“This is crazy! I don’t even know how old you are. I’m guessing Kreon recruited you at, what, thirty? Forty-five? I hope he went easy on your family. I can just imagine you, sitting there surrounded by a bunch of kids, as the old man lays all that ‘destiny’ crap on you.” Then the hologram paused, as Mikelatz seemed to collect his thoughts. “More than anything, I hope you get to experience that. Having a family, having Karra and you, was happiest, the most complete I ever felt.” The hologram looked directly at Tris again, its eyes imploring. “Have your life, Tristan. Enjoy it! Take what pleasure you can.” Mikelatz looked down. “Because if you’re hearing this message, you’re already preparing to head for the Lemurian Frontier. Oh, Kreon! Oh how I laughed! We created the Lemurian Frontier, you and I! And Sera took the lead, bless her shimmery cotton socks! But none of you knew… neither of you had any way of knowing. Kreon… I created the Lemurian Frontier. Not by the power of negotiation, or because I was so good at my job that mere mortals trembled in my presence! No, Kreon. I created it because I am Lemurian. I always have been, since long before you recruited me. Though experience tempered my allegiance over the years, I came to you on purpose. Just as we have agents amongst the Lemurians, I was one of theirs amongst you. The greatest perhaps, in that I attained a status amongst you that they never imagined! And yet everything I did, I did for humanity — to preserve and protect our species. Just as you were doing — our motivation was the same, even if our masters were not. This and other secrets I could share, but I don’t feel they will help you. I’m dead, after all, and digging up the past — pun intended — will not help to preserve the future.” At this, the hologram paused, once more casting its simulated gaze around an imaginary room. “So I have some advice for you. When you first enter Lemurian space, make for the Berasko Research Station. There you will find Proconsul Augustus, an old friend of mine. He’s been a staunch ally over the years, and he will be able to answer many of the questions you have. Be careful what you ask! My reputation no longer matters, but there are hornets nests you do not wish to disturb. Be wary at all times! Trust only the people you take with you. The Lemurians are not an evil race, no matter how your people have painted them over the centuries, but their leaders are mistrustful and paranoid. They will not hesitate to protect themselves against any perceived threat. Don’t be that threat, Kreon! I know this advice runs contrary to your nature, but you now have my son in your care. For his sake more than your own, be careful. The Lemurian Empire is a cold and comfortless place for those that find themselves out of favour.”
For the last time, Tristan’s dad looked around the room, as though collecting attention for his final announcement. When it came, it was a doozy. “The Portals are the key, Kreon. I always knew they were. But what lies beyond them is an evil we can’t contain. She is awake now, and I fear she will come for all of us… I’ve given you access to my research, but it’s a puzzle I’ve been unable to complete. I believe the Keepers of the Faith have always known… the answers may lie in the oldest records of their religion. You must find a way to visit the Lemurian Oracle, Kreon! But tread lightly; outsiders are not easily granted an audience. He smiled. “I’m sure you can use your winning charm to convince them otherwise. Scour the legends, read the sacred texts if they will let you. If anyone can find a way to defeat this evil, it is you.”
The hologram paused again, and its gaze came to rest squarely on Tristan. Even though he knew his mother had arranged it that way, it still felt so personal and intimate that he leaned in, clinging to every word his father directed at him. “Tristan. You have the power to aid Kreon in this task. I tried to keep you away from this life, but in my heart I knew it would rise up to lay claim to you. Please know that, whilst I hoped for a simpler calling for you, I know that you are more than capable of handling this one. You are the best part of me, and more than anything I want you to understand this: I love you. Your mother loved you. We love you so much — and whatever happens, we’re proud of you. Everything of mine is yours — you can open any gate, control any ship. All of my treasures I leave to you. But when it comes time to save the galaxy—” the hologram made such intense and disturbing eye-contact that every time Tris felt sure it was alive — “make the right decision. You’ll know what it is… because you are me. The best of me.” And the hologram smiled at him, one last time. “I love you, Tristan. Take it easy.”
And he was gone.
The projection was gone. The sequence of images, the electronic data, the points of light that had come together to portray a person long dead.
And every single time, Tristan felt the hammer-blow of loss. The grief. He’d never really dealt with it as a kid, never allowed himself to process what he felt about the situation. He’d never been able to look his dad in the eyes and ask for forgiveness… because at some level, he’d always believed it had been his fault.
But that wasn’t true. He knew that now.
His dad was dead because Kreon had killed him.
As for the more cryptic parts of the message…
Tris had absolutely no idea what his dad meant.
He fell asleep still wondering about it.
He was awakened by a knocking sound.
A very familiar knock… more of a tap, really.
Launching himself out of bed, he ran both hands through his hair. I must look like crap. He’d never got around to taking that shower. Luckily, Ella had seen him at his worst plenty of times. In fact, she’d barely seen him any other way. It was a miracle she was still interested in him.
Tris took calming breaths as he approached the door. He still found himself trying to play it cool around Ella — she was just so transcendently beautiful that he sort of lost all ability to act normal.
The door had already performed its most impressive trick, revealing the slender form of his assassin lover. He knew she hated doors that did this — a professional hazard, he guessed — but he couldn’t resist taking a few extra seconds to study her. The shape of her, clad in that figure-hugging jumpsuit, really was breath-taking. Her pale skin and flame-red hair, those wide green eyes and the scattering of freckles across her nose… that was poetry.
He took one more breath and opened the door.
“Hi you,” Ella said, folding her arms. Tris had meant to grab her in a bear hug, but stepped back instead to invite her in. Ella hesitated on the threshold for a second, then stepped through and waved the door closed behind her. “It’s good to see you again.”
Tris mugged a sad face. “Don’t I get a hug?”
At that, Ella cracked a smile. “Well now, that depends. What do I get?”
“Molested?”
Giggling, Ella stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. She was so slight, but Tris knew she could lift him off the ground without breaking a sweat. She’d proved that a couple of times recently… the memory of it brought a slight stirring down below.
Ella felt it of course — pressed together as they were, there was no way to hide it. “You really have missed me,” she whispered, and Tristan’s pulse ratcheted up another notch.
But Ella stepped away, putting a barrier of air between them. Tris was suddenly cold.
“Tris, there’s something we need to talk about.”
His heart would have dropped into his boots, if he’d been wearing any. His experience with girls was very limited, but a line like that could only ever mean bad news. “Ah… are you okay?”
She looked down before answering — also not a good sign. “I’m fine, Tris. But I’m starting to plan my next move. And here’s the thing. Kreon has decided that you guys are all off on an adventure into Lemurian space, and—”
“No!” Tris jumped in. “I mean, it was my idea, mostly. But we don’t have to go. Kreon’s all fired up trying to figure out this whole Black Ships thing, but we’re meant to stay here and help guard Earth. So we could stick around, you know…” he trailed off. Ella’s face was impassive, a tactic he recognised — she was distancing herself, ready t
o impart some devastating emotional blow. That he knew her well enough to read her after such a short time together made it doubly devastating. “Please don’t say it,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry, Tris. I know this sounds awful, but it’s not about us. Not about you, at any rate. And I know that sounds worse, but it’s true. You’re a part of Kreon’s crew, and this is your home now. Even if you could go back to Earth, you wouldn’t. Right?”
Tris nodded glumly, not sure where this was going but convinced he wasn’t going to like it.
“It’s not like that for me. I’m not a part of this family. And I never can be. Not because I don’t like them. And not because I don’t like you.” She smiled sadly on this last part — and that’s when Tris knew it really was the end. Of everything. He wanted to fall to his knees and wail, but he managed to hold onto at least part of his dignity.
“Why?” It was the only word he could come up with.
Ella’s face softened. “Tris, look. There will be people coming for me. No matter where I go, no matter what I do. And no matter who I’m with. On my own, I’m equipped to deal with that kind of threat.” One corner of her delicate mouth quirked up. “It might even be fun, for a while. But here’s the thing: they’ll win in the end. They always do. When they find me — and they will find me — I’d rather not have you around to watch.”
“But I can protect you!” Tris stepped forwards, grabbing hold of her hands. “We all can! Kreon and Kyra, and Loader… if Blas was still here, he’d—”
“No, Tris.” She squeezed his hands, tangling her fingers in his. “You can’t. I have enough deaths on my conscience. I can’t have yours.”
“We can beat them!” Tris put every ounce of conviction he could muster into the assertion.
But Ella merely shook her head. “No-one can, Tris. And I’m sorry. I did this to myself, but I never intended to do it to you. You’ve given me…” And she faltered, a hitch in her voice.
Tris took the chance and stepped in, gathering her up in a fierce hug. She was tense for a few seconds, then gave in, relaxing against him and holding him as tightly as he held her. But she drew back first, pushing him to arm’s length, taking his hands and then letting them go.
“Thank-you, Tris. For everything.” Then moving so fast he didn’t have time to react, she slid up to him and planted her lips on his. The kiss was forceful and passionate, driving all other thoughts from his brain. Then her lips were gone, leaving his tingling. Right by his ear, she barely breathed the words; “I’ll miss you every night.”
And then she was gone, the door opening for her before Tris regained the power of speech. Her graceful stride down the corridor kept him hypnotised until the door slid shut again, obscuring it.
And Eleanor Fitzgerald was gone from his life.
Again.
3
The comm-beep woke Kreon from a restless sleep.
He was on his feet instantly — already fully clothed, as he rarely bothered undressing. The persistent chime rang out twice more as he performed his regular awakening ritual; scanning his immediate surroundings for threats or changes, testing the motion of his joints with a stretch, and confirming that he was armed.
Keon was never unarmed; he’d been sleeping that way for more than two centuries.
It was the only way he could sleep.
On the fourth beep of the comm, he addressed the Folly’s AI. “I’ll answer that now please, Karra.”
The wall opposite his bed contained a flat screen, and it was this rather than the holo projectors that fired up in response. The symbol of the Wardens — a trident before the seven concentric rings of the homeland — flashed up briefly, replaced by the head and shoulders of acting High Warden Oktavius. The old Warden was skeletally thin; his mood was evident from his sour expression.
“Kreon. Did I wake you?”
“Frequently,” Kreon replied, making no effort to disguise his annoyance.
“You received my last transmission?”
“I did. Congratulations, by the way. I hear it was a lovely ceremony.”
Oktavius glanced away with a scowl. “Kreon, I’m not here to fence with you. The Council confirmed me as High Warden because things are moving dangerously fast. There wasn’t time to call a Conclave, and enough of the First Circle were already here on Atalia. Listen to me, Kreon! Your little spat with Sera has gotten out of control—-”
“Spat?” Anger flared in Kreon. Few things tried his patience like overbearing superiors, but belittling the events of the last few weeks would definitely do it. “My battle with Sera was no spat! This is not the product of old arguments or romantic differences! Sera has betrayed all of us. She’s broken the most sacred traditions of our Order, attacked the planet she was honour-bound to protect and attempted to wipe out all life on Earth!”
“Yes, yes.” Oktavius waved a hand dismissively. “I know all that. And for a wonder, I believe you. Even with all the corroborating evidence, I’d find Sera’s treachery hard to swallow — were it not for the transmission I received from her.”
That cut through Kreon’s rage and sobered him instantly. “What transmission? Is she suing for peace?”
Oktavius grinned bitterly. “Not quite. I thought the message would have reached you by now or I’d have passed it along. Sera is deranged, Kreon! She’s refuted the validity of my appointment and declared herself High Warden in my stead! She’s issued a demand that all our brethren support her claim.”
Kreon was silent for a moment while the news sank in. He’d known Sera wouldn’t simply disappear into obscurity — she was far too driven for that, and far too clever. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected… that she deny all wrongdoing perhaps? Challenge his version of events — challenge him even, to a trial by combat? It was ridiculous under the circumstances, but Sera had enough support within the Order to get away with it. Almost…
But this? It was a bold move, dangerous and highly aggressive.
It was pure Sera.
He should have seen it coming a mile away.
On the screen, Oktavius cleared his throat. The acting High Warden — no, full High Warden, Kreon corrected himself — was giving him time to process this turn of events. But the man clearly had a motive in making this contact, and it wasn’t simply the courtesy of passing on news.
“What do you want, Oktavius?”
The old man raised both eyebrows. “Ah, so! We get straight to it. I must say, I thought I’d have to debate this with you. So here it is. I need you back here, Kreon. I need you immediately. You’ve been resisting my request for days, so now I’m making it an order. To counter the threat that Sera represents I’m gathering as many Wardens as possible. I need every opinion and every faction — and I need you, Kreon. We’ve had our differences, but I believe we share a mutual respect for each other’s achievements. It could just as easily have been you sitting here in this ridiculously ornate chamber. It would have been, had Lord Erekasten had his way. He confided in me, you know; I was one of his staunchest supporters here. But none of that matters now. What matters is the damage that Sera’s challenge will do to the Order. How much support does she still have amongst the lower echelons, and how staunch is it? Those who’ve followed her before — will they follow her into treason? For anyone else, such a statement would be ridiculous. But Sera’s legend looms large over all of us. We both know she has friends on the Council. If she attracts enough Wardens from the Progressive factions and sets them against the rest of us, she could start a civil war… And worse, Kreon — she could win!”
Kreon stared hard at Oktavius, saying nothing as the High Warden’s argument wound down. Oktavius was right; the situation was dire. Yet the Wardens had survived far worse, and no matter how popular Sera had been once, she couldn’t possibly inspire oath-sworn Wardens to betray everything their Order was created to protect. Her goal would still be the same: the cleansing of Earth, the better to use the planet as her new base of operations. No Warden in his right mind w
ould go along with such a plan, even with Sera herself at the helm.
Would they?
Regardless. The political manoeuvring, and the conflict if it came to it, would be a protracted affair. It was not something Kreon could be a part of. Identifying the source of the Black Ships and discovering a way to defeat them was a far more important task. Earth had already been saved from impending apocalypse by the heroism and sacrifice of Kreon’s team. He wasn’t prepared to continue that trend — as Oktavius himself had once said, Earth had plenty of defenders. They would just have to defend themselves while they were doing it.
He took a long, grounding breath. “No.”
Oktavius looked momentarily puzzled. “No?”
“No, Oktavius. I will not be returning to Atalia. I have an errand I must attend to, and it brooks no delay.”
Oktavius glared at him. “Kreon, you cannot be serious! Still chasing your blasted Portals halfway across the galaxy? The Wardens are in peril! I’m calling you in for crisis management. We stand to lose a great deal here, and you can directly prevent some of it.” The High Warden made a visible effort to compose himself. “Where the hell are you so keen on going then, that you’d refuse a direct command from the head of your Order?”
Kreon spoke quietly. “The Lemurian Empire.”
That did it. On screen, Oktavius’ face twitched — and then he exploded. “Are you mad? What in Sydon’s Name are you thinking? Sera could be leading an army of traitors to our doorstep at this very moment, and you’re galavanting off for a chat with our oldest enemies? You’ve lost your mind, man.”
Kreon kept his voice level. There was no point adding fuel to the fire. “Be that as it may, my path leads into Lemurian space. When my task there is done, I’ll return to deal with Sera.”
“Oh yes?” Oktavius sounded bitter. “Well hear this, Kreon. If you go to visit the Lemurians you can damn well stay there! Do you understand me? Don’t bother coming back. Your seat on the Council will not be waiting for you.”
Warden's Fury Page 3
