It was the end of the week and Mr. Wesson had delivered as promised. They were in his lab and the king was watching from a plush chair that had been brought in just for him. Mr. Wesson nervously adjusted the straps on the backpack of a soldier who had volunteered for this experiment. The backpack contained a mini reactor that when activated, would super-heat a crystal then channel that energy out of the barrel of the weapon the soldier held in his hand. Wesson had first developed this technology for mining. The energy produced would be hot enough to melt rock, but he knew that if one was going to make a name for themselves in the Rednasi empire, weapons were the way to go. Still, he wanted the user to be as safe as they could from their own weapon. He designed the pack to be insulated and to vent the heat of the machine away from the user. He also designed a suit that covered the wearer from head to toe and insulated them from both the heat of the pack and the weapon. It was all black like the normal uniform, but the material had a special alloy woven into it that would disburse and reflect heat away from its wearer. It was the same alloy used in the heat shielding of interstellar ships. Wesson had included all of this information in his written report that he had submitted for the presentation, so he didn't bother repeating it. He knew what everyone wanted to see.
The targets were set up at the far end of a makeshift firing range on the far end of the lab. Wesson checked with his volunteer to make sure he was ready to go. Wesson turned to the assembly that had been gathered for the presentation. Aside from the king himself, his cabal, several members of congress and a few prominent merchants were all in attendance. All were standing except for the king, who sat in his chair looking exceptionally bored.
"Your Highness," Wesson's voice cracked as he began, "what you are about to see, is the culmination of many years of painstaking work. It took many hours, and long nights worth of research and development to bring us to this point. I would like to express my most heartfelt gratitude to His Royal Majesty, for believing and investing in me and my work."
"Don't make me regret it Wesson." The king's voice was bored with an edge of warning as he motioned for him to get on with it.
"Yes my King." Wesson answered nervously as he put on his safety goggles. "Everyone, kindly regard the targets, and please do not look directly at the beam."
Wesson nodded at his volunteer. The soldier took a wide stance facing the targets. He tucked the weapon under his armpit, with one hand on the trigger and the other on a forward handle under the barrel. "Ready!" Wesson ordered loudly. The soldier pressed a button with his thumb near the trigger and the weapon began to glow red and emit a high-pitched hum. "Aim!" The soldier pressed a button on the forward handle, turning on a targeting laser that he made a show of pulling to the middle of the bullseye on the center target. "Fire." Wesson said with a smirk and a hint of mirth in his voice. The soldier pulled the trigger, and the weapon bucked, rocking his body back back as it fired. A red orb flew, fast as lightning across the room and into the center target. No one watching could see whether or not the soldier hit the bullseye. The entire target was completely incinerated, not even leaving ashes behind.
Immediately the king was on his feet. Both he and the others in attendance were stunned into silence. The empire had many weapons that did many things, but no one had ever seen anything like this. At the same time, Wesson was cackling like a madman. He turned to the crown and threw his arm wide. "It packs a kick doesn't it!" He exclaimed with a face full of pure glee. The king turned to him with a wicked grin on his face. "Impressive indeed, Mr. Wesson. Now, let's see what it does to a body. Bring in the test subject!"
One of the twenty old men that were pulled from the slums was half dragged in the room from a door on one side of the room. His blindfold was roughly ripped from his head and he was left standing where the last target had been blinking in the room's light. Once his vision adjusted, he looked calmly around the room, apparently unimpressed by his new surroundings. When his gaze fell on the king, his face soured almost imperceptibly before returning to his apathetic mask. The king watched the man closely from the time he was brought into the room. He found the man's calm demeanor intriguing. "No greeting for your king?" he asked, curious to see what the man would say. With no change to his expression, the man stated simply, "Azaacar rejects you." A flash of anger ran across the king's face, quickly replaced by amusement. He nodded at Mr. Wesson. "Start the test."
The weapon developer was less enthusiastic about the "test". To him making and designing weapons was one thing, he thoroughly enjoyed the process of bringing his concepts into reality. Taking the life of another person was another thing entirely. He would be a happy man if he could spend the rest of his life in his lab, dreaming and building. "Ready." He said calmly to his volunteer. Again, the soldier took his stance. Seeing this, the old man took a defensive stance, raising his shackled hands, palms open, pointing them in the direction of the soldier. "Aim." The soldier's targeting laser put a small red dot on the old man's forehead. The old blinked slowly, taking a deep breath. "Fire!" the soldier fired and the weapon recoiled. The old man flexed, and a wall of blue energy shimmered into view in front of him. The king stood up eyes wide. The red orb from the weapon impacted the wall with a brilliant flash of light and a loud sizzling sound. Everyone in the room had to shield their eyes from the blinding light. Once they all recovered, they looked and saw the old man just standing there, unscathed.
The king's face became a mask of fury, he growled under his breath, shaking with rage. "Azaacar." He snapped his head toward the soldier, barking the order. "Again! Now!" The soldier stole a glance at Mr. Wesson, whose jaw was still on the floor, took aim and fired again. Again, the old man blocked the shot with the Old Power in another dazzling display. When the king saw, once again, the shot had no effect, he was livid. He marched toward the soldier, screaming at him, "again, again, shoot him again!" Before the soldier could take proper aim, the king reached him and snatched the weapon from his hands. He fired shot after shot at the old man, marching forward closing the distance, the cable that connected the weapon to its power source forcing the soldier to follow behind. Impact after impact slammed against the old man shield, each one heavier the closer the king came. The old man gritted teeth, fiery determination etched on his sweat drenched face. The king, after reaching about half the distance to the old man, took a knee and set the weapon high in the pocket of his shoulder. He pulled the trigger and held it down. The weapon whined as the barrel glowed brightly. Mr. Wesson, seeing what was about to happen, screamed from his spot, "NO SIRE NO!" The small red orb that normally spat from the barrel, instead paused just outside the barrel and quickly grew in size until it was the size of a man's head. It then burst forth sending a blinding beam of red energy hurtling towards the old man. The beam impacted his shield like a ton of bricks, causing the man to stagger slightly, and for a moment the shield held. It wasn't long before the sustained power of the beam visibly ate away at the man energy shield. The old man groaned and strained trying to will the shield to hold. Everyone in the room stood transfixed by the epic power struggle before them. Not a single person dared to move or even breathe. The king gave a primal roar as he white-knuckled the weapon's trigger, as if he could force it through the man's shield with sheer willpower. Finally, all at once, the beam broke through the old man's shield, the old man, and the wall behind him. When the alarms blared, complaining about the integrity of the hull of the ship that served as the palace, the king finally dropped the weapon. He stood slowly, panting and sweating. He stared at the spot where the old man once stood, his body having disintegrated into nothing. He cursed the name of Azaacar in his mind as he spat on the ground. The king looked up at all the shocked faces in the room, fixed his clothes and walked slowly out the room. Before he exited, he touched his chin to his shoulder and said quietly, "That will do. Send it to production."
The blast was seen all throughout the capital. The blaring alarms caught the attention of everyone in the palace district. For a moment everything came to a halt. People were scared and confused asking questions among themselves, wondering what the light was.
Raeni was in her tent meditating. After her conversation with Rahtona several days ago she could feel something was wrong. There was a darkness that loomed large and she could feel its power growing. She had been using her connection to Azaacar to try to get a sense of the well being of those who were taken. When she found them, she could tell they were being held together somewhere in the palace. From what she could tell they were well enough, at least their spirits were still strong. She recognized one of them as her good friend, Oliver.
Oliver was a good man, and maybe a little sweet on her. He worked in the part of the farm where they turned wheat into flour, and once a month he would smuggle some back to make pastries for his neighbors. He always made sure to hand deliver a few of the tasty treats to Raeni for them to share over tea. He had shared with Raeni that he was once a member of the Royal Guard. He felt a crushing sense of uselessness after the invasion. He locked his armour away and hid his affinity with the Old Power because he couldn't bear the fact that he could do nothing to defend his people. He had told her when they began training to rebel, it was the first time in years that he felt alive, like a man. The sincerity in his eyes had been so intense when he swore he would protect her when the fighting started, that it made her heart skip a beat. She followed his presence when it moved away from the others. The room he was taken to had several other presences that she has a hard time perceiving because they had no connection with Azaacar. She could feel the darkness in the room. It was commanding and oppressive like a fire in a small room. Suddenly she felt the Old Power flair in Oliver. She felt him focus and strain as if he were fighting someone. Her pulse quickened and she wished she could see what was happening. She focused as she put her hands in the glowing pool in her tent. All at once, she could see the room clearly as if through Oliver's eyes. She watched horrified at the terrible weapon the king himself was firing at Oliver. Sweat poured down her face as the massive beam hit Oliver's energy shield. She strained along with him as he struggled to keep the shield intact. She gasped watching the shield fray at the edges. Her connection and her concentration was broken when the shield was. Her hands shook violently as she held her abdomen where the weapon had torn threw her friend. In her mind she could still feel his pain. Tears flooded her face as she fell to her side. The sound of her wailing echoed throughout Trench Town.