by Jacob Holo
Undaunted, Jack thrust in again. His sword struck Veketon’s forearm and crackled against it. But before the blade could penetrate, Veketon swung his lance around.
The portal lance slammed into Jack’s shield, and his shield warped from the tremendous shock. Its edges lost their intensity, and the shield gave out. Veketon pulled his attack through, cleaving off Jack’s arm.
“Aaaahhh!!!” Jack screamed.
But even as Veketon attacked, Seth stabbed his own lance into the throne’s stomach.
Veketon smashed the attack aside before it could penetrate deeply. His halo-wings flashed alive, and he pulled away, dripping conductor fluid from his gouged side. He passed one of the huge columns, looped around, and charged in. Jack met him head on, and the two clashed again.
“Get the door open!” Jack shouted.
Seth raised his lance and thrust it into the doorway’s center. White stone turned red with heat, then dribbled away and pooled underneath the door. Seth forced more of the portal lance in and tried to pry it open.
“Seth, behind you!”
Seth turned and saw Veketon coming straight in, lance ready to impale him. He jerked his own lance free at the last moment and blocked. The force of Veketon’s strike sent him flying backwards. He skidded across the mural and then slammed into a distant half-column. The column surface cracked from the impact, but those cracks slowly disappeared as the material repaired itself.
Seth slipped off and fell to the ground. He spread his wings. Their edges blurred with white light, and he skimmed across the floor and flew up again.
Veketon assaulted Jack with a flurry of rapid strikes. Jack fell back, and the throne pressed in, more determined with each thrust and parry. Jack’s sword wavered every time Veketon’s lance made contact. He retreated from the throne, rounded the columns and backed into the corridor leading to the Ziggurat chasm.
Veketon followed him in, clearly eager to finish off one of his opponents.
Seth saw an opening and came at Veketon from behind. The throne whirled about. Lances met, and Seth was knocked back.
Jack chose Veketon’s moment of distraction to attack, but Veketon countered quickly. Jack’s sword scraped across the portal lance, showering blue sparks everywhere, and Veketon pulled up. Jack’s attack flew wide, and Veketon thrust the lance through his shoulder.
“Gah!” Jack cried.
Jack let his energy sword vanish. He grabbed the lance with his bare hands and refused to let go. Mnemonic skin sizzled and peeled back. Artificial musculature warped and strained around the seraph’s coppery endoskeleton.
“GET HIM!” Jack screamed. “NOW!”
Seth came in behind Veketon.
Veketon sank a set of talons into Jack’s side and shoved him off the lance. Jack sailed back, completely out of the audience chamber passage and into the power plant chasm. His seraph struck the platform edge, skidded, and fell over the side.
Veketon brought his guard up. Their lances met, but Seth held his ground this time. No matter how much stronger Veketon was, their weapons were equally matched, and Seth could meet him strike for strike.
“Jack!” Seth shouted.
“Oh, that hurt…” Jack muttered. His seraph had landed on top of a power coil several hundred meters below.
“Status!”
“A lot of systems in my torso are burned out, and my wings got crushed when I hit. Ten gees hurt. Also the conductor lines feeding my left arm are fried solid. I can’t activate a sword.”
“Curse it,” Seth breathed. “Okay, stay back! You can’t help anymore!”
Seth retreated into the audience chamber, and Veketon pursued him. Without the lance, Veketon would have torn Seth apart. Even still, Veketon’s throne was far more resilient to damage. But Seth continued to meet Veketon’s attacks, trying to find a way through his defenses. Of the two, he was the fastest and knew he could find an opening, however slim. The two of them flew about the audience chamber, clashing and breaking and clashing again.
Finally, Seth saw his chance. Veketon passed close to one of the columns, almost touching it. Seth swung at him horizontally and pinned the throne’s portal lance against the column. White stone turned red from contact with the lances, and Seth moved quickly. He slid his lance forward, stabbing into Veketon’s shoulder.
Seth sunk the lance in, and Veketon couldn’t bring his own weapon around to block it. Veketon grabbed the lance with his free hand, trying to slow it or pull it out, but he couldn’t. Armor and internals alike seared under the weapon’s awesome strength, and Seth fed the lance all the power it needed. The throne’s shoulder deformed, bloating outward, and then burst like an overripe fruit. Energized fluid splattered downwards under the harsh local gravity.
Veketon fell away, minus an arm and his portal lance, and Seth followed through. His lance met the throne’s primary halo-wing like metal on a grindstone. White and blue energy showered out as the two technologies battled each other.
The portal lance won. It sunk in, suddenly and completely. The halo-wing shattered into a thousand splinters of light. Seth slashed across Veketon’s side. More fluid poured out, and the throne landed heavily on the ground. Veketon’s flight had to be impaired now, even though he retained his smaller secondary wing.
Seth didn’t wait to see. He looped quickly behind the throne and drove the lance deep into Veketon’s back. The attack was meant to kill the pilot, but he’d expected Veketon to be in the same position as a seraph’s pilot. Veketon was not in the center of the torso; he was above and to the side in a position opposite the throne’s arterial pump.
The attack did not kill him, but it did melt the gravity anchors holding his secondary wing in place. The spinning loop dropped heavily to the ground. Veketon reached back with his remaining arm and slashed at Seth, twisting on the lance as he did, but Seth pulled the lance free and sped away.
Seth flew about the throne, looking for another opening. He would kill Veketon with his next attack, and with Veketon dead, the last of the Eleven would be vanquished. The leadership that held the Outcast Nations together and had guided them to Earth would be shattered. Their corrupt and putrid influence would finally be at an end.
And then Quennin will be free of her oath to these accursed beings, Seth thought. He raised the lance with both arms and readied his final attack.
But Seth underestimated just how much Quennin had changed.
The iris doorway opened, and a black shape dashed out. Seth darted away from Veketon.
Quennin landed in front of the stricken throne, her chaos glaive burning with black light. She had not finished activating Lunatic Ziggurat, even though she could have. After all, what did the Eleven’s plans really matter to her? Instead, Quennin came back for something far more important to her.
She’d returned to save Veketon’s life.
Chapter 22
Her Chosen Path
Quennin quickly surveyed Veketon’s throne. Fluid pulsed from its ruined body, pooling underneath it. Organs within the chest cavity could regenerate, but both halo-wings were beyond repair. Veketon would not be able to fly again without returning to the Glorious Destiny or an auxiliary throne carrier.
She kept her eyes on Seth, who seemed content to hold his distance.
“Veketon, what’s your status?” she asked.
“I’m…” he coughed wetly, “I’m wounded badly, but my suit has it under control. My throne is a mess. It’ll be a whole hour before it’s done regenerating.”
Veketon rose to his feet and retrieved his portal lance. But even with it, there was little he could do.
Seth waited, his rebuilt seraph hovering a small distance away, spaced between two of the great columns. Quennin could hardly believe that Seth was a Keeper now. But this revelation changed nothing.
“Step aside, Quennin,” Seth said.
“No.”
“He is the last one. All the others are dead, this time forever. Once he is dead, any oaths to them will be meaningless.
You will be free.”
Quennin heard no hesitation in his voice, no wavering doubt. He believed with every fiber of his being that this was the right course of action.
“Are you sure that’s what I want?” she asked.
She remembered the sense of urgency, so fresh in her mind, when Veketon was about to die. She’d rushed to his side without thinking.
It was not a simple case of this man repairing her talent. It might have been once, but it had changed into something else. Her oath had grown into something different as one trial after another passed. And Veketon had been there every step of the way, always with a kind word and a thoughtful insight.
He never doubted me, not once throughout all of this.
Quennin did not want Veketon to die, no matter what freedom or redemption his death might bring. She cared about him, about his goals and his dreams, twisted though they might be. She would not let him die!
“I have come to terms with my error.” Seth pointed an accusing finger at her. “Now you must come to terms with yours. Quennin, realize what you have done. Realize that you, too, have made a grave mistake.”
“No! You make it sound so simple, but it’s not. I’m not backing down, no matter what you say.”
Seth changed his stance slightly, and Quennin could sense him readying for combat. She gripped her chaos glaive two-handed and waited for what was to come.
He defeated Veketon, she thought.
“Abandoning you was the worst mistake of my life,” Seth said.
“On that we can agree.” Quennin stayed between Seth and Veketon.
“If I turned away now, I would only be making the same mistake again. I refuse to do that. I refuse to abandon you again. I will free you from their corrupt grasp, Quennin, even if I must harm you to do it.”
“You can try.”
“And I will succeed.”
His wings blurred with white light, and he shot in. Seth swung his portal lance down, and Quennin slashed up to meet it. Their weapons clashed in a snap-flash of white and black energy. Even with all her strength, even with all the power of a throne, Quennin felt the strike toll through her body as if she were a bell being struck. It was a dull and distant sensation, but she could feel the immense power of Seth’s lance, a weapon superior to her glaive in every way.
Quennin and Seth took off. They flew about the chamber, striking and countering and breaking in a mad airborne dance. It wasn’t at all like their previous battle where she’d held all the advantages. Seth fought with all the determination and resolve and skill that made him such a great warrior. He fought hard and fast, never slackening as he pounded at her defenses.
Despite her power, Quennin found herself retreating from Seth’s attacks. Their clashes sent forth shockwaves of white and black light sweeping across the audience chamber, and Quennin could feel her weapon weakening. It’d been designed as a mimic of the lances but could not match one. Again and again, Seth struck. Again and again, his attacks reverberated through her body.
She held so many advantages. Her barrier and power level were far higher than any seraph except Jack’s. Her throne body was more durable and could regenerate quickly. But for all her advantages, Seth flitted about maddeningly. He nimbly dodged her attacks and struck in from unexpected directions.
Seth came at her again, and their weapons met, but this time damage indicators unfolded in her mind, yellow and red lighting up the length of the chaos glaive. It had cracked. Mnemonic forces within the weapon worked to enact limited repairs, but it would take time. Quennin glanced at the weapon. Little snaps of black lightning traversed the length of the glaive.
“Yield,” Seth said.
“I will not.”
Seth dove in again, slashing down. Quennin brought her glaive up. The tip of the portal lance struck the top of her chaos glaive and shattered it! The entire weapon disintegrated, and Seth pulled his attack through. Quennin reversed her halo-wings and darted back.
Seth did not relent, did not pause. He spread his wings and charged in.
Quennin had only one remaining option left, and it sprang into her mind suddenly.
“Veketon! The lance!”
Veketon couldn’t take off or even fight from the ground. But he could throw the lance. He raised his only arm and launched it like a javelin. It sailed straight and true, almost instantly traversing the space between them.
Quennin caught the weapon. She felt it dip into her barrier, a ravenous hunger siphoning the power it needed to function. The continuous runes across its surface blazed with black light, and Quennin brought the weapon around. Lance met lance in a flash of competing energies.
“I won’t let you kill him!” Quennin shouted.
“And I’m not giving you a choice!”
Seth unleashed of flurry of thrusts. Quennin blocked each attack, but the repeated impacts took their toll. Seth was wearing her down piece by piece. Even with identical weapons, he held some unknown advantage over her.
But all she needed was one solid hit.
She saw an opening and lunged with her lance.
Seth dodged with that uncanny speed of his. Her attack sailed past him, lance snapping with black and white energies. She was overextended, and Seth drove his own attack into her shoulder.
“Ah!” Quennin gasped. She brought her own lance up and smacked his away. The tip of his lance tore a chunk out of her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, stifling another cry of pain. The flesh of her true body charred from within, and damage indicators lit up her throne’s shoulder.
Quennin grabbed the lance two-handed to compensate. Black ichor dribbled out of the gash.
More alerts opened in her mind, detailing new threats on approach. Somehow, additional Alliance seraphs had penetrated Lunatic Ziggurat’s exterior. Her scanners counted twenty seraphs already inside.
Seth backed away. He knew about the reinforcements as well.
“Veketon, the outer defenses are shutting down, and we’ve got incoming seraphs.”
“They must have used antimatter charges to break in.” Veketon coughed loudly, then continued. “There isn’t much else from our universe that can damage the Ziggurat.”
“Okay, but what do we do?”
“You must awaken the Ziggurat.”
“How? I can’t leave you with Seth! And even then, it’ll take time for me to start all the systems. He’ll be through the door before I can finish!”
“What other options do we have?”
The approaching seraphs weaved their way towards the audience chamber, undoubtedly guided by Seth or Jack.
What other options indeed? Quennin did not share Veketon’s attachment to this “divinity” the Eleven had so passionately sought. Her needs were much simpler.
Survival.
“Is there another exit from the Ziggurat near us?” Quennin asked.
“Yes, several. But I don’t see how that’s going to help.”
“Show me one. We need to pull out and escape through the Gate.”
“But we can’t turn back now!” Veketon hacked out a cough. “We’re so close!”
“If we stay here we’re going to die! I can hold off Seth, but not him and twenty seraphs!”
The last of the Eleven remained silent.
“Veketon, we’ve lost! We need to leave!”
Silence.
“Veketon!!!”
“I… yes, you are correct. There is a route beneath us that should work.”
Quennin’s map of Lunatic Ziggurat updated with new data. She let it fill her mind and saw a route down through the power plant chasm and out of the Ziggurat far below their current position. From there they could exit the Ziggurat and double back to the Lunatic Gate, bypassing the incoming seraphs entirely.
Quennin landed next to Veketon and bent down to pick him up. She cradled his throne’s ruined body in her damaged arm and kept her lance pointed at Seth. Predictably, he chose this moment to attack.
Their lances clashed, but only briefly. Quen
nin lifted off, made a feint for the iris door, then fled towards the power plant chasm. She passed through the connecting passage and dove into the Ziggurat’s central shaft. The energy she’d imparted to the weapon systems had already dissipated, and the massive power coils were silent.
Quennin accelerated straight down, falling at an incredible rate. Coils flashed by. The exit lay just ahead. Behind her, Seth was gaining.
Quennin made a tight turn into a horizontal passage. Her feet scraped across the ground, but she recovered from her high-speed plummet. She wove her way through the laboratory’s passages, flying past corridors leading to unseen storage chambers.
At last, Quennin came to the boundaries of the laboratory where the Eleven’s stronghold met the Ziggurat. She slowed, placed her hand next to the brass door’s lock and waited. Grooves in the lock turned black. Parts twirled, clicked in place, fell back, and spun in an overly complex dance. Seth closed in behind her.
The door segments awoke, each segment outlined with black light. The segments slid apart and Quennin bolted in. She placed her hand over the opposite lock and shut the door. Seth flew straight at her, lance raised, just as the segments sealed shut.
Almost immediately after closing, the tip of his lance punched through the seam between two segments. Seth began leveraging the door open.
Quennin flew on. They were now within the brass corridors of the Ziggurat, strange and gothic compared to the clean beauty of the Eleven’s stronghold. Eyes covered the walls, ceiling, and even the brass floors. Some were as small as her throne’s fist. Others were as large as warships. Most were shut, but a few opened as they passed, following their movements. The Ziggurat seemed eerily alive, aware of their presence, but willing to tolerate it.
Behind her, Seth ripped the door apart with his portal lance.
“Take a left ahead.” Veketon sucked in a pained breath. “Then up… at the next junction.”
Quennin followed his instructions step by step, weaving her way through the Ziggurat’s illogical interior. She opened another door and closed it quickly, finding herself once again outside the Ziggurat. Seth stabbed into the door just as aggressively as the last.
