by Chris Fox
I reached for dream and fed the spellpistol a maximum magnitude dream bolt, which filled the barrel with its purple-pink glow. Before the bolt had crossed half the distance I fired again, and both bolts slammed into the banshee. The first caused her form to ripple and go indistinct. The second shattered it, and she faded away like smoke as she passed into the spirit realm.
Behind her along the ground I spied a patch of faintly glowing mushrooms. I crept forward, and scanned the darkness, but couldn’t spy any threats, even with my sight. The trouble is my sight only works in the direction I’m looking at.
I never saw the spellblade that slid through my back, and into my kidney. Acidic poison pumped into the wound as a scaly arm encircled my neck. “Pity you won’t make it back today. That banshee killed you. You didn’t stand a chance.”
I cast blink.
That’s the beauty of having void magic. It’s so rare in our sector that most combatants forget it exists. My spell deposited me behind my assailant, back up the way we’d come. Then I used an oldie, one of my favorites, and I dropped a darkness spell over his section of the tunnel.
He spun and scanned around him, but seemed unable to locate me. Big mistake. I gripped Dez with both hands, and delivered a pair of amped void bolts to his chest. He staggered backwards with each spell, but didn’t fall. Quite the opposite.
The hatchling roared, and then charged forward out of the darkness. He slammed into the rock wall two meters to my left and rebounded off, which would have been hilarious if he’d actually stayed down. His armor had taken a beating from the void bolts, and from the vicious wall, but he was still armed, and still coming for me.
So I blinked behind him and whispered, “Weaken.”
“Never!” He spun to face me, his rifle already coming up.
Even as void magic gathered in my barrel Xal’Nara heard my call, and the helmet’s armored faceplate began to flake away. I stroked the trigger, and put that bastard down once and for all. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Then I zoomed back up the corridor, and retrieved all four mushrooms. Briff loved all psychedelics and would want to get his hands on some. He’d be annoyed if I didn’t save him any.
I stepped over the still cooling body and willed one of my healing beers to flow from its potion loaders. The pain faded, and I stepped over my would-be assassin’s body and headed back to the Kamiza.
Interlude III - Tuat
Necrotis knew fear, or trepidation perhaps, for the first time in an age. One could argue she’d feared her daughter, but that was the fear one holds for a serpent. You must take care or get bitten, and you may fear that, but really it is just prudence.
Her terror of Tuat came from a far more primal place. How could it not?
She’d been bred as an Outrider, and taught that their dragon monarchs were infallible gods. Tuat had been older than Virkonna, more cunning than Neith. All his siblings, and his mother, had long since been slain, yet Tuat remained.
Necrotis willed the Maker’s Wrath to translocate to the system she knew he haunted, and relaxed a hair when she saw thousands of razored fragments floating protectively in space around the planet Ekara.
The Razor Belt, an ingenious defense created by an ingenious inventor. He’d found or created shards of rock, and wreathed the planet with them. No ordinary rock those.
“May I join you?” Kurz’s tentative voice came from the bridge’s doorway, and she turned to the boy in mock surprise.
He wore his soulcatcher silks, and this time had donned his bandolier with a small but impressive collection of vials containing his arsenal of souls. A concession to her. It had to be. The first step.
“Please.” She gestured at a spot near the scry-screen, where the mindless drones piloted the ship. Behind her a middle aged woman gave up her last on the soulmatrix. “I was about to do something momentous and dangerous. I would ask that you remain quiet, unless addressed, and in that event you be unfailingly polite.”
“Of course.” Kurz moved where she’d indicated with his hands behind his back. “May I ask whom we’re meeting? And where we are?”
“This is the Razor Belt.” She waved a hand and the view panned back to take in the entire cloud, which created an impassable asteroid field. “The shards drain all magic, and have an obscene range to them. The ones at the furthest edge of the belt reach the planet itself. All magic has been drained from this system. We cannot scry the world. We have no idea if dragons still live there, but if they do then they will be stunted lizards with no breath weapon. All their innate magic has been siphoned.”
“Won’t it drain us if we approach?” Kurz shifted uncomfortably, hands still clasped behind his back.
“Assuredly. Even a Great Ship is not safe.” Necrotis waved a hand, mostly for dramatic effect, and willed the Wrath to open a tear. Like a Fissure it ripped realms, but this one led to the spirit realm, not the depths.
Her mighty vessel pushed through the slice between realities, and into a dull, shadowy, lesser version of the Ekara system. The Razor Belt had been mirrored here, but as it would be after a billion years of entropy. Many of the rocks were gone, and a thin asteroid field barely protected the planet.
None of that drew her attention. It was merely backdrop. All it did was highlight the ghostly elder Wyrm, easily the size of a small moon, gnawing on a reactor from a capital ship like a bone.
“Mighty Tuat,” she spoke and the vessel carried her whispers to the self-styled god of death. “I have come to parlay. To see common cause against mutual enemies. To return our sector to a time when Necromancy was not hunted or shunned, when spirit was honored and both custodial and conquest necromancy were practiced.”
The dragon twisted in space, and brought his snout from the meal to eye her ship balefully. The Wrath was larger, and undoubtedly stronger, but Tuat would find a way to even the odds if he wanted her dead. He wasn’t above shifting to bipedal form and merely cutting her down with a blade. Her wards were unlikely to stop him.
“Fascinating.” The Wyrm swam lazily closer, and spread his wings to bask in the spiritual glow of the dying star. “Twice in a short span I have been surprised. I do not like surprises. I do not like the living. Most especially I do not like anything built by my late siblings. The dragonflights are gone, and I hope their children are ashes.”
Behind Necrotis Kurz shifted again, and she could have kicked the boy. Tuat’s gaze fell upon him and narrowed. “I see some remain. What do you want from me, little goddess? Why do you disturb my meal?”
“I remember the days of old.” Necrotis snapped into an Outrider’s military stance, her hands crisply held behind her, not so different than the stance Kurz had naturally chosen. Tuat’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I am also a former part of the dragonflights. You were exiled. I chose my fate. My father Inura left us weak and defenseless, and we were slaughtered by Nefarius. His inheritance stolen by greedy mortals. I would see it all torn down, this Confederacy, and the surviving humans. I will make them fear me and venerate you. We will allow death cults to survive, and they will take up proper custodial necromancy and begin venerating their ancestors as they should. At the top of the pantheon will sit me, with you at my right hand. Before you refuse…I ask only one thing in return for this worship. Help me kill these upstart gods.”
Tuat craned his serpentine neck, and laughed. His will overpowered the natural laws of physics, and that laugh echoed through the void. “I care nothing for your petty politics. If I require power, then I seize it. I do not build empires. I do not work with others. I take. My worshippers are few, but most are wise enough to fear me.”
Claws flexed as he made manifest that threat, a clear show that he did not fear her Great Ship in the least. He could translocate directly past the wards, and it would be a fight between the two of them.
The boy’s breath caught behind her, which suggested he knew it too.
“I count myself among those wise enough to fear you.” She raised a hand and her vessel pr
ojected the holos she’d chosen. “This is Xal’Aran. Does he look familiar to you?”
Tuat’s slitted eyes widened, and his lips curled over fangs that could rival mountains. “Xal’s reincarnation. It has to be. Engineered by that smug bastard no doubt. It isn’t enough to reincarnate, but he has to design a body that looks exactly as his did in life.”
“My supposition as well. Watch.” She replayed the fight between Xal’Aran and the Devourer of Hope, and studied the Great Wyrm’s reaction when Aran ended her daughter. “You see the power we are dealing with. If Xal returns with all his strength he could quickly destroy me, and you. Neither of us will survive his wrath if he fully reincarnates.”
Tuat flapped his wings and swam closer to the Wrath. His expression became contemplative. “You are the first being I will entertain the idea of a true alliance with, if it lives up to your description. Tell me your plan.”
Necrotis released the Outrider’s stance. She loathed it now, though once it had been the very source of her pride. How much to tell the Wyrm, and how to say it in front of the boy?
“The Confederacy is no true pantheon.” A slight smile brightened her features. “They hate each other, as most were bitter enemies a short time ago. I have already removed the primary food source for the sector. That will place enormous pressure on the world Yanthara. They are now the primary food exporter, but their reserves will be insufficient for the task ahead. First, I will poison their food stores. Those who consume them will wither and die. They will starve. It will prevent them from receiving nutrients from other foods.”
“What makes you think their fire dreamers will not predict this?” Tuat disappeared then, and alarms surged throughout the ship.
The Wyrm had vanished. Now a handsome man in his mid twenties stood on her bridge. There was no trace of Wyrm about him, no wings or tail, or scales. He’d become human, as Inura had once done. And the two resembled each other in nearly every way, save height. Tuat being taller, of course.
Kurz’s face drained of blood, but she ignored the boy. Necrotis turned to Tuat and glided across the deck until they stood close enough to touch. He reeked of decay, something she took pains to prevent.
“They will predict an attack on Yanthara.” She turned back to the scry-screen and willed it to display the jungle world. “And their gods will gather to oppose us. When they do, we will battle them in the skies over their world. Regardless of the outcome of that battle, the sector will be doomed, but if I have you fighting at my side? Then we can end this pantheon, and claim the worship for ourselves. You need not trouble yourself, only murder those who have previously wronged you, and their children. But if that is not enough to tempt you back to the galactic stage I have other bait.”
Necrotis enjoyed a sultry smile, and waited for him to ask the inevitable question. During his time, Tuat had been known as a fearless, aggressive swordsman. He’d tutored mighty Arkelion, who still lurked out there, somewhere.
“Out with it then.” Tuat extended a hand and a painfully-white blade appeared there, a blade not meant to manifest in this realm. “If you know me, then you know my patience is a brittle thing.”
“Virkonna has reincarnated.” She blinked at him through her ivory mask. “Drakkon has reincarnated. Soon they will begin hunting for their tombs. Your sisters, Marid and Virkonna both, were no fools. They must have planted the seeds for their inevitable return, as Xal did. Which means that your smug satisfaction at the downfall of their progeny may be premature. You have a decade. Perhaps two. And then these gods will begin to rise again, as they always do. When that happens do you wish them to have a power base? Or to find only ashes and dead cities upon forgotten worlds?”
Tuat’s blade vanished and a predatory smile overpowered his face. “Very well. If you summon me I will come. But this I will add to our bargain. In addition to worship you will tell me if the soul of any of my siblings, or of Drakkon, are located. I will devour them myself.”
“Of course, mighty god of death.” Necrotis inclined her head, then stared meaningfully at Kurz.
The boy understood. He dropped to his knees, and whispered a prayer under his breath. A prayer to Tuat. The first of millions.
Tuat vanished, their meeting at an end. Necrotis didn’t begrudge him the sudden departure. She had what she needed. He would come when she needed him most, and these pathetic godlings would finally learn the terrible wrath of the dragonflights.
10
Stealth Run
By the time I’d arrived at the Kamiza everyone else already kneeled in a line near the center of the room. Each person cradled their mushroom in their hands, and eyed me with pity as I entered.
Technically I’d been last, because the person I’d killed no longer counted, and somehow the others knew it. Ghora glared hard at me as I moved to kneel at one end of the line.
“Where is Hapi?” She folded her arms. “There’s battle damage on the back of your armor, and one of your potion loaders is now empty.”
Oh. That’s how they knew.
“Hapi tripped, and accidentally slid a poisoned knife into my back.” I kept my voice as emotionless as I could. “Very clumsy. Maybe he tripped and fell on the way back.”
Ghora began to laugh, but not a single student joined in so I kept studiously silent. “I’m sure he did, and because he’s not returned, you are not last. Well played, pup. Today we are going to train in hit-and-run tactics, something every eradicator is well versed in. If your opponent never sees you, then you can kill them with impunity.”
My mind went back to the eradicator we’d faced on the Flame of Knowledge. They’d kept using implode over and over, from stealth. I couldn’t see them, and I suspected they were using scrying to target me first. No risk to themselves. The perfect assassin basically.
I hadn’t ever cast an implode, because at the time I’d seen it I hadn’t been strong enough to power the spell. Powerful spells require significant strength, and you only get strength from going to Catalysts. I’d now been to enough to cast an implode, or I thought so anyway. I understood how the spell worked, too, as I’d read the schema repeatedly until I memorized it.
Well, no time like the present for a field test.
“After the four of you eat those mushrooms,” Ghora boomed as she paced before us, “you will be invading the neighboring Kamiza, one mountain over. The war mages there know we are attacking, but they do not know when. They will be vigilant, but if you are skilled you can bypass their defenses and kill them. Each of you must secure one kill, documented by your spellarmor. If you fail, but survive and return, then I will kill you myself. Do not return unless you have slain a war mage.”
Did the war mages also have a dictate? Kill an eradicator or they’d be killed? I thought I’d seen hardcore, but these people took it several levels past that into insanity. How many skilled mages would die today? And for what? Basic combat training? There had to be a better way.
“Well? Is an invitation required? A kiss, maybe? GO!” Ghora’s boom forced us into motion, and we sprinted for the door. Running was something I’d gotten good at, and I sprinted outside before activating void to begin my flight. “And be swift! Take too long and the mushroom will take hold.”
I teleported the mushroom inside my mouth, and began chewing the rubbery flesh as I followed the others south, toward the next peak. I’d noticed the temple atop it when landing, but hadn’t really had time to inspect it. Most of the temple grounds were shrouded in darkness, but every twenty meters a lamp had been placed that provided enough light to see by.
I glanced skyward and noted the complete cloud cover. If that lasted, the lamps would be the only light source. As we flew I considered the best approach, and wondered if I should broach an alliance with one of the others. We’d stand a much better chance if we worked together, and all we had to do was ensure everyone got one kill.
The trouble was people had zipped off with no discussion, and I didn’t know them. They saw me, quite rightly, as an outs
ider. That might kill the idea before they gave it any real consideration.
So I flew at the rear of the pack, and used the time to consider how I was going to get inside and kill a target. Maybe I didn’t have to? Maybe I could try the exact same trick the eradicator had used on the Flame.
We crossed the gap, our sound swallowed even as the jealous wind tore at our garments. No war mages attacked us, but then they wouldn’t, would they? As I understood it, war mages focused primarily on melee, and on using spells to enhance their bodies.
A sickly white bolt streaked from one of the temple windows, and slammed into the lead student, one of the two who hadn’t spoken or offered a name. It rippled through the armor, and I wondered for a moment what the effect might be. The hatchling plummeted from the sky, paralyzed by whatever the spell had done.
There was no way they’d survive impact, not in a valley thousands of meters down. I reached for void and blinked below the hatchling, then seized them around the waist, and dropped for cover in the trees below.
Anu and our other nameless companion also dove for the deck, and we all attempted evasive maneuvers as more spirit bolts shot out from two other windows. None found targets, thank the maker, and the trees rushed up at us from below.
The enemy fire ceased.
We reached the trees, and made it safely to the ground, where I deposited my companion. They staggered weakly to their feet, and a male voice came through the speakers. “I did not expect you to save me. You are…not what we were told, I think. Perhaps we need a new approach.”
They were open to reason. This was my chance!
“If we work to together,” I got out in a rush, “then we can each bag a target, and maybe all get out safely. You saw that they’re already working together. If we’re not doing the same, then we’re not going to survive the next hour. They’ve got a superior defensive position, and they know we’re coming.”
