by Chris Fox
She delivered a fresh assault to punctuate her words, and for the first time since he’d battled Nefarius Aran went full defensive. All he could do was keep her blade at bay, and each time it hummed closer he realized it could probably do what her spirit maw could not. If that blade struck him, then it could draw out his name, and his soul. He could not afford to get hit even once.
Aran didn’t do panic, but he could assess an outcome, and understand he was going to lose if nothing changed. So he changed it. Aran didn’t try tricks. He didn’t teleport or summon darkness to blind her.
Instead he reached for the power that had filled him when Xal had spoken. What did being the avatar of a god mean exactly?
Tremendous void answered his call. An ocean of it, mostly fueled by the worship of demons back on Xal’s body. Yet Aran could call on that magic to influence events here. He channeled it all, every scrap he could manage, and enhanced his own density, thereby increasing his speed and strength to absurd levels.
The next time Nametaker flashed toward him he batted the blade aside with Narlifex, and it went spinning away from his opponent. Fast as air she retrieved it, but the damage to her confidence had been done. She prowled at range now, reassessing him.
Aran wondered if it would be enough. He was faster, and stronger, but still only had his training, plus whatever knowledge Xal had given him about dueling. He was good, but in the end the best he’d managed with Nefarius had been a temporary draw. And this lady was better than Nefarius. She’d had a hundred millennia to train.
Combat is simple at its essence. Xal’s cultured voice filled his mind. As my avatar you can increase your natural abilities. If you are faster and stronger, then you will triumph. Do not clutter your mind with worries about skill level or experience. After the first few decades there is little more to be learned. A new technique here, a new kata there. You have most of what you will ever have, right now. Use it to best her, Avatar.
Xal’s presence retreated, and Aran summoned a fresh wave of magic from the avatar’s well, back on Xal’s body. Every time he swung he moved faster, and the blow grew heavier. Now his opponent retreated, just barely keeping him at bay as he had done in the beginning of the fight.
Gone were her quips, replaced by intense concentration.
“I hate you so much.” She hopped backwards, and then translocated away, abandoning her forces.
“Narlifex.” Aran ordered and the blade obeyed. He’d already translocated to arrive here, which the necromancer no doubt knew. But when you carried around an extra god, one with its own worship, then you also gained a second charge of translocation.
Reality shifted as Narlifex pursued, and they arrived on the bridge of an unfamiliar Great Ship. The dead eyes of the bridge crew, and the spirit magic, told him he’d come to the Maker’s Wrath. Necrotis’s presence on the command chair confirmed it. She was pretty, but Aran preferred smart chicks.
“You followed?” Aran’s nameless opponent turned, and raised her blade again. “You might be able to best me, but my mother in her own stronghold? You’ve overextended, and now we will make you pay.”
“Will we, daughter? You’d expect me to intervene in an Outrider’s duel?” Necrotis gave a musical laugh. “No, no. Finish your work, void god. My daughter has outlived her usefulness. Afterwards if you’d like to stay I can fashion you a leash, Hound of Xal.”
Aran assessed the situation, and took a risk. If Necrotis wanted to be rid of her daughter he’d never have a better shot. He teleported behind her, and brought Narlifex down in a tremendous two-handed chop.
Somehow the loudmouthed swordswoman got her blade around, but Aran added impossible weight until Narlifex carried the force of stars. The divine sword hewed through Nametaker, and continued on to crash down into the necromancer’s skull. The blow split her from crown to crotch, and flung her broken body backwards as the necrotech legs detonated in an explosion of magic and bone shrapnel.
Power surged within Aran, and he activated his hound ability. Tendrils of void shot out from his palm, and wrapped around the daughter’s broken body. Aran pulled with his magic, and pulses of sickly white flowed from the doomed goddess, back into him. He finished her in seconds, and then retracted his tendrils.
“I’ll pass on the leash.” Aran offered Necrotis a Confederate salute with Narlifex. The goddess nodded back respectfully. “I have a feeling we’ll be meeting again very soon. Can’t wait to redecorate this place.”
Then he teleported outside her ship, and found himself in a howling storm. Sanctuary, the Catalyst he’d heard so much about.
Well, he’d done for the threat to Crewes. He hoped the fallout for his actions wouldn’t be too terrible, but even if they were it hardly mattered. He didn’t want war with the Confederacy, but if it came to pass he could conquer any capital in the sector in the space of a week now that he had the Bulwark.
Let the Confederacy come, if they dared.
25
I could scarcely believe it when Xal’Aran had translocated into the hold. Elation soared, until he engaged the Devourer. Their blades created motion trails, and the musical peals of weapons striking rang like temple bells.
Yet Crewes’s faith seemed well placed. The demon god held his own against the Devourer, despite giving ground, which freed Lady Voria to aid my crew. For good or ill I couldn’t help in the divine contest, but I could lead my people, and then deal with Jolene once and for all.
I amplified my voice once more, and clearly enunciated easy to follow instructions. My first step toward control. “Attention, crew of the Word of Xal. This is your returning captain, Jerek. As you’re all aware we’ve been invaded. Headmistress Visala is dead. Our captain, my mother, is dead.” My voice cracked.
The tears fell unheeded as I struggled for more words. Words that would matter. Words that would convey what we needed to do, and why it mattered. “We’ve lost friends. Family. Our home world. They just keep chasing us, and they won’t stop until we’re exterminated. Until every last one of us is dead. No more. Today we wipe them out, and then we find where they live, and we wipe them out there too. No more running. No more hiding. Gather your magic. Pick up your spellrifles. Wipe out these bastards. We’re stronger than they are!”
A resounding roar rolled through the students, and they surged forward. A fresh wave of spells lanced into the undead ranks, collapsing wards and ending swathes of wights.
I turned toward the battle with Jolene, and my heart threatened to leap out of my mouth. The necrotech empowered matriarch had created several clones of herself, erected wards, and summoned some sort of mech which had opened up on Seket with a high caliber chain gun.
Seket slid back along the deck as the stream of bullets ricocheted off his spellshield, unable to close with Jolene, who flung a disintegrate at Briff in the air. My best friend twisted out of the way, and in the process nearly thrust Rava’s outstretched arm into the spell.
Rava tumbled off Briff’s back, but managed to land in a controlled roll, then came back to her feet. One of the necromancers turned toward her and began to sketch ghostly sigils.
Nope.
I ripped Dez from my holster and sighted down the barrel. We’ve already covered how much necromancers love dream magic, their opposite. My ability to increase the magnitude of spells was tied directly to my strength as a mage.
As I visited more Catalysts, and accumulated more knowledge, my spells gained in potential. I’d recently been to Hotep, and while I hadn’t gained water magic, I had gained in magical strength, as had Dez.
I used that strength now. I rammed as much dream into the first bolt as it would hold, and launched it at the back of the necromancer’s head. Then, because I knew necromancers always had wards, I fired off a second at the exact same spot.
I’m used to things going south. It’s always a little surprising when they work as I hope. The first bolt slammed into suddenly visible wards, which unraveled under the weight of the spell. My second dream bolt, full magnit
ude, and as strong as I’d ever cast, slammed into the back of the necromancer’s skull.
Dez added her own fire, and a bit of void, making it even more lethal. Over half the necromancer’s skull ceased to exist, and the dream tore the bond holding the wraith to the body, probably not its original.
The arachnid harness continued to function, but the necromancer slumped over, now absent its puppet master. That wraith had been ejected into the spirit realm, effectively neutralizing it in this combat.
As an added bonus several ice elementals the necromancer had been controlling were now free, and decided they liked wights less than students.
“I owe you for that. Good to see you, little brother,” Rava called as she raised her sniper rifle and ended an approaching wight with a salt round. She trotted over to stand behind me, and exchanged the rifle for a high caliber spellpistol, something she must have picked up recently as I hadn’t seen it before. “Any ideas on how we take down Jolene?”
“Yes.” In the crush to save my sister’s life, and to get the student body moving, I’d totally ignored the massive clue Voria had left. I used my armor to communicate with the Guardian. “Bring me Ardaki. Now.”
“Of course.” Kemet appeared next to us, and then a moment later the staff appeared within my easy reach.
I wrapped a hand around the silvered haft, and experienced the same immensity I had when I’d linked to the ship and teleported the pyramid behind me into the hold where it now sat. The staff amplified my spells to divine levels, and if Voria was accurate, would be a lot more powerful than when I’d last used it.
I glanced back at Ikadra in Voria’s grip, and noted the brilliance pouring from both the sapphire and golden haft had dramatically increased. Were still increasing. Divinity poured from the staff, protecting my friends, and eradicating unliving foolish enough to approach the wards. Their numbers dwindled, while ours no longer did.
You are an embarrassment, Ardaki pulsed in my head. You are no true captain. No true eradicator. You have magic, but neither skill nor knowledge. If we survive the day I will teach you, but you must swear never to suck this badly again, or I will not aid you.
The staff hadn’t seemed sentient the last time I’d used it. I’d assumed it was some sort of extension of the Word of Xal, but now realized the eldimagus existed independently of the ship. It wasn’t like the Heka Aten. It was greater.
“That sounds like a deal.” I holstered Dez, and aimed Ardaki like a rifle at Jolene. “You teach me not to suck. Now I’ve got fire, and I’ve got void. I don’t know destruction. You act like you do. Can you make me a voidflame, or a disintegrate spell if I fuel the magic?”
You’re asking a tool of divine destruction to quash a metaphorical ant. The necromancer is bothering you? Will her death, and give me the magic, and I will show you what I can do.
I turned to Jolene, who sat in a stronger position than ever. Her mech now had Seket by his legs, and was bashing him against the deck. Seket, for his part, had maintained his spellshield, and used it with both hands to protect his head with each blow against the deck.
A thick latticework of interlocking spell wards rotated around the matriarch, including self-targeting counterspells, something I’d heard of, but never actually seen cast. A mage who cast one or more before a fight started pretty much won every fight.
But you can’t counter a disintegrate. You have to dodge it. Jolene had no idea I was launching a spell, amidst all the chaos. I wasn’t really a part of the combat, and stood almost seventy meters away. Too far to be a threat in the midst of combat.
I fed Ardaki all the fire and all the void that I could muster. The staff fused them together in a way I badly wanted to understand, and then amplified the spell internally, hundreds of times. After about three seconds the staff discharged a bolt of negative energy that anyone who’s seen a holo, battle footage, or witnessed a space combat of any size was familiar with.
The disintegrate streaked toward the Inuran matriarch, easily as thick as my arm. I waited for her to turn, or teleport, or dodge. She just stood there. The bolt slammed into her outer wards, and melted them. The self-targeting counterspells zipped in, but got eaten too. The disintegrate didn’t even slow down.
My aim was true, and it caught Jolene at the base of the spine, right where the delicate bundle of nerve fibers connected her to that necrotech-enhanced body. I needn’t have bothered. The disintegrate rippled outward, and her entire body and the harness dissolved into particles, and then disappeared entirely. There wasn’t even a Jolene residue left.
Beside me Rava sighted down her barrel, and unleashed a couple of ice bolts at the mech holding Seket. Both impacted the elbow of the arm holding the paladin, and enchanted metal went spinning away, freeing the paladin, who rolled to his feet.
Briff came in low and breathed plasma, which caught the mech in the face and chest, and set it ablaze. The melting mech toppled backwards, then exploded spectacularly.
All around us mages were finishing necromancers. The cost had been incredibly high, but we’d carried the day.
I glanced around for the Devourer, but there was no sign of her or Aran. She’d fled, then, and he’d chased? Who pursued a necromancer goddess?
An unkillable demon avatar, that’s who. Glad he was on our side.
26
The first hour after the battle was the hardest. I’d moved to the Highspire steps, and dealt with the line of officers, busybodies, and just plain frightened kids who all needed something different. New quarters in a safer part of the ship. Burial instructions. A forge for producing food for the first year students.
On and on and on it went, the logistics grinding me down in a way the combat hadn’t even managed to do. I kept looking around for the real person in charge, but they were all dead. Visala had loved this sort of thing. My mother hadn’t, but had at least been great at her job.
I had neither the experience nor the desire to run this kind of ship, and being that I’m not an idiot I knew I needed help. That thought rolled around in the back of my head as I answered questions. Could I find myself a Pickus, or the next best thing? What would that look like?
“Jerek?” Vee’s voice brought me back to reality, and I focused on her concerned face. Dark rings soiled her eyes, and she trembled in the way of mages pushed past their limits. “We’ve done what we could for the wounded. Lady Voria asked to see you, if you’re ready. Something about an after action report.”
Everyone knew the term on Kemet, but I guessed the lurkers probably didn’t use it.
“I’ll deal with it.” I squeezed Vee’s shoulder, and we shared a look, one I don’t think either of us knew how to interpret. We needed to talk, but now wasn’t the time. It was never the time, now that I’d become the captain of a Great Ship again.
As I trotted down the steps and toward the corner of the hold where Lady Voria was holding court I mourned the Remora once more. Twice I’d watched that ship die. Once in the Flame of Knowledge, and once on Hotep. I’d been so proud of owning her, and of being a captain.
At no point after linking to the Word of Xal had I felt that way. This was too big. Too much responsibility. It was like running a city. No, a nation. That word echoed in my head, but I set it aside as I finally reached Voria.
The crowd parted, and there she stood with Ikadra. I realized that I still held Ardaki in my right hand. I’d forgotten because the staff hadn’t insulted me in the last five minutes. I was certain it wouldn’t last.
“Captain Jerek.” Voria inclined her head in my direction, and then waved a hand. Her retinue took the message, and officers and adjutants scattered, leaving us in relative privacy. “We haven’t had a chance to speak. I’m…your mother’s death is a tragedy beyond measure.”
“Can you bring her back?” I leaned on Ardaki for strength, and made my demands of a goddess. “My father’s shade is beyond my reach, probably a prisoner aboard the Wrath. Maybe in a forgotten vial somewhere. The Devourer took my mother. Can you bri
ng her back or am I an orphan now?”
Voria paled, and her shoulders slumped. “I cannot.”
“During the war with Ternus,” I hissed, my words low and clipped, “you brought back an entire planet. Billions of people. You brought back Pickus in front of me.”
“Bringing that planet back took nearly a quarter of my total divinity.” Voria sighed regretfully. “I had no idea at the time what the cost would be. I’d still pay it, but doing so diminished me. I am the weakest god in our pantheon, Jerek. I brought back Pickus because we are linked through covenant, and because his death had been recent. Even then the cost was notable. Death is natural. Reversing it is not. Your mother is beyond my reach, and while I don’t wish to cause you pain…her very name was consumed. I do not think she exists anymore, even as a shade.”
Hot tears streamed down my face, and I was glad I’d taken the time to don my armor after I knew it could no longer be taken from me. Voria couldn’t help me. There was no reversing the cost. It had been paid, and now all that remained was moving forward.
I was an orphan now, but I could still be a brother. A friend. A captain.
“You wanted an after action report?” I tightened my grip around Ardaki, and realized that she’d been staring at the staff. I considered willing it back to the core for safekeeping, but she knew I had it, so there was no point in hiding the weapon.
Besides, the staff grumbled, you agreed to training. I cannot cure you of suck if I am kept in a pocket dimension.
“Hmm?” Voria’s attention landed on me once more. Her preoccupation alarmed me, but there was no greed in her gaze. She didn’t covet the staff, though I knew she would probably try to claim it. “Yes, I did want your final report. I’m told you journeyed into the Sanctuary storm, and that somehow you breached the divine city itself? I can scarcely credit the rumors.”
