05
A cough erupted from Gamora's verdian lips as she stumbled into the dark chamber. Breaching the doorway had left her covered in a fine layer of sand and dirt. Using her slender fingers, she brushed the gravel from her chocolate-colored locks. Once the bulk of the sand was gone, she straightened up and surveyed the unfamiliar space.
Compared to the rest of the temple, the room was comparatively more modest in size and appearance. Four walls were constructed in a perfect square with an impossibly high ceiling up above. All was dim aside from a faint glow in the center of the room. Gamora squinted her sable eyes at the weak luminescence, venturing to discern the nature of object projecting it. Inching forward, Gamora's eyes widened as the source of the feeble glow came into focus.
On a pillar of smooth sand laid a sword.
The blade was extensive in size, but also lithe and and supple. It radiated a pale blue light that grew brighter and more vibrant the closer she approached. The hilt was intricately decorated; engravings in an archaic language furnishled the cross-guard. At the very tip of the hilt, the pommel was carved into an intricate star.
The longer Gamora gazed upon the sword, the dimmer and more silent her surroundings became. She could see nor think of nothing other than the blade that lay before her. With trembling fingers, she reached an unsteady palm towards the hilt of the sword. An inexplicable force pulled her hand forth until her forefinger skimmed the edge of the ancient blade. The moment her flesh connected with the cold metal, Gamora gasped.
A voice called to her in a language she could not decipher. Deep and baritone, it asked of her the impossible. Pleaded that she fulfill an ancient prophecy. The sword called upon her, recognizing her worthiness to wield it. While her past was tainted, she was pure of heart and mind. Her soul did not crave such vices as destruction or power. Somehow, she knew it was Kronos, the archaic Eternal speaking to her through his forsaken weapon.
"Ta kiok."
Garmora fell to her knees.
The abrupt voice shook her from her reprieve. For a moment she sat there, a nearly imperceptible tremble arresting her svelte body. Tears rolled from her eyes, though she felt no sadness or pain. It was not until the gruff sound of a foreign language reminded her surroundings once more. Stumbling to her feet, Gamora turned to find several large, hulking beings standing in the entryway.
Compared to most sentients she had encountered, these were gigantic, much like Tivan had alluded. They stood on two feet, erected much like humanoid creatures, but were covered in fine layer of fur. Their faces were embellished with two slim, black eyes and a small snout. For several moments the beings stared blankly at her, speaking in their native tongue excitedly. She noticed their long, claw-like fingers continued to motion towards her hand. Glancing down, Gamora was surprised to see the Xiphos was clutched tightly in her palm.
Within seconds, a loud, deep growl emanated from the largest of the inhabitants.
Time to get out of here.
Sliding the Xiphos into her utility belt, Gamora unleashed her twin blades. The metal hissed with warning, provoking the native sentients to move back several feet. Once they were distracted, Gamora charged into the large group, lunging forward and swinging her leg beneath the greatest of them. The creature stumbled, then fell face first into the dirt below with a loud thud. The others, who appeared stunned by their comrades incapacitation, were slow to realize Gamora's approach. With quick, supple movements, she took the sentients down one by one.
Their large, heavy physiques proved easy for Gamora to surpass. She was no simple Zehoberei. The bionic enhancements and years of combat training had left her not only strong, but skilled beyond most creatures in the galaxy. Although her blades proved effective for intimidation, she used only her fists and her legs to incapacitate the natives. Gamora had no interest in killing any of the primitive sentients residing on Mo'krak. They had no notion of the artifact they possessed, nor did they ask for such a weapon to be placed in their hands.
With the bulk of the hostiles down, Gamora decided to make a break for the passageway that had enabled her entrance into the chamber. Speeding forward, she laid an uppercut on one of the natives, then leapt above their stumbling form. Sprinting as quickly as her legs could manage, she maneuvered her way through the single corridor until the sight of the temple's entrance came into view. Excitement flushed through her body, a smile appearing on her viridescent lips as she breached the final archway into the cool night air.
As quickly as it appeared, the smile on her lips died.
A large, mountainous crowd of natives armed with rudimentary weapons surrounded the colossal temple. Upon seeing her, the horde began chatter, growling and snarling in unison with a foreign chant.
"Ta kiok! Ta kiok! Ta kiok!"
This is bad, Gamora thought, studying the horde of sentients before her. There's no way I can get through a large group like this.
Her only option was to flee and contact the ship. With any luck, Jaryn and Keio could draw their attention elsewhere, allowing her to escape with the Xiphos.
Without another thought, Gamora produced her communicator device.
"Keio, this is Gamora. I need a diversion. There are too many of them assembled around the temple. I have no way out of here."
Holding the communicator in her palm, she waited tensely for a response. Luckily, it came only seconds afterward.
"Way ahead of you, gorgeous," Keio's husky voice responded.
The distinct sound of gunfire rang out from behind the large hoard. Puzzled, the inhabitants turned their attention to the noise. Gamora watched as their expressions melded from puzzlement to rage. Equally intrigued, Gamora peered through the dense crowd of sentients until she caught sight of the two familiar Centaurians. Keio and Jaryn rang through the crowd, firing their weapons and drawing the scrutiny of the massive hoard.
With their attention averted, Gamora snuck past the entrance of temple. Their appearance would provide enough time get back to ship and safely deliver the Xiphos. Just as she was going to summon the Magnetar for retrieval, Jaryn's voice struck her.
"Keio!" He cried, his voice reverberating from the distance. The distinct sound of alarm in his utterance sharpened Gamora's senses. "Get off of him!"
Unable to disregard Jaryn's distress, Gamora doubled back. The crowd had concentrated itself where Jaryn and Keio had stood at the base of the congregation. Short bursts of gunfire could be heard amidst snarls and the indecipherable language of the natives. Gamora fought her way through them, rounding the perimeter of the hoard until the vibrant cobalt of Jaryn's face came into sight. The Centaurian looked to be in pain. His brow was creased and his eyes were ablaze with with a mix of fury and sorrow.
"Jaryn!" She shouted above the enraged crowd of sentients. "There's too many of them! We have to get back to the ship!"
Jaryn's scarlet eyes met Gamora's as he continued to push through the mass. Worry struck her when she realized Keio was not visible among them.
"I'm not going anywhere!" He seethed, a loud grunt escaping his lips as he toppled one of the natives. "They killed him! They killed Keio!"
The rage in his voice was thick and scorching.
Helplessly, Gamora watched Jaryn fight off the mass of natives. She struggled towards him, kicking and toppling those that got in her way, but was unable to move further than mere inches. The Centaurian almost seemed a formidable equal to the inhabitants of Mo'krak, but even his impressive physique could not match their size and strength.
Just as Gamora landed an arduous strike across the face of one of the natives, Jaryn's struggling came to an abrupt stop. She watched the life in his cardinal eyes fade until nothing remained but two hollow, empty spheres. Jaryn fell to the ground below, the animated sounds from the crowd evidence that their foe had been defeated. Despite how aggravating the two Centaurians had proven themselves to be, Gamora did not wish death upon them.
With Jaryn and Keio both gone, Gamora knew she needed to return to the Magnetar. She attempted to backtrack through the large crowd, hoping their momentary elation at the Centaurian's defeat would afford her enough time to escape back to the ship. She slinked through the hoard of sentients, pushing through their enormous bodies until a taunt tug on several locks of her hair caused her to halt. Before she could release herself, she was yanked back several feet. A startled yelp issued forth from her lips as the Zehoberei was hauled backwards and violently tossed to the ground below.
The impact made her cry out. Her head swam from the sudden pain. Above her, a swarm of natives converged on where she lay sprawled upon the ground. Their immense forms surrounded her from every side, merging together until a large circle was formed around Gamora's immobilized body.
There's just… Too many of them, she thought, scrambling to withdraw her communicator.
"Tivan!" She cried, into the device. "We've been overrun!"
Before she could finish her thought, two enormous, clawed hands converged around her emerald neck. Panicking, Gamora dropped her communicator and ventured to wrench the colossal palms from her body. She tore at the creature, thrashing furiously against the ground below. Despite her efforts, she could not free herself from the sentient's enormous strength. Overhead, more of the natives gathered above her, watching silently as their companion suffocated her. In their eyes, she was burglar, one who had desecrated their place of worship and stolen their coveted idol.
As Gamora's lungs burned for oxygen, time appeared to steady around her. Her movements became slow, dwindling until her outbursts were weak and feeble. The mountainous bodies above her fused into an amalgamation of colors as her eyesight grew cloudy.
This is it then, Gamora thought as her vision went dark. A faint ringing in her ears was the only apparent sensation she could perceive aside from pain in her neck. This is how it ends.
She felt foolish in her final moments. If only she had realized it sooner. Peter, Drax, Rocket, and Groot... They deducted nothing from her strength. Her friends, her family, they did not weaken her.
They made me stronger.
Whatever strength Gamora had, whatever aptitudes she possessed, her fellow Guardians only amplified these qualities. While she possessed tremendous strength and skill on her own, when she was with her them, she possessed something more. She wished she had realized it sooner.
Peter, forgive me.
"Gamora!"
Through the darkness, she heard a voice call out to her.
Peter?
Before she cold discern the origin of the voice, Gamora began to choke violently. Abruptly, it occurred to her she was breathing again. Fresh, cool air filtered into her lungs. It had been too long since she tasted oxygen. The sensation was almost euphoric. Just as quickly as her breathing returned, so did her sensations. She could see once more, and the dusky expanse of space was the first sight to meet her sable eyes. Motionlessly, she watched the stars glitter above her. They danced across the great horizon, dispersed between the vibrant light of three small moons.
Drawing herself away from the heavens, she turned her head to the side, cognizant once more of her surroundings. When two large, gagantous black eyes met her vision she nearly cried out in shock. Realizing the creature beside her was stationary, her trepidation vanished. Something had paralyzed the inhabitat.
"Gamora!" The voice from before called out once more.
The Zehoberei climbed to her knees, nearly stumbling back to ground as she searched for the origin of the voice. Upon surveying her surroundings, her jaw slackened in surprise.
The mass of natives surrounding the temple had been vanquished.
Their bodies littered the ground around her, forming a nearly perfect circle. In the distance, she caught sight of what was left of the hoard, a small group of natives charging towards a figure in the distance. For a moment Gamora imagined it was Jaryn or Keio, that one of the Centaurians had survived and successfully undermined the mass of incited setienets. Upon further analysis, she realized it was not Jaryn or Keio who took out the hoard.
It was Tivan.
Taneleer stood in the distance, unflinching in the face of the advancing creatures. The small mass pummeled towards him furiously, stricken with the grief of their fallen comrades. Tivan looked minute compared to the large, hulking sentients that pursued him. A man, swathed in black robes and platinum-colored hair standing in the path of five raging beings twice his size. Gamora wondered at his stoicism. Wondered why he chose to stay stationary in the wake of their approach.
With a sudden flick of his wrist, Tivan held his right palm in the air. His hand was cast in a white glove, fingers outstretched before him. His onyx robes billowed in the darkness, nearly camouflaging him amidst the murky night. Then, without warning, a burst of energy ushered forth from his palm. Gamora could not see it, but could hear the low vibration in the air and witnessed his pursuers abruptly soar in the opposite direction. Their burly bodies flew with force through the sky before dropping to the ground.
It was difficult for Gamora to think. Her brush with death had left her faint, and the pain in her throat pulsated rhythmically down her windpipe. Had she truly witnessed Tivan decimated those creatures simply by lifting a hand? Was it possible that he single-handedly annihilated them all? The possibility became more real the closer Tivan converged to where she sat amid the mountains of bodies. Somehow, she felt relieved it was not a dream, and relaxed back to the ground before closing her eyes once more.
The Zehoberei's virescent lids drifted open, long lashes fluttering tentatively. It was impossible to see among the bright, white light that radiated from above. The glare left her blinded, disorienting her among the various pains that afflicted her body. Sighing, Gamora struggled to gain her bearings until her fawn-colored eyes adjusted to the light.
Instead of a dry, desolate planet, she found herself in a sterile room.
It was a small, but clearly functional, medical bay. Various machines hummed quietly amidst an array of medicines, bandages, and solutions. Gazing downwards, she found herself situated in a compact bed. Several bandages had been wound around her limbs. She drew an emerald finger across one bandaged wound, flinching slightly at the pain.
"Awake at last."
Startled by the abrupt voice, Gamora's eyes shot to the entryway of the medical room.
"Tivan," she breathed, a sharp pain in her throat arresting her train of thought.
"There is no need to speak, Gamora," he began, observing as the Zehoberei slid her palm to the base of her throat. "There is no need to worry. We are on the ship and you are safe."
Despite Tivan's insistence on her silence, Gamora felt compelled to speak. There were too many questions that needed answering. What had happened down on Mo'krak? How had Tivan managed to fight his way through the hoard of native sentients? Most importantly, though, where was the Xiphos?
"Tivan, I must know what happened down there," she managed to whisper. "What of the weapon?"
Tivan's tattooed lips curved into a smooth grin.
"The Xiphos is safe," he answered calmly. "You did it, my dear Gamora."
An abrupt, breathy chuckle followed Tivan's words. It was laughter of both relief and elation. The Xiphos was safe. The universe was safe. The ancient blade could no longer fall into sinister hands. That darkness Gamora could not erase, those ill deeds of the past that stained her, were once more replaced by light. She had helped ensure the protection of innocent lives in the galaxy. She had redeemed herself, if only a little.
"I am glad the weapon safe," she replied, the hint of a smile present on her verdant lips. Then, turning her gaze back to the Elder, her tone grew more hushed. "You saved my life, Tivan. I do thank you for that."
Each word she spoke reminded her of her brush with death. The pain reverberated down her windpipe like small wildfires. If it were not for Tivan's intervention, she would have been crushed to death and cursed to die alone beneath the moon of Mo'krak. Since meeting Peter, Drax, Rocket, and Groot, Gamora no longer pictured her death to be solitary.
"You owe me no thanks," Tivan replied, rounding her bedside. Gamora watched his black robes billow around him as he seated himself on the edge of the mattress. "In fact, I should be thanking you," he added, leveling his gaze with her own.
Gamora smirked, shaking her chocolate-colored locks.
"With that kind of power, I almost fail to see how necessary I was."
Quietly, the Zehoberei recalled the image of Tivan on Mo'krak. He had immobilized their enemies with a mere flick of his wrist. It was a wondrous and frightening sight, one that reminded her of Tivan's true capabilities. Within the last several centuries, his reputation had degraded rapidly. He had grown peculiar and outlandish. Many regarded him as a shut-in, obsessed only with maintaining his vast collection. Still, beneath Tivan's peculiar facade was something more. Something wiser, rational, and more dangerous.
"Surely you could have taken the Xiphos yourself?" She inquired, feeling acutely more exposed beneath his ancient, deliberate stare.
"Oh, Gamora, that's not the case at all," he assured, running his gloved fingers through his platinum locks. "You are far more quick than I am. More lithe, agile, discreet."
"Perhaps," returned the green-skinned beauty. "Those creatures, Tivan," she added suddenly, "Please tell me you did not kill them all."
The Collector shook his head, frowning slightly.
"No, they were only stunned."
"Good," Gamora sighed, clearly relieved."Evidently, I was not discreet enough to evade them. Somehow they were alerted to my presence."
Tivan's countenance grew suddenly more grave, his lingering smirk waning into a neutral expression.
"Gamora, it was not you who alerted them."
The Zehoberei's expression became curious as she absorbed Taneleer's words.
"Not me?"
"No," he responded, inching forward towards her end of the bed. "It was a blue light." Tivan pitched his arm in the air, twirling his gloved fingers as he did. "It lit up the entire temple."
Tearing her gaze from Tivan, Gamora looked at her palm.
Could that have been…?
"How long?" She questioned abruptly, catching the Collector off guard. "How long could you see that light?"
"Thirty, perhaps forty minutes," he replied, watching her curiously.
Gamora took a breath, attempting to settle her nerves. She recalled touching the Xiphos for only a moment. Had the ancient blade truly spoken to her that long? If so, why did she remember so little?
"Gamora," Tivan murmured, his tone dropping in pitch, "What exactly happened in that temple?"
She looked at him nervously, confusion evident in her sable eyes. Recalling the memory was difficult. It was fractured into bits and pieces, spread haphazardly across her mind. Unable to recollect the event, she turned from him, shaking her head in defeat.
"I can't remember, Tivan," she breathed, biting her lip. "It honestly felt like a dream."
Without a word, Tivan raised his palm to her emerald cheek. Engrossed in her own thoughts, Gamora barely registered his touch. Drawing his gloved fingers down the length of her jaw, he arrested her chin in his palm with a gentle, yet firm grasp. It was enough to stir her and draw her eyes back to his own.
"Try," he commanded gently, his voice crisp.
Absently, Gamora nodded and closed her eyes, focusing on the memory of the blade.
"The sword spoke to me," she began, straining her injured voice. "It felt like a moment and an eternity all in one." Tivan raised his platinum brow, intrigue brewing in his eyes. "There was so much power and information. It was… It was Kronos, he asked me to protect it. To ensure that it was kept safe. That... I was worthy enough for such a task." Gamora's eyes shot open abruptly, startling him. "Taneleer, you will protect it, won't you?"
Tivan regarded her for a moment, his expression vaguely shocked. Gamora had never addressed him so informally, a clear oversight in her current condition. Recalling the memory had left her rattled. She shook with an emotion she could barely identify.
Drawing back, Tivan offered the Zehoberei a cool smile.
"I have no intention of using the Xiphos for any purpose that would alarm you." The archaic rose from his place at her bedside, turning from her and facing the opposite side of the room. "Still, Gamora, it does not surprise me that the blade chose to speak to you," he muttered, his voice contemplative. "Your morality is truly just, a strange turn of events for a child of Thanos." He turned back suddenly, his dark robe rippling in the air. Something in Tivan's expression left her unexpectedly weary. "That is why this hurts me all the more," he mumbled to himself, approaching her bedside again, "But the blade is absolutely useless to me in its current state."
Leaning forward, Tivan lowered himself until his forehead was inches from hers. The gesture made her flinch, but the Collector made no move to alleviate her discomfort.
"Tivan," she protested, but was hastily hushed by him.
"No, Gamora, listen," he whispered intently. "Take my hands."
With sudden vehemence, she felt both her palms arrested in his own large fingers.
"Tivan, what are you doing?" She breathed, unable to decipher the strange shift in his demeanor. The grip on her hands was incredibly strong, despite her attempts to free herself. "You're not making any sense!"
Taneleer's expression was entirely solemn, with a nearly imperceptible hint of feverishness.
"Just know this, Gamora. I am so very sorry," he uttered softly, towards the base of her ear. The vibration of his words made her shiver. "I hope you can forgive me."
Click, click.
Gamora's eyes shot down to her wrists, mouth parting in silent shock. He had restrained her to the metal bars of the bedside. The sight left her dizzy, and somehow more frightened than she had been grazing death on Mo'krak.
"Tivan," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. "What is this?"
Gamora pulled fruitlessly at the shackles. They were thick and well-constructed. She looked to Tivan, her expression demanding an explanation. His visage offered nothing except indifference. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Gamora began to thrash her free legs in response. The shock had transformed into something coarser, more angry.
"Gamora," Tivan cautioned, apprehending her slender legs. "Do not make this harder than it already is. I don't want to hurt you, but I will." With ease, Taneleer arrested one of her flailing limbs, shackling it down to the bedside. The second leg proved more difficult. With force, Gamora managed a direct kick against his chest, nearly knocking the air out him. Though the strike caught him off guard, he quickly recovered. "Quite the kick," he muttered, a chuckle issuing from his broad chest. "Those enhancements make you quite powerful."
With surprising swiftness, the Collector caught her stray limb in his arms, finally restraining it with a satisfying click. Despite her own vigor, the man's ancient strength surpassed her own.
"Let me go, Tivan!" She cried, nearly breathless. Gamora's alarm was blighted only by the encroaching feeling of foolishness. She was being betrayed. Her friends had tried to warn her, but she failed to heed their warnings. Deception was an empty, sick feeling. She wondered at the reason for his sudden betrayal, struggling to understand Tivan's bizarre actions. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"As you already know, Gamora," Tivan began, his voice gruff and hollow, "The Xiphos is an extremely powerful weapon on its own. However, for my purposes, the sword requires its companion."
Gamora struggled against the bed, baring her teeth at him like a trapped animal.
"Companion? What does that have to do with me, you fool!"
The Collector chuckled, shaking his head as he observed her writhing beneath him.
"As it so happens, my lady, its companion is in the possession of someone who has been... Searching for you."
Gamora's blood ran cold.
"Searching for me?" She mouthed, nearly inaudible.
Heat rose in her breastbone as Tivan's words danced in her mind.
Searching for her? No, it could not be who she feared it was. Not him, anyone but him. Not the man who had massacred her people and inflicted years of torture on her body. The being who used her as a weapon to further his own personal gain. The one who forced her to brutally fight her sister day in and a day out until the two were broken and hated each other. She would rather face any other fate.
Let it be the Ravagers, she pleaded. Let it be the Kree Purists. Just… Not him.
Gamora stole a desperate look at Tivan. She scrutinized his face, searching deep into his archaic eyes for an answer.
"No, Tivan," she pleaded, her voice breaking on his name. "You cannot do this." A sob threatened Gamora's chest as her breathing became erratic. "You cannot! You can't!" Her words trembled as warmth rolled from her cheek.
"But I must, Gamora." Taneleer approached her, wiping away a stray tear with his gloved fingers. "There is no other way."
Fresh rage coursed through her veins. She pulled violently at the restraints on her wrist, imaging the satisfaction it would bring to break Tivan's neck.
"How dare you, Tivan! I trusted you. I risked my life for this mission!"
The Collector's expression remained unchanged. He donned a stony resolve, unperturbed by her words.
"Yes," he replied, his languid voice calm. "And I will be forever grateful for your services."
Leaning forward, Tivan placed his lips on the base of Gamora's forehead. She screamed bitterly at the gesture, tearing at her shackles with new ferocity. Ignoring her outburst, he kissed her soft flesh, then muttered in a near whisper, "Forgive me, Gamora, for delivering to your nightmares."
With those words, Tivan turned from her and treaded out of the medical room She watched him leave her, rage and fear mingling in her breast as she ceased her fortuitous struggle.
I'm so sorry Peter. You were right... You were all right.
Motionlessly, Tivan stood upon the flight deck, fingers pressed tightly to his jaw.
He stared quietly into the cold steel, ignoring the frigid expressions Velo and Quinn wore as the woman was carted from the ship. The fervency in her voice as she condemned him was not enough to tear him from his ruminations. He could hear nor see nothing but visions of the future he would soon create for himself. It was only the shrill voice of one of Thanos' Chitauri that finally dragged him from the reprieve of his dark desires.
"Collector," the reptilian hissed. "The Dark Lord fulfills his end of the arrangement."
The creature produced a rectangular box and presented it before the archaic man. With anticipation, Tivan took the box from the Mad Titan's subservient and opened it. A grin grew upon his grim features as he gazed upon the coveted artifact.
"Quandros' Dagger," Tivan purred aloud, eyes swathing the gleaming metal. "The Vivamus."
"The Dark Lord gives his thanks for your participation in this exchange."
"No, no," Taneleer murmured, his voice emphatic and a near whisper. "The pleasure is mine."
Tivan dismissed the Mad Titan's subordinate, ushering he and the remaining underlings back to the entry point of their own vessel. Turning his attention back to the weapon in his hands, Tivan grinned.
"The Vivamus," he breathed again, entranced by the artifact. "The dagger that would have murdered Kronos Tassarion in his sleep." Tivan stole a fervent glance at the Xiphos. The weapon lay wrapped in cloth upon a table nearby, its zealous blue glimmer reduced once more to a feeble glow.
"With these two weapons, it will at last be possible."