by A A Warren
“Come see with your own eyes, Ecotyl. I want you to accompany us.” The man spun around. His robes whirled behind him as he stalked off the bridge. “That way, you can explain your failure to High General Kyr yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Sartarus and Ecotyl marched into the crumbling remains of the bathhouse, flanked on either side by a pair of Holy guards. A haze of dust filled the air, and puddles of water and blood spattered the tiles beneath their feet. A sickening stench hung trapped beneath the high, domed ceiling… a reeking miasma of scented oils, ionized rock and charred flesh.
A floating holo projector drifted through the air above them. It cast a glowing, flickering projection that appeared to walk between the two men. The translucent image displayed a short, muscular man with a broad forehead, topped by a shock of thick white hair. He wore a crisp, pressed uniform, decorated with a plaque of medals and honors pinned over his right breast.
His dark, beady eyes glared at Ecotyl for a moment. Then he turned to face Sartarus.
The man in the hologram was High General Kyr.
“Ecotyl’s failure to capture the enemy's ship is unacceptable.” Kyr's voice boomed from the speakers in the projector drifting above them. “But why are you still on Bakala? Our forces are preparing to jump to Vendaru as we speak. We need to deploy the weapon, and crush Prince Lucian’s coalition once and for all. I ordered your ships to return to the fleet.”
“Yes, General,” Ecotyl said. His face flushed as red as his uniform. “I swear, I—”
Sartarus raised his hand. The flustered commander quit his stammering, and stared at his feet as they continued marching forward.
The tall, robed man kept his eyes focused ahead, and did not look at the hologram as he spoke. “General, I will return as soon as possible. It is in both our interests that I find what I seek. If you had given me the time I requested to locate the missing relics, the weapon would have functioned properly at Hadros, and the Prince’s coalition would no longer be a problem for you.”
The general’s eyes narrowed, as his hologram flickered in and out of resolution. “I’m told you’ve wasted the resources I placed at your disposal. You’ve been tearing apart the galaxy searching for one man. A slave, of all things. A gladiator.”
Sartarus tilted his head. Ecotyl could not tell if the man’s sapphire stare was glaring at the general’s hologram, or if he was staring through it, scrutinizing the guilty fear Ecotyl displayed on his own face.
“If I were you, General, I would spend my time planning your containment strategy for Vendaru, rather than listening to the twittering of little birds in your fleet.”
The general’s eyes opened wide, and his cheeks bulged around his thick, pursed lips. “I’ve had enough of your insubordination. I am High General! I hold the throne of the Tygon Dominion, and I order you to abandon this foolishness. Return to—”
“The man I seek is far more than a slave. He is the one thing that can stop us, although I doubt he even realizes it. He is a liability, and we must eliminate him before the weapon is deployed again. Did your spy do as I commanded?”
The general glowered in silence, then nodded. “He did. The launch tubes on Vendaru were destroyed. Repairs will take weeks.”
“Good. Then the prince isn’t going anywhere. I will purge this enemy from the stars, and recover the final piece of our great weapon. Until then, you must hold the planet. Prevent any ships from getting through.”
“I don’t take orders from you! I gave you ships and men, a small fortune in chips, and—”
“And I gave you a weapon that annihilated half your enemy’s forces,” Sartarus snapped.
“A vow half kept is still a vow broken,” the general snarled. “I warn you Sartarus… don’t make an enemy of me.”
Sartarus sighed. “I grow weary of this conversation. I will rejoin the fleet when I have found what we seek. Until then… hold Vendaru.”
He gestured to one of his guards. With frightening speed the armored man raised his rifle, and fired a burst at the holo projector. The floating machine exploded, raining a shower of sparks around them. The general’s hologram blinked out of existence.
They continued pacing through the ruins. Up ahead, a towering scorpion tank stomped through the rubble. A pair of retrofitted cargo claws replaced its front canons. The powerful hydraulic appendages allowed the armored vehicle to lift chunks of fallen rubble and carry them out of the dome.
A cluster of centurions stood beyond the rubble, next to a row of corpses laid out on the ground. The bodies stretched off into the distance, disappearing in the dust-filled air. One of the officers noticed Sartarus striding towards them. He spun around and snapped to attention. “Sir, we have secured the premises, as ordered.”
“You said you found the body?”
“Yes sir, in a chamber below the main bath house. Buried beneath the rubble. We ran a blood scan, and confirmed a match.”
“And the artifacts?” Sartarus hissed, as the officer led them down the long line of burned and bloody flesh.
“No sign of them, sir.”
Sartarus sighed. “Ah. Pity.”
The robed man stopped next to one of the bodies. Ecotyl watched as he kneeled down next to the battered corpse. The dead man’s face was bruised and battered. A pair of scars, long-since healed, ran down his left cheek.
Beneath his gold mask, Sartarus’ withered, bloody maw twisted into an approximation of a smile.
“Karl Aroyass… You were a fool to keep secrets from me. From us. All for what? A few more chips to fill your cold, dead hand?”
Sartarus pulled back the sleeves of his robe. Beneath his gleaming mask, he began to chant in a low, deep voice. He held out his right arm, and waved his hand over the dead, frozen face of Aroyas.
Ecotyl squinted as he looked down at the robed man. Something was writhing, moving through the flesh of his right arm. It was larger than the flesh weavers he had seen before… it rippled beneath the muscles and skin like a wave, surging towards his bony, outstretched fingers.
With a wet pop, a pair of glistening tentacles burst from the first two fingers of his hand. Bulging, slime-covered orbs tipped the serpentine stalks of flesh. Ecotyl took a step back, as the orbs slid open, revealing a pair of blinking eyeballs. The commander glanced left and right… His holy guards merely stared forward, as if oblivious to the horror before them.
“Now, Aroyas… there will be no more secrets. Now you will share all that you know.”
The tentacles darted forward, like vipers lashing at their prey. They plunged into the lifeless, unseeing eyes of the dead man on the ground. Blood sprayed from the corpse’s eye sockets, as the tentacles burrowed deep into his skull.
Sartarus twitched and shook. He continued mumbling his strange chant, as glowing sigils shimmered to life above his left hand. Images shimmered in the air above the spinning symbols…
Ecotyl saw a woman with lavender skin kneeling over something… artifacts, metal tablets. Red light burst from a muscular man’s eye. More symbols… planets and stars hovered in the air around them.
With a gasp, Sartarus snapped his left hand into a fist. The glowing symbols disappeared, and the tendrils shot back into his arm. Two crimson holes were left staring up from the dead man’s eye sockets.
Sartarus reeled for a moment, then stood. He wheezed for breath.
“As I said, Ecotyl… it takes a toll.”
“Those images… was that an illusion?” the startled commander asked.
“No, Commander, not illusions. Memories. The last things Aroyas saw before the falling rocks crushed the life from him."
“But what did he see? What did it mean?”
Sartarus glanced up at him, his sapphire eyes brilliant in the dark hollows of his mask.
“He saw the path, Commander. The path to eternity. But he was too corrupted to realize it. Corrupted by this world of flesh."
Sartarus spun around, and strode back the way he came. His guards followed, marching b
ehind him. “We have what we need. I know where our prey is going next. We must leave this system at once.”
“But sir, what about the artifacts you were looking for? We haven’t finished excavating the rubble here.”
He waved a dismissive hand in the air as he marched away from the commander. “Don’t bother. We’ll bombard this wretched cesspool from space. Anyone who may have come into contact with Karl Aroyas must die.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Talon stood before the sloped window of the crew deck. The octagon-shaped room was the largest on the ship, which wasn’t saying much. There was just enough room for a table in the center, and some smaller game consoles and holo screens mounted along the walls. It was the only place he had found on the ship that was large enough to practice his sword and axe forms.
And then there was the view.
Talon had never seen the space inside a star-path before. Rufa and his other owners had always transported him in life-pods, to insure he would be at peak performance in the arena. This was the first time he had witnessed the dimensional tunnel, the path that burrowed between the quantum strands of reality. He stood and watched, as vivid streaks of light flew past the window like the distorted brush strokes of a painter coloring the heavens. Within the star-path, space became a blur of red, green, blue… he tried to count the colors flying past, but he soon lost track. Some didn’t have names he could speak. In here, planets were dark shadows, hollows in the fabric of space-time. A void of clouds and mist surrounded the ship… Taking it all in, the colors, the vast enigma of it all… it was overwhelming.
After the events on Bakala, he felt lost, confused. It was not a sensation he was familiar with. As a gladiator, he always knew the task before him. He faced his opponents head on, weapon in hand.
But now… the dreams he shared with Salena, the flood of strange sights and sounds in the bath house… He sensed they were visions, glimpses of a past he had no memory of. His blood still boiled with anger and rage towards Aroyas, Rufa, and all those who had enslaved him. But through them, Salena had found him. Her path led him here, face to face with a destiny he wasn't sure he even wanted. Standing before the brilliant void outside, he knew this was the closest he had come in years to true freedom. But the dream-like blur beyond the window seemed to mirror the restless thoughts careening through his mind.
A gruff voice from the past cut through the haze of confusion. The words of Orex Griff, his old battle instructor, drowned out the chaotic jumble of thoughts.
Questions of philosophy are fine at a festival or feast. But in the arena, only one question matters. Will you fight? Or will you die?
Talon smiled. “Still fighting, old friend,” he muttered to himself. “Still fighting.”
He hefted his axe. The blade was deactivated, but he didn’t need it to practice his swings. He spun the metal shaft in his hands, sweeping it left and right as he advanced towards the windows. He spun around, and repeated the exercises, this time moving toward the opposite window. After several more passes, a sheen of sweat covered his skin. His muscle memory took over, and the practiced swings and strikes cut through the air with no conscious thought on his part. The practice quieted his restless mind. This was a dance of death. He knew each step by heart.
“Nice form,” a woman’s voice called out.
Talon spun around and raised the axe in a defensive posture. A shadowy figure leaned against the frame of the open doorway.
She took a step forward. The colorful lights outside danced across her fiery hair and golden headband.
Avra…
Talon lowered the axe. “I did not hear the door open.”
She glanced out the windows. “You seemed lost in thought. I know the feeling. When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I like to practice my Fera K’Ral.” She gave him a sly smile. “Or get drunk and start a bar fight. That helps too.”
Talon chuckled. “I was thinking much the same thing.” He glanced at her as she stood next to him at the window. “You’ve recovered well.”
She cocked her head. “Says you… look at this!” She pulled the zipper of her jumpsuit down to her chest, and turned her back towards Talon. With a shrug of her shoulders she lowered the garment, revealing a mass of purple bruises across her back.
“One more hit like that, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” she said over her shoulder. She pulled her suit back up and faced him. “Salena told me you took out that centurion on the stairs. Before he shot me again.”
Talon shrugged. “It was nothing. We are warriors, in battle together. I covered your back, just as you covered mine.”
She nodded. “It’s nice. To have someone covering your back, I mean. After what happened with the Sorari… it’s been a while since I felt that.”
Talon frowned. “On Bakala, Jula called you ignofacci… What does that mean?”
Avra bit her lip, and gazed out the window at the explosion of light and color. “It means exiled. Cast out, by the holy mother of the Sorari order.”
“You fight well. You have honor. Why would they cast you out?”
She grabbed the leather sleeve of her right arm and squeezed. She did not look at him as she spoke. “I know you've seen little of the galaxy… Take my word for it, it’s not always a nice place. The sisterhood takes in girls like me. Runaways, with no family, no home. They trained us to fight, gave us a place to live. A new way of life. But the competition is fierce. You saw Jula? How she moved, the things she could do?”
Talon nodded. “She was a skilled warrior.”
“The sisterhood’s training unlocks a part of your mind, gives you total control of your body. A fully-trained battle sister can flood her nerves with adrenaline to increase her reaction speed. Or stop production of acid in her muscles, push her endurance to the max. But for me… the things that happened to me before they took me in, the life I led… It broke me. I was so scared, so hurt, my mind wouldn’t open up. I stayed locked tight, like a safe they couldn’t crack. I reached the limits of my abilities, but it wasn’t good enough.”
She looked up at him. Her emerald eyes were hard and cold. They blinked, and her lips quivered, but she showed no sign of tears. “I didn’t want to disappoint them. I was afraid… afraid they would make me leave. So I turned to other means. The dust.”
“Fire orchid dust,” Talon muttered. “I’ve seen gladiators use it in the arena. Forced to use it, I should say. My trainer told me it makes a man fight with the strength of the nine hells. But sooner or later the devils come to claim their prize.”
“It’s true. For a while I hid the symptoms. The sisters thought their training was getting through, breaking down my resistance. They sent me into the field, on a mission. Jula was there, along with my keirtyi-sorar.”
Talon gave her a quizzical look.
“My honor sister,” she said. “The woman who took me in. She was responsible for my training.” Avra shook her head. “I was so high on the dust, I can’t even remember the mission. I blazed out, couldn’t follow orders. Lost myself in the bloodlust.”
“The devils’ claimed their prize,” Talon said in a quiet voice.
She nodded. “All I remember is that when I came to, my hands were covered in blood. Bodies were all around me… They were slaughtered, torn apart, as if they were clawed by an animal. One of them was Lakaris… my honor sister. She lay at my feet. My blade was in her chest.”
Avra looked up at him. “When the Sorari found out what happened, they cast me out. I would rather have died. You can’t imagine what it was like… To have to go back to that life. I grew up in the slums of a conquered world. I was a scared little girl. Helpless. Alone…”
“You’re none of those things now,” Talon said.
She smiled. “I’m lucky Zobo found me. Not a lot of clients would hire an exiled sister. The Sorari can make life difficult for anyone who tries. But Zobo didn’t care." She gave him a sad smile. "Maybe the old wolf was just happy I fought for cheap.”
�
��I’ve seen you fight,” Talon grunted. “Zobo got one hell of a bargain. Outcast or not, you have the heart of a warrior. If the sisters will not have you, to hell with them. You’ll make your own destiny.”
Avra reached out and slid her hand up his arm. Talon glanced down at it, then locked eyes with her. The shifting prism outside reflected across her face, making it difficult to read her expression.
“Is that what you plan to do when you’re free?” she asked. “Salena thinks you were meant to play a role in this battle. That fate led you to us.”
Talon brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “Salena has shown me many things. I owe her a great debt. But I don’t believe in fate, or destiny.” He held up his axe, and glanced at the shaft. “This… This is my destiny. My blades, my skill. The blood in my veins and the fire in my heart. I make my own path. If the winds of fate turn against me, I’ll face them head on, as I would any enemy. And if I have a part to play in all this, then by Orion’s blazing bow, I swear it will be my will that guides my hand in battle.”
Avra slid closer to him. Her arms looped around his neck, and her body pressed against his. He felt a triangle of heat, the warm kiss of her flesh touching him through her open jumpsuit. The fiery trail of light outside blazed off her hair, and there was no mistaking the hunger in her stare as her eyes met his. Her lips parted.
“And what of this debt you owe Salena? Do you belong to her now?”
His hands gripped her waist and pulled her even tighter to him. He felt her leg slide between his thighs. His lips brushed against her neck.
“I belong to no one. In fact, she told me you and I would be a good match. But she also told me I have much to learn about women.”
He tossed the axe aside, and wound his fingers through her hair. Avra moaned, as her hands slid across the muscles of his back.
“Good. Then let me offer you another lesson.” She stepped back. Her slim, pale hand slid up her abdomen and gripped the zipper of her suit. She tugged it down, and let the second skin fall away from her naked body. Then she pressed her lips to his, kissing, biting, grasping his hair in her fingers as her tongue darted in his mouth.
