Hold The Line: Ganog Wars Book 2

by Chris Fox

  Oako's companions surged into the gap, pouncing on another adept. He went down under a flurry of blows, unable to deal with the combined ferocity.

  "All your training, and for what?" Utfa taunted, laughing at Yulo.

  Yulo snarled, the fur around his eyes deepening to scarlet. He leapt forward, sprinting toward Utfa. Utfa backpedaled, interposing another adept between them. Yulo's foot moved so swiftly the air hummed, and the adept's neck snapped. Yulo leapt over the body, and Utfa dove behind a full sized elite.

  Yulo didn't pursue. Instead, the master changed direction, sprinting fast and low toward the edge of the island.

  Utfa's eyes widened when he saw where Yulo's path was taking him. "No!"

  The master bent to scoop up Utfa's arcanotome, then leapt off the side, disappearing silently out of sight. Utfa spun back to the combat, longing to kill. The other adepts were already dead, and his forces stood clustered around the beacon.

  "We have won, master." Oako sank to one knee, as did all the others.

  Utfa ignored him. He moved to the Beacon, a rising tide of rage blackening his fur.

  Oako followed, wrapping a hand around his cable. He tugged it free, passing his arcanotome to Utfa. "You will need this to enact their will."

  "I know the torment of not being able to hear the whispers." Utfa said, gratefully accepting the tome. He clipped the cable into his temple, sighing as the chorus returned. "We will find Yulo, and recover my tome. Until then, I accept your sacrifice."

  Utfa turned back to the beacon, stretching out a hand to touch it. Power surged through him. He could feel the incredible energies flowing through the beacon, waiting for a hand to guide them. His hand.

  Utfa used the sequence the whispers had shown him, and the energy responded.

  A pulse of bright blue light surged from the cube. It burst in all directions, rippling through the Royal Spire. The wave of energy continued, washing over the surrounding spires, then the rest of the city. Hushed silence fell in its wake. Utfa waited for something momentous to happen, but many moments passed.

  The entire spire trembled violently, and through the crystal walls Utfa could see the other spires swaying. Fissures opened near the base of many spires, the ground widening as white spires emerged. Five in all, each the equal of the Royal Spire itself.

  The pristine spires rumbled, and a dark slit grew down the side of the three closest spires. The slit widened into a doorway five thousand meters high, and from that doorway stepped the most terrible weapon of war Utfa could have wished for. The creature, if that was what it was, stood as tall as a planetstrider. Yet it wasn't a planetstrider.

  There was nothing organic about this titan. It was made from elegantly curved metal, the blueish tint made iridescent as it stepped into the sunlight. An enormous cannon jutted from its chest, and a city-sized booster was attached to its back.

  "By their wrath," Utfa murmured. "I finally understand."

  He yanked his gaze away from the titans as a cloud of ships emerged from each spire. They were curved, blue vessels, sleek and deadly.

  The Nameless Ones had delivered a fleet to augment the Kthul's own.

  From the base of each spire also came an army of tiny figures, their numberless blue forms filling the area around each spire. There were tens of thousands. Perhaps more.

  Utfa tilted his head back, and laughed.

  37

  Void Wraith

  Khar returned to consciousness from power conservation mode. His body had recharged back to 22 percent reserves, and the worst of his injuries had been repaired. It would have to be enough. He rose from his position against the marble wall, scanning the island where he'd awakened.

  He was inside a spire, which vaulted high above. Colorful murals of nebulas and gas giants had been painted, creating the image that you were looking at the night sky. The walls stood open, allowing in an artificial breeze.

  The empress stood on a small raised dais at the center of the room, about a meter above everyone else. A cluster of attendants stood around her, parting as a delegation of Ganog dressed in dark brown armor approached. They were hard-eyed warriors, not an adept among them.

  Khar rose to his feet and padded silently toward the empress. The last group of hard-eyed warriors had tried to take her life.

  "Hello, Kokar." The empress's clear voice cut through the low murmur of conversation. "I am glad that you came, despite the late hour."

  "I am not," Kokar replied, sourly. His fur was a black-red. "What you have done could have lasting repercussions, Empress."

  The name, and voice, were familiar. Khar couldn't place them. He didn't think he'd met this Kokar, a hard-eyed youth with a scar on one cheek.

  Then it came to him. This was the elite he'd fought back in the Royal Games. The scar, delivered by Khar's weapon.

  "What I have done is warn our people," Zakanna snapped. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them her fur had gone back to soft blue. "I understand your concerns, and that of your clan."

  "I'm pleased to hear that." Kokar did not look pleased. "You have made claims of betrayal. Do you have evidence to support these accusations? Something to implicate Utfa, or the Kthul? You know the Nyar hate them, but even we will not attack without proof. We are not your pawns, to punish clans that displease you."

  "I accused neither the Kthul, nor the seekers," the empress countered. "I merely warned that my person had been assaulted, and called upon loyal Ganog to defend the capital."

  "And how do you imagine that playing out, Empress? Everyone knows you have no love for Utfa, or the seekers. Everyone knows that you fear them. If you have been attacked, who else could it be by? Takkar wouldn't dare. The Azi have no teeth. My clan has no interest. That leaves only the Kthul. You meekly pretend not to have accused them, but that is precisely what you have done, unofficial or no."

  "Of course I have. Are you mad, Kokar? You're chastising me for manipulation? Utfa has grown bold enough to attempt assassination. He sent six warriors to slay me while I held court, breaking every tradition our people have built." The empress's fur darkened to a deep blue. "You know Utfa as well as I. He will come for me, and soon. I do not know his plan, but I am sure it is devious. He's sunk his tendrils into every clan, even yours."

  "Take care with your accusations, Empress," Kokar growled. He shifted into a combat stance, resting a hand on the haft of his axe. "No Nyar would disgrace our clan by adopting the robes of a seeker."

  "Is that so?" the empress asked, mildly. She snapped her fingers, and two adepts trotted forward, carrying a body. A body in brown armor, just like Kokar. They dropped it in front of him. "This was one of the six assassins." Zakanna moved to the body, prodding it onto its back with her foot. "Look at the face, Kokar."

  "I recognize him. He's one of ours." Kokar allowed. He folded his arms. "But assassination is a long way from overt attack. Utfa would never be so bold as to attack you directly."

  "Wouldn't he?" Zakanna shot back. "Why not? His ambition is boundless, as is his mad faith. He believes my death--and the death of the entire Yog clan--serves the whims of the Nameless Ones. If he believes that, why do you believe he wouldn't dare anything to see their will done? The Nyar are his ancestral enemies."

  As if to punctuate her statement, a tremendous crack echoed down from somewhere high above. Khar cocked an ear, listening. There were yells. Screams of pain. Plasma fire. Khar had no idea where the combat was taking place, so he watched Zakanna to see how'd she react.

  "Do you see?" she roared, her eyes blazing. She stalked closer to Kokar, leaning over the dais as she eyed him a challenge.

  "What are we hearing?" Kokar asked uncertainly.

  "There is only one island above this one. Someone is assaulting the Beacon itself. Who do you suppose that might be, Kokar?"

  The ceiling exploded, raining stone fragments. Khar leapt forward, tackling the empress from the dais. They landed heavily on the far side, and he found himself face to face with the e
mpress. He could read the fear in her eyes, not for her safety, but for what was about to happen to all of them.

  A figure rose from the pile of stone under the hole in the spire. He carefully wiped dust from his snowy fur, as he walked toward Zakanna.

  "Empress," Master Yulo called. Khar rose, staring in confusion. Yulo was four meters tall, and far more heavily muscled than the last time Khar had seen him. "I came with news at once. The others are dead, slain by Utfa. He controls the Beacon, but I was able to steal his arcanotome." The adept held up a glowing purple book, circuitry shimmering on the surface.

  Khar looked up through the hole Yulo had made. If he'd leapt from the apex island he'd fallen over six hundred meters, and looked no worse off.

  The Nyar delegation had their hands on their weapons, but none had fired thus far. The empress turned to them. "You've heard it from Master Yulo--and, whatever you think of me, you all honor him. Will you help me against Utfa?"

  "I cannot speak for my people. You know how my father views me," Kokar admitted. "But I can return immediately, and tell him all I have seen. I believe he will support you, and move to defend your dreadnought. Survive but a little while, and you will have our support."

  The entire spire shook around them. It caused an odd sense of vertigo, because the island itself didn't move. The spire swayed inward, slamming into a neighboring island, then it swayed outwards again.

  Through the spire's blue-tinted walls Khar saw new spires rising, gleaming in the purplish light of the sun. Shocked cries rose from the Ganog, and the empress adopted a look of horror. The new spires began to open. Colossal machines stepped from each spire, and Khar fought the urge to run when he realized what he was seeing. He knew that armor, those too thin limbs. How could he ever forget them? He'd lived as a Judicator, knew exactly what it was like to stare out from one of those cold, lifeless bodies.

  "By the Nameless, what are those things?" the empress whispered.

  "They are called the Void Wraith," Khar said grimly. "The ships you see emerging from the spires are Harvesters. The tiny figures around the base are Judicators. The giant ones? Those are something my people knew existed, but never had to face. They're called Omega Judicators."

  "Their ships are already moving," Kokar said, spinning to face the empress. "It cannot be a coincidence that just after Utfa found the beacon, these things appear."

  "They serve him, I'm sure of it." The empress paced back and forth across the dais. "Combined with the Kthul fleet, there's no way we can face him. Not without my dreadnoughts. What forces do the Nyar have in system?"

  "We have three dreadnoughts, and a dozen cruisers." Kokar's fur darkened. "We did not expect betrayal. I must speak with my people at once, warn them to warp away."

  "If that fleet leaves," the empress protested, "we have no way to reach my ship in orbit. We need their help."

  "I cannot ask my fleet to risk the fury of these...Omegas. I'm sorry, Empress, and I know this decision may cost my own life in addition to yours. Yet my people must continue on, must continue to watch the Cold. Now more than ever."

  "I understand," the empress nodded. "Go to your people, and send word ahead in case you are attacked." She turned back to her attendants. "Gather who you can. We will not be able to get a ship to orbit, so we'll make a push toward the Warp Portal."

  "Won't they expect that?" Khar protested.

  "They will." Yulo moved to stand next to the dais. "Yet we have no choice. We must defeat whatever lies between us and the portal, or we are lost."

  A loud whirring came from below, a different cadence from the transport disks. A familiar whirring. Khar spun to the empress. "Prepare yourselves. The Void Wraith begin their assault."

  38

  Haak

  Inwardly Zakanna had lost the battle to despair, but she maintained a small defiance. She would not let her emotions touch her fur, would not show her clan that a part of her had already admitted defeat. Yulo's presence made that easier, for she knew he'd disapprove of the lapse.

  She turned to Khar. "Tell me of these Void Wraith. How will they fight? What are their weaknesses?"

  "They will utilize cloaking, the same technology the Coalition uses. We took that from the Void Wraith. They utilize two types of line units: Judicators, and Alphas. The Alphas stand about four meters tall, but are otherwise identical to the smaller ones. When the Void Wraith are killed, their bodies will detonate a few moments later."

  "Are they machines?" Zakanna asked, trying to understand how her enemy might think.

  "No, they are the nervous system of a sentient being placed in a cybernetic body. They are capable of independent thought, though they will follow any order their master gives them without question."

  "Thank you, Khar." Zakanna inclined her head at the Tigris. She hopped back atop the dais, raising her arms to get everyone's attention.

  "Warriors of the Nyar, warriors of the Yog, prepare to carry our defiance to these Void Wraith. Deal with the larger ones, these Alphas. Adepts, kill the smaller. They will detonate upon destruction, so use their fallen as weapons against their brethren," she ordered in a high, clear voice. She stood tall, staring boldly at her followers.

  A sleek, blue vessel rose into view over the island, its wingtips beginning to crackle with white energy.

  "We only have a few moments. Scatter, quickly. Away from the dais," Khar bellowed, sprinting away himself.

  The empress followed, with Yulo sprinting past the both of them.

  Several of the warriors, including a pair from the Nyar delegation, were too slow to dodge. The Harvester fired, and the plasma ball shot into the dais. Warriors and dais were disintegrated, and a smoking crater was all that remained.

  The survivors moved instantly, warriors beginning their breathing while smaller adepts fanned out between them. Yulo and Khar stayed close to Zakanna, both next to a cluster of pillars they could use as cover. She moved to the edge of a pillar to stand next to Khar, lowering her voice. "Will you fight for us?"

  "No," Khar said.

  He held her gaze in a way no Ganog would have dared. She enjoyed his brusque, casual defiance. So unlike the sycophants or mentors she'd grown up knowing.

  "But I will kill Void Wraith, and I will attempt to keep them from killing you. Their appearance here makes something very clear, Zakanna. Your enemy is our enemy. If you survive this, you may end up being an ally. If you do not, my enemy grows stronger and he will hurl that strength at my allies. I have an interest in preserving your life."

  "You cannot stop them from wiping us out, but die knowing that my death will embolden the people," she said. Her fur tingled, shifting to a clear, pristine white. She straightened, meeting Khar's gaze, tuning out everything else around her. "If I die fighting, the people will know. They will rise up, and oppose the seekers. Oppose the Nameless Ones. But they must see us struggle, see us give our lives as we ask them to do."

  "I am proud of you, Zakanna," Yulo called from another pillar. His fur was snowy white, mirroring her own. "I have watched you grow, watching you learn, and err, and succeed. Yet not until today have you learned the final lesson."

  "What do you mean?" she glanced down at her fur, not understanding. "I've struggled to achieve the white my whole life. I'm no different than I was yesterday, so why now?"

  "You have accepted your death," Khar rumbled. His golden mane rippled in a sudden wind. Engines whined from below. They were getting closer. "In that certainly lies peace."

  "You are familiar with the Haak?" Zakanna asked, blinking.

  "I am unsurprised," Master Yulo said. He laughed, clapping the Tigris on his shoulder. "You could have been born Ganog, Khar of the Tigris. Yes, he is correct, Zakanna. The certainty of death offers a powerful focus."

  "I am familiar with this...Haak. We lack a word for it, but the concept runs deep in my culture." Khar turned to face the edge of the island, and Zakanna followed his gaze. A second Harvester rose into view, wingtips crackling as it prepared another volley.r />
  This vessel was closer, and gave her a much better view. It resembled a bird of prey, long blue wings curving inward until they almost touched at the tip. The vessel was sleek, and deadly. It was wholly unlike Ganog ships, or that of any other race she'd encountered--even this new Coalition.

  Yet the vessel awakened a primal fear deep within her, a certainty that hundreds of centuries ago her ancestors had quaked under the shadow of these very ships.

  A third vessel rose into view, then a fourth. Azure energy began crackling between their wingtips, each growing into a ball of blinding brilliance.

  "Scatter," Khar roared, tackling Zakanna from behind. He carried her away from the pillar a hairsbreadth before a ball of energy streaked into the area where she'd been standing.

  The force of the explosion hurled them across the island, but Zakanna rolled to her feet beside another pillar. Khar staggered to his feet next to her, smoke rising from the rear of his armor. Part of his mane had been burned away, but if he was wounded it didn't seem to slow him.

  "Why aren't they firing?" she yelled to Khar, though her gaze was fixed on the ships. They'd moved to hover near each other at the opposite edge of the island.

  "They're going to send in Judicators." Khar pointed toward the Nyar delegation. "That's the largest concentration of people. The Judicators are fairly predictable. They will advance on that position, and wipe that group out before shifting to other targets."

  The ships descended lower, nearly touching the grass. Blue ramps extended from each, but no troops emerged. Zakanna's eyes narrowed. She opened her lower nostrils, catching a new scent.

  "Pulse grenades!" she roared. Warriors in every cluster reacted as they'd been trained, lobbing pulse grenades onto the ramps. The grenades detonated in a staccato of explosions, and each explosion flung thin-limbed blue bodies into the air. Two seconds later, those bodies began to explode, in many cases catching their own troops.

  A hail of blue plasma fire came from the ramps, then from the edges of the island around the ramps. Dozens of shots peppered her forces, drawing cries of pain. A nearby warrior took a plasma blast to the chest, staggering back a step.