by Chris Fox
It ended abruptly, and a ray of dark pink energy lanced into her eyes so quickly Nara didn’t have time to blink. The energy hit her like a silent thunderclap, and she collapsed against the bed. Why couldn’t Aran hear that? Why wasn’t he waking up?
“His slumber is magical, but it will end momentarily.” The bulky figure rose and moved to stand next to the bed.
“What did you do to me?” she whispered in a small voice. She could feel something prowling at the edges of her mind. It stirred like a limb returning to life after having been asleep for a long time. A million itchy pinpricks plucked at her consciousness.
“What many would tell you is impossible.” The figure gave a grim smile, the shadows exposing large, flat teeth. “I have returned your memories to you. The process will take time, but soon, you will remember everything.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
He was already gone.
She sat there, terrified, until a trio of words popped into a previously dormant part of her mind. She whispered them aloud, the horror blooming inside her: “Guardian of Nefarius.”
“Hmm?” Aran asked with a yawn. He sat up in bed, and wrapped her in strong arms. It felt good, banishing a bit of the horror.
“Nothing.” She shivered against him. Had the Guardian been lying? Could her memories be coming back, and if so, what would it mean? Why now? And what was that awful dream? It had to be connected.
The door to her quarters slid up and Bord’s head popped in. “These things really need to lock. A lucky fellow might accidentally walk in on…” Bord trailed off, then gave Aran a wide grin. “You lucky fooker. Looks like you beat me to the punch.”
“I’ll beat you,” Kezia snapped as she entered the doorway next to Bord. She gave Nara a wink. “Major’s asked us all to come to the mess. Why don’t you two get decent and then join us? I think she wants to talk about what we’re gonna do next.”
Kezia dragged Bord from the room, and the door slid shut.
Aran scooted from bed first and pulled on his uniform. “So, uh, do you want to talk about last night?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said. Her tone might have been a little too flat, because Aran shot her a hurt look. “I mean, what we did is normal. But it doesn’t have to mean anything beyond two people enjoying some R&R.” She wasn’t ready to discuss emotions, not after that terrible nightmare, and waking up to…that thing.
Part of her recognized that she was putting up a wall, but she seemed unable to stop herself. She rose and pulled on her shirt, then her slacks, and avoided looking at Aran as she tugged on her jacket.
Aran exhaled a long, slow breath. “Okay, I can deal with that.” He gave her a half-smile. “Whatever it was, I had fun. Shall we go see what the major wants?”
She nodded and followed him into the mess. Crewes, Pickus, and Voria had already taken seats and were enjoying different dishes. Nara moved to the food thingie—the official name, of course—and requested a slice of chocolate cake. It was the very least she’d earned after the last couple weeks. And the normalcy helped her push away the nightmare, and whatever had happened after. A bit, at least.
Aran didn’t grab any food, just slid into the seat next to Crewes. Crewes punched him hard in the arm and gave him a congratulatory smile. Then he turned that exact smile on Nara, and gave her a thumbs-up. It was almost enough to banish the memory of Nefarius’s Guardian, if that was who the visitor had been. She smiled back weakly.
She could almost pretend it hadn’t happened, except the inside of her skull tingled…like a long-sleeping limb finally waking back up, a million little painful pinpricks. It hardly seemed possible that she could kill the major, but if the old her was suddenly coming back…who knew what she was capable of?
“Damn, must have been one depths of a night. What the hell did you do to her, LT?” Crewes asked. He slid his cup of caf over to Nara. “Here, you need this more than I do.”
Nara seized the cup, clinging to it like salvation. “You have no idea.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get the business out of the way first,” Voria interrupted. The crow’s feet around her eyes had stretched another millimeter, and she looked more tired, but other than that, the major had returned full force. “I want to talk about what happened, and what happens now. We retrieved the First Spellship, which is excellent, but this business with the goo is troubling. Aran, or Nara, can one of you sum up what you think happened? Can you tell me anything more about it?”
“Mind if I field this one?” Aran asked.
“Not at all.” Nara waved absently. He’d seen more of the ship’s interior than she had, after all. And she needed time to think. Nefarius…
“When I arrived,” Aran began, “Rhea was waiting for me. She’d been here a long time, and claims she was the last Outrider. I believe her. I think something—a god, or something worse—came to this world and left the…goo. Their goal wasn’t necessarily to corrupt the ship, though maybe that’s a side benefit. I think they wanted to stop me from being at that door when the Krox true mage opened it.”
“An interesting theory,” Voria allowed. “If they could stop you from reaching the door, then the Krox could have taken Ikadra to the bridge.”
“That would have sucked,” Ikadra said. His sapphire pulsed forlornly. “I would have had to do what he said, and the guy with the bad makeup would have had control of the ship. His brother was a real dick, too. I’m glad you ended him, Aran. You did end him, right?”
“He won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” Aran confirmed with a nod. “Anyway, I think whoever planted the goo wanted to stop me from getting there. If Rhea had succumbed, then there would have been no one to guide me.” The way he’d said goo, both times, was slightly off. He knew something about it. Something he wasn’t telling them. That chilled her as much as the nightmare had. What was he hiding, and why?
“I have my suspicions as to who I think might be responsible, but I’m not ready to share them just yet.” Voria sipped a cup of caf. “Not until I know more.”
Nara had her suspicions, too. She cleared her throat, but before she could say anything, a sudden impulse overcame her and she changed what she’d been about to say. “What will we do now?”
“We’ll head back to Shaya,” Voria explained. “We need to make sure the ship is completely cleansed, and the Caretakers can ensure nothing is missed. Then we can learn exactly what this vessel is, and how we can use it to stop the Krox.”
“I don’t like putting this thing in Confederate hands,” Aran said. “Once they get hold of it, they’re going to try to keep it.”
“A feat they cannot achieve without the most powerful staff in the sector,” Ikadra crowed. His voice dropped with each repetition of the final syllable: “-tor -tor -tor.”
“Ikadra has a point. If we deliver the ship, but hide the staff, then we retain control,” Nara pointed out.
“Couldn’t we go to the Inurans?” the sergeant asked. “The way you was winning at that game of theirs I bet you could afford to have the Consortium clean this ship.”
“It’s an option,” Voria allowed. “But doing so would burn all bridges with the Confederacy, and with Shaya. I’m not quite ready to do that yet. We need to play the game a little longer.”
“I’m not certain working closely with the Inurans is a good idea,” Nara offered suddenly. “While hunting for the ship we met Shinura, short for the Shade of Inura. He told us a little about the missing Wyrm Father, Inura. Apparently he was consort to Virkonna, and he went to great lengths to expunge his name from history…”
She trailed off, suddenly lightheaded. Nara closed her eyes. A memory burst to brilliant life in the back of her skull. The memory of a bald mage, with an enchanted ruby where his right eye should have been. She was positive the memory was new, and that it had just appeared.
This was a game she had no interest in playing. Why had this Guardian restored her memories? What did he hope to gain?
&nb
sp; A cold, rational voice answered—her voice.
He’d awakened her memories because he believed that whoever she was becoming would work for him. He believed that she was going to kill Voria, and deliver him the Spellship.
Her friends weren’t safe around her. And that meant she had to run.
Epilogue
The being known as Talifax stalked the corridors of the First Spellship, amused by the need for the simple locomotion humans called walking. Normally Talifax appeared wherever he wished to be, as distance did not exist for one of his immense age.
Yet such magics were powerful, and powerful magic attracted attention. For the first time in two centuries Talifax was uncertain enough to choose caution over expediency. The First Spellship had been created by Virkonna and Inura, and though they were only Wyrms, they were also powerful gods in their own right.
Virkonna lay slumbering on the world they orbited. He could feel her mind, huddling in on itself as it sought respite from the pain his mistress had inflicted. But Inura was still out there, somewhere. He’d always been the craftiest of the Wyrm Fathers, which is why he’d lived when the rest had been killed, one by one.
Talifax would likely win in a direct confrontation, but he knew that Inura would only allow such a confrontation if he’d found a way to secure victory. If Talifax revealed himself here, he created the possibility of his own death.
And so he walked.
It didn’t take so long as he’d feared, this walking. He passed down one long corridor, then ducked into a narrower one. Both bore pockets of rich, dark blood. Those pockets were slowly spreading, engulfing everything around him as they drank its magic. The blood of his mother, his mistress, his world. The Blood of Nefarius.
It was with this that he would conquer, slowly gathering enough magical power to awaken her. That day approached, but before it could be secured he had many tasks to fulfill. Chief among them was stopping Krox, for only Krox would be able to oppose Nefarius.
Talifax paused at an intersection, cocking his head as he took in his quarry. A humanoid figure squatted in darkness, his long hair slick with blood. The figure reached down and picked up a handful, smearing it into his eyes, then offering a contented sigh.
“Kheross,” Talifax rumbled. “Attend me, little Wyrm.”
Kheross’s narrow face snapped up, and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the blood from his eyes. “Who are you? Why have you come to this place? You’ll find nothing but death here.”
“Ah, you have fallen far, I see. Much further than I’d ever have guessed.” Talifax bent to inspect the wretch’s aura. The Blood had done its work well. Kheross had gone over fully. He was a tool of Nefarius now, whether he knew it or not. “I have come to offer you redemption.”
“Redemption?” Kheross looked up and sneered. “It is not my own redemption I seek. Save Rhea. I am beyond salvation.”
“Very well.” Talifax folded his massive arms, and suppressed the urge to crush the Wyrm’s head between his hands. “I will give you the means to save your daughter. All you need do is administer it.”
Kheross stiffened at that.
“You thought your ruse had worked?” Talifax gave a chuckle, a rare treat. “I knew of your little plot, to disguise yourselves as Outriders. To make that disguise so convincing that you, yourselves believe it, even. Rhea has no idea of her true nature. Yet you failed. You’ve weakened her, and gained nothing for it.”
Kheross glared hatefully up at him. Good. He’d need that hatred.
Talifax spun possibilities, scanning quickly until he found the one he sought. Yes, that would do nicely. Kheross would attempt to ‘save’ Rhea. The vessel, Aran, would attempt to stop him. That would begin the exact chain of events needed to secure his mistress’s return.
Talifax smiled grimly. “Here is what you will do.”
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