by Chris Fox
Each of the cadets surrounding the pyramid wore a pack and a carried a bedroll. Most had made little camps right where they’d been standing, and there wasn’t enough room to lie down, so thousands of azure-robed students leaned against each other, most sleeping, or trying to.
They ranged in age from fourteen to twenty-six, and were divided according to class, with silver- or gold-robed faculty chaperoning them. There were so many. When I’d been a student we never saw everyone lined up, not even during graduation.
“Okay, how to fix this.” I peered upwards next, and found a crackling dome of golden energy several meters over my head. As I watched, the ward shrank another meter. “Oh, crap. That can’t be good.”
That thing must be containing the atmosphere, and was probably stabilizing gravity as well. When it went, the rest of this rock went.
Only then did I realize that I wasn’t falling.
I hovered in midair, effortlessly. Was this something the armor was doing? I glanced down at the paper doll. Sure enough there was a violet tinge pulsing from the armor in a sort of aura.
“It must be drawing from the void magic,” I realized. I hadn’t gotten used to having it yet. Thus far, gravity magic seemed a whole lot cooler than having to use thrusters to stay aloft. “Now, about saving these people…”
I thought about drifting lower, and the armor tugged at the new power in my chest. The armor zipped down toward the pyramid, and I started scanning for the headmistress.
She had always been easy to spot, in any crowd. Not because she was tall, or beautiful, or stood out in any way. The headmistress was a short, unassuming human woman with white hair twisted into a bun, and a face like a weathered highway. She was eternal. I had seen my great-grandmother’s graduating holopic, and there was headmistress Visala glaring hawkishly at her charges, not a day younger.
No, the headmistress was easy to spot because usually there was a large gap in the crowd around her. No one wanted to be the object of her attention, so students and faculty alike fled as soon as possible.
“There she is.” I steeled myself, then zipped toward the top of the pyramid.
The headmistress stood alone at the top of the stairs stretching from the apex of the pyramid all the way to the valley floor. She stared fiercely upwards, but not at me. She was watching the rapidly shrinking ward.
I darted down to her position, and landed more gracefully than I’d have expected. Gravity magic made fine motor control so much easier. So far, having it almost made up for constantly running for my life.
“Headmistress Visala,” I called as I willed the mask to slither from my face. Once it had, I introduced myself. “I’m Jerek—”
“Yes, I know who you are, Jerek, son of Dag,” she said, her voice a whip, as always. The much shorter woman leaned on a staff of her own, this one a slender golden rod covered up to the midpoint in elaborate sigil work. Unfinished then. “One of my most promising, and least accomplished, students. Average marks. Average attendance. I remember your mother being quite disappointed by your final marks.”
“Our world is literally coming apart.” I stabbed a finger up at the sky, toward the weakening ward. “How long do we have? An hour? Half that? We need to get these people out. Now. Did the minister brief you?”
I couldn’t believe I’d managed all that without breaking and running. I might have sounded like a confident badass, in my own head at least, but it was having an effect. My hands were shaking worse than they had on the tram or after I’d killed the merc.
Visala nodded, then smoothed her robes of office. She turned toward her students, then raised a hand and deftly sketched an air sigil, then a dream. When she spoke, her voice thundered across the valley and drowned out all conversation.
“Students and faculty,” she began, her back firmly in my direction. “I have just been contacted by the minister. She assures me that her people have secured one of the Great Ships for our use. They are going to teleport us into orbit. Gather your things and prepare yourselves as best you are able for our new lives.”
Visala made a chopping motion, and the augmentation spell dissolved. She turned back to me, a prim, petty expression on her face. “You can live up to what I just promised, yes?”
I glanced around me at the students, and started running numbers. This was going to be close. As a I counted, an awful warbling hum began above, and the ward began to ripple and discolor. This had to be one of the final stages before failure.
“I can.” I placed both hands on Ardaki’s haft, and concentrated on the weapon. Like me, the staff possessed a connection to the Word of Xal, and theoretically I could use its connection to reinforce mine. Instead of casting traditional spells, I merely envisioned what I wanted. Handy, but I still didn’t like it, because I couldn’t understand why the process worked.
Visala’s scandalized voice dragged me back to the present. “Where did you get that staff? It is utterly ancient. It belongs in the armory, and—”
The damage had been done, as I’d known it would be. I’d deal with her knowing about Ardaki later. I tuned her out and focused on my work.
I concentrated on a huge swath of students in front of the temple, nearly a quarter of the total number, and envisioned them teleporting into the designated cargo hold on the Word of Xal. I was, as usual, totally unprepared for the results.
The staff slammed down into the temple’s steps with so much force it cracked the marble, and earned another scandalized squawk from the headmistress. The dragon’s eyes and mouth filled with void, and a beam of negative energy that stung my eyes fired into the sky.
The pulse disappeared into orbit, but a moment later an answering pulse came from deep within the glittering fleet, too powerful to ignore even if it produced no visible effect. The students I’d focused on vanished. Every last one of them.
“Sergeant Dag,” I said into the comm. “This is Captain Jerek. What’s the status report in the hold?”
“Uh, hello, sir,” my dad’s nervous voice crackled back. “We’ve had a couple thousand kids appear out of nowhere, just like you said. Are there more coming?”
“A lot more,” I promised. “I’ll have three more loads just like that one. Make sure the kids don’t move from where I teleported them, and keep the center of the room clear at all costs. I don’t want them wandering into the other drop points.”
“I’ll get it done. Good luck, sir.”
It was beyond weird having my father call me sir, so surreal that it penetrated the urgency.
“Three more,” I muttered. I was still trying to tune out the headmistress, who was staring at Ardaki in a mixture of shock and naked greed.
I focused on the next group of students, and the staff once again fired a void pulse. This time, though, it wrenched a huge chunk of power from my chest, and I collapsed to my knees with a cry.
Splitting pain shot through my head, and for an instant every nerve was on fire. It faded quickly, but the dull ache between my temples remained.
I used the staff to haul myself to my feet, and glanced down at the valley. Half the students were gone now. I cleared my throat weekly. “Dad, did you get the second load?”
“Affirmative. Looking good. First group is responding well. Looks like they need a nap.”
I gave an exhausted smile, then turned to face the next group. I had to do this two more times, but the thing I most desperately craved in the world was sleep.
A detached part of my mind knew what was happening. The spell was so powerful it was drawing upon my magic, but also my life force. My soul, for lack of a better term. If I pushed too hard…I could die.
I didn’t think I was anywhere near that point, though, and I had a job to do. I might not love the headmistress, but I did love the academy and everything it had done for our world. These kids deserved a future, and by all the gods, dead and alive, I was going to make it happen.
“GrrraaaaaaAAA!!!” I roared as I willed the next group to teleport to the ship. They disapp
eared, but the backlash was immediate and catastrophic.
I lost vision in one eye as a tidal wave of agony raced through every neuron. I may have briefly lost consciousness, or just been overwhelmed by pain, but when I came to, I was lying on the marble next to the staff.
“Stay with us, mage!” Visala roared. She knelt next to me. “I know it hurts, but you must do this. Just a little more, Jerek. Or, if you cannot manage, give me the staff…”
She stretched out a hand, but moments before it settled on the haft, her flesh dissolved. Two fingers simply ceased to exist, their particles drifting away in a quickly dissolving cloud.
I didn’t know what kind of reaction I expected. A scream? Pain? Recoiling? Some physical reaction. There was nothing. Visala stared numbly down at her hand.
After a moment I understood why she wasn’t alarmed. Her fingers began to regrow, and within seconds two fresh pink digits had replaced those she’d lost. I could only gawk. Humans couldn’t regenerate. What was she?
“It appears,” she snapped, her voice icy, “that the staff requires you to complete the spell. You do not have the luxury of failure. Not this time.”
“You’re right about that.” I didn’t tune her out. Quite the opposite.
I gave in to the indignant anger. The righteous Jerek who rehearsed speeches in the shower. I channeled every petty revenge thought I’d ever had. Every tough night in the dormitories. Every time a teacher had slighted me, every time I’d been passed over. All of it.
I mattered, damn it, and I was going to show them all.
My hands wrapped around Ardaki’s haft, and I willed the last group of students to teleport. More than that. I ordered Highspire itself to teleport. It was only about fifty meters tall, and the cargo bay had about a hundred meters clearance.
I’d save it all, even if it cost my life. Every last book, scale, and student. The armory itself.
The pain was both instant and indescribable. The former waves were gentle touches, a sympathetic reprieve from the agony I had now found. I pushed on with a scream. “I. Will. Do. THIS!”
This time I know I blacked out.
35
I woke up atop the pyramid, and rolled painfully to my knees. Had I failed somehow? No, the terrible humming of the ward was gone. The tearing of rock and endless rumbling of our world tearing itself apart. Gone.
I realized the light was different now. I was still on Highspire, but the pyramid had been moved. I clawed my way to my feet, finally aware of Visala standing near me, her hands clasped primly before her.
Past her were the shining black walls of the cargo bay. I glanced up and saw the cargo bay’s black ceiling a good fifty meters over my head. Good thing Highspire’s builders hadn’t been trying to impress anyone with the height. The whole thing fit snugly.
All around the edges of the cavernous city-sized cargo bay stood groups of students, still organized by class. So many of them. Most were scared, though they were containing it well.
“I can’t believe I pulled it off,” I muttered as I gaped down at the pyramid and the students. “I saved them all.”
“The ship saved them all,” Visala corrected. She folded her arms. “You were merely a conduit. I meant what I said about the staff. You need to turn it over for study. It is even more important in light of what has happened to our planet. This ship may be all we have left as a people.”
“The staff isn’t mine to give. It’s on loan, that’s all.” I turned to face the empty air next to me. “Guardian, you around?”
Kemet appeared with his grin and his illusory staff. I wasn’t watching him though. I was watching Visala and her reaction to him. I’d hoped the sight of a magical intelligence this sophisticated would throw her, or distract her maybe.
Her reaction was brief, and lasted no more than a split second, but I was absolutely positive I’d seen what I seen. Recognition. Visala had seen Kemet before, or at least knew of his existence.
“Yes, Captain?” Kemet asked with a bow.
I concentrated on Ardaki’s silvered length, and willed the staff back to the center of the core, where it would be safe. Kemet’s eyes twinkled and he gave me a fanged grin, though he said nothing, of course.
For a moment I feared Visala was about to make an issue of the staff’s disappearance, but she swallowed whatever she’d been about to say and merely watched me, expression neutral.
I focused on the Guardian. “Where is the minister’s fleet in relation to us?”
“She is about to dock,” he explained. “I have catalogued one hundred and forty vessels in her armada, though only four are capital ships. The smallest is a four-man pleasure yacht.”
“Transports and frigates,” I muttered. It wasn’t a bad thing that they’d survived, but I was hoping we’d have something resembling a navy—though I guess that wasn’t my problem. I’d done my part, after all. “Is there a dining chamber or mess where we can receive visiting officers? We want to impress.”
“Of course.” Kemet nodded, the light glinting realistically off his holographic head. “I would suggest using your own chambers, Captain. They are more than sufficient for a small intimate gathering, and it is the most heavily warded area of the ship.”
“I have quarters?” I blinked.
“Captain, you will be taking me with you,” Visala demanded, hands on hips now. “I am responsible for these students, who comprise most of our civilization now. I will have a say in what is to come.”
A slow half smile grew on my face. “You know what? I think that’s a wonderful idea, Headmistress.” She might not be an ally, but she’d give the minister something besides me to think about, and I had a feeling that would be to my benefit. “I’m going to use the ship to teleport us to my new chambers. Guardian, can you show me where those are?”
“Of course, Captain.” Kemet offered a one-winged bow, much more formal than he’d been previously using. I got the sense he was showing off on my behalf.
An illusory version of the ship appeared next to me, with a blinking green dot over my quarters. There were four rooms. Four! Who needed that much space?
I turned back to Visala and squared my shoulders, ready for battle. A figurative one I hoped. “Are you ready?”
She nodded once, not a hair out of place in that severe white bun. “It isn’t my first time teleporting. Let’s be about this.”
I nodded, then willed the ship to carry us both to “my” quarters.
The main room’s opulence seemed out of place on a starship. The bed hovered over the carpet, its pillows still fresh and fluffed despite having been in isolation for countless centuries. It was flanked by two wooden dressers, and not the fake stuff either. The wood was a deep red that reminded me of Shayawood, but darker.
A wide arch opposite the bed led into a sitting chamber, and Visala had already moved through it and found a hoverchair where she made herself comfortable. It matched the chair from the trials, right down to the ghost-tiger fur.
Six chairs bobbed up and down, with a wide table floating in the middle. If they matched what I’d seen of other such furniture, all of it could be adjusted to any desired height. Two of the chairs were larger than the others, probably for hatchlings or similar species.
I moved to the chair opposite Visala, and sat. “Guardian, has the minister come aboard yet?”
“She has, sir,” Kemet confirmed. “Shall I direct her to your quarters?”
“Do that,” I ordered, “and offer to teleport her if that’s more expedient.”
“Of course, sir.”
We waited in tense silence for several minutes, and then the doors to my quarters opened. There was no knock. Not even a chime. People could apparently just walk in. I’d need to look into whatever security features this place had.
The first pair inside were hard-eyed guards in full spellarmor, though their visors were up, at least, so we could see their faces. The one on the left called over his shoulder. “Clear!”
Minister Ramachan, a
woman I’d seen many times on the holo, but never in person, swept into the room. My mother entered a pace behind, and it took everything I had not to run to her like a toddler showing off something he’d found.
“Welcome, Minister,” I called, then waved a hand at the hoverchairs. “Please, join us. We’re finally getting a chance to catch our breaths.”
Ramachan delivered a stately nod as she glided into the room. Her suit was pressed and fresh, despite her probably having been on her feet all day.
“There’s much to discuss.” She turned back to her guards. “Have the rest of your squad move to protect the bridge, Captain. I’ll be heading there when I’m done here.”
Resentment surged up in me. She’d only just gotten here and was already making power moves on my ship. The logical part of me knew she was just doing what she had to do, but the rest wished she’d asked me first.
The minister moved to sit in the closest chair, and my mother sat next to her. She gave me a smile, and a little wave, but then it was back to a more professional demeanor.
“Headmistress Visala.” The minister nodded at her as she climbed into the hoverchair. “I’m pleased to see you’ve survived. How are your students?”
She rested her hands in her lap, and adopted a humble expression. “Both my students, and Highspire itself, have been successfully moved. I’ve yet to examine either, but did verify that nearly everyone made it off.”
I noticed that, again, she didn’t give me credit for any of it. Had been moved. Not moved by Jerek.
Ramachan must have spotted my expression, because she deftly entered the conversation.
“We’re grateful for your assistance, Jerek. You’ve accomplished the impossible.” The minster gave me a practiced smile, though there might have been some genuine warmth there too. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, turning to Visala. “I came here tonight with two specific objectives. First, I want to know who did this to our world. We need proof. What do we have?”
