-Lead prosecutor at the trial of Mlădiţă 01.21.1239rl
He no longer had mortal skin and yet his skin burned with the sting of fire at all times. He no longer had a mortal heart to experience regret, yet his heart was filled at all times with the screams of his victims. He no longer had a mortal brain to recall his past, yet his mind was eternally harassed with the image of the man he once was and that knowledge churned inside his mind like sand in a wound, driving him mad with rage and remorse.
The great beast had many names and titles, but the dearest to him was the new name his master had given him upon his ascension, Yar’Katah. He found the material world was so blank and colorless compared to the endless powers of the ether. He was still young for a demon prince. His mind still retained some of the drive and focus that mortals possessed. He could still perceive events in a linear and temporal fashion and give them sequence and order.
Such terms were largely meaningless in the Uragan. Time could be effortlessly folded in on itself. His slaves worked alongside their own ancestors and descendants in endless miles of factories and foundries, which rose high above the clouds and tunneled deep beneath the surface. Unlike his brothers, whose ascension to immortality marked the ultimate completion of their ambitions, Yar’Katah’s ascension had only been a mere step in his plans.
Even so, he found it increasingly difficult to maintain his focus and he began to understand why so many of the older demon princes, even the great Luminari, who were the first to achieve demonhood, were content to spend their time swimming through the depthless energies of the ether, basking in the power that could give birth to stars, or extinguish them.
The great beast longed to release himself from the present and soar with his kindred among the ether. There was nothing that could reach them here in the Uragan, after all. Their treachery would never be avenged. They would fulfill forever their own selfish desires, beyond the judgments of mortals.
“That was the promise we made so long ago, was it not?” he reminded himself. “Back when we were first deceived.” Eight thousand years had passed outside, but for many who had first come here it had been much shorter and much longer.
To be a demon prince was to be a living god, bound eternally to your grief. A slave to your master for all time, bound forever to his will. The great beast could feel every inch of his world. The demon world of Bael’Eth was simply an extension of his body. He could reshape it at will. Mountains formed when he wished to see mountains, and they became oceans when he desired to see oceans. But he had lost his love for such parlor tricks.
“I want to stand over the ashes of the Confederacy that betrayed me and destroy forever all who gave worship to the great deceiver, the Luminarch. I will bring a God to its knees and watch it beg for mercy.” The great beast’s snout twisted into a fang-filled smile.
The Interstellar Confederacy was forever on the defensive. Each world lost to them and dedicated as a demon world was a world they could never retake. Thus the edges of the Uragan slowly and surely crept outwards. Even if the Confederates successfully defended ninety-nine out of every hundred attacks that spat themselves out of the Uragan, it was still just a matter of time before every world belonged to them and faith itself was extinguished. Until all the galaxy was united under the banner of slaughter.
Yet another struggling man was brought before the great beast, his skin covered in wild and bizarre tattoos, his eyes alight with fear for Yar’Katah was horrible to look upon. A form between a man and a jackal with black hairless skin, crisscrossed with the weeping slits of countless eyes searching in all directions at all times.
As the pair of Bael’Eth militia dragged the man closer, he began squealing with panic and his skin began to sizzle and burn. The great beast stretched out a great paw with razor-sharp claws and sent out a stream of scarlet mist that encircled and consumed the man. The man’s tattoos glowed brightly and he screamed one final time as his body decomposed, turned dry, and crumbled into dust. The tattoos remained hanging in the air, leaving a silhouette of the man’s death throes before collecting themselves together into a small sphere of dark scarlet that then moved to the outstretched claw and soaked into it. The great beast snorted disapprovingly, which caused his servants nearby to shift their weight in fear.
A short and twisted sorcerer approached, resplendent in his crimson robes, carrying a staff carved out of a pure black crystal. “The draw is shallow, is it not?” Hurdilicia asked softly, being careful to keep his voice barely above a whisper.
The great beast Yar’Katah grunted deeply in agreement, several of the eyes that covered his body closing lazily. “The ether has laws of its own and they cannot be broken so easily, after all,” he judged. “We will have to use true believers then to get a full draw.”
Hurdilicia bowed respectfully.
“I want you to consult the oracles,” Yar’Katah said steadily, a few eyes darting about. “We need to know how many human souls it will take to weaponize this process.”
“Of course, my master. May I ask what our target is?”
“Terra, of course,” the beast said, fangs gleaming.
Hurdilicia froze in place for a moment and then stood steadily. “Master, the latest projections indicate that the Tyrant sector will fall within the year and then our forces will be able to attack Terra directly.”
Yar’Katah stood up, all of the eyes on his body wide and angry, focused on the small sorcerer before him. “No, within the year Heinreich Verräter’s forces will attack Terra. Do you really think I am content to sit here in the Uragan, overseeing the factories that feed his armies and load his weapons, just so he can claim all the glory for himself?”
“I think nothing, I only obey,” Hurdilicia responded diplomatically.
“Well answered,” the beast praised, most of his eyes closing as he sat back down into his throne. “Calculate the number of human souls we will need. We don’t need to obliterate every inch of the planet, but I would like to at least break it in half,” the beast said pragmatically.
“Certainly that number would be in the Quintillions, but I will scry it for you, master.”
“It will take time to gather them all here; I will begin the pilgrimages immediately.” Yar’Katah leaned back and all of his eyes closed shut as he communicated directly with his overseers all over the planet.
“There is the question of range, however,” Hurdilicia interrupted.
“Explain,” the beast said, one of his eyes winking open.
“Terra is simply too distant, the energy would fan out before it reached its target.”
Yar’Katah was impressed with this man’s forethought. Many felt that it was too dangerous to keep subordinates that were overly clever, it left you open for betrayal, but Yar’Katah insisted that his underlings be skilled and capable. Times like this vindicated that decision to him.
“You have learned many of the secrets of the ether, but not all of them,” the beast explained. There are tools that transcend the boundaries between our world and the world of mortals.”
Yar’Katah placed the tip of one claw against Hurdilicia’s forehead and his eyes widened in understanding. “There is one we could use to allow the energy to reach Terra.”
They both grinned.
“The Eagalo Stone. I will begin scrying for its location immediately, master.”
Yar’Katah sat back and closed his eyes. Acquiring the stone would create a delay, but his patron god would not be displeased, for time was perceived only by mortals, but the beast still felt apprehensive. There was much to be done. He would have to keep his mind tied to the material world for a bit longer. He would need entertainment to relieve his boredom.
Chapter Eleven
The Prison of the Past
It is my deepest regret that those of my order must be instructed how to detect and counter the demonic in order to execute our duties. For knowledge of their ways gives them power over us. Indeed, even to think of them puts us under a measure of th
eir control.
-Excerpt from Anchetă Malhire’s personal journal, suppressed by the Marshals 11.01.7210rl
Nariko could not tell how long it had been since she had last eaten. The trays of uneaten food had piled up outside her doorstep until finally Jenna had stopped bringing them at all. That had been some time ago. She morbidly admitted to herself that starving to death would be a way of dying she had not yet experienced.
Nariko was dried up. There were no more tears for her to cry. That’s what happens when you hurt that deeply. You cry and cry, until you just can’t cry anymore. Then comes the emptiness, a lack of any emotion at all.
She had felt sadness before, but this was different. This was different from anything else she had ever experienced. This was grief and it didn’t diminish when she faced it.
There was a time long ago when she had been afraid of spiders, but by facing that fear she had been able to chip away at it one piece at a time and eventually overcame it. Grief had no such property. Facing it did not weaken it, it only throttled her entire being and avoiding it made it no less potent the next time she faced it.
This was an opponent she could neither stand up to nor run away from. It was the absolute end of who she was, the death of her as an individual. It took everything she had been and reduced it to ash. And the worst part was that there was absolutely nothing she or anyone else could do about it.
Nariko stared emptily at the glowing cultiva tank. It was her only indication of the passing of time, and the sword had healed all the way to the tip of the blade.
Nariko had lost something. Something that all people need. Something that sits in the core of your soul and moves you to achievement, moves you to action. The source of all that is good in people.
The thing you lost will never return to you as long as you live.
The person she had been was gone and she had no desire to return to that life. It was a meaningless gesture now to serve the Luminarch.
It is meaningless to serve the Luminarch now, but what else can I do? Being a Senshi is all I have ever known. It was all I had ever been.
Where else would you go? Who would take you in?
She contemplated hiding her identity. Start a new life somewhere. She was a trained artificer, after all. She could scrape out a decent living on any number of backwater worlds that didn’t ask any troublesome questions.
And when they find out what you are, they will reject you. They will drive you out and hand you over to your enemies.
Nariko shivered at the thought of the Marshals.
The only place you will be accepted is among your own kind, among the damned.
A furry rodent scuttled lazily out of a broken heating duct and made its way over toward the door where some of the rotting food from the trays outside had spilled in. Nariko was somewhat surprised at this. It had been several days since any rodents had entered her quarters. Usually, the moment they saw the pile of their dead comrades around her door they instinctively knew to move on.
But this one didn’t. It scurried over to the food, shoved a dead carcass out of the way and happily began chewing on the rotting pieces of food.
Nariko lifted up her arm from the black puddle it had been lying in, creating arcing black strands of goo, and disconnected her pistol from the base of the tank.
She fired a shot, the blue bolt of energy impacting with the door just above the rodent’s head. The creature became startled and looked at her with its beady black eyes, then calmly turned around and began eating again.
Irritated, Nariko took more careful aim and fired again. This time the shot grazed it, singeing its fur. A third shot hit a dead rodent carcass, showering the entrance area with small furry remains.
But the rodent still did not move. Instead it turned around and hissed at Nariko before returning to eat, faster this time.
This thing has guts. She gripped her pistol with both hands and took careful aim this time. She would not miss. As she looked at its small form down the length of her sight, however, her grip loosened and she lost the will to fire.
She sat there at length, watching the small creature eat its fill, then watched curiously as it lazily scuttled back into the heating vent and continued on with its tiny rodent life.
Nariko thought about the rodent for some time and wondered why she could not bring herself to shoot it. Perhaps there was something enviable, even noble, about its spirit. At least, as noble as the spirit of an animal could be.
This thought was broken by the door to her quarters being forced open. Nariko brought her grimy hand up, shielding her eyes unaccustomed to the light.
“The Don sent me here to bring you up to the war room. It’s time for you to earn your keep, slave.”
“I have been given leave to go where I please,” Nariko whispered through dry and parched lips. “Leave me be.”
“I will take you by force if I have to,” the man growled.
Nariko groaned like an old man and rolled over in the filth that covered the floor and weakly brought herself up to her feet. With weary, labored steps she followed the man through the flickering corridors of the ship, not even bothering to take her weapons with her.
Nariko was led into a small crowded room where the captains of the other ships in the fleet were assembled around a crude holo-imager.
Don Kielter seemed disgusted to see Nariko so changed from when she had first arrived. She was filthy from head to toe. Even the bandages that covered her right eye were brown and tattered. Her shoulders were slumped and her back was bent. Even the most hardened men in the room stepped back from the smell.
“It is time for you to earn your keep onboard,” Don Kielter said cautiously, gauging her reactions.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Nariko asked wearily. “Are you reneging on our deal?”
Don Kielter waved his hand, silencing the questioning looks from the other captains who were not supposed to know about that.
“Your passage was negotiated for by your superiors. Didn’t they tell you the terms?” Don Kielter asked.
“What?” Nariko grunted, confused.
Don Kielter sighed in frustration and leaned in close to Nariko.
“You cannot address me so casually in front of the others. It undermines your safety, if you catch my drift. Remember that I own you.”
Nariko gave Don Kielter a hateful glance with her bloodshot eye that made him back away.
“Very well, then,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “In exchange for your passage you are to act as a special military adviser, as we prepare to commandeer this facility.
Military adviser? So that’s what he meant by ‘secret weapon.’
Don Kielter tapped the rusted control runes on the data slate and the view of the holo-imager enlarged to show scouted photos of the shipyards of Urum’Dech, a traitor controlled system on the northern border of the Uragan.
The gathered captains voiced their esteem and licked their lips at the prospect. Urum’Dech was not yet a demon world, which meant that it could still be attacked although it would be very heavily guarded. If they succeeded, they could trade up their crumbling and dilapidated merchant ships for brand-new, military-grade warships. It would be the greatest act of piracy in the last hundred years and would make them all very rich men indeed.
Don Kielter brought up a separate screen and began elaborating.
“With the majority of his forces fighting out in the Tyrant sector, the Archfiend of Tauros has left a small garrison. I’d guess there’ll only be around three dozen capital ships, a Zeitate-Class armored space station, and around six companies of legionnaires stationed at the shipyards themselves. Our current plan is to...”
As Don Kielter explained his ambitious plans, Nariko’s eye brightened a little. She hated demons and traitors. They had ruined her life. They had robbed her of her humanity. They had turned her into a monster. The thought of hurting them made her feel less dead inside. The thought of humiliating them made her fe
el motivated. The thought of crushing them made her feel like she could have a purpose.
I can do more than just wallow in this feeling. I can use it. It can be a source of energy for me. I can take the fight to these demons and make them pay for what they have done to me. I may not be able to serve the Luminarch, but I can still crush his enemies.
We have no objections. Follow your anger. The path of hate also leads to damnation. It matters not to us which path you take, your destination is the same in the end.
Nariko raised her hand. The room fell silent. “Give me a moment to run some simulations.”
Nariko closed her eye that was not bandaged up and her training and experience took over. Her thoughts moved like lightning as she meditated, planning out hundreds of different scenarios and analyzing their most likely outcomes. She was isolating the most successful pathways, refining them and narrowing them down into the most efficient course possible.
This is what I was born for. She realized sadly. This is the only thing I’m good at. I could never be content hiding away in some corner of the galaxy, living a normal quiet life. This was how I make myself useful. This is what justifies my existence.
You define your existence by the corpses you leave in your wake? There is a name for such a creature you know.
Nariko knew that fighting traitors would just be hypocritical, but it was the only thing she could do. She certainly didn’t feel good inside, but at least she felt a twinge of something. Within moments, she had decided on the best course.
Nariko opened her eye and stood up straight. Strength seemed to return to her body. She reduced the magnification on the holo-map and tapped a series of separate targets to the galactic west of Urum’Dech.
“This is by far the best course. We will stage a series of raids, destroying facilities in these systems, beginning at Pechi and moving steadily westward toward the cultist world of Druki’Aoi. That will convince the Archfiend of Tauros that we intend to attack his fortress world there.”
Heart of a Traitor Page 8
