laugh, feeling my power flow through me, the elation of a worthy battle carrying me to new heights. Krogoth feels it too. I see him laugh as we strike and attack like hated enemies, but our hearts are bursting with love.
This is our divine purpose; this is why we exist. I feel my heart soaring, lifted by the moment as I suck in more oxygen, my focus heightening even further, my muscles tightening. More! More! I feel more alive than ever before. My speed increases, the paths of victory glowing like newborn stars. My staff lashes out with impossible haste. Krogoth grunts, now on the defensive, as manic laughter spills from my lips, almost obscured by the whistling, cracking staff, sounding like a barrage of bombs dropping from orbit.
There! Krogoth stumbles, the slightest misstep—only noticeable to an artist such as I. The path to victory glows like a supernova. With a blinding flash, I sweep his overstretched leg. He’s a fraction too slow to stop me—it’s over, I’ve won! Krogoth falls, it happens so slowly, like a great tree in Draxxi forest being felled.
It’s just a warrior falling—but I don’t care. This moment means everything to me. All I’ve suffered and endured has brought me to this point. Now, I can hold my head high with pride. Krogoth and I remain as brothers, almost equals. The ground shakes as the imposing titan that is my best friend crashes to the ground. I’m consumed by laughter until my lungs erupt into raking, tormenting coughs.
I too collapse to the ground, like my honorable brother. Each agonizing breath is a torment, emitting a horrible rasping sound as if sucking air through a nano thin pipe into lungs that are on fire. “Xandor!” Tyrxie exclaims, her sweet voice loaded with panic. I feel her warm hands on my back as my vision grows dark, the minuscule amount of air I struggle to grasp not enough to sustain me.
“Hang on, you big dummy,” Tyrxie says, in a tone that’s far too flippant for the situation—the confidence of my Kor-Kis. Glorious warmth flows through me, as her emerald energies tingle and swim through my body. Closing my eyes, I can almost fill her fingers, caressing me. I gasp and throw my head back when she reaches my chest, washing away the burning pain. Each breath is now deep and pure, my lungs no longer restricted as if a monstrous hand were squeezing them.
“It’s a good thing you’re not charging me credits for this.” I smirk up at my Tyrxie, although my jest falls flat against her impenetrable grimace.
“Uh, huh,” she mutters, with a hand on her hip. “What happened to ‘I’ll be fine’? You keep popping lungs like air bubbles.”
“Krogoth happened,” I chuckle, glancing up to see Rocks and Krogoth staring down at me with a look of concern. They are good friends. “Apologies, my love,” I say, staring at Tyrxie to convey my sincerity. “But this was important to me.” She nods and strokes my hair. Gods, how I love her.
“You fought like a brutal brutonous,” Krogoth says, offering his hand, filling my heart with pride. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.” He shakes his head with disbelief as I rise to my feet. “Perhaps it would be best if you lead our noble people.”
“Void no!” I exclaim in shock. Krogoth averts his gaze, a more disturbing sight than when Rocks commanded him to bow. “It must be you, brother. The Gods chose you to lead us.” I pat him on the shoulder, flashing him what I hope is my most reassuring smile.
Krogoth meets my gaze, his expression warming. “Gods, fighting you is infuriating. You made no mistakes, left no openings, every move I made countered, like fighting light itself,” he chuckles.
“No, it wasn’t a fair contest.” I glare at him with intense focus, needing to bolster his confidence with the simple truth. “I fought with my powers, divining your moves, predicting the futures.” A sharp laugh escapes me. “If you used your powers, none of my paths showed any hope of victory.”
My old friend’s eyes glow purple as he nods with renewed confidence.
“You are the greatest of us, Krogoth Star Eyes.”