Book of Axiom :: Chapter 1

(I wrote this a while back and I am in the process of rewriting it.)

Fingers smeared oily prints over glass walls and panes as little faces peered in wonder at ancient artifacts on display. The dull roar of voices in awe and admiration; a hum of interest and delight. A crowd of people jostled about in an attempt to view everything there was to see. From the second floor balcony, a young man clad in mercenary attire observed every action in the museum's main hall below.

The more expensive and delicate pieces were encased, but it was his job to keep watch in case someone intended to swipe one of the less valuable items. There were a lot people today, and any one of them could try it.

Doran was a young town in a young country, barely twelve years old. When it was established, the city relied on mercenaries to counteract lawlessness; consequently, no official law enforcement had ever formed. The curator had long standing ties with the mercenary organization, so every week a different team was charged with guarding the museum. This week was his team's turn.

He did not mind it too much. It was easy work, but he preferred a challenge. The museum was too large for his small team and required he accept the assistance of other mercenaries who happened to volunteer. That he minded more than the ease of the job, but what could he do.

Eying hands and pockets as he scanned the room, he shook the front of his uniform in an attempt to cool himself. With the team-leader pin on its high collar, it was soft and comfortable, but rather well fit and did not allow for much airflow. Basic blue, black trim and with a (??????) crest on the left shoulder and back, it was the standard uniform for all mercenary members.

As he adjusted the large, oddly-charred sword slanted across his back, he felt a familiar presence approaching. He did not need to turn around to recognize who it was. Having been friends since childhood, he had grown accustomed to her presence. She gave off a unique aura that could be readily felt by anyone nearby, even if they did not realize what it was they were feeling. But even though he knew her well, he also knew there were some things about her that she kept well hidden. He had learned she was of noble blood and in hiding, but beyond that the secrets were just something that never came between them. He would never ask, just as she would never ask about his smooth, grey tail or his clawed feet that prevented him from wearing shoes. Everyone has their secrets.

"Taking a break are we, Damony?" she said, giving his long braid a playful tug. It was what she called him, but it was not his full name.

"Hardly," he said as she sat on the railing he was leaning on. "Just getting a better view." He did not look up from the room below, but from the corner of his eye he could see she had the hood of her uniform pulled up to hide her pale face, as she usually did. He could also see the round edge of the hulablade she carried on her back and the shine it reflected from the museum's skylight windows. She had said it used to be her fathers—whatever had happened to him—and she took very good care of it.

Pale hands with dark lacquered nails lay folded on her lap as she peered far over the edge of the railing, seemingly oblivious of the distance to the floor below. "Where's Ikaru? Is he here yet?" The young man shook his head, and she smiled. "He was probably out all night again with Allura and is still fast asleep," she chuckled.

"I heard that," someone yelled.

They looked down to see a young kanian man staring up at them. Arms bared to the elbows, he had one hand relaxing on the hilt of the katana at his waist, and the other on his hip, wrapped in a thick, blue cloth and bound with leather. The people near him looked around to see what the commotion was about and he smirked at them with an earthy grin, his tall wolf-like ears darting about.

The hooded girl beckoned for him and the kanian bounded up the stairs to where they were resting, his long, dark hair flowing behind him. He had his uniform unbuttoned to his stomach and folded down, displaying his white sleeveless shirt underneath. Around his waist was tied a purple sash that partly covered his large, bushy tail. He leaned back against the railing on the other side of the first young man with his arms folded across his chest.

The girl leaned forward and leered at Ikaru. "You're late again," she teased, and he rolled his eyes. "Don't make me cite regulations."

"Hey! You're more nocturnal than I am, Natila," he jeered back, and then he lowered his voice. "Besides, Allura doesn't like it when I work all day, so I spend my nights with her sometimes," he finished with a mumble, scratching his head in embarrassment.

Natila chuckled and elbowed the boy next to her. "I told you so, Dameon."

Ikaru was not as amused as she was. "Shove off, your highness!" he said, causing Natila to stop smiling and turn her back to them.

Dameon finally turned from his view of the room below and gave Ikaru a flat stare. "Not cool, dude."

Dameon could tell the kanian had realized his mistake because he quickly fell silent, scratching his head again as he looked anywhere but at Natila. She had let it slip one time during school that she was of noble blood, and the other students had never let her live it down. To the two of them, she was an equal; sometimes they would forget how much she hated it.

"So," he said after a few moments of awkwardness, "who would want to steal a bunch of old junk like this anyway?" He tapped on a vase that stood on a pedestal nearby. It rang like brass.

"The items in this museum are hardly junk, pooch", Natila said as she turned back to face Ikaru, pointedly still displeased with him. "Some of them are priceless, not to mention one of a kind." She walked over to Ikaru who had now picked the vase up, took it out of his hands and placed it back on the pedestal. "Besides, the curator and our magistrate are old friends."

"I know that, but I would still like to get paid," Ikaru grimaced.

"Stop complaining," Dameon said as he turned and leaned his back against the railing. "Personally, I rather enjoy looking at all this old stuff. It makes you wonder who owned it last and what they were like."

"Why are you complaining anyway, Ikaru? I thought you enjoyed being lazy." Natila said.

Ikaru sighed. "You just don't let up, do you."

"Natila, did you get the report from the midnight crew?" Dameon said, changing the subject. He knew they would continue all day if he allowed them to.

"No! I did not," she said, suddenly very annoyed. "The bastards left well before I got here."

"What?! They're not supposed to... Who's team was it?"

"Take a guess."

Dameon gritted his teeth and adjusted the sword on his back again. He knew exactly who, but that would have to be dealt with later. With Ikaru's arrival, Dameon's team was complete, and that meant it was time to get to work. It was one of the smallest teams, to be sure, and it did not have the highest ratings, but they did their best; because of that, they were climbing the rankings slowly yet steadily. It was a large organization, and new mercenaries were coming in all the time. It was not that he had a problem trusting anyone new, but with his small close-knit group, he could be sure things were done right and not have to worry... unlike some teams.

"Remind me to report it to the magistrate later. Right now, we have a job to do," he said.

"I know we have the volunteers roaming around, but I think we should split up and each take a wing; do a basic run throughout and check in with each guard," Natila suggested.

Dameon nodded. "Sounds good. We can meet back here afterwards. Which wing do you guys wa-"

"Right wing." Natila interrupted, but only a second before Ikaru claimed the upper floor.

Dameon sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll take the north wing. Natila, appoint 2 volunteers to the front entrance. That should cover the main room."

They all saluted each other before going their separate ways, though only as a formality more than anything else. Dameon did not demand much of his team, at least not compared to other teams in the organization. He knew they respected him, and he respected them. That was another reason he did not want to take on any recruits; he would have to change the way he ran his team, at least for a little while, and he was not ready to do that just yet.

Natila punched Ikaru's arm as she passed him. "Don't think this is over, pooch," she mumbled, and then hurried down the steps before he could retaliate.


**********

The north wing was called the Hall of the Endless, and at the northern most point was the Chamber of the Endless, with its many statues and dedications to the holy mother goddess and each eidolon, or lesser-endless. As Dameon entered the first hall, he passed large wall murals portraying the War of the Righteousness on his left, some two thousand years earlier. Each mural was a progression of the one before it.

On his right were displays of artifacts and fine jewelry, pottery and craftsmanship, many still in one piece and all protected by a wall of glass. Old fashion weapons and strange looking swords and spears were arranged on racks according to era and location, each with its own descriptive plate. Some contained manikins bearing features and armor of their nation and race, though none that Dameon readily recognized. On one rack, there was a large, heavy looking weapon made entirely out of some large beast's bone with a hilt carved into what the head of the creature might have looked like.

The hall itself was not nearly as full as the main entry room. Adults and children alike darted from showcase to showcase, their images reflecting off the well-waxed marble tiles. In some areas, paid guides lead parties around the museum, giving extended lectures on every exhibit.

He paused for a moment to listen to a guide addressing a crowd that had grouped in front of a showcase of a study-room. In the middle of the display was a liange woman sitting at a desk covered in scrolls, her golden-brown curls tied back with a few loose strands looped over her ears. White, feathery wings folded on her back, the slightly plump woman wore a simple cut blue dress that seemed to contrast with the rest of the elegance in the display.

The guide stated that the woman was named Claradina Ou'bosa, a heretic witch from the period called the Purge of Lies which occurred about three hundred years ago. During that time, there was an explosion of false historical documents that tried to alter the facts about the light and dark sides of the war, which lead to a nation wide burning and purging of said documents and any that were remotely similar. The guide then went on to say that Claradina was probably the most influential supporter of the dark during that time; she attempted to mix the dark histories with the light ones and present them as truth from within the church itself.

But Dameon already knew that part of history. Everyone did; it was common knowledge, taught in every school. The story ended with Claradina's attempt failing which resulted in her execution. Times were much harsher back then.

Proceeding down the hall, he turned a corner and stopped again, but this time in front of a room. Not many people visited this room. In its center were three large, grim statues of the Ba'corra, covered in flowing robes and bearing grotesque features. They were the beings that had been born of man's own darkness some two thousand years ago. They had corrupted man until the dark races were born, then lead their followers to conquer the world. The only wall decoration in the room was a mural portraying the holy mother in all her glory, single-handedly destroying the opposing Ba'corra and their armies during the war. It was probably the only thing that made people want to enter the room at all.

After making himself quickly peak around the room as part of his route, he reentered the hall and noticed a glow reflecting in the glass that protected one of the hanging portraits. He slowly turned to see an exquisite and very expensive-looking assortment of artifacts: bracelets, armlets, and even a couple of thick earrings, all set with odd colored stones; they covered several pedestals. The enamel covering the jewelry was finely worked with ancient symbols that looked strangely familiar, some of which he almost swore he could read. The armlet in the center was the item that held the glow; a faintly pulsing mixture of light and color. Reds, purples, and even shades of grey—though as to how there could be grey light, he could not understand—all mixing yet separate, and increasing in strength as he drew nearer. Absentmindedly, he put his hand on the display barrier, his short claws clicking on the protective glass, as if attempting to touch the object. He thought he could almost hear the pulsing reverberating in his ears, or did he. Then without warning, as all thought was but lost to the glow, the armlet flew from the pedestal and burned into the barrier and his palm, throwing cracks along the glass in all directions.

Thought instantly returned and Dameon panicked. He tried to remove his hand from the glass and away from the object, but it would not move as if it was welded to the barrier. He pulled with all his strength, the muscles in his arms bulging, until he could feel the flesh of his hand tearing. There was no pain, only searing heat, only the bright colors from the glowing armlet. And then the museum, the barrier, and the armlet were gone.

He dreamt of people he did not know and images he did not recognize, of history figures that came to life before his eyes; the War of Righteousness was all around him. Light versus evil, so the stories went, both sides giving it their all. Even the eidolon themselves caught in the struggle against one another. That, in the center of it all, drew his attention the most.

He waded through the slow motion rush of soldiers from all races of human. The Mo'ken, in their bright, colorful armor, covering all but their fierce, rage-filled faces, the Turin, with their large, bull-like heads, locking horns with their dark brothers, the Gabora. Even the Liange, warriors of light, made in the image of one of the endless whose names were all but lost to history, releasing streams of arrows and beams of holy energy at the oncoming wave of Dervanni flying over head, their wings like that of giant bats. He all but paused for a moment studying them, their fleshy grey tails of very close semblance to his own.

As he reached the center, he stood still in awe. The eidolon were here, in front of his eyes, some with weapons locked, others in the slow-motion act of dodging blasts of energy while retaliating with a volley of their own. Sifting around them to get an even closer look, recognizing the eidolon Methroth and Themis in the process, he abruptly found himself face to face with two eidolon he did not recognize, though the power they emanated outshone all the rest combined.

One, a woman, her hair and robes radiant with power, very closely resembled a liange. She held a sword that seemed to be crafted of several combined swords, one over lapping another with a split down the center, in several shades of white and red. The other, a man, if he could be called such, wore a shredded cloak that appeared to absorb the light around it, its color darker than the darkest black. His hair was a slick length of pure ebony and the sword he held was an enormous twist of sharp edges all in black and silver with dark blue engravings along its middle.

The slow moving rush became just that, a rush, as the battle suddenly sped on, the cries and roars of men instantly deafening. The man and woman in front of him had just thrown each other aside by the sheer force of their swords, sparks still in the air where they had met, and were about to go again when the woman stopped and looked in Dameon's direction. No, she actually looked directly at him, her face twisted in a scowl, as if she was displeased at his existence.

He could only stand in bewilderment as the woman charged him, raising her sword as she came nearer, the look of victory in her eyes. In the last moment before her sword crushed him with its awesome size, a black shape appeared in front of him which dimmed all light. The man in the darker-than-black cloak had come between them, more sparks filling the air as his sword made contact with hers. His sword was enormous, yet he wielded it with only one hand, showing little sign of a struggle. She looked as though she meant to drive all her force into the man, her sword glowing red with fury. And as he held her at bay, he peered over his shoulder, also seeing Dameon. His eyes were pools of deep dark emptiness, and yet somehow they held a look of love... and was that contentment? Contentment at seeing him safe?

He had no time to decide before the man raised a black shredded glove toward him and shoved. The force was that of a black hole, ripping him to pieces. He felt his body being consumed by darkness as it filled his vision. It blocked out the Endless and the battle field altogether.

He swam in emptiness for eons, thousands of ages came and went and still he floated in a never ending nothingness. A warm, caressing darkness that was also comforting. And then, without warning, something grabbed his shoulders and shook him. A hand slapped his face.

Dameon sat up gasping for air, taking in deep breaths as he rubbed his eyes. When he could see again, he realized he was lying on the floor and Ikaru was standing over him, curiosity covering his face.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Ikaru questioned. "If I don't get to lie down on the job then neither do you."

"Where am I?" Dameon asked. His mind was fuzzy from floating in the darkness.

"Oh, no. Don't think you're getting out of it that easily," Ikaru said waving a finger in Dameon's face, curiosity replaced by a sly smile. "Natila will have your hide instead of mine for once if she finds out you were asleep while we stood on guard." He chuckled as though he was picturing it.

Dameon shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. His mind was a jumble of images. "What happened?"

Ikaru's smile almost disappeared. "What do you mean? You were passed out, snoozing on the floor as soundly as if you were in your own bed."

Remembering the light, the armlet and the burning pain, he bolted upright and checked his hand for injury. To his amazement, there was no burn mark, or mark of any kind for that matter. He looked at the glass barrier and saw that it had no cracks; it appeared as though it had never even been touched. He walked over to it and hesitantly placed his hand on the glass, half expecting the amulet to jump off the pedestal again. Nothing happened. The glow was gone. Everything was just as it was before.

Dameon sighed.

"What's your deal, man?" Ikaru asked, curiosity and humor now completely replaced by confusion.

Dameon looked at his hand once more and shrugged. "Something... strange... I'm not really sure..." He gave his friend a sheepish look and adjusted the charred sword on his back. Ikaru smirked and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, which usually meant he cared less either way. But Dameon really did not know what had happened; it all felt like a dream. He had been in the middle of the War of Righteousness. At the time it had seemed more real than the museum itself. And those two, the woman with the layered sword and the man in black, he would never forget them.

(From here on is outdated material, but is still the correct plot and story direction, so I left it for now. It severely needs to be rewritten.)

Nor would he have time to figure it out, cause a moment later a large boom, as if from an explosion, nearly shook the museum, the glass rattling slightly. The two boys looked at each other, then ran for the service entrance where they had come in.

Upon exiting the building, they saw a gleeming white cruiser, the symbol of the High Family plainly visable on its side, veer around the museum's tower and decend toward the Verdas Marsh north of the city, a billowing smoke trail left by its engines. It was quickly lost to sight over the trees, which was shortly followed by a large crash.

"What are you guys staring at?" Natila exclaimed. "We have to go after it! Come on." Coming to there senses, Dameon and Ikaru raced after her as she took off in the direction of the sound.

The Verdas Marsh was mainly farther north, and this close to the city it was basically a mix with the rest of the forest. Dense undergrowth of fern and brush alike, with small ponds of marshweed and lilypads. The over head trees grew denser as they traveled deeper, blocking out half the sunlight, but holding onto the heat. As they cleared a patch of some of the more taller brush, they came upon the clearing the fallen ship had made. Dameon stepped out and was immediately pulled back into the brush.

"What gives?!" Dameon said catching his ballance and Natila quickly wrapped her hands around his mouth. "There's a Red Rhent out there, checking out the ship." Ikaru said, looking through the brush and not at them. "I dont know what we can do."

Dameon peered through the brush to see a large wolf like creature with a high mane down its back and red, short fir sniffing around the crashsite. When it came to a window it snarled, showing its large whtie fangs, and scratched at the glass, producing screams from inside the vessel.

"Well we can't just sit here. There may be injured people in there." Natila wispered worriedly. Just then the Rhent broke through one of the windows, and shoving its head inside, managed to drag a Liange girl out by the leg. It then dropped her to the ground at its feet and began smelling her. When she pushed it away out of fear, it reared back and snapped at her hand, barely missing as she recoiled. It then took two steps back and chomped twice out of eagerness and hunger. "It's now or never," Dameon said as he ran from the brush, unharnessed his charred sword, and used it to shield himself from the open jaws of the Rhent. The beast latched onto the blade and pushed and pulled its weight to offset Dameon. Some of char from the blade broke off and fell into his face, causing him to lose his ballance and stummble. The Rhent towered over him now, drool dripping from its bared fangs. It reared back once more, and as it came forward, jaws wide, Ikaru came dashing from the brush, drawing his katana in one swift motion. The beast managed to dodge the oncoming slash at the last moment, escaping with only a scratch on its snout.

Dameon sighed. "Thanks Ikaru, that was close."

"What are you doing you fool!" Ikaru yelled, his focus only on the Rhent. "Get up and draw your boe already."

Dameon flipped to his feet, quickly drawing his Silver Boe from its sheith. Even though they outnumbered the beast, they knew they had little chance of defeating it, but still they tried, dodging and blocking, slashing when they saw an opening, scrambling when they did not. After several minutes, they began to realize they were taking more damage than they were dishing out and had to end it quickly if they were going to end it at all.

As the beast reared back to charge them once more, Ikaru jumped behind Dameon and told him to be ready to block with his blade. “You be the distraction,” he said. Dameon nodded, and raised his Charred Sword to once again defend against the snapping jaws and drool covered fangs. This time it tossed him aside as he hung on for dear life, but the wolf boy had expected this, sliding under the beast, slashing at its limbs as the beast’s attention was elsewhere. He quickly rolled out from under its belly as the Rhent stumbled, howling as blood shown from the gash in its foreleg. But this did not stop it. After a few limping steps, the beast’s main raised and it snarled viciously, staring straight at the two boys.

Dameon ran to Ikaru’s side and helped him to his feet. “I think you just pissed it off,” he stated uncertainly.

Switching to quick form: (kind of, more of a less descriptive form, but my old writing style still creeps in)

Ikaru: “I don’t know if we can beat this thing” exhausted.

Meanwhile Natila had been sneaking the people trapped in the ship out to safety. She had gotten them all out, but the girl was still on the ground next to the plane, trying to hide under a piece of the wreckage. Natila crept down to where she was and whispered for her to follow, but when they moved the piece of wreckeage, it creaked, allerting the Rhent, and since it was already in an enraged state, it turned from the boys and charged after its escaping prey. Natila quickly jumped in front of the girl to defend her, spear forward. Just before the beast reached them, a shot was fired that tore into the beast side, causing it to sidestep a sec and look around before another shot was fired that hit it from the other side as a dozen town patrols poared from the surrounding brush, firing upon the Rhent, until it fell to the ground reeling and snarling. The patrols encircled the beast to make sure it wouldn’t get up again. Some ran to check on the survivors and some to check on the wreckage. The Leutenant came up to the boys and thanked them for their troubles and took their names.

Leutenant: “You best be off now, this is city business.” And as he turned he forgot the boys already.

The patrols helped the rest of the trapped people out and the girl that had been dragged out by the rhent ran to what must have been her parents, hugging them tightly. Dameon could see that she was motioning toward him and his friends in conversation with her parents as other survivors came up and thanked him. But the girls parents only scowled at him from a distance, clearly looking at his tail. Many people disliked the mixed species.

Ike: “Isn’t it just like them, the Liange, I mean. Even after we saved their daughter, they still look at us like were something they stepped in.”

Natila: “Its because were not full-race” Dameon watched as the three of them were lead away by some of the patrols, the girl looking back appologetically once or twice.

Ikaru: “Doesn’t matter, I say. Who says their any better.” He arms were crossed in disgust that equalled the girl’s parents’.

Dameon was still watching her as Ike tugged on his sleave. “Come on, man. Theres nothing else to do here, and we’ll be in trouble if the museum is found unguarded.” They all trudged back to the building.