James Somers - The rise of Lucin

He realized Mithrium would never be his, but these created worlds, they would be his to rule forever. Without men to redeem, the Lord would have to leave it alone or destroy the existence of man and surely he wasn't willing to do that. Perhaps, Lucin thought, I might even be able to convince the greater portion of those that have not rebelled with me to finally take their places at my side and know true freedom. He had convinced many before-perhaps it would be possible again.

Dirge had always been an upstart. To think he had actually assumed leadership in Lucin's absence. How presumptuous his brother had been, how naive. Lucin had quite enjoyed the matter of using the boy, Kale, to assassinate the Agonotti leader. He would have his place of leadership among his brethren restored soon enough, but he still wanted the boy. He couldn't assimilate him again, but he could have revenge and remove a key power among the humans. Lucin stretched out his hands before him and the knuckles popped.

This mortal form was not nearly as useful for his needs as the boy could have been. His host body, the man Zurig had never been a warrior. He had always been a politician. The uniform he wore now was more window dressing than anything. Lucin still needed a real warrior of the highest degree, but he wasn't sure who qualified.

Lucin looked out through mortal eyes at the universe beyond the transparisteel. How he longed to stretch his glorious wings again and take flight among the stars. To know no boundaries, no limitations-if this mortal flesh was anything, it was a prison. Perhaps he might bargain with the Elithias-mankind in return for the restoration of his former glory. Lucin caught sight of his own reflection in the window, but it was only the pale reflection of mortal flesh and nothing of his former glory in Mithrium. He clenched his fist and shook it, spitting out words of venomous accusation at the unseen Eternal One through locked teeth. "Look what you have done to me."

Ramah struggled with her heavy load. She pushed a cart of food from the fields back to where it would be prepared for the others. Thousands of other women worked in the fields guarded by the Agonotti. They grew and harvested from fields she did not recognize. They had once belonged to someone, but now they were gone-either the owners were prisoners somewhere, or they had already been killed.

She had a good life once, but the months since the Guardians had been defeated by the outlanders had been the terror of everyone on Draconis. Many thousands had died during wave after wave of Agonotti attacks upon the cities. Many others, both men and women, had been captured for their nefarious plans for the future.

Ramah was seventeen. Her normally thin figure had become boney mostly due to the constant hard labor and lack of food. The sun had darkened her bronze skin further and her raven hair was long and ungroomed.

Ramah wheeled the cart on toward the warehouse compound where their group was being fed. In another building her small sleeping quarters had been a place where animals had been kept and now the tiny stalls were used for the breeders. There were no beds, only straw to sleep upon. The Agonotti treated them like cattle and that was all she could look forward to for the rest of her life-working for in the fields for her conquerors.

Today, something was happening in the ruins just over the rise from their compound. Various clouds of Agonotti had been arriving separately and descending into the ancient amphitheatre that remained mostly uncovered. This is very unusual, she thought as she continued on inside with her cargo under the watchful eyes of a nearby Agonotti guard.

Vock sat high upon the stone terrace that served as seating for the ancient amphitheatre. He had his back to one of the pylons that were located every one hundred feet around the high outer perimeter. He didn't like to leave his back exposed. It wasn't wise to do so with his fellow Agonotti about. Vock considered himself smarter than most and he had seen the deception and murder among their ranks in the past. Down below, he watched one of his old friends approaching.

"Teran? It's good to see you again."

"I had expected to find you down there competing for the position of leadership," Teran said.

"Not I."

"But you would do well," Teran said as he passed through the ranks of Agonotti seated around them and sat down next to Vock. "After all, you were once second only to Lucin himself."

"Exactly. I have no intention of presenting myself as such an obvious target," Vock said.

"Well, I suppose. Who do you think we'll be the victor?"

"Oric-tal."

"But he's not even from among your group."

Vock leaned in close to Teran and spoke very low to his fellow Agonotti. "Oric-tal is quite vicious. The lord of my group is not nearly so brutal-I expect him to be destroyed in this contest."

Below Vock and Teran, on the ground level, five Agonotti lords walked out into the arena. The contest for leadership would be decided today and the various independent groups of Agonotti would be united. Each of the lords took their place at equidistant spaces on the arena floor and a frightening transformation began to take place. The Agonotti lords became mist and quickly reformed themselves into warriors fit for battle.

Their exoskeletons formed devilish armor plating with spikes protruding and their heads became covered with helmets in like manner; all formed from their own molecular structure. Great weapons formed as living appendages in their hands and some had shields upon the other arm. Oric-tal held a mace in one hand with a cord upon it nearly six feet in length, hoping to destroy his opponents at some distance.

Watching from above, Teran pointed out Oric-tal to his friend Vock. "It won't take long now."

"Perhaps, but have you noticed what's been happening to us recently?"

"What do you mean, Vock?"

"Our strength, it's been growing; haven't you noticed it?"

"I suppose so. I just didn't really pay attention. We've always had a fairly easy time culling from among the humans. If we are getting stronger, what's causing it?"

"That, my friend, is what I would like to find out. Something is definitely changing and this contest may be more enlightening than expected."

"I had hoped that my lord Haisn might be the victor. I don't relish the idea of following Oric-tal," Teran said.

"And who says you will be?"

"We have all agreed to follow the winner. Aren't you going to, Vock?"

"Of course, but I only said Oric-tal would defeat those down there with him in the arena. I don't expect him to be the winner of this contest."

"What are you saying?"

"Oric-tal is a fool. He's mighty in strength, but we need more-we need wisdom."

"But we control the planet now-"

Vock looked at him with disgust, almost raising his voice above the level he intended. "Is this all you want, Teran? To be the conquerors of a few weak humans-has your desire been driven from you completely?"

Teran only returned a puzzled look and a shrug of his shoulders saying, "What else is there for us now? We are cursed by the Eternal One."

Vock looked around with his eyes. The other Agonotti remained completely engaged with the contest as the five lords entered into separate battles with one another on the arena floor below. Vock looked back to Teran. "This is a curse, true," he said clutching his raiment. "We once walked among all the worlds of creation-we were meant for much greater things-"

"But we left our first estate, Vock," Teran grew agitated now. "We are what we are now-better to forget the past and make the best of what we have left."

On the battlefield below, Oric-tal charged at one of his opponents. The Agonotti lord, Zoe, somersaulted over him, but Oric swung back in expectation with his heavy spiked mace and met the warrior there. The spikes plunged into him finding purchase through a joint in his armament. Oric-tal did not wait to see the result. He pulled his prey back to him on the end of the spiked ball and dealt the deathblow.