Source of Power

Green blades, the seclusion of the temple courtyard inspired a contest of will, manifested physically. Waves of translucent energy formed to a focused point above the grass--psionic forces, the power of the mind. A dozen learners stood in a semi-circle watching the confrontation between the psion master, Sellak, and a talented student.

Each person of the clan wore common clothing, nothing extravagant, no insignias. The focused energy built. The faces of the awestruck students bent and fluxed behind the disturbance--waves of energy doubled as a manifested lens. Space wobbled and distorted as the disturbance grew; a grinding hum began to pour into the courtyard.

Dedrick, a bald man with a loose fitting white shirt stepped forward, he addressed Sellak, “Brother, this is getting dangerous.”

Conceding to his brother’s wisdom, Sellak began to release focus, letting the energy dissipate. The student began to do the same, but then lashed out. The sphere of energy exploded; translucent waves knocked everyone to the ground. Sellak took the brunt of the force; he flew back and slammed against a wall--giant stone blocks mesh, forming the enclosed courtyard.

First to his feet, Dedrick quickly made way to his brother’s side, and helped him to shake off the stunning drain left by that type of psionic exposure. The contestant approached, Sellak gave a courteous gesture--a simple nod that indicated approval. Dedrick steps between his brother and the student, a fiery glare coated the master psion’s eyes. For a small eternity, everyone paused, motionless, awaiting action.

Another student broke the silence with a question. “This wall is unlike the others…” a faded mural covered the stone face, “This represents a scene from the past?”

Dedrick’s nickel-faced brow, accentuated by his shaved head, slowly receded. The cram packed tensions evaporated as the master psion began weaving the story pictured in the mural.

“This is a scene from the beginning, know as ‘awakening’. Tolvis created the mural as a way to remember how this place began, everything you have seen here is a result of what happened this day. You see, my brother and I unlocked our powers by learning from Tolvis, much the same as you are now learning from us. Tolvis had no teacher, this scene is a record of the day he unlocked the powers we now study.

“You see here, the wagon. He was just a child at the time; his parents were on pilgrimage, looking for a new home. The trip across open fields should have been safe. These animals, you can see them breaking the tree line, attacked the wagon, probably out of starvation, or perhaps madness. They were common Lynx, wild cats.

“Oh, the family fought as best they could, but what is one man to do against crazed beasts. They chased down the wagon, killed the team of horses and trapped the family in the back. His parents told him to hide while they tried to fight; they did not last long. These animals became the namesake of our order.

“After an hour, Tolvis crawled out and started walking across the plains. The creatures caught him in open field and pounced, his legs would not let him run fast enough, and he could not fight back with the meager strength of his young arm. In that last moment before death, he fought back with his mind. He broke the barrier alone, unleashing a potential that all men are born with. In time, you will all be masters in this order… The Order of the Crazed Lynx”

#

Westgate began to stir in the early morning as the first rays of light broke over the city wall. Hundreds of people scattered the streets and the docks buzzed with commotion. Perched in safety, Leone slumbered away under early rays. Suddenly, a gruff voice broke into his serene fantasy.

“Get up boy, you can’t stay here forever.”

Leone replied with an unruly, “You should just call the chiefs, I’m not going anywhere.”

An unmistakable throat clearing sound was the only reply. Uncomfortable silence filled the room. Leone started to sweat–-the guards had already arrived. A big hand grabbed Leone’s shoulder and forced him to his feet. The two locked eyes.

“Look son… The fine is going to be forty coins. Are you going to pay it? Or should I take you to the stocks?”

Leone replied with a choking, but soft, “forty…”

Reaching in his back pocket Leone produces a little bag of coins. Money in hand, the law enforcer left, Leone hoped, to go file paperwork on the event. He departed, giving the meanest looking sneer he could muster. Outside, he grabbed his bag from the alley, and took a side street down to the docks. He walked up beside an elderly gent watching the commotion.

“So, how are you doing Leone?”

“Good, I just need a little help.”

“What ship?”

“Not sure, I just know that she is destined to carry out a shipment today.”

“That can only be the Silent Star; last one on the row.”

Leone handed his friend a coin and started to walk away.

“It’s kind of odd that you would ask about that particular shipment.”

Leone took a few backward steps and stopped, “What do you mean?”

“The warehouse was robbed last night. Some vagrants posing as the crew of the Silent Star made off with the whole lot.”

“You’re kidding…”

“No, they even slit the guards and left them to bleed out. The bodies were found at daybreak.”

Leone’s skin ran white.

“I feel sorry for the poor guy they catch. Killing the city guards has never qualified for humane treatment.”

“Quite right, thanks for the news.”

Leone passed off a couple more coins and headed down to the wharf. The street was a messy crowded bustle with an air of caution hanging overhead--a bloom emanating from dead protectors incited a perceived loss of safety. Leone scanned ahead for trouble; three soldiers jogged down the street looking for anything unusual, a familiar bull-faced muscleman’s eyes looked out from a nearby alley.

Paranoia sunk in; Leone ducked into the dark across the way before the troops spotted him. After a moment, he slipped out in their wake and disappeared into a crowd of citizens. The valley of buildings melted away as his steps brought the water closer. The street widened into an open-air market--a division of commerce fueled by the berating of specialized street vendors. Leone passed by a simple stand selling weapons in various stages of disrepair. The wavy braid of a firebrand sword stood out among the crowd of lesser weapons--the firebrand meshed two old blades, twisted and forged together.

A quick barter ensued. Leone walked away with the sword tipped over his shoulder, light a few more coins. Locked onto the ship, careful to play the encounter just right, he waited until the Silent Star looked fat, loaded and ready to leave.

The deck-master untied a mooring line as Leone crossed the last boarding plank, “Who are you?”

Leone casually brandished the sword. “A Mercenary, I heard about the business last night. If you guys are going after the thieves, an extra man could help turn the tide.”

After a quick glance the deck-master said, “Fine, you can come, we are shipping out now… And you don’t get paid till I see you bleed a couple of those bastards.”

#

Dedrick and Sellak stepped into a council chamber--a simple room: one window, one door, and a small stone table with four chairs. The brothers sat across from each other.

“Jelelof is making significant progress.”

“Take it with a grain brother. He may have won that contest, but you are deserving of the title, master, and he remains your apprentice.”

A few moments passed as Sellak took in his brother’s advice.

With a sleight grin, Dedrick continued, “Your failure… only serves to show that you are a good teacher.”

Sellak smiled and slung a strong look, “Well, what about your student Yabbash, he’s not doing so…”

“Wait,” Dedrick interrupted, “Did you hear that? Someone is at the door.”

“It is probably just a… no, they are armed.”

The two brothers rose from their chairs in unison.

“Students should not be armed.”

With less optimism in his voice, Dedrick quietly said, “Prepare your self.”

#

Ten assassins stood on the other side of the door. As a whole, the group wore piecemeal armor, each carrying one or more melee weapons. The intent was hostile, the function was death, and these brigands only fought under orders. Only careful planning and sadistic calculation placed the raid inside the temple with no resistance.

Standing before the door holding the two master psions, the entire group shared a single expression--each face questioning the quality of the plan. At this point, they knew the truth; no escape route existed. One of the assassins signaled… open the door.

#

The council chamber door swung open to reveal nothing, just the empty hallway; seconds passed with no activity. The two brothers were not impressed. Dedrick stepped forward. He stood facing the door, legs apart, danger nearby.

The bandits crouched, perhaps cowered, five to either side of the doorway; they hoped one of the psions would come into the hall and investigate--an ambush. Dedrick did not intend to satisfy that lofty goal.

The psionic warrior slid off his shirt. Thick black tattoos of emblazoned flames covered his torso. The flesh of his head pulsated; the veins of his arms and neck thickened. Slowly, as he summoned psionic will, the tattoos animated--they danced with fury.

With stress in his stature, the animated picots began to pull free of skin. Fire writhed around Dedrick’s body--a physical wave of pure emotions. The heat of a fully stoked forge flooded into the room. Dedrick commanded the flames; they bent to his will. His skin seethed but did not burn. In a single violent thrust, the flames blasted into the hallway. Sellak closed the door.

In unison the brothers said, “Let them burn.”

#

The Captain perched, crystallized on the aft command deck. He watched cliff walls close around the ship, Deckmaster to his side, operating a curiously offset wheel. Leone stepped up to the raised platform, the tip of his sword dug into the deck under pressure by the rogue’s leaning.

“Why are we going through The Cut? It is dangerous.”

“Fish-stories, hah… The fact is that the thieves have a half-day head start. We will catch up with them faster if we run through here.”

“Besides, the stories are embellished. This time of year, we should be safe from any creature, and the water is high enough to give full clearance the whole way.”

“Just one question, have either of you been through here before?”

“Well…”

“No.”

Wind dropped off to nothing in the high walled chasm of The Cut. The Sails whuffled and fell silent. In moments, the vessel’s drag pulled to a virtual dead stop over the shallows. Leone raised a brow, silently questioning the situation.

The Captain gave a look to his men. “Bind the sails and deploy the pylon.”

Leone looked around, in all directions, but did not see a naval pylon anywhere. “Frontal pylons are little more than dangerous obstructions.”

“I agree completely, and that’s why I don’t use them.”

Down on the main deck of the ship, the crew began removing wooden panels that normally cover the pylon. An entire row of trap doors, placed end to end, ran from the mast to the stern. Deploying the naval pylon turned out to be quick work. Grunt force pulled the massive pole to an upright position, in perfect timing, counterweights released; the pylon dove down to a sandy bottom and the ship begins to move under counteracting forces--the naval pylon was simply a large-scale, automation version of a boatman’s push pole.

#

Flames spat out around the doorway. Echoed thumps carried through the temple, panicked slams of the combusting. Suddenly, the flaming silhouette burst open. A ravager, unleashed by the blaze, exploded into the room. Metal flashed through the inferno, a sword… two swords.

A thousand calculated considerations filled the air. Blind fury could be driving the torched warrior--inconsistent details dismissed the thought. The man maintained a grip on his blades, despite an enveloping blaze. The ravager’s skin did not crack, and his hair did not burn. Eyes pierced through orange.

The assassin launched a flurry of swings on the psionic brothers. Twin swords cut the air, streaking near skin; a noisy zip trailed the assassination blades. Hulks of air burst apart with every movement--blazed clothing rippled as a catalyst for the sound. Dedrick slipped away, chips of stone burst in all directions as the wild blade only found a niche in the empty table.

Sellak, back to the wall, reached out with his mind. The wobbled sword instantly froze, motionless. The ravager glanced to his hand; the strength of grip was not in question. The weapon had simply lodged in a space of air above the table. He abandoned the blade, firmly gripping the other sword with both hands.

The menacing point drove down, across the body. Dedrick squared off, focusing full attention on the blade; he shuffled a chair away, backing around the table. Sellak passed the other side, his paralyzing grip dropped and he snatched the other sword from midair.

As if sensing with a surreal vision, the assassin dove forward--engaging Dedrick and evading Sellak. An overpowered thrust pinned through an outer layer of the psions clothing. Dedrick spun away, desperate. With a slink step forward, the ravager deftly unloaded an overhead executioner’s swing.

At the last moment, the master crossed both forearms overhead to block the blow. A pinpoint of psionic energy intercepted the death-dealing blade and ripped through the metal. A section of sword, from tip to half-fuller, tumbled through the air, striking a clang off the back wall.

Sellak, rounding behind the ravager, plunged forward with the procured blade. The steel strike pierced unaware flesh and the assassin drops--a shard of metal jutted through his chest. The two brothers shared a concerned glance, questioning many things--the instigator of this attack, this ones apparent immunity to fire, and the safety of the temple. The thing they did not question, is the thing that should have been of paramount concern.

Sellak knelt down to inspect the corpse, “Where do you think these rogues came from?”

“An unannounced enemy has just made the introduction.”

“Yes…” Sellak pulled a stone red pendant from under the dead man’s shirt. A swift snap broke the chain.

“That appears to be magical.”

“The charm is warm to the touch, we should show Tolvis.”

“Immediately…”

Regaining his feet, “And I can tell him how you broke the sword with a mental shield; that even impressed me.”

Dedrick’s face dropped to an undefined level of flat expression. “I thought you did that."

#

The voice of compassion reveled, “These brothers have power, undoubted, unmitigated, but to kill an entity such as us…”