Raphael nodded. “The rest are animals. They’re useful to the environment. Some are food, others are predators. In the end, there’s a natural balance. Ta’Zan insists that said balance was never achieved with your kind. That you’re all useless and destructive.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Ridan said. “Druids, for example, worship nature and everything it has to give. The fae are deeply connected to the natural elements. I could go on, but surely you get my point so far.”
“I most certainly do,” Raphael replied. “Just don’t expect Ta’Zan to accept the truth, too. He’s drunk on his own power, now. He thinks he can do better than nature.”
“I think we’ve already established how that will blow up in his face,” I muttered, prompting Douma to chuckle.
“It’s beyond selfish and delusional to force one species down the throats of others, claiming it’s better,” she said. “I understand that I was made in a lab, and that I’m a result of both nature and science, and I’m okay with that. I doubt I’ll ever find my place in the world, but if we get the others to think like Raphael and me, for example, maybe his delusion will forcibly come to an end. It’s not right to destroy so many lives simply because you can.”
“Ta’Zan wouldn’t even be here if not for the Draenir.” Amane sighed. “By extension, we wouldn’t be alive if not for the Draenir. If not for the water that made life possible in the first place. If not for the planet we live on…”
Bogdana smiled. “Exactly. Nature was, is, and will always be first. It will be the last, too, should there be an end to it. If it is meant to go on forever, it most certainly will. Nature will outlive us all, including Ta’Zan and the Perfects, and anyone else. I fear that’s something that Ta’Zan has yet to accept, or even acknowledge. It speaks of small-mindedness.”
“He’s selfish,” Amane said, frowning. “He pretends to care about his creations, but he doesn’t. He’ll keep you alive for as long as it takes for him to use you. Once he’s done, he’ll toss you out, but that’s more of a principle, rather than the result of emotional attachment. Ta’Zan doesn’t like destroying his own creations, but that doesn’t mean he won’t, if he has to. He won’t hesitate. All those who still stand by him believe he cares for them. That he’s doing all this for them.”
“But that’s wrong,” Raphael added, narrowing his eyes at Bogdana. “Ta’Zan only cares about himself, and about screwing everyone else over in the process. He’s trying to prove a point, to demonstrate his and his Perfects’ superiority, though I’m not sure to whom. Mudak is dead. The Draenir… well, he thinks they’re all dead.”
I nodded slowly, following their line of reasoning. “So, then, who is he doing this for? All of us outsiders? Or someone in particular?”
“And nothing is known of his mother? Who she was, where she came from?” Bogdana asked, partially changing the subject and taking us all by surprise.
“His mother? Ta’Zan was made in a lab, like us,” Amane replied.
“Fair enough, but the embryo that later became Ta’Zan was put inside a womb,” Bogdana said. “A living creature, not an artificial bag. That’s the mother I’m talking about.”
“I didn’t know that,” Raphael murmured, scratching the back of his head. “How did you know about that?”
Bogdana proceeded to tell him what she’d already told us, back in Rakkhan’s hut. “So, there’s no information on the surrogate mother.” She sighed.
“What were you hoping to learn?” I asked, slightly confused.
“I’m just wondering who she was. If Mudak would’ve ever wanted her to be a part of his life. A mother would’ve made quite an impact on his behavior,” Bogdana explained. “Just a small amount of love and nurturing might’ve made the difference between a progressive genius and the evil mastermind we’re dealing with today.”
Amane shook her head, letting a deep sigh roll out of her chest. “We don’t know. He never mentioned a mother. To be fair, we never asked. He told us he was made by Mudak Marduk, so we assumed he came out of an artificial womb, like the rest of us.”
“Would there be any archives anywhere? Any of Mudak’s documents, reports, scientific journals, research papers… anything?” Dmitri asked, both eyebrows raised as he straightened his back. “I mean, Ta’Zan’s creation had to have been registered somewhere. It was a friggin’ milestone for the Draenir, whether they liked it or not!”
Bogdana looked over her shoulder, taking a moment to stare at the Elder Rakkhan’s hut. “I’ll bet you a million gold pieces that the old Draenir in charge of this camp knows something.”
That was a good question to ask Rakkhan. He knew nothing of Ta’Zan’s surrogate mother, but Mudak must’ve kept records somewhere. And those documents must’ve ended up somewhere—either in the Draenir’s possession after his arrest, or stuck in a storage box, even. Over a hundred years had passed since the plague had nearly destroyed the Draenir, but remnants of their colossal structures remained.
Surely, there could be untold stories hidden somewhere, waiting to be uncovered.
Waiting to be told.
Rose
Ben and I watched as the children and elders of the Draenir tribe loaded their carts with clothes and supplies, then took a narrow path north, through the jungle, guided by a couple of young males that had been tasked with making sure that they made it to the next stronghold safely.
The Draenir were going to be relocated to a winter island, deeper inside this weird weather cluster. The thick woods and constant snowfall made it even more difficult for anyone flying overhead to notice movement. Based on what we’d seen on the map, they were going to be safe, albeit chilly, up there.
We agreed to use this camp as a base of operations for as long as possible. There was always the risk of discovery and conflict, since Ta’Zan kept mass-producing Perfects, who then went on to spread out and build new diamond colosseums, further expanding their territory. We all doubted they’d be interested in this region, given its hostile weather conditions, but they could still spot movement—and that would eventually spell doom.
We gathered back inside Rakkhan’s hut, where he’d had a table brought into the middle of his dining room. He’d also had Wallah and his brothers transfer some of the large glass screens from the underground stronghold into the hut. They’d been placed on the table and interconnected with thin, serium-powered cables. Wallah and the young males didn’t know much about the technology, but Rakkhan still remembered the basics.
We now had an enormous interactive map of Strava displayed across the screens on the table, which we could zoom in and out of, and move and mark as we wished, simply by using our fingers. The Draenir had also accomplished touchscreen technology, among many other things, prior to being driven to near extinction by the plague. They would’ve had a brilliant future, had it not been for Ta’Zan.
Amane, Kallisto, Raphael, Douma, Leah, and Samael joined us inside, along with Elonora, Dmitri, and Ridan. The sight of them surprised Rakkhan, until Elonora gave him the pen device back.
“They all tested negative,” she said. “And they all want to help bring that evil bastard down.”
I caught the look on her face when she and Nevis exchanged glances, and my stomach tightened, reminding me of how I felt when I first saw Caleb. The heart exploding inside my ribcage. The blood rushing to my head. I could see the signs in Elonora, as I could still see them in myself whenever Caleb’s eyes found mine.
They’d yet to acknowledge it, but I had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Elonora and Nevis would get together. My only hope was that we all survived to see it.
“Welcome, then,” Rakkhan grumbled, keeping a sour expression as he looked at Amane.
“For what it’s worth, I’ll say it again,” Amane said. “I’m sorry. On behalf of my sister and myself, at least, I’m truly sorry for what happened to your people. I cannot undo it, but I can do my very best to make sure it never happens again.”
Rakkhan stared at
her for a while, while the rest of us held our collective breath. Our success depended on how well we all got along. There was no room for anger or grudges, no matter how deep they ran. A unified group stood a better chance against Ta’Zan.
“I’ve moved my people here,” Rakkhan said, eventually, pointing at a white island on the interactive map. The new location was approximately ten miles north of Merinos, flanked by storm clusters and defined by heavy snow and rich forests. “We’ll use this place for as long as possible. But we must have a plan as to how we’re going to bring Ta’Zan down. I know him well enough to tell you that it will not be easy.
“The fiend has already rebuilt and consolidated the infrastructure,” Raphael added.
We’d gathered enough information about Ta’Zan’s early days to better understand why he was doing all this. Granted, we didn’t have all the answers, but we knew more than a few days earlier, and that gave us a critical edge.
“Our main enemies, and, at the same time, potential allies, are the Perfects,” I replied. “Some have strong personalities of their own, like Raphael, for example. He realized on his own that what Ta’Zan was doing was horribly wrong. I don’t think we’ll find many like him among them.”
“What about me?” Douma asked, taking me by surprise.
I blinked several times, trying to find the right answer. We hadn’t told her the whole truth, mainly to make sure that she wouldn’t just split, once she learned that she had been quite a fierce supporter of Ta’Zan.
“You were… slightly different,” Dmitri replied, unable to look her in the eyes.
It didn’t take long for Douma to figure it out. “I wasn’t so easily convinced, was I?” She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “That’s why you’re all tiptoeing around me whenever I ask you about it.”
“Douma, we were afraid you’d—” I tried to speak, but she cut me off.
“You were afraid I’d leave, or something?” she retorted, clearly irritated.
“I’m sorry,” Dmitri said, taking her hand in his. “We didn’t want to shock you or lose you. I didn’t want you to leave.”
“Why would I? You gave me a chance at a new life, with a fresh mind, with the freedom to choose what kind of person I want to be,” Douma replied, wearing a half-smile. “I wouldn’t leave you. But I’m not an idiot. I see the looks you give each other whenever I ask about my previous life. I know you’re afraid to tell me the truth. But don’t be. I can take it.”
Kallisto smirked. “Okay then. You should know, you were a snobby, insufferable bitch until your head was removed from your body.”
Awkward silence followed. Douma took a minute to process the information, while Dmitri, Amane, and even Raphael all glowered at Kallisto. In turn, the Faulty replied with a nonchalant shrug.
“Crass, to say the least,” Amane whispered.
“Hey, she wanted the truth. I figured she could take it,” Kallisto mumbled.
“I can!” Douma interjected, keeping a straight face. “It’s fine. I get it. I’ve been around you people for long enough to know you wouldn’t do harm simply because you can or because you like it. I still trust you. I guess I deserved it.”
“For what it’s worth, Douma, you were showing signs of doubt before you died,” I said, keeping a soft tone of voice. I was genuinely fond of her—her physical splendor was nothing compared to her nature, her character, and her innate desire to do the right thing. It was all part of her genetic code, and I found it incredibly cruel for someone like Ta’Zan to try and corrupt her. “There was a part of you that didn’t like what Ta’Zan was doing. We could all tell from how you helped us, even though you were our prisoner. But Ta’Zan’s indoctrination ran deep, and, frankly, I think a part of you was also afraid of the new possibilities that emerged upon our arrival in this world… afraid that maybe your maker was wrong.”
“Well, he’s definitely wrong,” Douma murmured, then looked at Raphael. “Seriously, now, how do we do this?”
Zeriel cleared his throat, demanding our attention. “Well, it’s already more complicated than we originally thought. We need a fresh approach. Multiple angles of attack. Diversions and lots of contingency plans. We’re dealing with an entire species of highly intelligent and extremely powerful predators.”
“Why, thank you ever so much,” Raphael retorted, batting his eyelashes at the Tritone king. “You’re making me blush. And, might I add, you’re not too bad yourself, for someone who’s more at home in water than on land.”
Zeriel was baffled, clearly wondering whether he should laugh or take Raphael seriously. I couldn’t blame him; the Perfect was still quite the enigma to us. “Thanks, I guess?”
“You don’t get sarcasm, do you, Mr. I-Nearly-Got-Myself-Killed-More-Than-Anyone-Else-In-My-Crew?” Raphael retorted with a cold grin.
“And there it is…” Zeriel groaned, rolling his eyes.
“He’s still standing, isn’t he?” Vesta asked, rhetorically.
It got her Zeriel’s attention, and I could hear her heart rate spiking. I’d been so busy running for my life and fighting to protect myself and my crew that I’d failed to notice the seedlings of love that had been growing among us. The Tritone king himself seemed smitten by our petite but fierce fae. Ben gave me a soft nudge, prompting me to look at him.
We’d both noticed the stolen glances. And we were both struggling to keep a straight face.
“We need a multi-layered approach here,” Lumi cut in, her strange, white irises with bluish edges fixed on my brother and me. “Ta’Zan must have weak spots in his new society. He’s been moving too fast for his own sake, and I think that has left him with chinks in his armor. A truly impenetrable infrastructure takes time and experience to build. He doesn’t have enough of either to accomplish such a feat.”
Dmitri leaned over the table, frowning as he analyzed the map for a while.
“We’d be better off stopping whatever Ta’Zan is using to block our communications first,” he said.
Raphael nodded, then moved to stand by Dmitri and Douma at the edge of the interactive map. He pressed his index finger on the screen eight times, marking specific spots around Ta’Zan’s cluster of diamond colosseums.
“The towers. I remember telling you about them,” Raphael replied. “The towers he’s using to block communications. This is where you’ll find them. But they won’t stand out. They’re a complex circuit, wired around the tallest palm trees on these islands.”
“Can we disable them?” I asked.
Raphael nodded. “Even better. If they’re disabled in a specific order, it’ll take a few days for Ta’Zan’s system to alert itself to a technical error. Five of these are outlets. They send out the blocking signal. The sixth, here,” he continued, pointing at a specific island on the map, “is the control center for the blockers. I helped put it together, I know how to sabotage it. The longer these towers are down, the more time you’ll have to liaise with your people. I strongly believe your light bubbles won’t pass undetected anymore.”
“Yeah, I think they’ve already intercepted at least one,” Draven replied. “Okay, so, let’s think of this as our first item on the to-do list. Disable the comms blockers. I have a feeling Telluris will resume, too, once they’re down. This magi-tech that Ta’Zan is using is clearly disrupting it.”
“Which kind of makes sense, now, if I think about it,” Lumi murmured. “If he’s using this combination of magic and technology, he could’ve spotted the soul connection that Telluris makes in order for people to communicate, regardless of location and distance.”
“It’s called Solvita,” Rakkhan told us. “It’s an ancient form of occultism that the Draenir left behind once they began their scientific advancements. We didn’t see a use for it once we developed our technology. I advised against a complete separation, mainly because Solvita could help amplify the power provided by serium crystals, but I was one of few, at the time. I suppose Ta’Zan was smart enough to notice the benefits of combining it into ma
gi-tech. It explains most of his developments, actually.”
“The towers are definitely magi-tech,” Lumi confirmed. “I know my craft. Telluris connects souls; it doesn’t rely on radio waves of any kind for communication. Swamp witch magic is still, you know, magic. It’s part of a bigger whole. It’s up there with natural witches of the Supernatural dimension, with the Druids of Calliope, and whatever magic the Dhaxanians have flowing through their veins to create their incredible frost. I wouldn’t be surprised if this Solvita had a way of influencing our forms of magic.”
“It would certainly be able to do that,” Amane confirmed. “Prior to our hibernation, Ta’Zan preserved a multitude of manuscripts inside a hermetically sealed coffer. He said its contents were crucial to building the new world. I remember him using the term Solvita a couple of times, too… It blends seamlessly with Draenir technology.”
Rakkhan chuckled. “Not many were able to wield Solvita, though. Some died trying to harness it and implement it into their devices. I suppose it’s one of the reasons why my people chose to leave it behind, instead. As the head of the engineering branch, I was all for keeping it, but, like I said, they weren’t comfortable with using something they didn’t have full control of.”
“Have you ever used it?” Ben asked, his eyes twinkling as an idea seemed to form in his head. He and I often thought alike.
“It’s been a long time,” Rakkhan replied. “I’m quite rusty, and I don’t have the formulas written anywhere. Without them, I am useless.”
“I remember some. We could put our heads together and see what we both know,” Amane suggested. “Perhaps there’s something we, too, could use.”
“We could, yes,” Rakkhan relented, a sad smile stretching his thin lips. “I must admit, I’m still in awe of your kind, Faulties and Perfects alike. You’re extraordinary creatures.”
His statement seemed to strike a chord in Amane. I wondered if Ta’Zan had been yearning for that kind of recognition, too—to be told, “Good job, Ta’Zan, these guys are amazing!” She offered a polite bow, in return.
A Shade of Vampire 65: A Plague of Deceit Page 5
