Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid Read online

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2012 by Shaun Briscoe

  Cover Design by Shaun Briscoe

  Book Design by Shaun Briscoe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Hybrid is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  eISBN-978-0-9917004-0-0

  Dedication

  For Luke and Liv

  Prologue

  The great doors of the Battle Hall were impressive by not only architectural standards, but as functional works of art that inspired reverence in all those who gazed upon and passed through them. Standing four meters tall, they were hand crafted from stone with, much like the rest of the Rai Chi temple, a seemingly limitless amount of care and detail. Etched into each of the mammoth doors were scriptures and testaments to the warriors who had long since passed on to the next world, and even more so, to the Gods they had died honoring. Where the monoliths met was centered a face, large and protruding outward from the flat stone surface around it. It was a face, both menacing and dominating, commanding fear and awe from all those who dared to lay eyes upon it.

  Turaus. God of War.

  His name held the greatest meaning for all Rai Chi. For all Rai Chi were warriors, and all held fast to the belief that the highest honor in life was to have one’s own blood spilled in battle, serving the God that created them in His warrior image. It was only appropriate that His face, the face of the God worshipped by all warriors, be the one to adorn the great doors of the Battle Hall, where the Rai Chi warrior was crafted. To watch over them as they devoted themselves to their highest form of worship. The art of combat.

  The War God’s watchful gaze trembled, as though life had suddenly been breathed into the solid stone, and the face split slowly in two as the great doors parted open. The face that replaced Turaus’ was no less impressive, but one of a mortal being, of flesh and blood.

  Rho’uk Chi-Nal spread open the doors of the Battle Hall, striding inside with the grace of a seasoned warrior, each step precise, every movement deliberate. His eyes, one dark brown, the other a cold grey, betrayed nothing of his thoughts, only a solidity and unwavering confidence in his every action. A scar ran from high on his forehead down over his grey eye, ending just below the cheek bone on the left side of his dark face, a distinguishing mark that only served to bolster his already fierce appearance. Like most Rai Chi warriors, his attire was simple and purely functional. He wore a plain loin cloth, his legs dressed with the dark, leathery hide of a wild raunt, a beast regularly feasted upon by his people. His muscular arms were bare, but for the hard armor guards that covered his forearms, his warrior rank disclosed only by the colored markings on the armor vest he wore over his torso, both of which were crafted from the exoskeleton of a cresche arachnid he slew himself.

  As a Soto’kai; Master Warrior; his rank was seconded only by his Overseer and the elders of the council, though it was a position he should not have been able to attain, given his bloodline. Under normal circumstances only a descendant of the Overseer could rise to the highest rank of the warrior caste, but Rho’uk and the Nal clan were highly respected by the elder council and all of the other clans, so it was through their persistence that he had ascended. It was an appointment, and an honor, he hand continuously endeavored to prove himself worthy of.

  Crossing the open floor, he admired the hall around him, with the same degree of awe and respect he had felt at seeing it for the first time as a young learner so many years ago, and each time since. The Battle Hall was no less elaborate than any other part of the temple, if not more so. It was circular in shape, with numerous stone pillars stretching up to the high, rounded ceiling above, every inch of their smooth surfaces inscribed with the teachings and philosophies of the Rai Chi. The curved walls were much the same, the images of great warriors doing battle etched into them, each with its own legendary story to tell. Sculptures of great, fallen warriors of the past stood proudly around the perimeter of the hall, watching over their heirs approvingly as they honed their skills in the Battle Circle.

  Rho’uk came to a stop a number of strides from the circle, placed in the epicenter of the hall, and there he waited patiently, his thoughts wandering back to his youth, where many a day had been spent receiving tutoring and punishment within the circle. They were fond memories of lessons learned, a great many of them painfully so, each one a gift to be cherished and passed on.

  His father had instructed him, not only in the ways of combat, but in what he had insisted was much more important, and the very foundation of which the spirit of their people was built upon. Their honor. Rho’uk had learned from a young age what it meant to be Rai Chi and a warrior. That honor came, not through combat, but from the reasons behind it. It was not earned through the slaying of enemies, but through the code one lived their life by. Honor resided within the heart of the warrior, not in the number of victories he had attained or lives he had taken. This was the true way of his people. One that had been lost to them in recent times.

  Kul’uk Chi-Nal’s monument stood tall and proud among the other honored warriors, his image and name meaning much to those who had known him, and even to those who had not, but no more so than his own son. It was not the Rai Chi way to mourn the passing of others, but to rejoice in their ascendance as warriors to the next world, so Rho’uk nodded respectfully to his father’s monument, then let his gaze and focus return to the Battle Circle where a number of combatants stood at the ready, at the center of which was Shu’ma Chi-Kem.

  Rho’uk had known Shu’ma since childhood, learning the Rai Chi ways with him, under the tutelage of his father, who had instructed many a young warrior. Though they shared an equal rank, Shu’ma was heir to Overseer Xin’ma Chi-Kem, and because of this he would always be seconded to him. This fact did not trouble Rho’uk, though before his father’s death his bloodline was above that of the Kem clan. Such things held no sway on his thoughts. Pride was for the foolish and those without an understanding of true honor. He lived to serve his people and the Gods, in whatever role or capacity they decreed. And Shu’ma was his comrade. He was honored to serve next to his friend and call him captain.

  Shu’ma stood motionless and unarmed in the center of the battle circle, surrounded by a dozen young students, all brandishing basic training bo’ruuk; traditional fighting staffs that were a staple of the Rai Chi arsenal, customizable to suit each warrior’s ability and progression in the art of using the weapon. Though not limited to the bo’ruuk alone, all Rai Chi training in many styles of armed and unarmed combat, proficiency in the staff was considered paramount. The warrior and the bo’ruuk were meant to be one.

  Shu’ma nodded towards his students, commanding them forward. “Chu plah!”

  One of the young warriors leaped forward at the invitation, thrusting the pointed end of his bo’ruuk towards his instructor’s midsection. Shu’ma turned his body, leaning only slightly to avoid the attack and, taking hold of the weapon, smashed the dull, blunt edge back up into the warrior’s face, knocking him to the floor.

  Without hesitation, another warrior rushed from his spot in the circle, swinging his bo’ruuk in a high, overhead motion, a blow that would split his instructor’s skull cleanly down the middle. Shu’ma easily blocked the attack with his own weapon, batting aside a follow up slash directed at his left flank. Pivoting on his heel and bringing his back to the warrior, he thrust his bo’ruuk backwards, having retracted
the bladed end, stabbing the now dull end into his opponent’s stomach, knocking the wind from him. With a backward jerk of his neck, he smashed the back of his head into his student’s face, receiving a loud crunch in return as the young warrior fell to the floor, blood gushing from his mouth and broken nose.

  Rho’uk continued to watch as more warriors pressed the attack, each one being cast aside with relative ease, and left sprawled out on the floor, unconscious or dazed.

  Finally, Shu’ma halted any further attacks with an upraised hand. “Hu te!”

  The warriors stood down, bowing respectfully before turning away to kneel in meditation stances for prayer. The ones capable of doing so, lifted themselves from the floor and returned to kneel in their places along the edge of the circle, leaving a couple of students still motionless on the ground.

  Looking over to Turaus’ monument displayed in front of the Battle Circle, Shu’ma bowed his head respectfully, then turned to exit the circle towards where Rho’uk stood waiting.

  “Rho’uk,” he began. “You come to observe my instruction? Hoping to learn something, perhaps? We have not sparred in some time, you and I.”

  Rho’uk greeted the other warrior with a nod before responding, matter-of-factly. “No, we have not, Shu’ma. It has been too long since we tested each other.”

  Turning back, Shu’ma spread his arm open to the Battle Circle behind them. “The Battle Circle is where it always was, old friend. May I interest you in a lesson?”

  “It would give me great pleasure to enlighten you in the finer matters of combat,” Rho’uk answered with a grin. “But, now is not the time. The Overseer returns, and we have been summoned.”

  At the mention of his father’s return, Shu’ma’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Then indeed, our battle must wait.”

  “Indeed,” Rho’uk agreed, as they continued on towards the great doors of the Battle Hall. “It will give you more time to prepare yourself for the shame of defeat, my friend.”

  Shu’ma gave him a wicked grin in response to the friendly challenge, which he mirrored in kind as they departed the great hall. There would be time enough to test each other later. For now, their Overseer awaited them.

  * * *

  Xin’ma Chi-Kem’s personal chamber was darkly lit, feint light coming from the few oil lamps mounted on the walls. The room was empty but for an elaborate praying mantel that occupied one end of the chamber, the candles placed around it illuminating its many statues and ornaments, all of them carvings of the Gods and legendary Rai Chi warriors. The Overseer knelt before the mantel, dressed in the formal attire of his high ranking status, his black cape falling down his back from decorative shoulder guards.

  Rho’uk stood next to Shu’ma, both warriors pounding their chests with a fist in salute to their superior before dropping to one knee with bowed heads to await the Overseer’s attention.

  “Enter,” he commanded, after a long quiet moment.

  Rising to their feet, they proceeded a few more strides into the chamber, the doors closing shut behind them, shrouding the chamber in even greater darkness.

  Shu’ma lowered his head again before speaking. “Overseer. We are glad for your return. I trust your time with the Prophets was enlightening?”

  Xin’ma responded without turning. “Yes, Shu’ma, it was. And I return with news of the greatest magnitude.”

  Shu’ma kept his head lowered. “What news is this, my Overseer?”

  “I bring word of the Awakening, my son.”

  Rho’uk’s head rose slightly, his eyes darting to the Usarion statues around the Overseer’s praying mantel. He had been taught to worship and honor the Gods with his life and had never doubted their existence. They were to be the core of any Rai Chi’s life. He had been told, many times over, the ancient stories, that the Gods had created the cosmos and all things in it, and that Turaus had made the Rai Chi in His image, to serve and honor Him. All of these stories he believed to the very core of his being.

  If he had any doubts at all, they lied in the belief many had in the physical presence of the Gods. It was a new mythology, comparatively, that the Gods had come to live in a physical form and swept his people and many others from their worlds, bringing them across the stars to this new world. They had then left them, returning to their own domain in the next world, with a promise of their eventual return. The Awakening. He did not deny that some of those things had happened; this world was not their own; but it was difficult for him to envision the Gods he had worshipped all his life as flesh and blood beings, even if they were super beings. Nor could he fathom why they would have done such a thing? He was not one to question the will of the Gods, and would never place himself in such high standing as to believe he could comprehend their ancient wisdom, but the legend filled him with questions and misgivings, two things he knew he should not have felt from his faith.

  Shu’ma raised his head to look at his father, his eyes widening. “The Awakening, Overseer? The Gods . . . return?”

  “Yes, my son.” Xin’ma turned around finally, and folding his hands behind his back, stepped closer to his son. “The Prophets have foreseen it. The time of their arrival draws near.”

  The Prophets. This was where Rho’uk’s greatest doubts lied. It was believed that they were the messengers of the Gods, interpreting Their wishes of his people. The Overseer was the only Rai Chi permitted audience with the prophets, though Rho’uk had once been in their presence briefly himself, and so could not deny their existence. Yet, before coming to this world, and the supposed first arrival of the physical Gods, there were no stories of these Prophets. None in the old texts. All of these doubts, Rho’uk kept to himself. To speak them aloud would be blasphemy, with the penalty of death.

  Shu’ma was not plagued by the same questions, and if he was, he did not show it. He rose to his feet, bowing his head again before raising it to speak, a hint of suppressed excitement in his voice. “A glorious day, Overseer. I will spread this news to the warriors.”

  Rho’uk stood back up again as well, still contemplating this intriguing, if not disturbing news.

  “It is indeed a glorious day for the Rai Chi, my son,” Xin’ma agreed, pausing a moment before continuing. “And the word will be spread. But, first there is another task that demands our attention. One of the utmost importance. We must prepare.”

  Shu’ma responded immediately. “I live to serve, Overseer.”

  “The prophets have foreseen something more,” Xin’ma continued, walking slowly down the few steps of the raised praying mantel. “A coming storm. One that threatens the glorious future the Gods have promised will follow Their return. There are some who would see the glory of the Gods undone. Those that would see the great prophecies go unfulfilled. It is this new threat that must be smothered.”

  New threat? Rho’uk was most definitely intrigued by this statement. What threat could there be against the Gods that They Themselves could not smother?

  “There is an insurrectionist who spreads dissent,” Xin’ma continued through clenched teeth, spitting out each word as if it sickened him to speak them. “One who’s every breath is an insult to the Gods.”

  Insurrectionist? Rho’uk’s eyes widened at the declaration. There were many groups of insurgents that inhabited this system, who rebelled against the reigning power of the Sect Dominion. These bands of anarchists emerged and faded frequently, without much notice. How could one malcontent be such a threat as to trouble the Gods?

  Xin’ma’s tone became low and deadly. “This . . . heretic flees in the hope of aiding our enemies. In the hope of undermining the Gods. You will find this betrayer and return her to me. She will be made to suffer before the Gods upon Their return. And you will spill the blood of all those who would share in her treachery.

  “We have been called upon, my son. It is our fate as warriors and as servants of the Gods to face this coming threat and extinguish it. Our mandate is of the greatest importance. We must seek out and eradicate these i
nfidels and all those who would oppose the Gods. I turn this task to you. This is the destiny of our people.”

  “My Overseer,” Shu’ma replied immediately, bowing his head. “On my life, it will be done.”

  Xin’ma turned his attention to Rho’uk. “I must speak privately with my son. Go now and bring word to our people, for soon their makers will stand before them.”

  Rho’uk pounded his chest in salute and turned, walking from the meditation chamber, leaving father and son to converse alone. As he went, his mind raced over what he had just been told. More doubts. What purpose was this serving if not the will of the Gods? Who’s purpose? For the moment, it did not matter. He had a directive from his Overseer . . . from the Gods . . . and he would follow it.

  Hopefully, in doing so, it would lead him to the answers he sought.

  Chapter 1

  ISYSS

  The distant light of countless stars shimmered in the clear night sky, their radiance doing little to illuminate the harsh, rocky surface of one of the system’s smallest habitable desert moons. The faint glow reflected from its parent world, the gas giant Turaus, failed to reach down into the maze of gaps and bald spots throughout the mountainous terrain, and shrouded in darkness, they served as sharp outlines for the flat, elevated sections of outcropped rock that made up the majority of the desert satellite. But for its breathable atmosphere, Isyss was nearly incapable of supporting life, its wasted surface too dry to sustain any, giving the small moon a sense of peaceful emptiness and quiet.

  Jarred Archer enjoyed the isolation and tranquility that such places provided. Much more so than that of the overcrowded cities that peppered the majority of the worlds of this solar system. There were few places like it, left untouched by the massive shadow of industry and commerce that stretched out to all corners of commutable space. From his current altitude, the barren, lifeless surface almost appeared serene. Of course, he knew it was anything but.