‘Just put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward,’ he suggested.
‘But in which direction?’ Taren appealed for his advice. ‘Do I get my father involved in this and risk an international incident … i.e. a war? Do I attempt to rescue our crew alone, and then take on Satomi and her Valoureans?’
Ringbalin opened his mouth to advise.
‘Or,’ Taren added, ‘do I attempt to free my mother from the celestial city and expose Satomi’s coup, resulting in civil war on Phemoria?’
Again Ringbalin ventured to speak, but Taren’s mind was on a roll.
‘But I can’t free Mother without first dealing with the curses. One, maybe two, components of which Satomi has in her possession, and the other is only Telmo knows where! If, of course, I even knew where Telmo was?’
‘Which brings us back to the idea of finding Jalila Lamus and stealing the crown of Phemoria to ensure it is not disposed of incorrectly,’ Ringbalin posed.
‘I couldn’t focus on that mission without knowing all the crew are safe.’ They were priority number one.
‘If we go, they will be waiting for us,’ Ringbalin reasoned. ‘And if we get caught there’s no one left in this dimension to save us. Except your father,’ he allowed. ‘Which leads us back to war.’
‘I can do this …’ Taren imagined herself invisible, and as she was still in skin contact with Ringbalin, he vanished also.
‘Well, this is weird. Helpful,’ he granted, as they both stared at the empty space where their bodies should have been. ‘But also a little freaky.’ Ringbalin loosened himself from her grip and appeared across the table from her once again. ‘Whoa!’
‘They can only catch us if they can find us,’ Taren reappeared to say, noting Trance entering the mess hall.
‘Thank goodness, food!’ He made a move towards the facilities.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Taren queried his exultation.
‘Eating.’ He stated the obvious. ‘What, you don’t feed your prisoners?’
‘You are not my prisoner,’ Taren argued. ‘I thought we’d established that.’
‘Your guests then?’ Trance stood corrected.
‘We don’t have guests.’ Taren grinned. ‘Only working personnel.’ Ringbalin was suppressing his amusement as Trance had walked right into that one.
‘All right! Fuck it. I’ll work for you.’ Trance had a little hissy fit. ‘Can I eat now?’ He continued his beeline to the food.
‘Not so fast.’ Taren’s objection stalled him once again, and he turned his dark eyes back to her to hear her out. ‘If you work for me you have to leave your attitude problem behind you. I only want your skills.’
‘Believe it or not I am usually a very pleasant person,’ Trance advised her calmly. ‘That is, when I have not been kidnapped, forced to break into a crypt, and then possessed! Before narrowly escaping being sucked into another dimension, on an obscure planet, in some bum fuck part of the universe that no one has ever heard of.’
‘You mean you’re not enjoying the adventure?’ Taren queried with a good serve of sarcasm.
‘Hardly.’ He headed towards the food, feeling at liberty to do so. ‘I can assure you that staring at your arse has been the biggest highlight so far.’
‘That’s attitude,’ Taren pointed out that he was breaching terms already.
Trance held a hand to his bleeding heart. ‘But at least I am endearing.’
‘Now, what were we saying before we were so rudely interrupted?’ Taren diverted all attention to Ringbalin.
‘I think Jalila Lamus would be helpful in freeing the crew and stealing the crown,’ he proffered.
‘And she has a thing for you,’ Taren noted that was also to their favour.
But Ringbalin shied away from the notion. ‘All women have a thing for me, I don’t take it personally.’
‘You haven’t changed at all. With that attitude, the only thing you are ever going to lay is a flower bed,’ Trance tossed in his thoughts.
‘I’ll do whatever is necessary to get our crew free.’ Ringbalin ignored his childhood friend, appearing to feel he’d not matured very much since then.
A very large mercenary type of fellow suddenly appeared on their table, whereupon Taren and Ringbalin were both startled to standing.
‘I did it!’ he announced, as he and Taren made eye contact and recognised one another.
‘Harry Cane.’ Taren hadn’t really given him a thought since she’d left him to his dream life on a remote island in Frujia. ‘You don’t have PK … how did you find me?’
‘Apparently anyone with a Power has access to all of them,’ Vadik advised. ‘I was guarding a captive for your mercenary, Bob —’
‘Bob!’ Taren exclaimed, realising he was referring to Zeven.
‘Who is Bob?’ Trance wandered over, a little wary of the big man. ‘Who is this?’
‘Valik Corentin.’ He stepped down off the table to introduce himself and was delighted when Trance backed right up.
‘The Hurricane?’ The younger man seemed rather starstruck and wary at once.
Vadik gave a hearty laugh at Trance’s reaction. ‘Good to know that my reputation still precedes me.’
‘You’re a fucking legend!’ Trance emphasised that was no secret in psychic circles. ‘Wanted by two out of four systems in the USS, making you the most wanted psychic alive.’
Taren felt the top of her arm to check her Juju stone was still in place and it was. No one should have been able to find her via psychic means who was not in possession of one of these stones. ‘I don’t get it,’ she uttered aside to Ringbalin.
‘He must be one of us,’ Ringbalin reasoned, ‘or at least on our side.’
‘Of course I am,’ Vadik cut in. ‘Have you not been testing me in order to decide if I can join your crew?’
Taren raised both brows, speechless a moment. ‘Is that what Bob said?’
‘You didn’t even know I was working with him, did you?’ Vadik looked a little pissed. ‘That lying little sack of shit! I’ve just spent days honing this fucking talent so that I could warn you they’d gone missing —’
‘No, no. Bob speaks on my behalf,’ she assured. ‘And I happen to desperately need recruits at present, so your timing could not have been better.’
The angry expression faded from the big guy’s face.
‘We’re going to jailbreak my crew from the Valourean prison and then we’re going to steal the crown of Phemoria. Are you in?’ Taren posed hopefully.
‘A real mission, finally.’ Vadik grinned. ‘Shit yeah!’
Mythric was led by the Qusay’s guards into the waiting room outside the Phemorian room of court, where he was met by another Valourean all dressed in purple. He knew General Prochazka by reputation only. She had her arse rested on the desk, her arms were folded, and her eyes were shooting daggers in his direction.
‘Leave us,’ she dismissed his escort, eyeing him over like an insect to be squashed. She waited for the door to close before she spoke. ‘So … you are the one who made a whore of my queen and got her killed.’
‘And you are the one who murdered my captain and destroyed our ship,’ he replied with the same mix of calm and disgust.
‘You heard about that?’ She smiled, pleased by her recent accomplishments. ‘Then you must also realise that your little psychic conspiracy with President Anselm is over.’
‘If you say so,’ Mythric replied, confident that was not the case.
‘Did you really think Phemoria was just going to lie down and be Sermetica’s bitch?’ She was angered that she could not get a rise out of him.
‘Forming a government is not submitting to anything but establishing a constitution,’ Mythric pointed out. ‘You would be on such a governing body. Do you not want a greater say in the future of Phemoria?’
‘I serve the true Qusay, all else is treason!’ she insisted. ‘Ultimately Anselm seeks to give men the same psychic freedom as women! Personally,
I would rather kill every man on Sermetica. Our ancestors should have done so a thousand years ago, then I would not need to be having this conversation.’
‘So why did you aid the Princess Satomi to escape there?’ Mythric was guessing — Satomi had always kept secret the identity of those who had aided her escape from the clutches of the Phemoray.
Prochazka’s eyes narrowed; she was wary of the subject. ‘She didn’t confide in you, did she?’
‘Well, the only other option is that you still serve the Phemoray,’ Mythric concluded. The disdain on her face indicated that was certainly not the case. ‘If you don’t, you would have been the only person capable of getting Satomi off the planet without you finding out about it.’ He trapped her and flattered her at once.
She nodded, appearing unimpressed. ‘You don’t get to speculate upon my agenda, you just cooperate with whatever my Qusay tells you to do, or I’ll see you end your days alongside your redundant forefathers in the Pit of the Obstinate.’
‘Then you shall only be adding to the damned force that you are trying to disperse,’ he told her honestly, and received a back-handed slap to the face.
Okay that scared her, Mythric considered as the sting of her strike peaked and then ebbed.
‘Want to speculate some more?’ She invited him to provoke her.
‘Were you the one who got Khalid out?’
A punch to the jaw sent him staggering back a few paces, but he managed to stay on his feet. I’ll take that as a yes, he decided.
‘I would not aid that abomination!’ She vehemently denied it. ‘He took the life of the true Qusay.’
‘Khalid is not the abomination; it’s the curse that attached itself to him the night he was conceived.’ Mythric noted a twinkle of fear in the general’s eye, a flash of woe, before her expression hardened once again. ‘But I suppose you don’t know anything about that eith … er —’ Mythric began to suffocate as his windpipe suddenly restricted.
‘You don’t know anything about me.’ She let him breathe enough to speak.
‘I ca-ant serve you, if I-I’m dead,’ he wheezed.
Prochazka released her hold on his throat, whereupon his windpipe relaxed and he could again breathe freely.
‘Better,’ she decided. ‘Now … when you see the Qusay, you really should bear in mind that the lives of your crew mates are in your hands, so I would be very careful.’
That did complicate his options somewhat. ‘If I cooperate they won’t be harmed?’ he clarified.
Prochazka roused half a grin. ‘I didn’t say that. And you are in no position to make deals.’ She opened the doors to the courtroom with a thought. ‘I shall be keeping a very close eye on your progress, Spyridon Vidor. Betray us, and I shall know of it.’ She motioned to the door.
Lose the resentment, Mythric advised himself quietly, sucking up the situation to proceed as advised.
In the chamber the Qusay sat upon the throne wearing the form of her younger sister, Clarona, and a large number of Valoureans stood guard like beautiful, deadly adornments around the inner walls and doors.
As Mythric proceeded towards the Qusay, his diminished appearance seemed to escape her attention; there was not the slightest hint of remorse or compassion.
‘Stop there,’ she commanded and he obliged. ‘Leave us,’ she ordered her guard.
Her Valoureans turned with a stomp and proceeded to the closest exit doors, which closed in their wake.
This was unexpected, and although Mythric was pleased to be granted an opportunity to speak with Satomi alone, he was also wary.
‘I have decided to give you the opportunity to make good on your claim to assist me.’ Satomi motioned to the Juju stones still scattered on the floor of her room of court.
Mythric glanced down to the restraint on his ankle, which vanished before his eyes. ‘You are going to trust me?’
‘I have a little time before your Powers return, so we shall see,’ she informed him as she stood. ‘I have had a vision.’ She assumed her true appearance before descending the stairs to appeal to him directly.
The sight of her true form was a vision to Mythric; she was as lovely as the day he’d met her. Yet he knew her transformation was only a cruel means to manipulate him as she had already made it clear that she no longer felt anything for him.
‘I believe Khalid saved our granddaughter because she is the key to ending the curse of the Phemoray.’ She came to a stop several paces in front of him. ‘I believe he is getting close to her and her family with the intent to sacrifice her to the pit and claim the planet of his birth in the wake of the Phemoray’s demise.’
Mythric was puzzled by her claim as it ran contrary to what Zeven believed, but then maybe their son was being deceived? ‘You saw this? You saw Khalid murder Thurraya?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I saw Thurraya take her own life. But I ask you, what would possess such a sweet child to martyr herself in such a fashion when I have the Phemoray contained?’
‘And the Soul Keep from Dead Man Downs,’ Mythric suggested.
‘But there is a third part to the curse,’ Satomi continued, neither confirming nor denying the statement. ‘The part that attached itself to Khalid during his failed attempt to slay Anselm … without it, I cannot dispel the other two curses for fear the remaining component will be used to resurrect these horrors against Phemoria. Do you know where this missing component is?’
‘You speak of Chironjivi,’ Mythric acknowledged that much. ‘Our son advised me that the evil entity was attached to an amulet that he extracted from Khalid’s hand. The cursed item has been contained and hidden, but he did not say where.’
Satomi appeared disappointed. ‘You think me insane,’ she stated and forced a laugh. ‘You want me to trust that our son has not been somehow deluded by Khalid, in order to deliver our granddaughter straight into this demon’s hands? Assure me that the future heir to the throne is completely safe with our nemesis,’ she invited him to convince her.
Mythric was speechless; Zeven’s bizarre story of adventures in other universes did seem more like a delusional mind implant than reality.
‘In all honesty, Spyridon, you don’t know who to believe, do you?’ she asserted. ‘Welcome to my dilemma.’
‘If I help you, will you spare the AMIE crew from interrogation?’ Mythric hoped to cut a deal.
‘They are rebels conspiring with a usurper,’ Satomi insisted.
‘As were we!’ Mythric stressed. ‘They restored your life and rid your kingdom of the Phemoray.’
‘Then stole my birthright, whilst aiding my murderous bastard brother and his curse, to only the spirits know what end?’ Satomi emphasised. ‘I have to get to the truth, do you not see that?’
‘The crew don’t know anything about our son’s movements; only Taren and the captain knew anything —’ Mythric’s tense drifted into the past when referring to the captain and it made him step back from the situation a little. ‘You knew Lucian was a good man; how could you give the order to take his life?’
‘Unfortunately for the captain, he was married to my seditious little niece and abetting her to overthrow Phemorian sovereign rule,’ Satomi justified.
‘You had a hand in the overthrow of the Phemoray,’ Mythric pointed out.
‘Of course I did! The Phemoray were never meant to rule our Qusay, and their reign of terror and segregation had to end. But at that time I had no idea my niece planned to abdicate her right to the throne and force my sister into forming a democracy! Nor did I realise that I would be resurrected and find need to protest her intention. I am the true Qusay of Phemoria, I believe I know what is best for my planet and my people. My niece has not spent more than a few days here; how could she possibly be in a position to decide what is best for Phemoria? Just because she cannot stomach the sacrifice of leadership doesn’t mean a democracy is the answer. Maladaan is a democracy, but the government is run by large corporations and thus they are the most corrupt leadership in the USS!’<
br />
She had a point, she had several valid points. ‘But what if you are wrong, and you are torturing those who have been truly loyal to your cause?’
‘I have only seen true loyalty in one soul since my resurrection, and we both know that soul is not on the AMIE crew.’
‘Then just give me some time to prove my loyalty and their innocence,’ Mythric appealed.
‘I need answers and my general intends to get them,’ she told him coolly. ‘Bring me the missing component and our granddaughter, and I will reconsider my position.’
‘A telepathist could retrieve the information from us far more easily than torture does.’ Mythric wasn’t a fool, he knew Satomi would not leave anyone living who knew about her coup.
‘You should know from your time in the MSS that a telepath cannot read the thoughts of a restrained psychic as the restraining device interferes with the process,’ Satomi explained.
‘I was only ever involved with the capture side of the process, so I guess I’ll have to take your word on that.’ Mythric’s gut was churning with resentment as he realised every quality he’d once loved about his wife was no longer apparent. She still looked as beautiful as ever she did, but the harsh, merciless façade she now wore as the Qusay of Phemoria was so very unbecoming — and it was not as if it was the Phemoray influencing her decision-making process. He thought his love for Satomi would never waver, but in this moment he had to wonder if he’d met her after she’d become Qusay, would he ever have loved her at all?
‘So,’ Satomi returned to her throne and was seated. ‘Do you still wish to help me? I’ll give you a full Phemorian day to complete your mission before I start killing what remains of your crew.’
Only a fool would tell her to stick her mission, as in effect she was giving him what he wanted — if not a chance to prove AMIE’s crew were innocent, then a chance to help them escape — plus an opportunity to discover who was deluded in this scenario and who was not. ‘Two days,’ he appealed.
‘Granted,’ she concurred, and Mythric didn’t have time to thank heavens for having that wish granted. ‘Bring the remains of AMIE’s rogue crew to me and I shall cease killing their comrades.’
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