CHAPTER FOUR
Numara soared high over the rooftops, gazing down intently onto the streets and alleys, into every nook and cranny of this bizarre and busy city as he searched for signs of his enemy. It was amazing how bright the night was in this place, where the lights of the city below melted into the sky. If there were any stars in this mysterious world, he would never see them here.
He was reminded of his own world, even gazing into the alien skyline. The city of Dubane was as bright and wondrous a place as he had ever been. The golden towers that encased the city were three miles tall and a mile in diameter at the base. His father had served there, advisor to Lord Argo, one of twelve councilmen of the Nassera Regime. Once, the city had been great and beautiful—it was a common expression to say that the beauty of Dubane was second only to the wife of Supreme Lord of Nassera—but now, most of the once proud, powerful realm lay in ruin.
This city, by whatever name, was at the mercy of Rancor, a powerful foe who would sweep through their defensive ranks with ease, if he chose such a path. It would be quite simple, just as he had swept through Nassera, a land that knew how to protect its borders. Numara knew this city stood about as much a chance against him as Dubane had.
Their only hope now was the Gem of Ages, and the visitor who carried it.
Numara was far from confident. Before, he had not used the jewel, but that did not matter. Even with the sacred stone, Rancor was a more than formidable enemy, arrogant, determined, powerful, and, as far as the Nasserian knew, invincible. The battle on the steps of the Albara Temple, when he had finally faced Rancor, having learned of his deception, had proven his strength. Numara had managed, in that time, to cast Rancor into the Void, away from Nassera, but the preceding upheaval had caused many deaths and extensive damage, and charges were filed against him. After being convicted of treason against the Nasserian people—he had, after all, led Rancor right into the city—Numara was banished from his homeworld. This time, he had no doubt Rancor would be ready for him.
A flash, blindingly white, pierced his rumination. He dipped below the rooftops, racing through the chasm of towers, determined. Barely an hour had passed since his arrival to this alien world, but already he sensed something was gravely wrong. It came to him, not so much as a vision, but as gut intuition, though he realized his instincts were being somehow affected by the Gem of Ages.
It did not take long to discover the disturbance that had drawn him away from the blanket of darkness that was the night sky. He heard the destruction and discord before he actually saw it—metal smashing into metal, the thunderous crack of splitting pavement, the screams of frightened innocents—though through the gem, he was quite certain of the danger toward the fleeing natives. Duty took the place of curiosity, rage replaced doubt, and like a shell shot from a cannon, Numara was on his way.
The path of destruction clued him to his enemy's location. Debris was strewn throughout a city block, similar to battlefields within Dubane after the coup. Alien vehicles were turned over, smashed with brute force. The air was filled with the dust of shattered concrete and glass. Numara could smell exhaust from burning wreckage, though he could not see the flames. Thankfully, he sensed no one had been seriously harmed. He peered into the darkness, contemplating his next move. Surely this was a rouse to draw him out. That was the way Rancor thought, how he had turned Numara's concern for the innocent against him. If he wasn't careful, he might yet meet that same fate.
He couldn't tell for sure if Rancor was even there, or if he was watching from afar. He wasn't even certain if his enemy knew he had crossed the border to this world. Rancor was smart, the demented form of genius, but he wasn't omnipotent.
An inhuman scream tore him suddenly from his reverie, and he spun just in time to see a massive green shape looming over him. Before he could identify the danger, blinding pain surged through his body like an electrical current, the same pain caused by a direct blow from a whip, and Numara felt himself lifted into the air. The Nasserian crashed into the wreckage of a damaged vehicle. Normally, such a blow would have rendered him incapacitated, but Numara had the aid of his jewel. Drawing on the power of the Gem of Ages, he forced himself to his feet and faced his attacker.
The beast was large, at least twenty feet high with a muscled, powerful torso and legs, scrawny arms, and a massive head filled with razor sharp teeth, glistening with saliva. Numara gasped in surprise and took a step back, though he quickly braced himself for battle. It approached with blinding speed. Numara stood his ground, for if the creature was locked in combat with him it was not preoccupied by destruction. He had to be strong, if he was to protect the people of this world.
This was Rancor's doing, he was sure of it. Somehow the bastard had turned a wild animal on the city, and no one in its path would stand a chance. Determined to disappoint his former mentor, Numara swore to see its reign of terror ended.
The Nasserian leapt to the sky, soaring over the beast even as its jaws clamped around the air where he had been. As it stood, dumbstruck by the sudden, unexpected escape of its meal, Numara came around behind, driving himself with his full force into the beast's spine. It howled in pain and whirled around with surprising agility, slamming its snout into him. Numara fell, stunned. Again, powerful jaws lowered, more hesitant this time, giving him the precious seconds he needed to roll away from danger. He kicked the giant muzzle with all his might, and the creature howled in all its fury.
And then the creature did something he did not expect. The massive body seemed suddenly to collapse in on itself, and it shrunk, changing shape. A moment passed, and Numara rose to his feet, staring in shock at the small humanoid, nearly a half a foot shorter than he, that stood in the beast's place.
Shape-shifter.
The creature was as green as the monster it had been only a moment before, in a black and purple jumpsuit. At first, he seemed stunned by Numara's speed and power, but it took only a moment for him to recover. Again, the shape-shifter changed, swelling to five times its previous size and sprouting olive fur.
Numara met the gorilla head-on. The two of them crashed through a window previously undisturbed by the shape-shifter's aggression. Glass shattered all around them, glistening like rain as sharp slivers showered down around them. Neither was deterred in their pursuit to defeat the other. Numara pounded his adversary furiously as it tried to tear him to bloody shreds. Certain that it was kill or be killed, the Nasserian pressed his fingers into the creature's throat.
That was when he heard the voice, demanding, determined, righteous, as it rang loud and clear into the night. "Hold it right there!"
Numara spun around and found himself staring into the face of another native, this one with dark hair and pale skin, his eyes shielded behind a slender, black mask and a sneer on his lips.
The young man standing before him wore an red and green costume with a black and gold symbol on his left breast. "Get your filthy claws off our friend."
Strength renewed, the shape-shifter struck out at Numara, the flat of his hand striking the Nasserian in the back. Short of breath, Numara crumpled. Everything went black, though he fought to retain consciousness. He felt himself thrown into the air and landed flat on his back more than twenty feet away. Slowly, his vision began to clear, and he sat up. Another dark shape hovered nearby, eyes glowing with guarded fury.
Numara felt the power of the Gem of Ages surge through him. He glared back at his new enemies and leapt to his feet, fist clenched in determination. A breeze whipped his long, black hair about, even as his bangs dangled low, obscuring his vision, but the Gem of Ages enhanced his senses in every way. He knew there were two others nearby, behind him, but he did not turn. There was no sense in revealing that he knew they were there. Instead, he waited, knowing he could meet their attack head-on and endure.
For a long moment, no one moved. Numara felt no need to strike out—so long as they didn't attack, there was not a necessity for battle.
The one in the black mask and red suit approached slowly, glaring. "This city is not your playground."
"I am not here to play," Numara said in his soft, determined voice.
"Who are you? Why are you destroying our city?"
"You accuse me? The green one is responsible for this rubble."
"Liar!"
"Now you call me a liar? I never lie." Numara took a deep breath. "Believe what you will. It is not a concern to me."
"Titans go!"
The native leapt at him, producing a staff Numara had not seen in his previous inspection. He was quick, even faster than the Nasserian had anticipated. In the moment that he landed on his feet next to before Numara, he had already struck out with his staff several times. To Numara's benefit, the Gem of Ages anticipated each strike before it occurred, and he was able to easily deflect the attack with superior speed. The native lifted the staff over his head, just as his feet touched the pavement, and brought it down like a hammer toward the top of Numara's head.
Numara crossed his arms over his head, bracing himself. He let out a cry of pain as the staff struck his wrists full force, mere inches from his skull. Somehow, the staff stuck in the nook between his wrists, as he had intended. He brought his arms down with swift determination, snapping the staff in twine. His enemy stood there, stunned. Numara held back his full power, but with enough energy—striking with the flat of his palm against the stranger's chest—that he fell back and rolled away. Pain surged through his injured wrist.
From behind, he heard the whine of a laser being fired. The wide, blue-white beam lit the night as Numara spun away, striking a building and bringing down several tons of concrete. In that moment, green energy rained down on him from the right. He swept a hand through the air, forming an invisible shield which simply absorbed the blasts. He stepped on the end of one of the halves of the staff he had snapped, flipping it up to himself so he could fling it at the man with the laser cannon. The staff jammed into the barrel of the weapon, and the half-man, half-robot stumbled back in surprise.
"No way!" the metallic humanoid cried.
Numara followed the staff with a fury, landing a powerful kick to his opponent's chest, sending him skidding along the pavement, which cast more dust into the air. Another being came at him with more blasts of green energy. He saw her from the corner of his eye, the flowing red hair, the fair, delicate skin, the blue outfit.
The pure fury in her eyes. Righteous fury.
He turned to face her, eyes narrowed. These people thought he was the enemy. He had been locked in combat with a friend of theirs, and they blamed him for demolishing their city, something he wasn't responsible for. Rancor sickened him. He stood straight and tall as the girl approached, and at the last moment, he held up a hand. The crimson power of the Gem of Ages surged through him and rushed from his fingertips, intercepting her before she could reach him. She cried out in agony and collapsed.
"Starfire!"
The young warrior watched in horror as his friend crumpled to the ground. Numara wet his lips, regretting his conduct, but time was short as it was. He hadn't had time to consider other options. Rancor was out there somewhere, and this entire world was in grave danger. He watched the girl at his feet for a moment as she turned frightened eyes slowly toward him.
"I am sorry," he whispered, and let the jewel take him once more.
He rose into the sky and took off like a shot beyond the towers, where he could no longer be seen.