by Raven Bond
It seemed that the reason for this particular trip was the broken doll woman that had shown up at the hatch. By Lord Graves’ orders, Bates had escorted her directly to His Lordships office. The small woman was incredibly beautiful, and Bates could not help wondering who she was, and what news of import she bore.
“Thank you Bates, you may go,” Graves said without looking up. “Mr. Treacle, please show our guest in.” The dwarf turned from the door with a courtly gesture for the woman to enter. Bates felt the warm glow that he always felt when Lord Graves addressed him personally. As the doll-like woman stepped into the room, Bates discreetly touched his fist to chest in salute to Lord Graves, and turned away. His curiosity about the woman would not be satisfied today it seemed.
Illiya Petrov's fear had started when she was informed that the Master who had been placed in charge of Operation Jade had flown out to see her in person. It had taken her two days to reach a physical state where she could obey the summons to his air ship, after falling from the commercial air tower. Even the miracle of Transformation could only restore the body vitality to a certain level. Her fear leaped in intensity when she felt his power even before entering the room. She was all too aware of her recent failings. A true servant of the Light would not have been weak enough to fail as she had. Perhaps he had summoned her for Culling.
She advanced into the room as swiftly as she could, inwardly cursing the frailty of her still-knitting legs. If the half-breed had not gotten so lucky as to nearly disembowel her during that fight, the damage from the fall would have been healed by now. Petrov heard the servant close the door behind her, and move into position behind her. Standing before the desk, she tried to awkwardly shift the canes so that she might give the Master his proper salute.
“Do not try,” the figure behind the desk snapped without looking up from his papers. “Showing your weakness will not aid your case.”
“I am the Master of my Fate,” she croaked from a suddenly dry throat. She spoke the private greeting words of the Society of Light Invincible.
“I am the Captain of my Soul,” the figure replied, still not looking up.
“Lux,” she responded as strongly as she could.
“Invictus,” came the counter-sign of the Society. The man called Lord Graves looked up at her. He was a tall, thin man wearing a black suit, with black hair and dark eyes that glittered like obsidian in the flickering oil lights. Petrov judged him to be in his mid-thirties. She had been told that such appearance could be deceptive. Her own Master appeared to be in his late forties, and had told her that he was twice that age. Graves placed both elbows on the desk and regarded her over his steepled fingers. He did not invite her to sit down, and despite the pain in her legs she would not ask. “Whether that is true for you remains to be seen,” he finally stated. Petrov could feel his voice reaching deep into her soul, vibrating her core being. She thought that she was prepared for the power of another First Circle initiate to be able to affect her with only voice and mind. She was shaken to realize that she wasn't prepared at all.
“When you were put forward to lead Operation Jade,” said the man who had been called Lord Graves, “I was assured that you were both capable and competent. Reviewing your reports indicates that assurance was questionable, at best.” Though the tone of his deep baritone remained mild, Petrov began to feel as if her skin was being slowly flayed by razors. The pain began at the surface of her skin and exquisitely cut deeper with each syllable he spoke. She knew that this was the manifested power of a Master. She gripped the handles of her canes harder.
“Before we review your recent actions, answer this question,” Graves flicked up a picture for her to see. “Is this the man that you detained thinking he was Lord Hadley?”
“Yes,” Petrov said without hesitation. “He maintained that he was someone from Great Britain who knew Hadley. He said his name Charles Tombs. His papers bore this out. I had thought to use him as leverage, or perhaps bait, to draw out Lord Hadley.”
“And then you lost him to Lord Hadley's daughter and this band of mercenaries she had employed. In the process, your companion from the Moscow circle was killed. Two local servants met their demise, and a safe house was burned to the ground, causing public scrutiny. Is that correct?” Graves continued to hold up the picture.
The Okhranka had taught Illiya Petrov to never offer excuses.
“Yes,” she said evenly. Graves dark eyes bored into hers remorselessly at that answer. He continued relentlessly.
“You then proceeded to the commercial air tower in an attempt to retrieve this man. A number of local assets you had recruited were killed. You were publicly defeated, bringing a danger of our abilities coming to public notice. Can you explain your actions?”
Though he continued to speak in that mild tone, Petrov had to restrain herself from writhing in pain as he spoke. Each syllable now felt as if it were acid eating into her skin. What answer could she give? That her pride had been insulted when a slip of a British aristocrat had defied her? That she wanted revenge against Hunting Owl and his crew for the death of Pitor in Cairo?
“I was told that Lady Hadley and her father were top priority. I felt that immediate and direct action by myself was required,” she finally said.
“Study this picture well, Illiya Petrov.” Graves nodded at this without expression. “The man you had in your fingers was Nikola Tesla.”
Petrov's stomach fell through the bottom of the deck. Target One! She knew that standing orders directed that Tesla, as Target One, was of such priority that he was to be taken alive and delivered to the nearest Master, regardless of the cost. And she had let him get away! Her anger at Lady Hadley and Hunting Owl burned as a hot coal inside her. After a long moment, Lord Graves placed the picture face down on the desk.
“I have already taken steps to ensure that Target One and the Hadley's are dealt with. They are no longer your concern.” Graves continued to regard her, his countenance emotionless. “Your reports indicate that you have already succeeded in your objectives for Operation Jade, and that you were ready to advance to stage two. Is that correct?”
“I have taken control of the smaller local crime organizations that believe I am only an Okhranka agent aiding them in liberating the colony,” Petrov said. “They will provide the brute force for the operation. I have also suborned all British government Aetherwave, according to the plan. It is my judgment that we are ready to proceed with stage two.”
“Fortunately, your judgment does not matter Illiya Petrov.” Graves smiled thinly. “It is my judgment, and that of the First Circle, that Operation Jade is suspended now.” He raised an eyebrow as if to invite her comment.
Petrov opened her mouth to protest the decision, and thought better of it. She remained silent. Graves nodded as if she had passed a test.
“You have the government Farley crystals from the colonial assistant I believe? What was his final disposition?” Graves asked. Though his tone had not changed, Petrov almost sighed in relief as the pain his voice had been tormenting her with receded. She began to hope faintly that she would be allowed to continue live and serve the Light. She allowed no hint of that hope to enter her voice.
“The assistant is dead by my hand,” Petrov reported. “Clues have been placed that will suggest that he has fled the colony with a male lover to avoid scandal.” She indicated the purse at her hip. “I have the Farley crystals here.”
“Give them to Mr. Treacle, please.” The servant moved around to her side. Transferring her right cane to her left hand, she balanced on both of them as she presented the box of crystals into the dwarf’s waiting hands. The dwarf walked them over to a cabinet against the wall and placed them within.
“Mr. Treacle, place a chair for Miss Petrov, if you please.” Graves ordered. The dwarf crossed the room, and drew up a chair behind her.
She knew a moment's relief as she realized that she would not be immediately ‘culled’ by this Master. Gratefully she lowered herself into the
chair facing Lord Graves across the desk. As every member of the Second Circle had seen, she knew what a Culling by a Master would be like. While such a death was a great honor in its way, Petrov wished to continue to serve the Light in other ways first. When he spoke, it was as if the Master knew her thoughts.
“If you have any questions as to why you have not been culled for your weaknesses, it is because we have decided that you may yet be made stronger.” Graves tilted his head to one side regarding her. “Do you understand what our duty is to the Lux Invictus?”
“Lord Graves,” Petrov said with bowed head. “It is to perfect ourselves that we may better restore the world and ensure our place in it, defeating all lesser beings that would pollute the world.”
“Exactly,” Graves said. “There is a natural order to the world, a rightful process by which all life works in harmony. That order is perilously imbalanced today. We are in a decedent time when those of lesser nature rule, and the sub-races rise like a tide to swamp the world. It is only by the scientific knowledge of the Great Masters from Beyond and our own natural superiority that we of the inner circles of the Lux Invictus are able to become Homo Vertis, True Human.”
“I remind you of this Illiya Petrov, because being true human in this polluted world is a great burden.” Graves leaned forward, his dark eyes bright. “We are not in the Lodge; I ask no oath of you. I only ask if you will re-dedicate yourself to fighting to restore that order, and if you will do so at my side.”
A glorious vision unfolded before her mind, of Illiya Petrov, striding forth with sword and fire. To wash clean with blood, the world of its pollution, leaving in its place a garden where the benign wisdom of the Greater Masters ruled with order and harmony. The strength of the vision took her breath away. Never had she experienced such a thing. Dimly, she was aware of Graves, awaiting her answer.
“What, what of my duties to Father in Moscow,” she asked hesitantly, dazzled by the vision. It had been the Master known only as Father by the members of the Okhranka who had initiated her into the Lux Invictus. She had only served him directly until now.
“I will address that,” Graves responded. “The only question is, will you grow in the Light, and follow me?”
“Yes,” Illiya Petrov said. “I will grow in the Light.”
“I know you will little sister,” Lord Graves said softly. He sat back in his chair. “Is there any business that you must conclude in this city? Any prized possessions that you should retrieve? I wish to depart this filthy city of beasts as soon as possible.”
Petrov blinked to clear her eyes, thinking. She felt as clean as the new snow somehow. She knew that entering Lord Graves’ service was the right thing to do. It was as if she was ordered by the Great Masters Beyond themselves. Possessions, she considered the question. She had her kindjal with her, as always. Nothing else was important. She should, however, lay the foundation for their continued control of the criminal elements; they may still be useful tools.
“I should pay a visit to the criminal gangs to assert control if I am to be gone for a long time,” Petrov answered.
“Retaining control of the lesser beasts is always a wise idea,” Graves said. Lord Graves nodded, and for the first time Illiya sensed approval in that nod. It left a sense of warmth inside her.
“Operation Jade is merely suspended, not abandoned,” Graves continued to speak. “Arrange it that another may take up control of them at a future time. I suspect that you are destined for greater work, Illiya Petrov.” The warmth became a glow that spread through her being at his words. “Speak with Bates for any needs you may have.”
Petrov struggled to her feet. Strange that her legs did not feel as bad, even though they were as balky as ever. She pressed her fist to her heart in salute to her new Master.
“Lux” she said, fire lighting in her eyes.
“Invictus, Illiya Petrov,” Lord Graves intoned. The dwarf, Mr. Treacle, showed her to the door. Petrov moved down the corridor with a renewed sense of purpose. She had not felt so much a part of the Lux Invictus since her Transformation.
Chapter 17
Yangtze Hills, China
Will looked around at the remains of the camp with growing unease. It hadn't taken much to find the crash site once they knew where to look. A large gouge in the earth ran into the side of a small mountain the locals called a 'hill'. It was easily visible from the air. The signs of the camp placed in the gorge confirmed what was already obvious.
Despite the wishes of Abigail, Tesla, and Chang, he had dropped with Saira and some of her Tigers first, leaving the others aboard Wind Dancer. The ship floated a few yards off from the camp, black snouts of the broadside guns keeping watch over them.
“We have searched about two hundred yards out,” Saira said as she walked up to Will. “There are no people and no tracks. I have set up Regan and Tiku as flankers. Ravin and Sebastian are following the gorge to the hillside. I told them to report at once if they find anything.”
Will nodded, continuing to look at the devastation of the camp. Something about this smelled wrong to him. He eyes took in the smashed camp table, the overturned chairs, a scattering of books and broken glass. His eyes narrowed at seeing a stack of labeled provisions still sitting there. He pointed at the boxes.
“You ever hear of bandits who would leave behind food that they could easily carry away?” Hunting Owl asked suspiciously.
“I am thinking much the same thing,” his Arms master replied. “I do not know of bandits neat enough to leave no traces of fighting except for this.” Saira's arm waved over at the chaos. “There was a struggle here; you tell by the way the dirt is disturbed.” She pointed around the remains of the table. “But where are the defeated, and where did the victors go? Why is there no blood?” She looked at him. “I have a very bad feeling about this Cap'n”
“Me too,” Will agreed moodily. He checked the little box that Tesla had created to detect the plague rays. The needle of its dial was still unmoving, which was good he'd been told. He squinted up, judging the sun.
“We have a lot of day left,” Will said to Saira. “Any reason you can think of not to let the others come down?”
“No,” Saira said. “But I fear that Abigail will not be pleased with this.”
“I'm not too pleased with it either, but I'm thinking that maybe they may see something we've missed,” Will replied. He pulled a flare tube from his belt, and pulled the trigger. A white star shot across the sky. Almost immediately, the cargo lift began lowering from the belly of the ship. It held Tesla and Abigail, as well as the rest of Saira's Tigers, their weapons watchfully pointed outwards.
Someone had found Tesla a vest that was too short for him, but that he wore anyway. A pair of goggles dangled from his neck. Abigail was wearing the pants and layered tops many of the crew wore, pistol holstered at her side. She looked around grimly at the destruction of the camp as she came towards them. Chang was still wearing the same silk suit, impassive as ever.
“Captain,” Abigail greeted him. He could tell by her walk she was braced for bad news. “Have you found my father?” She asked it as flatly as if she was asking about the weather.
Will had to admire her for that. Saira had told him some of the talk she and Abigail had shared topside in the night. Will had to agree that the Englishwoman had the spirit of a warrior.
“No,” Will said simply. “No bodies either, which is good. You said that your father would have brought some workers to help with the digging, right?”
“Yes,” Abigail nodded. Her eyes searched through the wreck around their feet. “We theorize any vessel that failed would have been buried deep.” She gave a small cry of discovery, kneeling down among a scattering of books.
“Father's journal!” She held up a leather book in triumph.
“What's that?” Will had hoped that they might find some more answers, but hadn't expected anything this fast. Abigail was turning the pages rapidly, still on her knees.
“For ev
ery project he begins a new journal,” she explained animatedly, reading as fast as she could turn the pages. Tesla bent over her shoulder to read as well. She frowned as she scanned the dates on the pages.
“His last entry is dated more than a week ago,” Abigail said. It says. . .” Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by Ravin racing up to them.
“Cap'n,” he said breathlessly. “Sebastian and I have found something at the end of the gorge. There is a wall of strange metal in the hillside. There is no door or anything, but Sebastian said to report it.”
“Yes,” Abigail exclaimed springing up. “That is the artifact! Father will be inside! Which way is it?” Ravin pointed behind him.
Something enormous had gouged deeply into the bedrock, leading into the base of the hill. Will walked carefully across the bottom of the gorge behind Ravin, the others stringing out behind him; Sebastian come into view ahead. Sebastian was turned away from them, facing a smooth wall of gold-colored metal with an odd green cast to it. He turned at the footsteps of the approaching group.
“It's damn strange, Cap'n,” Sebastian reported to Will. “No sign of what you'd call a door. It sounds solid if you knock on it.” He looked disturbed. “It don't feel right when you touch it either.”
Will approached the wall. He reached out a hand, and then snatched it back, surprised by what he had felt. Sebastian was right. It felt plain wrong, in a way that was hard to put into words. It was not like any known metal; nor was it like stone. The smoothness felt unnatural to the touch, feeling neither hot nor cold. It felt like nothing Will had even experienced. It made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
