CHAPTER EIGHT
Vincent stopped to rest and drink some water. He took off the back pack he fashioned out of flexible saplings and leather strips and rummaged for his water carrier. He used the bladder of a creature he killed for a meal and after cleaning it out and tying up the urethra tightly, he wrapped a strip of leather thong around the top. It made a perfect water carrier and held enough to last him a whole day. He didn't bother making more than this one because small streams littered the landscape where he was camped and he never felt it necessary to make more. He slaked his thirst and then extravagantly poured some over his bald head to cool himself down. He ran a hand over his head and noticed it felt stubbly.
“Gonna need a shave,” he said aloud. He looked up and then looked back the way he’d come and surmised that he was probably half way up the mountain. He guessed he’d been walking for around eight hours or so, give or take. He only stopped for short water breaks and once to sit and watch the sunset and walked throughout the night, making full use of the bright moonlight that lit the way for him. The sky was now just beginning to show signs of changing colour as dawn was approaching at last. He decided he would sit and watch the sunrise and then sleep for a few hours. The air on this planet was just a little too thin for him to function one hundred percent and he tired more quickly than he would elsewhere or if he had a breather unit on him. It wasn’t too bad at ground level but as he climbed higher he noticed the effects.
As he got up to continue his climb he heard a noise from somewhere nearby. At once he was on full alert, blade in hand. He strained his ears but no sound came. He stood there for five minutes just listening but heard nothing. Slowly he started to walk again but kept his blade in his hand, just in case. After another couple of hundred yards of climbing that noise came again; an almost silent rustle. This time he could tell it was coming from his right a little higher up the mountainside and about fifty yards ahead. He scanned the area with his sharp eyesight but saw nothing but rocks and scree; no trees or plants, not even a blade of grass. He turned the blade in his hand to get it comfortable and so he could take action quickly if necessary. His nerves were on high alert and he was ready; he just wished he knew what for. As he came abreast of where he estimated the source of the sound came from he heard it again much louder this time. It was definitely a rustling, like the wind through the trees on a summer’s evening but there was now an edge to it. Not quite a growl though, almost but not quite.
“Okay,” he thought to himself. “Something is stalking me and thinks I’m its breakfast. Well sorry to disappoint you buddy.” As he began to move past the area containing the source of the sound; his eyes never leaving that rock, he saw it and just had time to think, “Oh shit,” before it launched itself at him. As the huge creature made contact with his upper body Vincent expertly let himself fall backwards onto his backside and then continued rolling backwards as he launched it back and over his head. As it stumbled and scrambled for purchase as it fell down the loose scree Vincent was back on his feet, backpack off and ready to receive it again. It looked basically cat like, about the size of a bear with greyish fur all over its body that gave it perfect camouflage against the rocks and scree of its mountain home. The source of the rustle came from its tail. The tail itself was fairly short and hairless but at the very end was a thatch of thick bristly spines that it vibrated to give the sound. Their eyes met and for a second Vincent felt he was being mentally scanned as though this creature possessed telepathic powers and was reading his mind. Another sound distracted them and at the same moment they both looked towards the source of this new sound. A small gurgling cry came from that same rock from which this huge creature launched itself at him just seconds ago. A tiny head appeared round the side of the rock and then another. Babies! This was a female nursing infants and Vincent was trespassing too close to her den.
This changed things; he couldn’t kill her now not with infants to care for. Slowly and carefully he fumbled in his backpack for the left over meat from his dinner the night before. His hand rummaged in his pack for agonising seconds until he felt the lump of meat, grabbed it and pulled it out. He unwrapped it from its leather covering and threw it over to her while he slowly backed away. She raised her head and sniffed the air, intrigued by this new aroma. Vincent continued backing away while she sniffed and cautiously approached the lump of meat. As she reached it she sniffed it all over and the ground around it before raising her head high in the air, opening her jaws wide and giving vent to an almighty roar. She snatched it up and with a single bound was back with her infants who launched themselves onto the meat which was bigger than the both of them put together.
“Happy birthday kids,” Vincent whispered as he continued backing away until he was at least two hundred yards further along the path. An hour later he was sitting on a rock watching the sunrise as he promised himself. It was even more beautiful out here on the mountain than it was framed by the mouth of his cave. He suddenly felt aware of how very alone he was and he shivered as the thought crept into his consciousness. He realised all of a sudden that it was nearly six years since he actually spoke to anyone, since he enjoyed a real conversation, an argument, a laugh. He let his thoughts drift back to the day he was taken to the Cryo Stasis Facility and how secretly scared he was at the thought of being frozen indefinitely for crimes he didn't commit. At the memory of those accusations his anger rose and he repeated the promise he made to himself on a regular basis.
“McGreedle, when we meet again I’m gonna slice you up and leave you for dog meat.” This was one crime he wouldn’t mind doing time for he decided. He remembered the Enforcement Agency guys coming for him and calling him off his shift and shackling him in front of his team so that he was embarrassed in front of the guys who were his buddies. That was bad manners he decided. To take someone in front of their buddies and make them look like a heap of shit in front of everyone like that, yep, that was bad manners and McGreedle owed him. On the journey to the Steran System and the Cryo Stasis Facility he was locked down next to a weirdo who sliced up his own kid and ate part of it for dinner. The guy kept looking at Vincent and grinning like a maniac.
“Whack job,” he said aloud as he fumbled inside his backpack. He pulled out a small leather bundle and unsheathed his blade. Inside the bundle was a sharpening stick which he now used to make sure his favourite blade was razor sharp. Also in the bundle was a small piece of leather wrapped around a handful of soft animal fat that he’d rendered off from some of his meals. He took a scoopful of it in his hand and rubbed it onto his scalp before expertly drawing his now lethally sharp blade over his head and giving himself as good a shave as he could get anywhere else and have to pay for. After cleaning himself up he remembered that he gave the last of his meat to the creature for her infants and he was hungry. He’d have to hunt for something. Sighing, he got up and looked around; nothing but rocks and scree in all directions. There’d be no hunting here and even if he did catch something there was no wood around to light a fire with. He was used to roughing it but he wasn’t prepared to eat his catch raw just yet!
He decided he’d be okay to wait. He enjoyed a good meal the night before and it wouldn’t kill him to go a day without food. He’d done it before so he decided to sleep for a few hours; his legs ached and he was tired. This thin air up here was getting to him. He eased himself down into the lee of a large boulder; first making sure that nothing had made its home nearby and made himself as comfortable as he could. The big rock gave him shade so the sun wouldn’t roast him as he slept and within a few minutes he was asleep. Almost immediately a voice woke him.
“Vincent. Vincent, wake up. Vincent.” He leapt up from under the rock, stood on the path and looked both ways to try to find who the voice belonged to. He was surprised to see that instead of the usual bright sunny morning he was used to on this planet everywhere around him was thick fog and he couldn’t see more than a couple of feet in any di
rection.
“Who’s there?” he called but got no reply. “I know someone is there. I’m armed, come out.”
“Vincent, do not fear, I mean you no harm.” It was a woman’s voice. As he looked she came into view through the fog. She was beautiful and looked like a warrior princess. He was aware that she seemed familiar in some vague way but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where or how he knew her. “I am Syra, I am your friend Vincent. I have always been your friend.” She continued approaching him, only stopping when she was a couple of feet in front of him. She almost matched him in height and had the same large black eyes as his and long black curly hair tied up on top and the same star shaped scar in the middle of her chest. “I was with you at your death and brought you back to your rebirth. I stayed by your side for three days and nights as you cried into the night amongst the filth and I have stayed by your side every moment since. You are never alone Vincent, know this and remember.” At this she reached for his hand and memories flooded in; a tidal wave of despairing, horrific images. The same ones he saw in his dreams only this time the reality of them was overpowering.
He was back in the burned out landscape where fires burnt brightly. He looked around at the scene and it all felt so familiar, as if as if he knew this place but from when or where he didn't know. A woman’s cries caught his attention; cries of agony and pleading for help. He sprang into action and raced towards the sound which came from the ruins of a building nearby. As he picked his way into the ruined home her cries were suddenly joined by those of a baby. Loud lusty cries and as they grew in intensity her own cries faded away to silence. He found them in what was the front room of the house. She was lying on the floor, her legs apart, clothes in disarray and sodden with blood; both her own and that from the birth. The newborn boy lay between her thighs, a big child whose birth must have caused her much agony. The boy screamed into the night, attached to his now lifeless mother by the still pulsating cord.
“No,” he cried out. “Someone help, please.” He started towards the baby but before he reached him, he realised he was not alone. He turned and saw a huge man watching the scene seemingly oblivious of his presence near the child. He was dressed in shiny black armour of some material that looked hard but it didn’t clink as he moved around. A long black cape billowed from his shoulders to the floor and covered his head in a huge cowl. It was billowing in the breeze giving the impression of a big black cloud. Suddenly he remembered the black mist from his nightmares. This was what it was he saw in those dreams that upset him so. The man started towards the screaming baby and showed no awareness of Vincent’s presence. He scooped up the child by his ankles, slicing through the cord as he hoisted him high into the air letting him dangle there, the cord spraying blood everywhere. Vincent screamed but couldn’t make himself heard. He tried to run at the man but he couldn’t move from the spot. Then a familiar voice, the woman distracted him.
“You are here just to observe Vincent. These are but shades of things now past. Memories of a moment long ago, forgotten and buried in the depths of a troubled mind struggling to find a purpose. Watch Vincent, watch and remember. Allow those buried moments to come forward now; it is time for you to awaken to the past so that you can move to the future. Do not fear, I am with you, watch.” The man in black held the newborn boy high aloft and screamed, his voice spitting with venom.
“You will not be the one foretold to me Lilean child. You cannot kill me. You will not bring me down. You will not see me out. No prophecy of yours will end my days. You and your people will be forgotten before I am replaced.” With those last words the man tucked an arm under the baby’s body and with his other hand, smothered the life from him. When the child’s screams stopped, he threw the tiny body into a midden and walked out of the ruins. Vincent was beside himself. Anger and pain coursed through him as tears poured down his cheeks. He tried to pull away from Syra to run to the child where he lay in the filthy midden but she held fast.
“Look Vincent,” she smiled at him before pointing towards the place where the child lay. As he looked, he saw a group of misty spirits form out of thin air and group around the tiny body. They extended their hands and chanted words he couldn’t understand. Suddenly from amongst the ghostly throng Syra walked forward to the child. Vincent turned to her; she was still here with him holding his hand but at the same time he was watching her over there. He was puzzled.
“Remember Vincent. Let the memories come now.” She indicated for him to watch the scene. As the spirits chanted Syra bent over the child’s body and spoke to him gently. Although they must have been twenty feet away Vincent could hear every word she said even above the chanting of the spirits. “It is not time for you to journey to the land of the dead, child. Come back now little one, rejoin the land of the living and fulfil your destiny as was prophesied so long ago. I will walk beside you always brave warrior and the fury of the lost ones will be your rock and your stay. Come back now child, follow my voice and return to us.” Suddenly a loud cry rang out into the night. The boy lived and lay there screaming amongst the filth. All at once the ghostly throng disappeared, all but Syra who remained. She turned and spoke as if talking to someone off to the side but Vincent could see no one else around. “I am Syra and I will be with him always. I will guide him and help him discover his destiny. He will have a life of many trials and sacrifices and often will have no one on whom to depend or lean for support. But fear not, I will be with him. He will not be alone and he will grow into a fine man, a warrior who will right this great wrong. The fury of the Lilean race will be his rock and his stay. Now give him his name.” As Syra stood looking, Vincent heard another voice but could see no source that explained who it came from.
“I name him Vincent Richard.” Vincent was shocked beyond belief. This scene of horror of which he had no memory, that haunted his dreams and gave him nightmares was his own birth? He didn’t know how or what to feel in those first moments after hearing that voice giving him his name. Who did that voice belong to and why couldn’t he see him? So many questions. Syra read his thoughts and tried to soothe him.
“It is time for you to awaken to the past Vincent. To allow these memories to come forward so that you can be whole again. You are a man now, the brave warrior foretold to the ancestors so long ago. It is time for you to right the great wrong, to end the tide of evil that destroyed your home and those of countless others on other worlds. Wake up now Vincent. Wake up.” The scene began to fade and Vincent found himself back on the path in the fog, Syra’s last words still ringing in his ears. “Wake up now Vincent. Wake up. Wake up.”
Vincent started awake and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. He leapt to his feet and looked all around. The sun was up and he could see for miles in all directions. Where was the fog and where was Syra? He sat back down in the lee of the rock and hugged his knees as he remembered the events that were unfolded to him. He tried to think about what he always thought were his childhood memories but it was all so patchy and many bits were missing. As a little kid he always had a phobia about being left alone but his adoptive parents were always quite laid back about it and didn't make a fuss with him and he grew out of it. His first really solid memory was when he must’ve been around four or five years old and his brother was teasing him as usual. It was around the time he found out he was adopted by the family. Wesley was a year older and always bullied and teased him. He couldn’t remember one single incident when Wesley was kind to him. It started with one of those moments all parents know will happen but are never quite prepared for. It started with a question. Kids are known for asking embarrassing questions at the most inopportune moments like waiting until you’re in a large crowd before asking where babies come from. It was a moment like that which signalled the end of innocence for Vincent and he so often regretted asking it during the intervening years. He got to that age where he began to notice
things, especially things that weren’t as they should be or things that didn’t quite explain themselves clearly and he asked Wesley the question he would always regret asking.
“Wes, why is my name different to yours?” Vincent was only four or five but he realised that all the other kids he knew all had the same last name as their brothers and sisters, except him and Wesley and naturally it bothered him and he wanted to know why. He learned early that he was Vincent Richard Domenico but his parents and his brother weren’t Domenico, they were called Sylvana. His parents took some time with him and explained that his real parents had gone to somewhere called the land of the dead and that they were the lucky ones to be looking after him until he grew into a man. They told him he was special because most parents don’t get to choose their kid, they have to take what comes and that because they chose him meant he was special. They told him that he was called Domenico because that was his real parents name and that they used to live nearby, were really nice people and how they felt so lucky to have him live with them. They even showed him a photograph of his parents and the Sylvana’s taken some years before and Vincent agreed they looked like really nice people. They gave him that photograph to keep and he put it by his bedside and said goodnight to them every night before he went to sleep.
One day, a few months later when Vincent was beginning to relax with the knowledge of his being adopted and his real parents having died Wesley was being a bully as usual. He was making a fuss because Vincent’s bedroom was bigger than his own and as he was older, he should have the bigger room. Vincent told Wesley he thought both rooms looked the same size to him but Wesley wouldn’t have it. He marched into Vincent’s room and started wrecking it. He pulled the bedcovers onto the floor and stomped on them, he threw Vincent’s toys, tore his favourite story book and then he caught sight of the photograph by the side of the bed. He ran over and snatched it up. Vincent was horrified and pleaded with him to give it back.
“No Wes, give it back. It’s mine, it’s mine. Give it back,” but Wesley wouldn’t listen. Vincent was begging and pleading but Wesley just stared at him and grinned. Then, holding the photograph high in the air so Vincent couldn’t reach it no matter how hard he jumped, he tore it into shreds and let the pieces drift down over his head. Then he laughed. He laughed so hard that his eyes screwed up and he hugged his sides. Vincent stopped yelling and just stood there ashen faced, eyes wide as though in a trance. Something was changing inside him; he could feel it happening but didn’t know what it was or why. Something died inside Vincent that day and something else was born in its place. As he stood there amidst the remnants of that photograph he felt himself go cold right through to the bone. His vision blurred and for a second he thought he felt something being cut away inside him. He realised he hadn’t taken a breath for several long seconds and even though he tried to breathe, he couldn’t. It was as if there was a huge hand over his mouth, stifling him. His head felt funny and he thought he would like to just drift away somewhere like an autumn leaf on the wind. It felt so wonderfully calm now, and he knew he wanted to just drift away.
“Come back,” he heard a woman’s voice on the same breeze that was beckoning him to go. “Come back now child, follow my voice and return to us.” Her voice was beginning to be distracting now and Vincent did so want to float off on the breeze with the leaves. “I will walk beside you always.” He found that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t ignore that voice and all the leaves blew on their way without him.
“Vincent. Vincent!” his mother screamed as she held the little boy in her arms. By this time he was turning blue around the lips. She didn’t know how long he’d been like this but it must be several minutes. She was frantic, terrified and panicking as she tried to get him to breathe. She shook him hard, slapped his face and tried to open his mouth but his teeth were clamped tight. Her husband rushed in at that moment wondering what the commotion was about. He saw the scene before him and went white for a moment. He grabbed the boy from his wife and gently blew into his nostrils, forcing air into the tiny lungs. Vincent at once coughed and spluttered and vomited and most importantly, he breathed. Then he sobbed his little heart out for hours on end, right into the night long past the time he should have been sleeping, he was sobbing. He cried for his loneliness, for the loss of the only photo of his real parents, he cried because his brother was so horrid to him and he cried because he wanted so much to float off with the beautiful autumn leaves on the wind but the woman’s voice distracted him and the leaves flew off without him.
Vincent’s relationship with his brother Wesley never recovered completely from that day onwards. Something was permanently changed and even at such a young age, he was aware of it even though he didn’t know what it was. He was too young to realise that he built his first wall that day, a wall that he continued to build around his heart over the intervening years until he entombed himself within an impenetrable fortress through which no one was allowed to pass. Everyone who knew him saw the change in him. The neighbours and friends of the Sylvana’s would comment on how distant he was lately, how aloof he was with them and how he never smiled much anymore and they remarked how long it was since they heard him laugh. He remained polite with everyone, he was never rude and always did as his parents asked and was always to be seen doing chores around the home which he did without needing to be persuaded, but there was a part of him missing. Joy, that’s what it was, the joy was gone.
As he sat hugging his knees in the lee of the rock, all of these memories came flooding back in a tidal wave that overwhelmed him. He sat there shaking from the intensity of the emotions as he realised that even at such a young age he had a flashback of his birth experience. Somehow during the intervening years he hardened his heart so much that he blocked it out completely. Life was something Vincent always had to cope with, rather than enjoy. He couldn’t even remember what joy felt like and as the tears fell and splashed off the stony path, he realised just how lonely and unloved he always felt. He lay down on his side and immersed himself in the feelings and realisations as they washed over him in a painful yet cleansing tidal wave.
As the rawness of the pain from the emotional dam bursting began to settle, he sat up and tried to take stock of what he just experienced. He remembered things he forgot long ago. He had a flashback of his birth on that day with Wesley and the torn photograph. He remembered that huge black caped figure smothering him. He remembered dying and wanting to leave this life behind and he remembered the woman calling him back. It all fitted with the images he saw when she took him back there in the fog. He remembered how the torn pieces of the precious photograph lay around his feet and how he thought they looked like white petals. This made him think of the white trees he saw in his image with Syra, how beautiful they were. He remembered her telling him that he must remember what was forgotten and now he was and it hurt, no wonder he blocked it all those years ago. He suddenly thought of his adoptive parents, Rayna and Marcus Sylvana and how hurt they must have been as he grew older but more distant from them. They were good to him, saved him from death and took him in and told him he was special and Rayna screamed for him when she thought he died in her arms. They loved him as much as any natural parents would and he slowly but surely froze them out along with everyone else as he got older. He realised he couldn’t remember if he ever actually told them he loved them and that made him feel unutterably guilty and sad.
“I’m sorry Mom, Dad,” he said aloud, “I love you.” A sudden pain in his chest made him take a sharp breath in. Instinctively he put a hand to his chest. The pain was right on his scar, the little star that all his people carried. It began to throb and as it did so, he thought he heard a voice deep in his mind, very far away.
“Vincent.” It was the woman Syra, of that he was sure but the voice was so far away. He knew it was inside his head, but at the same time it sounded like it was a long way off. His chest throbbed aga
in. “Vincent. Hear me Vincent.” Louder this time but still so faint. Another throb. “Time to move on now, must hurry Vincent. Hear me. I am always with you.” He could hear her fairly well if he made an effort to block out everything else. That was hard for him to do,as he had to live by his wits for so long and his quick reactions and heightened awareness saved his life so many times it wasn’t easy for him to let his ‘radar’ down. It was the only way to hear Syra though, so he made the effort and found it made a real difference to the clarity with which he could hear her. Another painful throb. “Must move Vincent, hurry.” She sounded urgent. He got up and brushed himself off and took a moment to use some of his water to wash the tear stains from his face before packing up and rejoining the path up the last leg of the mountain.
For the next four hours as he laboriously climbed Vincent learned to let Syra in and after so many years of walking silently beside him she felt the joy of seeing him finally realise he wasn’t alone. She was immensely proud and moved at his courage and strength and felt privileged to be chosen to walk beside the prophesied one. By the time Vincent finally reached the top of the mountain, the little scar on his chest no longer stung painfully when Syra wanted to speak. All he noticed now was a much more tolerable throb, which he took as a signal for him to let his mind drift sideways a little. He’d get the hang of it before too long, of that he was confident. When he set his mind to something he didn’t let go until he was happy he’d succeeded. As he took the last few steps up the path, the now familiar throb came again. He stopped walking and turned his mind inwards and waited.
“Vincent. It is time to meet your destiny now. Not since the day of your birth have you set eyes on what you’re about to see and now it is time to look upon that face once again. Not since he drove the life from your body has he seen your face. Today he will meet the child that is now a man, he will realise the innocent child he slaughtered so many to reach and kill has become a fine warrior and he will look upon your face as his life ends and the dark days pass forever.” His head swam as he brought his mind back to his physical surroundings. So this was the plan was it? He was going to get to meet that black caped figure in person and pay him back once and for all? He learned during those last few hours of climbing that those black caped beings wiped out most of the people on the planet that was his and his people’s real home, that they killed his real parents as he was being born, and that they spread their evil over many planets, brainwashing countless numbers and killing those that refused to bow down to them. Well that was fine with him, he was happy to pay the guy a visit. Very happy indeed.
Purposefully he took the last few strides to the crest of the mountain and looked down at the vista. He looked down and saw it, the huge dome growing out of the planet’s surface like a boil. Set amidst the lushest vegetation he ever saw. The dome looked totally out of place here on this planet inhabited by the most primitive of humans; little more than grunting savages who ate each other when they got annoyed!
“What the fuck?” he said aloud as he scanned the area noticing several other identical domes, the farthest one being probably a mile away as the crow flies. “My god what the fuck are these?” he asked.
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