Chapter 40
The tactical showed Samdu, the smallest moon of Amethyst, sweeping by within the next few hours. Its diminutive size and rapid orbit contributed to its lack of colonization. Aqtal had little interest in Samdu, the cold dead space rock that it was. For Jez, it provided a perfect sanctuary of solitude. But first he must meet with his masters.
Jez’s warbot pilot steered his ship toward Had. As the ship descended through the smoggy skies, Jez’s chest pain struck again. Tight, piercing pain. Jez rubbed his chest, not that it did much good, while the ship landed on its platform on the roof of the Archonage. Jez had made this trip several times, and based on Aqtal’s recent—though vague—instructions, this may be the last trip of his current assignment.
Jez entered Aqtal’s chamber. A fitted black tarp covered the imposing diamond pyramid. The sparkling radiance must have finally gotten to Aqtal. The Right Eye of Aqtal, Gawbolos, stood—from Jez’s vantage point—to the left of the cone. Orebolos stood to its right. Aqtal sat on his throne, facing Jez like a vulture waiting for its hatchling.
He kneeled before Aqtal. “Master, I have finished my task.”
“Well done, Jez. But there are pieces missing.”
“Surely this would be enough? They are beginning to track me.”
Aqtal rose from his throne and approached. The scent of sulfur wafted off of him into Jez’s nostrils, the stark odor still surprising Jez; his nose contracted and twitched. A short-sword sheath hung from Aqtal’s waist—an odd thing for him to wear, at least in Jez’s experience. Aqtal typically bore no weapons.
“Is your gallant brother, Colonel Gelibor, on your trail?” said Aqtal.
Jez swallowed. He considered not telling Aqtal the truth but thought better of it as his abilities to block Aqtal’s mind-probing were not complete. And with “the Eyes” flanking him, Jez was not about to take any risks. “Rez, Master. Rez found me.”
“Rez?” Aqtal cackled at the name.
“But I fought him off. He may even be dead,” Jez quickly added.
“How intriguing. I would not put it past Ryle to let loose his wild dog of a brother. He must be getting desperate.” Aqtal waved at his two Qesem guards, signaling them to leave. They made haste to the exit, leaving Aqtal, his Eyes, and Jez alone. Aqtal stood still and silent, filling Jez with uneasiness. A ripple of silver ebbed through both of the Eyes, which Jez caught with his peripheral vision. Aqtal returned to his throne and held up his hand indicating for Jez to rise.
Jez obeyed.
“Rez has now betrayed not only his own people but me as well. He is a betrayer at heart. But you are not, Jez.”
“Thank you, Master.” Jez looked into Aqtal’s hollowed eye sockets, an attempt at “eye contact.” Even aside from Gawbolos and Orebolos, Jez knew Aqtal could see him.
“You are a faithful son, the most faithful of all the Gelibors, and I have become your father. Your biological father failed you in countless ways. I am to you what he was not. I have helped you flourish more than any other being. You are one of a kind.”
Aqtal’s words contained truth. Except for his cardiac issues, Jez was more powerful than he had ever been in his life. More confident and sure of himself. His mission was clear. His purpose was good—so he believed. He submitted to Zermal’s training because of the great power and stamina promised, heart issues notwithstanding. More importantly, Jez felt wisdom and knowledge flowing through him. His natural gifts were finally being used. He experienced the promises coming true—and quicker than expected.
Aqtal continued. “And, due to Gawbolos, my Right Eye, we have a remarkable new weapon for our cause.”
Silver ripples pulsed through Gawbolos’s body.
From his sword sheath, Aqtal pulled out a foot-long golden rod which could only be the Flute of Fienna, the same flute previously in Qusam’s keeping. The flute’s golden sheen reflected stray sparkles from the lower edges of the tarp. The flute? Aqtal has it? Astounding. Did something happened to Qusam? Chest pain—Ahhh. Jez clutched his chest.
“Once again,” said Aqtal. “Destiny proves it is on my side. This…,” he said as he held up the flute, “…is a conclusive sign. It’s as if the so-called music of harmony wants to know me and my power. To know the truth. Who am I to deny what it desires?”
The tension eased up in Jez’s chest. He simply stared at Aqtal and said nothing. What could he say?
The side door to Aqtal’s throne room opened and Zermal shuffled in. To the amazement of most, Zermal tended to come and go as he pleased around Aqtal. “Ah, Jez! Welcome home, my boy.”
“Doctor,” Jez bowed.
Aqtal sheathed the flute. “Jez reports our enemies are finally on to him, Doctor. You must tend to him and finish your work if he is to complete the operation.”
“Indeed I shall, Lord Aqtal. If anyone is ready to advance, it’s Jez here.” Zermal motioned toward the door. “To my lift.”
Zermal led Jez out the side door onto the protruding walkway overlooking the never-sleeping industrial works that cranked out weapons, warbots, and ship parts round-the-clock. Zermal’s personal hoverlift, a floating chair-like vehicle with room for two, waited for them. They boarded the lift and it moved away from the throne room, boosted over the factory and dropped several floors to an exit corridor; the steep dive always made Jez’s stomach drop. He held on tight, gripping the metal railing.
The lift emerged outside, sped two miles across the city—passing over the shabby tenements of the slaves’ housing district—and raced inside a ground-level structure guarded by warbots, coming to a halt inside Zermal’s lab. Zermal hopped off the lift and disappeared into a dark corner.
Jez, clutching his chest again, stepped off the lift and fell into a leather chair. An “Enhanced Worker”—Zermal’s euphemism for a slave with forced limb replacements—passed by Jez’s chair. The worker, with pale skin and a head balded from various experiments, trudged by on cybernetic legs and with difficulty hauled his cast iron left arm. Zermal tried to utilize such arms as wizard staffs, but his experiments hadn’t been perfected.
Zermal came back with a hand-held instrument and scanned Jez’s chest. An orange light blinked on the instrument. “Let’s get you on the table.”
Jez laid flat on his back on the lab’s main exam slab. Zermal shut a glass canopy over him. Jez closed his eyes and braced for what was coming. The shocks hit him with extra force this time. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. Unconsciousness took him.
* * *
Jez cracked open his eyes. With the canopy retracted, he sat up on the table and touched his chest—didn’t feel any pain, though a numbness covered half his body. He slid to the floor and stood up straight. One arm at a time, he stretched his muscles and noticed two Enhanced Workers staring at him from the shadows. Upon being discovered, they trudged away.
“Better?” said Zermal, emerging from a dark corner wiping off a metal instrument with an old dirty towel.
“Yeah.” These treatments were one of the few things keeping Jez going. Ever since he began learning from Zermal, his heart suffered. Something about Jishara caused problems, though the intricacies eluded Jez.
“Let me move forward with the procedure and you’ll be leagues ahead.”
Jez considered Zermal’s offer again but hesitated. Zermal had been pushing to install in Jez an artificial heart which he claimed was necessary for all Jishara adherents—as Zermal himself received decades ago. Jez was starting to feel the reasons why. “I’m just not ready for that yet.”
“I may have fudged the truth a bit to your brother and sister back on Onyx,” said Zermal with a smirk.
“What did you tell them?”
“That the deed had already been done. Don’t be too upset, Jez. It’s only a matter of time before the procedure will become an absolute requirement.”
Jez brooded silently.
Zermal tossed the metal instrument into a tray where it clanked loudly against other instruments. “Until then, Aqtal
is anxious for you to complete the next stage of his plan. We must return to him.”
“He seemed to think you had more training for me.”
“I could spend a lifetime passing on what I know, but the time is short. Your time is short.”
“What does that mean?”
Zermal got close and whispered. “We need more privacy.”
That was Zermal’s code for heading to the moon. Even though they were two miles from the Archonage, Aqtal’s eyes, ears, and mind were everywhere. They crammed into a small space capsule and blasted out of Zermal’s lab into the sky. This would not be too suspicious to Aqtal as he was aware of their training sessions on Samdu.
Within minutes, they tracked alongside Samdu, a glorified asteroid circling Amethyst. Zermal steered the ship down, dodged jagged cliffs, and flew inside the pressurized gravity-controlled bunker. This was the only place Jez felt assured Aqtal could not read his thoughts, though Jishara aided him.
Jez and Zermal disembarked into the bunker carved directly out of the rock. A lone ceiling pendant light sprung on. As always, Jez ran the scanners to make sure there were no cameras or recording devices planted anywhere on the moon—and to make sure those accursed Eyes of Aqtal were nowhere to be found.
“He’s sending you into the cavern,” said Zermal.
“Cavern? You mean, ‘The Cavern’?”
“Yes, indeed. The Cavern of Mount Trizo.”
Creases of joy turned up around Jez’s mouth, the first time in a while. “Finally, I’ll be as powerful as Aqtal. Our opportunity is coming.”
“It may be, my boy,” said Zermal. “But temper your expectations. Willdon’s power runs deep and must not be underestimated. He practically owns that cavern.”
When Jez first heard about the Cavern of Mount Trizo, he learned everything he possibly could about it, and in his research found what he wanted to find: power—rapid, unmitigated power. No power on Chrysolite compared. The wizards there were divided, weak, and rank with fear. Jez was not afraid anymore.
No one on Chrysolite would understand this path he had chosen. He basked in the fact he chose this path—that no one chose it for him. The path had been grueling but worth every minute, and Zermal’s tutelage made possible Jez’s journey up to this point. The cavern could only be entered by those who obtained the personal magical sanction of Master Aqtal, and this goal was within Jez’s grasp.
This is the only way. A wave of exhaustion swept over Jez and he sat on a rock-hewn seat, breathing deeply.
“Your heart?” said Zermal.
Jez shook his head. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I can’t keep him out of my head.”
“My guidance is helping you. I see it more and more.”
“But it’s...exasperating.”
“We are almost to the end.”
“That’s not necessarily comforting.”
“I wasn’t trying to comfort you. There are tough times ahead.”
“What’s Aqtal planning next? He’s been quiet about it with me.”
“Same here, but I have a feeling the diamonds are not for decoration.”
“I need time alone,” said Jez.
“I will send a ship back tonight for the meeting. Be ready.”
Jez nodded and Zermal shuffled back to his ship.
* * *
Jez meditated. This is the only way—so he told himself a thousand times. Ten thousand. Right and wrong had become muddled. He practiced deep breathing. In. Out. Jishara had been empowering beyond his wildest dreams. His skill with technology and lack of any musical ability made him a natural fit. He submitted to more traditional Qesem training but got nowhere. Even Aqtal couldn’t conjure up music from Jez. But with Zermal, everything clicked.
Jez spent months earning Aqtal’s trust and Aqtal treated him as a prized object, even almost as a son as he so claimed. Aqtal seemed to know everything about Jez, even things he never told anyone else. Things he had forgotten. He sometimes felt Aqtal knew him better than his own family.
Jez had been a loyal servant, obeying Aqtal’s every command. This is the only way. Jez could sense, as could Zermal, the climax of Aqtal’s plan was near. What that plan was and what the diamonds were for…Jez had his guesses but did not know for sure. The diamonds collected light of course, but their complexity baffled the best minds.
The exhaustion passed for the moment. Jez stood, grabbed a lantern, and walked deep into his personal grotto. He reached the place and set down the lantern which threw spotty lighting on the rock wall. Written characters covered the wall, the meaning of each character unknown to everyone except Jez. He picked up his piece of chalk and began to write. He etched his thoughts and feelings across the wall using the characters he created. He worked on them off and on since he was a child but shared them with no one lest he be mocked. Once, while much younger, Rez found Jez working on the characters. He laughed and made fun of Jez mercilessly until he got bored of it and moved on to some other childish game. Rez never understood Jez. Jez never shared his characters with anyone ever again.
Writing them was perhaps the only thing that kept Jez sane. While he indeed felt more powerful, he mostly felt his soul being torn apart.
Chapter 41
Jez and Zermal met Aqtal and a group of twelve Qesem, led by Nawrosh, outside at the appointed place in the rear of the Archonage where the starship Chironex rested. Named for the deadly jellyfish, the ship’s aft featured several protruding appendages resembling tentacles which encased advanced booster-rocket tubes. An elongated cargo bay, with its thick steel double doors propped open, ran across the top from bow to stern.
Aqtal, his eye sockets glittering from his diamond eyes, motioned to the ship. “Jez, this vessel will be yours. You will be accompanied by the finest escort in the system.”
“Yes, Master,” said Jez, still not privy to the ship’s purpose or his exact mission.
Aqtal motioned toward the Archonage, “Behold.”
Nawrosh banged his staff on the ground and commenced a chant. The other Qesem followed. Behemoth ground-level double doors opened and an eighty-foot-tall and twenty-foot-wide cylinder-shaped object, covered by a black tarp, floated out. The tarp fell off revealing the result of Jez’s missions thus far—a cylinder made completely of diamond. The sparkle lit up the area so much Jez squinted against the brightness until it slowly faded. From the Tower of Aqtal high above, the sharp-pointed cone-shaped diamond portion floated out, descended, and locked into the bottom portion. The top portion spun briefly in a drill-like grinding motion.
“The great diamond drill—the warhead of destiny—is complete,” said Aqtal.
Zermal snickered. “Your last attempt at a missile did not go so well, did it, Lord Aqtal?”
Aqtal smirked. “This one, Doctor, will be delivered to Planet Number Six.”
“Topaz?” said Zermal.
“Jez will command. Upon arrival, he will enter the Cavern of Mount Trizo simultaneously with the warhead. He will absorb the spirits of the dead Qesem and become a wizard of extraordinary potency, second only to me, before the cavern is forever destroyed.”
Jez tried to take all this in before responding.
Zermal spoke up, “Destroyed, my Lord?”
“The warhead, sharp and deadly, and imbued with dark magic, will cut an invincible swath of destruction down through the cavern. It will slice through all the way to the planet’s core and eventually rip the internal fabric of Topaz to shreds. The entire planet will break apart.”
Jez swallowed. This is the only way.
“This will prevent Chrysolite from ever retaking it and will put to rest the irritating Topaz rebel movement that keeps springing back every time I put it down. Can I trust you to accomplish this?” asked Aqtal, his shining eyes piercing into Jez’s, almost blinding him.
“Of course, Master.”
“To make certain, the ship’s guidance system will be controlled from here. There will be no escape pods. You and your escort vessels w
ill destroy any opposition, though I anticipate little. When you enter the cavern, you will have sufficient time to absorb the spirits and energy within it. An escape ship has been readied for you deep within the cavern, but you must use the power of the cavern in order to reach it.”
“Thank you, Master. I will make you proud.”
“I already am, Jez,” said Aqtal with a grin.
“When do I leave?”
“Tomorrow, at the first sign of the sun’s sparse rays.”
“Lord Aqtal, what of our troops and bases on Topaz?” asked Zermal.
“I was just about to give the evacuation order for our forces. All civilians will be left behind,” said Aqtal. “Any civilian ships attempting to escape are to be shot down.”
Jez stared straight ahead, making sure to show no emotion—not that there was much left in him anyway. Most of his feelings had died months ago, sacrificed on the altar of his cause.
Aqtal raised his hands and the entire diamond drill floated upward and drifted overhead. It turned horizontal and lowered into its specially-designed launch bay in the ship’s open cargo hold from whence it would spring forth at the right time. The twelve Qesem each pulled from their robes newly-hewn diamond swords. The swords cast an eerie glitter in the Amethyst dusk.
“My prime cadre of followers here will go ahead of you to frighten any dissenters and to take care of any meddlesome wizards who may be an obstacle to our progress,” said Aqtal.
Two sets of Archonage doors opened and a mass of dark wizards donning brown robes poured forth in organized columns. Jez estimated about a hundred of them. They marched toward Aqtal, stopped, and stood at attention with their staffs to their side.
“Some of these will go ahead. Others, including Nawrosh, will accompany you on the way,” said Aqtal.
Nawrosh bowed.
Aqtal continued. “With the enemy fleet blockaded, you will have a clear path to your goal.” He pulled out the Flute of Fienna. “Upon completion, I will play a song of triumph, and this instrument will forever bear my name.”
The Topaz Operation Page 19
