Endeavour
By TMS
Copyright 2012 TMS
Cover design copyright TMS 2012 all rights reserved
TMS
https://thisistms.wordpress.com
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ENDEVOUR
The blades, bodies of art, tattooed with house signs, emblems and saying that swore allegiance to the death brawled. The swords screamed, as they met each other instead of flesh. Brutally clashing. Howling high-pitched hissing profanities into the ether. Swinging violently, causing the knee high wild grasses to start sway in waves. The same shockwaves, that Meshix had wielded earlier as her own personal wrath, to incinerate in a blast of blazing hot air, the weakest of those who had foolishly come to attack her. Without a word, or angry shout, more than half the force disintegrated into ash, in a sonic boom that singed the grass a kilometre across the encounter, only to have it grow back on the reverberation.
That’s when Etabah first felt the weird concoction of pitiful feelings that he’d never experienced before. These weren’t just ordinary Macra’s being killed; these were grand Kapus’ who commanded vast Strij, and cuno below them, these were creature that had stopped skirmishing, due to the lack of challenge. Now here they were as a team of ultimate’s, fighting a single Glisan, who was destroying them effortlessly, using only her short sword, as a novelty, to slow down the encounter.
He was sweating, exerting, breathing hard, her facial expression was the same as when they arrived, distant, impassive. Lagging far behind her movements, as if her body was fighting alone, and she just happened to be there but was not involved. A thought came to Etabah, and things clicked; all those who had joined his endeavour, had been Macras who had power, but most of them maybe were recently promoted grand Kapus’ who lacked experience and years, in the great fight against the light. That must explain their weakness, but he was strong, and his ancestry was powerful he thought to himself.
The first and last great Synthan, ancestor Fire talker, that he had mentioned his endeavour to had told him that he would die a horrible death if he ever uttered those words again in the presence of a great Synthan, when pressed with why? He answered that records from those earlier times are only open to Oba. Who is Oba he asked, Oba is Oba was the answer, before he walked off, from his semi private, to his private chambers.
Etabahs’ higher ancestor was also not excited, when he was told days later;
“…Etabah, you are too excited, I don’t like to talk standing, sit down my ling… Dera!”
“Yes my lord?” Replied the being standing by the door, whose body seemed to be a mixture of solid and gas shadows.
“Get this little ling of mine, Maneek, I’ll have my usual.”
They sat down on the giant chairs, as the being disappeared into gas, paying no attention to the holographic fire that burned from the high roof down into the pit.
“Now Etabah, it is the way of the Synthan to make his name through a daring endeavour against the children of the light, with an army of Macras backing them up. It is a rite of passage, part of our culture and nature. No higher ling will ever stop a ling from going on an endeavour, that goes against all that we are, but if we are asked we will advise.”
“You worry too much ancestor; I’ve done my research it’s going to be in and out, all were going for is a strand of hair, to create a small clon that will make me a legend, worthy of our Synthan name. What is Oba Ancestor?”
“Oba is a level of oath, a level of truth that you take, run by the house of secrets Obajan, and once you take it you are privy to the truths held by Obajan. Where did you hear about Oba?”
“From ancestor Firetalker, since you know about Oba tell me about this Glisan ancestor?”
“Oba can only talk Oba to those who have taken the Obajan, that is the nature of the oath.”
“I didn’t know such things existed,”
“Many things that you can’t even imagine exist, and after you’ve known, and start to think that you know enough, you find out that you didn’t even know half. In all seriousness Etabah I am telling you now, if you do this, you and any who follow you, regardless of how strong the Macras are will die.”
The revelation of truth came too late to Etabah; the feeling that was pressing now was that of imminent, unavoidable danger.
Meshixs’ body finding an opening in Etabah’s’ onslaught, spun one hundred and eighty on the tip of her left foot,
Releasing a right footed spinning kick catching him off guard. Connecting with Etabah’s’ left freckled cheek, charring his skin in an explosion causing him to drop his sword into the reaching grasses, the master was out of the hands of the pupil.
“Ancestor, our family is famous for pulling off great endeavours, from supreme ancestor who returned with a Glisan sword, and made our name, to my very own higher who placed enchanted portraits of the dark lord Straka, in fifty five of their fortresses undiscovered, and activated them all at the same time. I also need to earn our name, my higher believes so too, and she’s even lend me her sword, Nightgloom, for this endeavour.”
Etabah flew backwards into the air violently,
Meshix’s white skirt embroided with barely visible majestic Gamblical gold scenery flowed with her, as she transitioned through the one eighty into a three sixty turn, revealing for a second delicate thighs as she fluidly followed him, sieving her short sword, Justice pulling out Vengeance from her back with her right hand, in a single movement, within a moment her face was by his side, the first time she had looked at him in this whole encounter,
“Child… Everything that happens has happened before, all that will be has already been, the light and the dark, dance the same dance over and over again, into eternity; So if we happen to meet again six hundred lifetimes from this day, you still will not be able to touch me. May the light forgive you for your sins against it, and the dark punish you, four your disgrace to it, in the name of the light.”
Those where the final words that Etabah would hear before death, Meshix’s calm bewilderment at his decision to attack her, and words from the lowest of the great Gamblical books; The elements of Gambit. the Highest being The book of light and dark, which is said to have been written on fire, with lightning bolts, by beings who now sit beside the light and the dark, whispering into their ears, as the highest commanding officers, in the eternal war.
“Etabah I am your ancestor and the higher of your highers, she knows nothing of the eternal dance between light and dark. Whereas I wage, and oversee wars for the dark in dimensions, were ancient heroes, who live for glory have gone to raise flags. There are gods of war out there, who would rather lose lives than start a campaign without me. You see this view, go get up and look by the window.”
Etabah got up, and headed to the floor-sized window, followed by his ancestor who looked out next to him. As they stood the centre window, followed by those to its sides fell, forming a balcony.
“Sometimes when you’re at the bottom, you get caught up in details of living and fighting, this high up, perspective is thrust in your face, and all you have is the big picture, beautiful isn’t it?
Etabahs’ uncle walked out to the edge of the balcony and banged with his hand
“Invisible balustrade, come out its beautiful, I have this view in sixty different locations across the Ndos’, so I do posses a bit more knowledge than your higher. I remember your higher, when she was still a ling, she was all style and nerve, hunted by the light, wanted in quite a few Ndos’. Now the position that she holds gives her and our name power, but doesn’t afford her the pleasure that she had when she was running skeleton missions deep in light territory, without any Macras. What can I say; every Synthan seeks to earn their name…”
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Vengeance slid swiftly into Etabahs’ backward flying body, eyes shocked slowly starting to flake, death was upon him. Before he even hit the pastured green, Meshix had changed flows pulling her sword out of Etabah and gently touching the earth, with time to spare to watch his fall. He hit the grass hard and was quickly dust, like the rest of the brigade that he had arrived so arrogantly. Of all the forces of the dark, Meshix thought, Synthans were the meta workers of the dark, the same as the lights Arias. The Macras are the warhorses and warlords, The Synthans are the numberers, the minds that made sure that the logistics behind dark campaigns were always proper. Not war class, Otherwise he would have been vaporised like the rest on principal. No black being would dare, attack her in a thousand years. They must not have known, must have been a foolish endeavour
“Don’t worry ancestor, I know who I am, and what my name has bestowed upon me, I’ll gather a large force of powerful Macras, nothing is going to happen, at the worst I could come back without the hair.”
Meshix sieved back Vengeance and touched her soft left ear lobe activating the pearl player, that restarted the three minute meditative sound, that was half way through play. She sat down, sinking back into the wild grass,
As she lay on her back, feeling the life story of each blade, she looked up, slowly moving sky, sleep came gently.
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About
If you want to find out about me, follow the link
Endeavour, the tracks that I listened to while writing it, and the soundtracks to it, are as follows;
Lies, Field Of Innocence, Imaginary, from the album Origin. Bring Me To Life, Going Under, Imaginary from the album Fallen both albums by Evanescence. Only I can’t think of any other album or song that contributed to the thoughts in this story, I they where there I’m missing them now. A whole lot of heroic anime, SF short stories. The inspiration for this story is a bit hard to pin point, so let me digress and talk about something else.
Meshix appears again as a character in a greater more expansive story, I know that story, I’ve already written it, now I’m just editing it, and in this story she meets equal and greater enemies, here is a tad from that story, from a chapter titled MethGreen276543. With such a name for a chapter, you know its going down.
METHGREEN27654.
In the far end of Meshixs’ office, the light suddenly got sucked into a black hole that left the room cold, dark, and from that void walked out Bartholomeu Aka Methylated green 276543, the color his blue eyes glowed in darkness. In the minor moments between the darkness and Meth’s appearance, Meshix had already pulled out from her desk drawer a custom made double eagle, with an extended cartridge and was half way through emptying it out in Bartholomeus’ direction…
Thought begets though
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