Battle Across Worlds

by Dean Chalmers

So he would have a weapon, after all …

  -30-

  Ralley hung limp in the armored giant’s grip as the thing marched forward through the jungle. Taxamia was still imprisoned in its other hand, her eyes closed, head bent in despair.

  The giant followed the trail of broken trees and flattened plants that it had left behind in its previous passage. They soon came to a clearing, in the center of which was set a large, twisted crystalline device.

  As they approached, Ralley’s vision flickered, the stuttering light continuing even after he closed his eyes, and there was a painful buzzing in his ears and head.

  Ralley wondered if this was the device that had clouded the Order’s aon perceptions, creating the obscuring “mist” which had allowed the Baek Tayon base here to go undetected for so long.

  There were two bodies here too, dressed in the bloodstained blue garments of the Xa Ashaon guards. One of the corpses was crushed so badly that Ralley regretted getting a glimpse of it. Neither of them was small or dark-skinned enough to be Jarlus.

  Had the crafty Xai Ashaon escaped?

  The giant that held them stalked onward, and Ralley was helplessly shaken like a bag of skin and bones. He felt as if they’d gone on forever when he caught sight of the sharp slope of a hill rising just through the trees. There was an opening in the bottom of this rise, shadow-shrouded, like a cave.

  As they came closer, he saw that the rise wasn’t a hill after all. True, it was overgrown with moss and ferns and even small trees—but seams were visible underneath, the edges of gigantic grey blocks.

  The blocks sloped upward in a terraced pattern of steps, and Ralley suddenly had an image of the whole of it as a vast, stepped pyramid—although the apex was hidden from his view by the leaves above.

  The giant that carried them suddenly stopped, rigid and still. There was a whoosh of air behind them, and Ralley craned his head back to see an axehead-shaped flyer descending, touching the ground with a soft thump.

  The ramp hissed open, and the traitor Brace Aubren emerged, grinning broadly.

  “HEY!” Aubren shouted. “I’ve brought prisoners!”

  Two men in leather armor emerged from the darkness of the cave-like entryway. When they saw Taxamia in the grip of the armored thing, their eyes went wide.

  “I bear gifts,” Aubren said. “Get her.” He pointed towards the entrance. “Pai Lanaya.”

  Nodding nervously, they ran inside to summon their mistress.

  The armored giant started moving again, carrying them forward. It bent low as it entered the structure. They entered a dimly-lit tunnel, which sloped down sharply into cooler shadows.

  When they finally emerged from the tunnel, they found themselves on the floor of a giant pit, inside the vast stepped pyramid. The apex of the pyramid loomed hundreds of feet above them, where they could see shadowy openings amidst a tangled lattice of silver cords and ropes.

  The pit was an indoor landing field for Baek Tayon flyers, and in the center of it was an enormous blue-black vessel whose high prow reminded Ralley of an oceangoing ship—though it was longer and higher than anything that ever sailed on the seas. The prow itself was sharply angled, like a threatening blade, and it cast a long shadow across the pit in the light of the suspended ambia lamps.

  The great ship was so large that Ralley had no idea how the thing had gotten inside the pyramid in the first place. The impression was that the structure had been built around the vast ship, perhaps centuries ago.

  The two guards whom Aubren had dispatched now emerged from a hatch in the center of the great ship.

  A moment later, a woman followed behind them. Her close-cropped hair was shaved into stripes, and her eyes were a vivid red. Her own leather armor was black, with blood-red trim. Her arms were bare, and Ralley could see that they were tightly corded with muscle.

  So this was she.

  General Lanaya Culcras, the-one-I-shall-not-mention, blood goddess of the abarvae. He knew that with an ominous certainty.

  Ralley looked to Taxamia. She’d raised up her head and was staring venomously at her sister. He wanted to say something reassuring, give her something to hold onto, some hope … but at that moment, his mind was a blank.

  And so, he started to hum softly. He picked an arietta from “Feast of the Clowns,” a comic opera that always seemed to boost his spirits. He was desperate for anything that might give him strength …

  Aubren came up beside them. As Lanaya approached, he bowed low. She nodded back to him, acknowledging his tribute.

  She stared at them a long while, her eyes scanning Ralley, then going to Taxamia. “Da’ta se,” she sneered. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  Taxamia forced a laugh. “Nice to see you as well … sister. You have been hiding away from us for so long.”

  Lanaya stepped forward, stroking Taxamia’s cheek as the girl trembled.

  Ralley stopped humming, his body going rigid as his love was threatened. “Don’t hurt her,” he said.

  Lanaya laughed. “Outlander, you have no idea of the depth of hurt I have longed to inflict on her.”

  Taxamia was still shaking, but she did not flinch away, meeting Lanaya’s stare.

  “You’re still so proud,” Lanaya hissed, running her fingers through her sister’s braided hair, placing her hands on the sides of the Princess’s head and twisting, squeezing.

  Taxamia sobbed faintly, but did not cry out.

  “Leave her!” Ralley cried out. “Do with me as you wish, I will not struggle. Kill me—without the link, she offers no threat.”

  “You don’t understand,” Lanaya said. “But how could you? I don’t consider your presence here a threat at all. Rather, you are … a gift.”

  “Gift?” Ralley asked. “You mean to keep us as hostages?”

  Lanaya shook her head. “Hardly. But I can use you.” She waved towards the great dark ship which dominated the chamber. “Those who built this place already left one gift for me, their great blade of wrath. Never flown before, just waiting for the time when I might supply the holy fire for its belly.”

  She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted: “Technician Telnon—can you hear me? We require a pair of sympathetic master aona for the firing mechanism of the flying fortress’s gun?”

  A sweating young man who’d been standing behind them came forward. He had a crude bandage wrapped around his head, and the cloth was soaked with blood on either side. Had something happened to his ears?

  “Yes, Pai General. The aona we had were lost when the shells cracked. Fabricating another set will require much time and—“

  Lanaya smiled. “We don’t need to make them. We have another set right here.”

  “Where, Pai General? I don’t …”

  She spread her arms and indicated Ralley and Taxamia, as if presenting them to him. “Oberkion’s prophesied da’ta se. What we need is inside their heads. They are linked because of highly similar aona, yes? Could those aona not be brought into convergence to create the ambia surge we need?”

  “Yes, but …” Telnon hesitated, his voice choked, “I have no idea what that process would do to human beings.”

  “Telnon!” Lanaya shouted, grabbing the technician’s shoulders. He trembled as she held him with her gaze. “Redeem yourself for me. The great ship must have her holy fire. The royal bastards have found us and we don’t have much time. How soon can the cannon be ready?”

  Telnon turned and looked at Ralley, his lips quivering as he assessed him. “If their master aona truly are very similar in state … not long. An hour or so. They need only be secured in the chamber, and the conduits aligned.”

  “Do this for me, Telnon,” she commanded.

  He bowed to her. “I will make things ready for them, mistress.”

  Lanaya turned back to the da’ta se now, baring her teeth in a feral smile. “There is a sweet irony here.”

  Ralley shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Taxamia sobbed. “Ralley, she is going t
o use our link to power her weapon. Use us … to destroy Damerya.”

  Lanaya nodded. “Always perceptive, my sister. Our firing mechanism was damaged, but you’ll fill in nicely. Thanks to Oberkion’s meddling five hundred years ago, I now have the components I need in human form. Thanks to him, Damerya will fall. Starting with the Key which bears his name.”

  Ralley shook his head. He might not have his fiery state, but he could not stand there and let her gloat like this. “You can’t stop it forever. Destroy the Key, and someone will find another way!”

  She laughed. “It might be a very long time before they do. Once the Key of Oberkion is shattered, your world will be isolated, outlander; though its fate will come soon enough.

  “And as for this world, our own Merphaen … When I am done, men will see their precious civilization burned away. They will have no tools other than hand and stone. This is how it should be—humans are mere vessels for the ancients.”

  “Ancients?” Taxamia’s eyes went wide at the reference. “Like those who made your fighting machines?”

  Lanaya smiled. “Yes. Have you not guessed? I am their servant.”

  She pointed to her crimson eyes. “The Masters sleep now, but I know their will. They want a great holy fire to burn down man’s works, stop him from probing into things he should not know. I will do this for them. I am Kraelon—hand of the ancients. To resist their call would be the only real treachery.”

  Ralley suddenly realized the implications of her statement. “To resist—like Orcus Gaelti, you mean? He’s a Kraelon as well, isn’t he? That’s how he found the ancient technology, mastered the aon science?”

  Taxamia gasped. She realizes it too, Ralley thought. But has Gaelti betrayed us?

  Lanaya raised a clenched fist. “Gaelti is the greatest traitor ever known, because he has defied our Masters! He tries to resist the ancient call … Useless! I will see him dead as well.”

  That is what Gaelti means to tell us, Ralley thought. What he alluded to back on his flyer. He IS on our side, but he has to fight his own demons …

  “This discussion is now pointless,” Lanaya sighed. She waved to two leather-clad guards nearby. “Bind these prisoners with rope so that the Armor unit can release them from its grip. Then take the da’ta se to the flying fortress. Tell Telnon I want them … installed … immediately.”

  Ralley closed his eyes as the guards came forward to bind his hands. He tried to sink deep into the depths of his mind, hoping to find something there, some answer, some hope …

  #

  Xai Ashaon Jarlus Sanreeven crouched high in the branches of ancient gnarled tree, looking down at the entrance to the huge stone pyramid.

  When he’d caught sight of the structure, he’d taken to the trees and used the canopy to conceal his approach. His progress had been slow, made with nerve-wracking care—and every second of delay pained him.

  Now, he eavesdropped as two guards below chatted while they guarded the entryway to the place.

  “Is it true that they’ve captured the Princess?” one asked.

  “Yeah,” the other grunted. “I saw an Armor unit bring her in. I think that foreigner pilot found her—Mistress’s pet, I mean. There was another foreigner captured too, a man with orange hair, but I don’t know who he was.”

  “They gonna kill her?”

  The other man shrugged. “They’re putting her on the big ship. Taking her with them, I think.”

  The first guard sighed. “Wish we were going along.”

  “We’ll get our chance. After this it’s going to be a massacre. Probably attack Serath next—maybe we’ll get to raid the city.”

  Jarlus had heard enough. The Princess in this big ship? Taking her with them?

  He had to find this “big ship,” and soon.

  Gnashing his teeth, he fought the impulse to jump down and slit the guards’ throats, then charge into the stronghold in a one-man assault.

  That would get him nowhere, he knew. But he couldn’t help but feel that time was running out.

  Carefully balancing his weight to minimize noise, he made his way to the next tree. Hopefully, if the guards heard anything, they’d just assume that it was a bird or monkey—but he didn’t want to take any extra risks.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Jarlus reached a tree whose twisted branches touched the stone of the pyramid fortress itself. He clambered down onto one of the stepped terraces, staying low and under the cover of the greenery which grew there.

  There was a small opening nearby, perhaps an air shaft of some sort. He slid down into the slanted shaft, which was just wide enough for his narrow shoulders.

  At the end of the shaft, he found himself looking down into the interior of the mammoth structure. He had to be near the base of the pyramid, and the stone walls slanted up high above him …

  But a massive pit loomed below, so that the floor was a drop of at least a hundred feet below him. There were flyers scattered about the pit, and pilots were climbing into the craft. As he watched, one of claw-shaped flyers hovered upwards, turned sharply, and entered a tunnel near the ceiling of the pyramid.

  But one craft dominated the chamber. Hundreds of feet long, it looked big enough to swallow up a squadron of the lesser flyers. The big ship, Jarlus thought. From above, it had the shape of a knife’s blade.

  How did they ever get that thing in here?, he wondered. And how will they fly it out?

  As he watched, a group of soldiers clad in dark, shiny armor entered the hatch on the great ship’s midsection. After they’d disappeared inside, the ramp rose and the opening was sealed with a hiss.

  So much for rushing onboard, he thought. At least there was no sign of any more of the giant statue-things.

  Still, he had to get down there. He looked for a way …

  A veritable forest of ropes and silvered cords hung from the ceiling of the chamber, some stretching down low towards the ship.

  There was one such rope nearby … he guessed that he might swing towards the ship and drop down onto the hull.

  It would mean a plunge of about twenty feet from the end of the closest cord, but he could easily manage that. But with the chamber full of people, he’d certainly be seen. He needed an opportunity, needed to time his descent …

  Cursing under his breath, he forced himself to watch and wait some more.

  #

  It was crowded in the tiny reaction chamber deep in the heart of the great ship—and all of the attention was focused on Ralley and Taxamia.

  While Technician Telnon used a small ambia welding torch to fasten the manacles and short chains that bound their hands to the silvered struts jutting from the sides of the chamber, two guards in blue-black crystal armor looked on.

  Crouching in the entrance, they aimed their guns at the da’ta se and stared on with grim-set faces.

  As Telnon worked, the young technician was shaking, sweating, and mumbling to himself.

  He had to be in pain from the injuries to his head—but was this something else at work? His every motion seemed hesitant …

  Ralley wondered: Could they use that to their advantage?

  When the da’ta se were secured, Telnon stepped back and waved the guards away. “There’ll be no trouble now,” he said. “I just need to make a few adjustments.”

  The guards eyed him suspiciously, but nodded and backed out of the chamber.

  When they were gone, Telnon turned to Taxamia, bowing his head.

  “I must do this,” he said. “I want you to understand. I do not want to defy her. I do not want to die.”

  “What happened to your ears?” Taxamia asked, her voice soft and sympathetic.

  “Punishment,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry.” Taxamia smiled at the technician, looking him in the eye.

  Ralley had to admire the Princess’s grace in the situation. Bound, having faced her hated and feared sister, now awaiting death or worse in the chamber of a giant gun; but still she acted with courage and a
clear mind.

  “I remember you from the Order,” she continued. “Master Gaelti said that you had great potential. Why did you go to the Baek Tayon, Telnon?”

  “Sai Benion … was my mentor,” he said, choking up. “He convinced me. He said we’d be part of something incredible, a holy war where the works of our hands could change the face of the world—and we wouldn’t have to worry about the Order’s restrictions.”

  “Master Sai Benion is dead,” Taxamia said.

  He nodded. “I know. Benion was very devoted to the Pai General. He thought he would live forever, his soul linked to hers … But now he’s dead, and I am afraid.”

  “Telnon, help us!” Taxamia pleaded. “Come back to the Order—you’ll be forgiven. You can share your knowledge of this ancient technology and—“

  “I can’t free you,” he said, averting his eyes. “She’ll want to test the cannon soon, before we fly north. It’s no use, no use.”

  Ralley had a thought. Telnon had joined the enemy because he’d wanted to be a part of something bigger than himself. Perhaps they could appeal to that side of him …

  “Telnon,” he said. “Listen to me. I’ve come from another world to find the Princess. It’s part of Oberkion’s prophecy—to unite two worlds, bring about a new age of prosperity. But we can’t do it if we’re trapped in here. Think! It could be Telnon who turned the tide. Telnon, savior of the da’ta se. They would write poems about you, sing songs, and, ahh … perform operas.”

  “What is an opera?” Telnon asked.

  “One of the greatest arts of my world,” Ralley explained. “Tales of passion and heroes. Heroes like you, Telnon. If you choose to be one.”

  The man’s eyes went wide, his face slack as he considered the implications. “Yes, yes, but … there’s no way I can free you now. And once we’re underway, once the ship is in flight, there’s nowhere to go.”

  “Telnon!” Taxamia snapped, her voice firm now. “You must decide. Where does your allegiance lie? Will you serve her out of fear—or be a hero and serve the Age of Oberkion?”

  “I can’t free you,” he moaned. “I can’t defy her so directly! But I can … Here.” He took several small silver tools from his belt pack and slid them inside Taxamia’s tunic, under her arm where it was belted. “The control systems on this ship are very sensitive. You might do some damage with those tools if you could get loose. And …”