Zordan
Cyborg Warriors Book VIII
The Ardak Chronicles
By Immortal Angel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Zordan
All rights reserved.
Published by Fallen Press, Ltd.
Copyright © 2020
Editor: AW Editing
Copyeditor: Anne-Marie Rutella
Proofreader: Lisa Howard-Fusco
Cover Designer: Jonathan Melody
ISBN: 978-1-948243-07-0
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Other works by Immortal Angel
Tovian: A Cyborg Warrior Tale
Tordan: Cyborg Warriors Book I
Roihan: Cyborg Warriors Book II
Simban: Cyborg Warriors Book III
Valdjan: Cyborg Warriors Book IV
Mordjan: Cyborg Warriors Book V
Durstin: Cyborg Warriors Book VI
Tristin: Cyborg Warriors Book VII
Zordan: Cyborg Warriors Book VIII (Conclusion)
For You
If you are reading this dedication, then this book is for you.
Thank you for sticking with me to the very end of the battle for Aurora.
There is a tear in my eye as I write this. It is one of grief that we have come to the end, and one of hope because I am still at the beginning.
Because you see, I haven’t written the book yet.
I am writing this dedication to you before I start, and I will write the Author’s Note when I finish.
So, even though I don’t know you, we will be going on this journey together.
I hope that this book is everything you and I hope it will be.
Because of you, I have wings.
Immortal Angel
Prologue
Lielle
Lielle stood atop the highest mountain on Aurora, facing east. She was its spirit-seer, its watcher, and had been for the last nine centuries.
The vision before her changed, and lightning strikes split the air in a cloudless sky. Then the sky turned black as night, but it was only midday. Ships so black they sucked the light from the sky and too numerous to count descended upon an open plain. Their docking bays opened like gaping mouths and enormous jungle felines—warrior cats—poured forth. They killed with fangs, claws, blades, and guns.
The elves and cyborgs fought back with their might and magic. Arrows and swords found their targets, pierced their enemies with hardened points. Cyborgs flew through the air, their lasers taking down hundreds at a time. Elven fire swirled through the trees and tornadoes swept across the land, taking enemy spaceships with them. Water from the streams and oceans swept whole contingents of cats away.
But they kept coming. And coming. There were simply too many of them for the elves and cyborgs, and eventually the felines overcame them.
Once the Ardaks gained control of the elven realm, they didn’t remain there. They spread across Aurora to each of the five realms. Black-armored cats crossed the land like swarms of insects, giving no respect to the life that lived there and obliterating everything in their path. Plants, animals, even entire societies were swept away without thought, and only barren earth was left behind.
They searched for something—she didn’t know what. Even still, it was hidden from her. But all who stood before the Ardaks refused to reveal its location. Or, perhaps, they would have answered if they had the knowledge to do so but didn’t. She chose to view them as noble rather than ignorant. Finally she found herself in the courtyard of the elven palace of Garthurian. How the Ardaks had discovered it beneath its dome, she knew not, but it had come to this, the site of the final battle.
The last to fall was a cyborg with steel-gray eyes whose face she recognized. Tordan.
She hurried across the palace grounds to where he lay dying, ignoring the newly dead as their spirits called out to her for guidance to the higher elven realm, or sought vengeance against the Ardaks.
She reached him just before the light left him.
With his very last breath, Tordan whispered one sentence. “Bring my brother to me—only he can find the key.” Then his head turned to the side, and his lungs expelled their last breath.
As his spirit left his body, the ground beneath her began to shake. A bolt of black lightning hit Tordan’s body and it disintegrated, then a wave of magic spread from that point outward. It was almost invisible, just a hint of a shadow, but the feeling of it was dark, terrifying.
The magic swept her up and away from the planet until she could see the universe spread out before her. The dark shadow crept across it, covering its entirety in a cold, evil shroud.
And at that moment, she knew that if Aurora fell, so would the universe.
Tordan’s final words echoed in her ears as the vision receded. “Bring me my brother. . .”
The brother who had been stripped from the knowledge of his rightful home, but who had haunted her visions for years. Yes, she knew who he was.
Zordjin.
∆∆∆
Lielle gasped for breath as she woke from the vision. She was lying on the floor with the crystal cradled in her outstretched hand. Gingerly, she rose to her feet and then placed the crystal back into its chest. She rarely needed crystals for her visions, and wasn’t used to visions that strong. The spirits were usually kinder in their offerings of knowledge.
Yet something had compelled her to delve deeply into the future of Aurora, using the crystal to magnify her vision. To see what would happen with the Ardaks’ return. It appeared she’d been correct, Aurora’s downfall unfolding before her in stark clarity. The quality of this one was different from the usual black-and-white pictures with hazy edges. It was in vibrant color and offered smells and tactile qualities that had her reeling, its edges stark, the black lightning crisp and clear.
Traako.
No, this was much worse than that.
Jaffete.
She didn’t bother to write the information in the journal she kept. There was simply no time.
With a wave of her hand, Lielle appeared in the throne room and took her place in the line to the left where those requesting audience stood waiting. Then she turned her attention to the queen, who was seated on the intricately detailed golden throne.
The queen of all elves rose, the diamonds and spun gold woven through her dress shimmering in the light. Her unnerving gaze fell on Lielle, and the whole room fell silent. The queen was so old, her magic so strong, that the glance shocked her like a flash of pure source. Many said it wouldn’t be long before the queen herself passed into the next, even higher dimension.
“What vision did you have, Spirit-Seer?” The queen’s voice filled every corner of the enormous chamber with power and urgency, despite her obvious efforts to control it.
All fell silent, their eyes turning to her, and Lielle dipped her chin in respect.
“I witnessed a vision of the future. The fall of Aurora,” Lielle ventured, “and with it, a shadow crept across the universe, darkening it.”
The queen’s gaze went upward, out the top of the palace to where the next, even higher realm resided. What mysteries it contained, no one knew, as it was visible only to the queen herself.
“I did not see this vision, but I felt it.” For the first time in Lielle’s recollection, there was a tremor in the queen’s voice. “This future is close – perhaps only days away.”
/> Lielle concealed her surprise. Only the most important visions were felt among the elder elves. Yet with the scale and impact of the vision, she should have expected it.
“Aurora must not fall.” The queen’s voice was urgent. “Did you receive a clue to stop such a devastating outcome?”
Lielle nodded. “At the last moment, Tordan asked for his long-lost twin brother. He said Zordjin would be the one to find the key.”
“Zordjin? But he’s been in the human realm his entire life.” The queen’s gaze rose again to the top of the chamber. “This task will be most difficult,” she murmured, almost to herself. “How can we unite Tordan and his brother?”
“I have an idea,” a voice said from the other side of the chamber.
The queen’s gaze crossed the space, falling on Zazelle, an elder and the head of all spirit-seers, who had only just appeared. “What idea do you have?”
As she stepped forward, the elder’s eyes fell upon Lielle. They glowed gold, flecked with shards of pure white light. “We send the seer to whom the vision appeared. She is Aurora’s watcher. Of anyone, she will have the best chance to complete the task.”
A tremor of shock went through Lielle, racing toward her toes and unsteadying her. “But we’re forbidden to enter the mortal realm after we’ve passed into this one.”
The elder’s eyes met the queen’s, speaking volumes though both women were silent.
The seconds passed, until finally the queen shook her head, murmuring, “But the risk to her immortal soul . . .”
“Does not compare to the risk to the souls of all elves if it is not done,” the elder replied. “For if the balance of the universe changes, the dark realm will rise, and our realm will begin to fade. No other souls shall enter it. Ever.”
Silence filled the chamber, and her last words hung in the air. Since she was no longer mortal, instead of a heartbeat Lielle felt the pulse of the higher elven realm track the moments as they passed.
It was a future too horrifying for Lielle to imagine. She’d never imagined that what happened in the mortal realm could affect the higher elven realm, aside from adding to its population.
“I thought our realm was immortal,” she ventured after quite some time.
“It is so long as the universe remains in balance.” The words were soft, the queen’s head bowed in thought, the gems in the golden circlet winking in the swath of sunlight she stood in.
Lielle didn’t know what the risk was to her immortal soul, but she knew that she couldn’t let the higher elven realm fade from existence. It was worth a lot more than one soul to prevent that outcome. “My Queen, if there is anything I can do to help Zordjin find this key and change the fate of Aurora, I will do it.”
Then the queen’s scrutiny struck her once more with the force of pure spirit. “Thank you, Lielle.” Her gaze flicked upward, toward the higher dimension again. “We have returned a soul to the mortal realm once before, and it was in a similar time of grave danger.”
The queen moved forward and came to a stop in front of Lielle before reaching to cup the spirit-seer’s cheek. “This will be the greatest test you’ve ever had. In the lower realm, your powers will be lessened, your knowledge and intuition dampened by your mortal form. If you fail, you will not be able to return to this realm. Now I ask you for all to witness—Will you accept this task for the future of Aurora—for the future of us all?”
Lielle’s fear grew as the queen spoke, but under its swell, she found only one answer to the question. “I will.”
The queen took a necklace from around her neck, and placed it around Lielle’s. “This will bring you aid in your greatest time of need, but you can use it only once. Listen to your instincts. Trust your heart.”
Lielle opened her mouth to ask what the item would do, but the queen touched a finger to Lielle’s forehead and a shiver of cold ran through her. She stood, paralyzed, while she felt herself breaking into a million pieces. But it was taking forever to happen. Her screams were silent inside her head as she watched the higher elven realm begin to fade.
The queen stepped back, and the elder came up beside her.
As they watched her, their gazes filled with pain as if they knew what she was feeling. The elder placed a hand on the queen’s shoulder. “Lielle can do this. The vision appeared to her, and the spirits are never wrong.”
The queen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not worried about Lielle, of course. But if Zordjin is the last hope of the universe, may the gods help us all.”
Chapter One
Zordjin
Zordjin strode down the vast expanse of beach that lined the bay, taking in the smooth golden sand and the clear turquoise waters. Tomorrow, it would be stained with blood.
He eyed the high cliffs that ringed the bay and his soldiers, who were building fortifications along each one.
It was the first time he wasn’t fighting on the front lines. He’d been injured in the last battle at Terav and he still walked with a limp because of it. He worked hard to make it imperceptible to the others, but he wasn’t as agile as he used to be and swiftly turning his body was difficult. He didn’t want to risk failing the others in battle, so this time, he would direct the battle from the cliffs.
He scrutinized the wide trench running down the length of beach he was inspecting, and his eyes narrowed. “Halmik!” he shouted.
The elder warrior came over from where he’d been directing the younger men. Many thought Zordjin foolish to keep warriors who could no longer fight, but they were the fools. They did not realize the elders knew more than ten younger men combined. The youth had only heard of war, but the elders had lived and breathed them. One of the younger warriors—Irotul—actually snickered as he watched Halmik walk over.
Halmik bowed low, as far as he could without falling over due to his stiffer limbs. “Yes, Emperor Zordjin?”
Zordjin raised his voice so it boomed over the beach. He wanted all to hear of this failing, to understand their lives depended upon following orders. “Why does this trench narrow the farther south it goes?”
Halmik frowned as he stared down the length of trench with a narrow, calculating gaze. “The specifications were relayed as you requested, Exalted One.”
“And to whom did you give those orders?”
Halmik raised his chin. “The failing is on my head, Emperor. I should have checked the width myself.”
“That was not my question,” Zordjin shot back, and the elder warrior shrank a bit.
Halmik blew out a breath of defeat. “To Irotul, My Emperor.”
“Irotul!” Zordjin shouted.
The younger man scrambled down quickly enough, but Zordjin didn’t like the unrepentant gleam in his eyes. An expression he’d seen too many times on youths who thought they knew better than their elders. He bowed, but it was neither as low nor as respectful as Halmik’s.
Zordjin did not give him permission to rise for a long minute, but after he did, he was quick to demand, “What do you have to say about this trench?”
The youth’s gaze shot to the trench, then back to Zordjin. “We did the best we could. It’s close enough.”
“Close enough?” Zordjin was beginning to feel true anger. “Close enough? Run to the other side of the trench and jump across.”
Irotul simply stood there shaking.
“Now!” Zordjin roared.
Irotul took off as if the triple-horned beasts from the underworld were chasing him. By the time he arrived on the other side, he was breathless.
Word had spread down the beach, and the other warriors had stopped their preparations, waiting to see whether Irotul could make the jump.
When he just stood there, Zordjin lost his patience. “Jump,” he demanded.
Irotul eyed the trench. “I can’t! I’ll never make it.”
“And I believe you can. Make the jump!”
The youth backed up several steps, then launched into a sprint before leaping high into the air. He hit the edge of the trench, c
lawing at the sandy side to keep from falling into the pit. When he had purchase, Zordjin stopped him with a boot on his head.
“If you can make this jump, so can the Belavians! Your negligence almost got every one of your fellow warriors killed.”
The youth glanced at several of the other warriors, but found no leniency in their hardened stares. “Yes, Emperor,” he answered finally, but his voice was sullen and he avoided Zordjin’s gaze. There was no remorse in his expression, only anger.
Zordjin paused. He couldn’t afford to let the youth go free and fight tomorrow—with his attitude he’d be liable to get someone killed in the battle to come. “See how your mother weeps for your idiocy?” Zordjin pointed to the woman who was sobbing loudly, her head in her hands. “Look how you’ve shamed her. Retrieve ax and shovel and do what you should have done to begin with.” Zordjin turned to Halmik, who had been silently watching the events unfold. “Find two guards to watch him and make sure he does as he’s told this time,” Zordjin ordered.
Halmik nodded and gestured for two others to come and stand guard as Zordjin turned to continue his inspections. He passed the mother minutes later, and she bowed low before him.
“Thank you for sparing my ignorant, lazy son,” she said with a sob. “Your mercy knows no bounds.”
He examined her face, still vibrant and beautiful though the lines had deepened with age. “Rise, Inish,” he commanded gruffly. “We’ll deal with Irotul after the battle.”
She nodded and went back to her work, her deft fingers knotting ropes for the beach traps with studied perfection.
“Your mercy definitely does have bounds,” Carrus’s voice came from behind him.
Zordjin turned to see his second-in-command striding across the soft sand. “Indeed, it does. And that boy is pushing them.”
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