by Chris Fox
“Oh.” Well that seemed pretty definitive. “We’ll do as they ask, Administrator. I don’t think they’re interested in you.”
“Still.” Bokken picked at a blemish on his cheek. “If you really can make this a Confederate outpost I’d be grateful. Not grateful enough to pay you, but, I’d give you 10% off on all marketplace purchases the day you get back.”
“Wow, thanks.” My voice was dry sand. I killed the connection.
“What are you going to do?” Miri asked. It irked me that she hadn’t left when I’d asked, but not enough for me to be a jerk about it.
“We’re going to do exactly what Utred asks. Blowing up the station would be just the first step. He already knows I care about my mother.” I hated that he could control me by leveraging something I didn’t want to lose, but short of playing along until I could get the upper hand I didn’t know how to handle it.
Miri gave my shoulder a squeeze, then hurried from my quarters.
7
I sprinted off the bridge as Seket piloted us into the headwinds at the very edge of the storm. The ship canted and bucked like a living thing as I picked a path to the cargo bay.
Briff still hadn’t emerged, and wasn’t likely to. Rava was a mess over it, and I couldn’t have her distracted, so she stayed with Briff. That left Kurz, who would be extremely useful when dealing with binders, and Miri, who was extremely useful at dealing with everything. Both were already waiting for me.
Not that it mattered what we brought, but that didn’t mean we shouldn’t be as prepared as possible. I resisted the urge to draw Dez as the ship went into free fall, and then corrected. It thought we were in atmosphere, and the antigravity compensation was all out of wack.
“Kurz, I don’t want to pry about your, ah, faith, but Utred was one of the ones pulling the strings on the Wrath. He used the lurkers.” I waited until the moppy-haired soulcatcher turned an awkward gaze my way. Both hands were wrapped around his bandolier, which bristled with vials, each containing a different colored soul. “I know there might be some ill will, but we can’t afford a fight.”
“I am dispassionate about all things.” Kurz pushed his hair out of his eyes, and gave me a freckled smile that, just for a moment, made him resemble a real person, with actual emotions. “Except for spiders. And knowledge. These people are ancient. I will venerate them properly. I do not hold my sister’s preconceived notions about our faith, nor do I hold grudges against those who manipulated us. Also, if you are sleeping with Miri I will find out. I see how much time you are spending together.”
I blinked a few times, then willed my mask to slither over my face to avoid answering.
“You haven’t heard us?” Miri offered Kurz a lascivious smile. “We’re at it all hours of the night.” The smile disappeared, and her face went innocent. “Research, Kurz. What did you think I was talking about?”
Kurz merely raised an eyebrow, immune to Miri. “Uh huh. I’ll know when it happens.”
“We need to focus,” I growled. I knew the nervous banter was their way of coping with the waiting, but if we didn’t stay frosty who knew what Utred would have me agreeing to? I hated being out of my depths. “The wind has stopped. We’re docking.”
The ship lurched a final time, then the gears ground beneath us as the landing gear deployed. The ship settled into a perfect landing, which didn’t really register in my suit. I’d never been more thankful for Seket’s perfect piloting.
The ramp lowered, and I ambled down it, unsurprised when Utred stood waiting atop his bizarre harness, the dragon claws digging into the ship’s rusted deck. A well groomed necromancer lurked behind him with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet well apart.
“Jerek!” Utred called as he scuttled forward. “It’s been so long. I knew you’d except my invitation. Your father’s shade will be so pleased, and now your mother gets to live.”
“Where is my father?” My hand dropped to Dez, though I already knew no spell I could cast would get past Utred’s wards. Only Inura had really slowed him down.
“Right here.” Utred reached into a pouch affixed to his harness, and withdrew a vial that glowed with a purplish smoke. “He’s quite agitated at the moment. I’m certain he has a great deal to say.” Utred replaced the pouch. “If you get into the city of the gods, then I’ll release him to you. If you wish, I’ll even prepare a body similar to his old one, complete with legs.”
I nodded along with the speech. I didn’t believe any of it, though if he was lying I should be able to tell. “You already know you’ve got me to play, and that we’re going to see how this resolves. I’ll try to get into your city, and you know I’ll come back, because I want to free my father.”
“We understand each other.” Utred offered a merry clap. I was betting they didn’t let him out much. “Two things. First, we’re going to exchange wards.”
“Wards?” I raised an eyebrow. “You can cast them. I don’t have spirit. Life can do basic wards, I guess. You’ve going to have to tell me what you actually mean.”
“No, no. Wards. As in people we take care of and foster, you for me, and me for you.” He rubbed his hands together, then gestured at the immaculately dressed necromancer. “This is Siwit, your new ward. He will accompany you into the storm, and if you are found willing, will guide you to the holy city. He won’t tell me anything about the trip, but then I don’t really need to know how you get there. I just need you to get me in.”
“And how do I do that?” I tightened my grip on Dez, and pretended that I could quickdraw this problem away. I wished.
“Like this.” Utred’s hand flashed, and I realized he’d been holding a sickly green emerald. He slapped it against my forehead, and cold fire seared through my skin, and into my mind. It branded my very soul, and the gem disappeared into the skin, evaporating into magic in the same way a Catalyzation might.
I blinked a few times, and realized I could feel Utred. Not in my mind, thank god, but attached to my soul. I could feel him riding there, observing. And now that I understood the plan I could appreciate the brilliance.
If I got in, he got in. There was no way for me to double cross him if he hitched a ride.
“As the honorless said,” Siwit began in something similar to Virkonan dialect, “I will accompany you into the storm. We have a great deal to discuss. He can hear us, but I do not care. We cannot allow him to succeed. We must stop him from reaching the city, and we must stop his mother from seizing control of the unseen.”
Utred’s body came erect, and his eyes fluttered open, but with a milky film over them. “Ah, there we go. Puppeting my own body feels odd. Ah, Jerek. I mentioned wards. You have so graciously taken Siwit as a ward. I will take a ward as well. Tell me, the delightful Miri, or the dour Kurz. Which will you leave in my care?”
Crap.
That put me in a worse bind than any spell. If I left Miri I wouldn’t have any martial backup. If I left Kurz I might come back to find him drinking the company wine. I had to risk it. Miri was the better investigator.
“Kurz will stay with you, so long as we have your word he will come to no harm.” I folded my arms like Visala would have, but I sucked at it.
“Done.” Utred’s body jerked its way over to the far side of the hangar, and Kurz slowly followed, though he darted forlorn looks over his shoulder. At least he was trepidatious, and not eager.
“Let’s go, before he changes his mind.” Miri spun, and trotted back up the ramp into the Remora.
I extended a hand to Siwit. “Do you guys shake hands? I’m Jerek. Pleased to have you aboard.”
The serious necromancer delivered a strong handshake, then glanced back at the cargo hold. “I can seize control of a number of abominations to utilize as interior shock troops in the event we are boarded. It will only take a moment.”
“You want to bring unliving on my ship?” I shook my head vigorously. “Yeah, no. Seket’s head would explode. Everyone on the crew has life magic, and most have a c
ovenant with Inura. Not a good place for your buddies.”
“I see.” Siwit gave a sigh, though it was slight. “I will make do. Please lead the way, Captain Jerek.”
I trotted back up into the ship, and tried not to think about the storm we were going to sail into. At least we’d be away from the necromancers—well, as away as I could get.
Smugness rolled off Utred’s soul as it ground against mine like sandpaper.
Interlude IV
Necrotis savored her time on the Wrath’s bridge. The trip on Uldris’s rusted hulk had not endeared the unseen to her. They were not the powerful allies she’d hoped, or rather, they were less powerful. In a way, that was good. She’d be able to easily overpower them and add them to her cause. But she’d hoped they’d be stronger, the better to increase her own strength.
She raised a finger, and sketched a missive to her daughter. Even the thought of the child chilled her. Unlike Necrotis, she’d never taken a new name. Quite the opposite. Many didn’t realize that Utred’s sister had devoured her own name.
She had no name.
The power of that act meant that anyone who met her would think they couldn’t recall the name, when in reality it simply didn’t exist. Even Utred seemed to have no idea that he couldn’t remember his sister’s name.
That kind of ruthlessness terrified Necrotis, because it showed her how much further her daughter was willing to go. She needed to be removed, before she overpowered her parent as Necrotis was about to do to her own.
How best to accomplish that? She had just the thing.
“Mother.” The scry-screen flared to life as her daughter’s heavily modified form appeared, the necrotech as present as the flesh. “I have arrived on the trade moon. I assume you want a status report?”
The ferocity and disdain rolled out of the child in waves, contempt for all around her. She hated. It had consumed all else.
“I do.” Necrotis settled back into her chair and adopted a serene expression. Her daughter had not sensed the narrowing gaps between their strength; of that Necrotis remained certain. If she smelled blood, the Devourer of Names would already have pounced. “I want you to marshal your forces. When the Confederacy arrives in system, gather a strike team. Invade the Word of Xal. Kill her captain, and take the armor. You will find Inura aboard as well. Devour his name, daughter. Nothing is to remain. His power belongs to you.”
Her daughter smiled, the expression at home on an innocent maiden, delighted by something harmless. It belied the madness beneath. The maw consuming all emotion, all reason, and eventually everyone and everything around the Devourer.
“I will enjoy this. Thank you, mother.” The missive ended and Necrotis allowed herself to relax, and embrace the fear still coursing through her.
What if the Confederacy failed to kill the Devourer? What if she devoured the pantheon? If she realized what had happened, then she could come for Necrotis next, and Utred, and the unseen, and eventually all life. She would not only murder the galaxy, but all life. Even Necrotis saw the madness in that.
The scry-screen flickered and Necrotis straightened. She hadn’t expected them to reach a consensus this soon. The shipfathers, those who supported her, had gone to meet with those who had not. They did not wish to war among each other, and her supporters claimed there could be a peaceful solution.
She doubted it, but allowing them to try lent her a magnanimous appearance. Necrotis schooled her features to passive and accepted the missive. Imagine her surprise when the shipmother’s weathered face filled the screen, its ugliness a stark contrast to Necrotis’s own beauty. She had been more badly used than their ships.
“Yes, seventy millennia have torn away my dignity, and my mortality,” the woman rasped, her hollow eyes lit with defiance. “We have had our meeting. We have decided you are a threat, Necrotis. Those captains who have taken covenant will now break them. Those who have received your gifts will use them against you when we drive you from our skies.”
“Oh, no.” Necrotis mimicked fear, waving her hands in distress. “What shall I do? I must flee before your pitiful hulks impale yourselves on my masterpiece of necro-engineering.”
That bit had been well practiced. She knew that the shipmother would take it as the insult it was intended, which would anger her. Those with honor hated having it slighted.
“You underestimate us. Normally we would offer you our forces, and let you decide on a response. But we know you have no honor. So all of us will come, even those captains that you think belong to you.” The shipmother snorted, and the missive died.
Necrotis rolled her head back and laughed as she had not laughed in decades. There was no way to find the shipmother if she did not wish to be found. She could elude her for centuries, always striking from the shadows, always inspiring the unseen to defiance.
Instead the mother would launch a foolish attack that Necrotis had left her little choice but to persecute. If she did not take immediate action her captains would go over to Necrotis. So she must strike the threat, and demonstrate her power. Duty and honor dictated her actions, as if she were one of the primitive Ternus computers, bound by its programming.
She reached for every consciousness on her vessel, every unliving, every bit of necrotech, every shuttle, every fighter, and every capital ship, and mobilized them all at once. Their fleet was perhaps a third the size of the unseen, but far, far more powerful.
They were nothing more than a distraction, though. Necrotis had a truly diabolical plan that she doubted the shipmother had scryed. She would move to engage Necrotis’s fleet, because honor told her that Necrotis was giving her a fair fight.
When the Maker’s Wrath soulcannon drew their souls from their vessels, and drained them all at once, then and only then would they understand the folly of opposing her. Their bodies, powerful and ancient, and their vessels, equally ancient, would belong wholly to her.
If the Confederacy succeeded in eliminating the Devourer, then Necrotis would be free to finish off whichever of their forces remained. It would be a battle of attrition, but necromancers always won battles of attrition. There was no limit to the number of troops she could bring to bear.
Millions of wights were on the trade moon alone, ready to flood the Great Ships when the Confederacy arrived. In the past they’d never warded against tears from the spirit realm, and if that had not changed then Necrotis would be able to deliver an army of death that they would have no means of stopping.
She reveled in her inevitable victory. Hubris maybe, but well earned. Neither the Confederacy nor the unseen had any idea what lay in store for them when they finally launched their attack.
8
I liked Siwit immediately, which surprised me a great deal. I’d pictured necromancers as being like Utred, or Necrotis. Disdainful or crazy. Siwit was quiet, polite, and seemed eager to please. He also seemed well read, and interested in knowledge.
We sat in the mess, which insulated us from seeing our imminent death as planet-sized hunks of rock flew by outside. If Seket misjudged even slightly I wouldn’t have time to regret it, which was a blessing.
“How did you get roped in with Utred?” I sipped my coffee, while the dour necromancer merely eyed his distastefully.
“My shipfather sacrificed me.” He raised his eyes, and locked on mine. “I believe he intended me to land in your path, though I do not yet know why. He was canny. Perhaps he believes you really can make it inside the holy city. Perhaps I am a gamble, and he knows we will almost certainly die, but is hoping we might succeed. In any case he translocated away from his flagship, the Epoch, and left it to Necrotis. She kept me alive, as Utred insists that you are the only way into the city, and he believes I can aid you. May I ask—is his faith well placed? Are you some sort of savant? You seem…ordinary.”
A high keening sounded outside, and the entire ship lurched as if in free fall in an atmosphere. I grabbed the table with both hands, and wondered just how strong a storm had to be to overcome the sh
ip’s gravity compensators. The old Remora had sucked for that sort of thing, but since we’d gotten the upgraded version I’d never felt anything rock the ship.
“If I were a savant I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this situation.” My stomach lurched, and I wondered if this was what sea sickness felt like. “What are we likely to expect from here? Is this going to get worse?”
“If your friend is as good as you claim, he will ride a pulse from the eddy.” Siwit finally picked up his coffee. He sniffed it, and then set it down without drinking. “Once we are through we will be met by the current sentinel. They will hail us, and we will state our business. If they deem it worthy they will allow us to approach Sanctuary. When asked to state your business I would recommend including any weighty deeds you have achieved. My kind value honor and achievement. We care little for raw power, unearned. That is why Necrotis is such a threat. Her easy power comes with barbed hooks, and even did it not we would be well rid of such things.”
That surprised me. One didn’t expect a necromancer to wax philosophical, and it raised interesting questions about the “evil” necromancers. They were just surviving out here, the same as the lurkers, from what I could tell. Both had killed to survive, because they’d had no better choice.
“Captain?” Seket’s voice came through the speakers on my suit. “We’re riding the eddy. Things should be smoother. If you think they will hail us, then now would be an appropriate time to come to the bridge.”
I rose shakily to my feet, and threaded a path to the bridge as the ship shook and rattled around me. This was the safe part of the storm? I had no doubt armor panels were being ripped off by the winds, and all it would take was one collision…best not to dwell on it.
Siwit followed me to the bridge, and I moved to stand before the spell matrix, positioned so that when the scry-screen lit I’d be the first thing the speaker saw. Siwit’s words played in my mind. I needed to brag. I could do that. I’d done some pretty cool things.
