by David Estes
So he created his own Blizzard, forming intricate edges and patterns, not dissimilar to those of a snowflake studied under a microscope.
And when he finished and he looked at his creation, he knew.
“Perfect,” he breathed, allowing the aura to rush through his body and then out into the Class 5+ spell.
~~~
Tramone knew what the Archchancellor was—one of the very aliens bearing down upon their galaxy in their gigantic, world-eating planetship—and he also knew he had the power to stop whatever she was planning. All he had to do was scramble his weapon’s programming. It would be so easy. Reach out, remove the panel on the side. Rip off a few nanochips. Pull a few wires.
But she had believed in him when no one else had.
Yes, she’d had ulterior motives, but when she’d held his hand as they’d exited hyperspace—that had been real. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she’d known he would figure it out.
He realized she was looking at him now, watching him. His eyes met hers. “It is your choice, Tramone,” she said. “It has always been your choice.”
“You control the Council with magic,” he said.
She nodded, not denying it any longer. “They are my puppets. Democracy has been dead for a long time.”
A dictator then. Put in place for one purpose, a long time ago. “Eight voted against you,” he said, realizing at the same time how smart that was. “To make it appear nothing is amiss.” It was genius, he had to admit.
She said nothing.
“I am human,” he said. How can I abandon my own people? he didn’t say.
“Yes. But you are not one of the many. There is a place for you with us. When the Demonstrous comes through, it will destroy the rest. All the races, all the planets. It will harvest from them what it needs. What my people need. Aura. All of it. But you don’t have to be destroyed too. I don’t want you to be destroyed. You have too much potential for greatness.”
“I—I—” His hand was hovering in midair, between himself and that panel on the side of the weapon he had created.
The Alliance mages were already tracing a combination glyph on the large spellscreen in the center, their fingers working rapidly, well-coordinated. They seemed oblivious to the inner struggle he was having.
“Why do you want to destroy the Jackals?”
AC Martin looked sad, the edges of her eyes crinkling slightly. “I don’t. In fact, my son is there, even now. He’s working against me, I think. That column of light—that’s him. He was sent here, like me, to pave the way for the rest of my people.”
The mages can’t hear, Tramone realized. She’s cast a deafness spell on them. Because she’s a mage too.
“Your son?”
“Yes. The most wanted man in the galaxy. Dacre Avvalon.”
Tramone remembered the holo-news story. The stolen aura. “He has a weapon?”
She nodded, smiling slightly. Tramone felt like she was proud of him for figuring it out. Deep in his soul, he wanted to continue to make her proud. But was that worth the destruction of everything he had ever known?
What has any of it given me? He felt the truth:
Pain. Sorrow. Anger. Self-loathing.
Even if he acted now, he couldn’t stop what was coming. Or at least that was how he justified it in his head. If you can’t beat ’em…
He turned away, watching his weapon begin to come to life as the warrior mages’ spell came to life. And beyond…
The gray planet grew brighter and brighter, the vapors beginning to burn away under the strength of that column of light.
~~~
The scream tried to tear itself from Vee’s throat but emerged quietly, more of a throaty gasp than anything else.
The hovercraft shot downwards, tumbling end over end as it lost its connection with anything solid. Vee saw dark towers and flashes of wings and the gray landscape, and always, that bright, piercing light burning through the sky.
Stop.
The word was spoken with the strength of thunder, but Vee could tell it was only in her head. Or perhaps in her head and everyone else’s heads—she couldn’t be certain.
The hovercraft hung in the air, frozen. She shoved the hair from her face and sat up, battered and bruised from being flung around. Magic McGee stood between the seats in the cockpit, his hands extended to each side, glyphs burning the air. A combination spell, she realized. Performing such a spell on one’s own was Class 5 magic, but the power she felt rolling off the man was like nothing she’d ever experienced, even at the Academy.
The hovercraft shot forth, toward the apex of the tallest dark tower in the Jackal city.
Toward the light.
Halfway there, McGee’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, the last of his magical reserves spent.
But still the vehicle flew, carried by momentum and the last of McGee’s spell. Vee blocked her eyes from the light burning through the windshield.
“Brace yourselves!” Minnow shouted, and they huddled together as the tower seemed to rush forward to meet them.
They crash-landed, the hovertubes no longer operating, perhaps fried by McGee’s powerful spell. The craft bounced once and then skidded, sparks flying around the edges until they slammed to a stop against a large machine. The column of light was pouring from its apex.
Not a machine, Vee thought.
A weapon.
Through the windshield, her eyes locked with Dacre’s.
Chapter 41
Requiem
He sat cross-legged as if preparing to meditate, both his hands placed on two of the numerous spellscreens set into the side of the machine. Tubes sprouted from various parts of Dacre’s body, piercing his skin. The darkness of pure aura flowed through them. There was no surprise in Dacre’s eyes, Vee noticed. It was like he had expected—had always expected—her to come to him in this place, at this time.
He looked sad, like he’d hoped he would be wrong.
She stood up and stepped out of the hovercraft. Several Jackals, including one wearing a leather sash with various patches on it, littered the ground, unconscious at best. In front of Dacre, six spellscreens glittered with shining glyphs. Dacre’s body trembled from head to foot, and Vee noticed the mag-weapon quivered too.
Six spells, Vee thought in wonder. Such a feat should be impossible, should rip a person apart, but Dacre was no person. He was a Centaurian, and who knew what such a race was capable of.
High above, the vapors were gone, the reaches of space lit by billions of stars, and—
A dark form striped with tendrils of light, a curving tapestry that was, in many ways, beautiful.
Oh godstars, Vee thought. It’s here. Miranda had lied many times to her, but she’d told the truth about that which was most important.
“What are you doing, Dacre?” Vee asked, hoping—praying—that he wouldn’t lie to her again. That he had a reasonable explanation for all his actions. She owed him the benefit of the doubt, didn’t she?
“You shouldn’t be here,” Dacre said, looking away. Vee felt a part of her heart break off, like an iceberg set adrift in freezing water.
“Neither should you.”
“Verity…” There was so much in that one word, her name, because he’d spoken it the same way he’d spoken it those years ago back at the Academy when her future with him was a perfect potential, a dream about to come true.
“No,” she said with a grimace. “That doesn’t work anymore. I’m not that foolish girl.”
Dacre shook his head. “You were never foolish. And I never lied to you.”
“Right. You just never told the truth.”
She could see her words had stung him, but why should she care? Dacre said, “I was never certain whether I had this in me.”
Vee shook her head, no understanding. “So…what—you’re going to destroy the Alliance defenses so your mothership will be able to eat us all faster? For our own good, right?” Her voice was laced with scorn.
“You don’t understand anything,” Dacre said. “I love this galaxy. I have wept every night over what I know I have to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“Yes, I do,” Dacre said. He was crying now, which only made her angry. How dare he feel sad.
She knew that she should tell him about their daughter, but she owed this man nothing. “Then so do I,” she said instead, extending her arms at her side. With each hand, she began to trace the same glyph.
It was Inferno.
With a series of rapid clicks and the flap of furious wings, the Jackal reinforcements arrived.
~~~
Tramone was transfixed, staring at the multi-colored beam of light that shot from his mag-weapon. The beam was filled with a variety of types of magic—fire and ice and wind and earth. Based on his mental calculations, the blast held the strength of a thousand nuclear warheads.
It arced across the dark expanse, a glittering rainbow of power.
My creation, he thought, his lips curling at the edges.
Who cared if the Jackals died? Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. And the Centaurians were at the center of that good. Why should the Godstar Galaxy exist when its inhabitants were always at war, always destroying each other? I knew it, he thought. I always knew it. That there was a greater path, a destiny that was his to grab if he only had the opportunity, like a real-life galactosphere game where he was the hero. Not a mage, no, because he didn’t need to be. His power was thinking. And he was damn good at it.
He leaned forward, licking his lips, impatient to find out what the mag-weapon would do to Jarnum.
That’s when the light that had been building in the planet’s atmosphere shot forth.
It was on a collision course with the spell from his weapon.
~~~
Dacre felt his body contort, his eyes slamming shut and squeezing out tears as a torrent of magical energy flowed through him. It was like nothing he had ever experienced, the weight of six Class 5 spells hitting him all at once, draining him even as his liquid aura reserves were replaced by the tubes connected to various parts of his body.
“Ahhhhh…” he screamed, his own cry never seeming to end, his lungs starving for air, his eyes flashing open, trained skyward, where he saw—
Power. Raw, unfathomable power. It took the form of that column of light, which was spreading, growing, cascading across the godstar system until it met—what is that?
His tears froze on his cheeks, cold rivers of sorrow.
Dacre gasped as he felt the impact of spell meeting spell, like two celestial bodies coming together in a mid-space collision, raining fire through his entire body, chasing away the icy chill he always felt when he performed magic. His tears melted and dripped from his chin.
The spell was from one of the Alliance warships. Meanwhile, all throughout the surrounding firmament, a space fight was underway, the Jackal starships battling those of the Alliance. Lights flashed in the night—gunfire. Sonic pulses, ion beams, the rapid fire of railguns. Rockets, spouting jets of flame from their tails. One massive ship exploded, shredding bits of fiery shrapnel that tumbled away on all sides like a fireworks display.
And Dacre’s spell remained locked with the Alliance spell, which was every bit as powerful as his own. How is this possible? he wondered, gritting his teeth and feeling the strain of trying to lift a great weight just to remain in a deadlock. A weapon. Somehow, they have a mag-weapon to equal the one created by the Grems. Blocking him.
The only thing: Dacre hadn’t used his prime artifact yet.
All around him the sounds of battle raged, but he ignored it as he moved his hand closer and closer to the amulet, preparing to unlock the power inside. He hesitated, his finger hovering just shy of the artifact.
~~~
The Jackals came from all sides, not confined to a single line of attack as they flew up the sides of the tower. They continued to wield guns loaded with darts tipped with a lethal dose of liquid aura.
Well, lethal to most. Addictive to mages like Vee.
She stifled the urge to jump in front of the first dart that zipped toward her, diving away instead. The spell she’d conjured—inferno—tingled the tips of her fingers, but she didn’t release it. Not because she was scared—though she was, considering it was the most powerful spell she’d ever attempted—but because her target was supposed to be Dacre. Speaking of which…she risked a glance in his direction and found his body twisting and contorting as he clung to the mag-weapon, channeling the raw aura flowing through the tubes into half a dozen spells that coalesced into a single, combined spell so powerful it could destroy entire star systems. Maybe it already was.
Dacre’s shirt was ripped in a dozen places from the strain, and his cheeks were strangely red from crying. His finger was aimed at a small item affixed to the mag-weapon. He hadn’t touched it yet, and it appeared as if he was struggling with some inner decision.
One that hadn’t been made yet.
Vee’s head snapped to the side as another dart whipped past, glancing off the side of the downed hovercraft. Minnow released a roar and twin rockets shot from his shoulder launcher, angling out to either side. One slammed point-blank into the chest of a swooping Jackal, and Vee had to look away because of the violence, while the second whooshed past the edge and clipped another Jackal that hadn’t yet reached the top of the tower.
Minnow offered her a sly smile that seemed to say, Just like old times, eh?
Behind him, Magic McGee was conjuring fireballs, tossing them between his hands before throwing them at attacking Jackals, taking them out one by one. He already had three or four darts protruding from his skin, enough liquid aura to stop a two-ton, tusked Baranian boar. The aura seemed to have little effect on McGee, however.
Miranda was fighting too, using her control over air to send the Jackal darts back at them. Several were piled up around her already.
Terry was, of course, nowhere to be found, blending in with every surface, sneaking up behind Jackals and slitting their throats before they even knew he was there. Her friends, allies, whatever they were, were protecting her on all sides, giving her a chance to focus on the main reason she was here—the reason they were all here.
She turned back to Dacre, surprised to find him looking at her, his jaw tight. “Do you see yet?” he asked, speaking between pressed lips. He was straining to maintain control over the myriad spells flowing through him. The fact he could speak at all was unbelievable. The strength it would require. Then again, Vee always knew he was strong.
“Does it matter?”
“To me it does. And it matters to me that you know I’m not some monster.”
“No, just an alien spy Hole-bent on destroying the Godstar Galaxy and stealing our resources.”
Dacre grimaced, and Vee couldn’t tell if it was from her words or the strain of the magic. “I should’ve told you the truth at the Academy.”
“Yes. You should have. Unless, of course, you never really loved me.”
“I did. Of course I did.” The past tense wasn’t lost on Vee. His tone changed slightly. “Miranda and I—”
“I know. She told me. It was all a ruse she created to get rid of me. To refocus you on the mission. I guess it worked. Only now she wishes it didn’t.”
“What?”
“She had a change of heart, I guess.”
Dacre’s eyes flicked to where Miranda was fighting. “You can’t trust her. She’s…a good liar.”
“So are you.” She could tell her words stung, but she didn’t care. “I’m not stupid. I know all that. But I believe she’s trying to make amends for what she’s done. I believe she’s trying to stop you from destroying the galaxy. So am I.”
Dacre seemed to bite off his next words. “I tried to tell you the last time I saw you, but I ran out of time. I don’t want to destroy the galaxy. I’m trying to stop that. There’s not much time now.” He nodded his head in the direction of the
sky and Vee looked up. Beyond the carnage of the space battle taking place all around the Jackal’s home planet was the reason they were all here:
The Centaurian mothership. The Demonstrous, eater of planets. It was here. There wasn’t much time.
Dacre was right.
Vee saw that flicker of pain and sorrow again, and she frowned, trying to understand. To reason it out in her head. He was conflicted, yes, but all this time she’d thought it was because he hated himself for the genocide to come. What was she missing? “Wait. Wait. The Demonstrous is supposed to kill everyone, right? And take our aura. Isn’t that what’s going to happen? Miranda said—”
“Miranda doesn’t know the truth. She was told she was the squad leader, but she wasn’t. It was always me. I knew things…she didn’t. I knew the truth.”
Vee’s frown deepened as she tried to puzzle through the latest revelation. “What is the truth?”
“My mother…” He stopped, seeming to rethink what was important to tell her in the limited time they had. “Look, the Centaurians don’t only harvest aura. They harvest all available resources.”
Finally, Vee understood.
Oh godstars. Oh no. Oh please. Not this. Not…her.
The Centaurians were going to enslave them all.
~~~
Dacre saw the moment it clicked in Vee’s mind—the realization, the horror. He had never wanted her to know. He had only ever wanted to protect her. The spells he’d conjured, and the artifact he could activate to amplify them, had the potential to save them from a fate far worse than death. And yet he was conflicted. Was killing millions to save millions really a heroic thing to do?
In truth, he never really believed his mad plans would get this far, but now that they had, he felt weak for hesitating in taking the final step.
“There’s something you need to know, Dacre,” Vee said, drawing him from his reverie. A fresh wave of agony caused his back to arch and he hissed through his teeth.
“Vee, we need to—”
