The Deian War: Conquest

by Trehearn, Tom

  The storm chose today to disagree.

  “Florian,” she urged, prompting the wizened legionnaire next to her to switch his attention from monitoring the comms channels to her. His eyes were already asking for an order as his ears became filled with the reports from the frontline. “Get me the Apostle. We have to alert Phoenix about this”.

  “THIS WAR IS changing,” the Apostle of the 906th Dawntreaders announced.

  They were gathered alone together in the control room of the main factory complex at the heart of Khasib. During the campaign to save Kraxus from the control of the enemy, they had used this place to co-ordinate their strategies and military might. The room was pitch dark, as it had always been from the damage wrought by stray enemy artillery, but the glow of the woman on fire next to him suffused the gloom with her warming light.

  When Oz turned his head to look at her, waiting for a response and wondering why she had yet to say anything, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that she wasn’t on fire. She was fire itself. When she brought her gaze upon his liquid form, the elemental opposite to her own, her golden eyes shone like miniature suns. Brushing her smouldering hair from her molten cheek, she revealed a birth-mark that could only have arisen from the Blessing; a small, etched bird that burned a deep yellowy-red against the bold orange of her skin.

  Her voice was as uplifting as it was strong and powerful. “Changing, Oz? What do you mean?”

  Somehow, Oz managed to drag his attention away from the enrapturing mark on her skin, one that he thought beautiful but knew plagued her self-perception. He walked closer to her, feeling himself turn his body’s temperature lower, almost until he was ice so that he didn’t melt away in her presence. He kept his distance though, unwilling to get too cold. He knew it would hurt her to see what he would have to do to come nearer when she was like this.

  “This isn’t about numbers anymore, though it never has been. The enemy is starting to think, I mean truly think, about how to fight us” he answered, his breathe visible in the air as vapour.

  Her brow furrowed. “What draws you to this thought?”

  Oz thought about how to explain himself. He decided to be as honest and open as he could be. He would use her human name too despite how familiar it might be, because unlike him he knew she only liked to be called by her Apostle name when there were legionnaires around. “I can feel it, Novus. In my gut, in my soul…something’s changing. Something bad is about to happ-”

  Before he could finish, a small resounding note filled the room. It was emitted from the circular device on the floor situated between them, a physical marker that set apart their different natures. Oz had used it as a reference point for knowing where the middle ground was, knowing that if he stepped over to Novus he would have to use all his power to stay in his Apostolic form. The trouble was that they had fought for so long now that to be human was akin to being weak, though neither of them liked to see it that way.

  Novus reacted first, crouching down and activating the device. From its centre, a hazy image appeared that grew in size until it reflected their own heights. It took only a few seconds for the hologram to be resolved and before them stood a legion Commander. She recognised him immediately.

  “Jestarr, what news from our sister?” she asked.

  The Commander of the 109th legion, known as the Harlequins to both their foes and allies, was dressed like he had been in a battle lasting years. This was hardly surprising, given the truth, but despite the drawn out naval conflicts that he and his legion had endured in the Orpheus Sector, he retained his stoic demeanour. He bowed humbly, the plates of his black armour shifting flawlessly to allow the movement. The three royal blue stripes across his chest pieces and shoulders ran from left to right diagonally, indicating both his legion affiliation and his rank as Commander. The holographic image was so perfect that it even brought out the dark blue of his eyes and the rich blackness of his hair. A scar across his right cheek both added to his peculiar handsomeness and bespoke his history of war.

  “My Grace and Lord Apostles,” he began, acknowledging them both respectively. “The Ninth has declared a withdrawal from our naval engagements. She is bringing her forces to Kraxus.”

  Oz could see the blatant confusion in Novus’ frown. “Commander, we must have misheard you. Did you say Solitaire is disengaging the Phantom fleets?” She looked to Oz as she asked the question as though he could deny what the legionnaire had said, but he could not.

  “Yes, my Grace” Jestarr replied flatly. When they said nothing, he knew he ought to explain. “As you know, the enemy has been trying to outflank us for almost a year now. We are running out of tactics with which to use our limited numbers. She believes the enemy is about to pierce our defences and attack Kraxus with everything they have, no matter how and where we intercept them. We are withdrawing to the orbit of Kraxus to better defend it from their assault, my Grace.”

  Before Novus could say anything, Oz cut in. “Thank you, Commander. When should we expect your arrival?” he asked.

  Jestarr turned his head to answer. “Within the day, my Lord”.

  “Very well” said Oz. With that, Jestarr bowed in respect and the hologram was turned off. “She would not do this thing if she did not truly believe it was the only option left to her” he told Novus.

  She looked at him as though trying to gauge his conviction. Eventually she nodded, “I know, but that is what concerns me. You claim the war for this world is about to change and in the next moment the Harlequin Commander confirms it”. She shook her head slowly. “It seems as though words become reality and that becomes irrefutable”.

  Oz reached out a hand to comfort her, focussing his energy on turning his palm and fingers cold enough to become the ice that would neutralise her heat. Placing it on her cheek, he tried to soothe her, but he knew he could only do so much. She moved into his palm, comforted by the one man who could touch her when she was in her Apostolic body.

  “There’s too many of them, a storm too big to hold back…” she whispered. “How can we fight a foe with a god at their back and numbers uncountable?”

  Suddenly they were engulfed by the darkness. It took a moment for Oz to realise she had reverted to her human form, the light of her flames no longer breaching the blackness. He changed instantaneously too, aware that his cold features would only bring her discomfort if he remained as Waterfox.

  He brought her closer to him, wrapping her in his arms the same way he had done for the first time only a few months ago. The campaign on Kraxus had worn them down, grating on their spirits with every setback and casualty despite the truth that they still held the human world despite all the odds - and that should have been victory enough. The frustration of stalemate and the pain of loss had forced Novus to anger and depression, driving her into this room, the physical representation of her growing sadness. It was the only place that reminded her of Noiran - her home, the only place where her light would make a difference.

  Oz had comforted her every time, bringing the two of them closer. It was not only the war that threatened her mind, but the separation of the Chosen. Not so long ago she had confided to him something about the Lion. At first, Oz found her secret hard to believe, but over time he built a dearth trust towards her.

  Despite how it sounded, he knew she had told him the truth. Before the Blessing, she could remember something that afterwards broke her heart. She and the Lion had been friends, the closest of them, but now he gazed at her like she was the same as any of them. Now only Whitewolf knew his love and the true depth of his heart.

  When she was elevated to the status of demi-god, Novus thought she would never see the Lion again. When they had all been brought together in the Hydra’s House, she was elated to rediscover him. Yet, as she approached him, her core filled with joy and her body desperate to embrace him, she could see in his eyes that he no longer knew her. The decision she made at that point to pretend as though they were meeting for the first time was the hardest s
he had ever made. The ripples of it even now brought her low. Despite what the others thought about the love shared between the Lion and Whitewolf, and any sacrifices they may have made or have yet to make, she would instantly know her own sacrifice of their close friendship would be just as deep.

  Though, through all that despair and sadness, through all the fighting and conflict and the end of the Chosen’s union, Oz had been there for her. When she had wanted nothing but to burst into flames, he had been there. When she had wanted solace in the darkest room in the world, he had seen her true desires and been there. Now, at the time when everything seemed as though it was to be lost and all the months of war on Kraxus would be for nothing, only he had the words to say that could make a difference.

  “We are nothing if not together, Novus. You and I were Chosen for a reason; we all were. The Lion put us here because he knew we would not be afraid. He knew we could succeed where others would fail”. Oz pulled back from embracing her, holding her cheeks in his hands and kissed her forehead lightly. “He knows you still, Novus, even if it does not seem that way. He has every confidence in us, in you. How can you doubt yourself when even the darkest of worlds can be brightened by your fiery light?”

  She looked up into his eyes, her vision already adjusted to the dark, and saw honesty and care in them. “Will you always stand at my side, Oz? I cannot do this on my own…”

  He smiled kindly at her. “You will never be alone, Novus. How could I leave you, the only person who has the warmth to rival my ice?”

  With that confession, all the woe and difficulty fled Novus’s mind. Before she could even realise what she was doing, she moved close to him and brought her lips to his. There, in the darkest room in the world, he rekindled her flame.

  JESTARR APPROACHED THE command throne of the Shade Haunter, Blackstar of the Ninth Apostle. Solitaire sat there with a perplexing impression of concentration and playfulness. He had just convened with her brother and sister on Kraxus as she ordered him to, but now that he had come back to the bridge, he found her composure oddly unsettling.

  Before he could step any closer to gain her attention, her eyes closed and expression suddenly blank, she spoke. “Jestarr…do they know?”

  He bowed immediately, even though she could not have seen it. He understood by now that she had a way of simply knowing things. “Yes, my Grace. They expect us within the day”.

  Solitaire opened her eyes and observed the pair of screens that floated above the right arm of her throne. After a second she reached out and tapped a few details before inputting a series of commands. Jestarr didn’t need to look at the battlefield projection at the centre of the bridge to know that she had just located a weak spot in an enemy ship and blown it apart with an accurate volley of pulsar cannon bursts. She almost seemed annoyed that the battle hadn’t allowed her to do that sooner.

  She turned her gaze on him and smiled. “That’s good! Soon our game here will be done and we can return to my brother and sister” she replied, brushing the screens away with her arm and standing to leave the throne. Making her way to the centre of the bridge, she beckoned Jestarr to stand with her as she looked at the expansive hologram showing the naval battle taking place above a world whose name they didn’t even know. Despite its anonymity, it was a mustering point for a collection of Phantom ships and that alone was enough to stand guard over it and see them destroyed.

  Jestarr approached, keeping a respectful distance. The brightness of the hologram, displaying several dozen Phantom vessels competing with a third that number of Guardian ships, lit her face and it was impossible for him not to look at her in the way a legionnaire should regard an Apostle. No matter how he rationalized his duty as a Black Guardian and the manner in which he should treat her, he could not escape the inevitable truth; here before him stood the most beautiful woman in all the Gothican Dimension and she was the Apostle of his legion.

  Where the Commander shared the opinion of her beauty that every other Guardian regardless of which legion they belonged to would have, he was different in one respect; he didn’t know how or why, or when the feeling first came around, but instead of seeing her as a beautiful woman to be coupled with, he saw her as a daughter to protect. Perhaps that feeling of paternity was what made her so precious in his eyes, or maybe it was the other way round, but in any case he would never allow an unworthy man to approach her whether he was an Apostle or not.

  “What do you think of my strategy, Jestarr?” she suddenly asked, breaking him from his thoughts. When she looked at him with her innocent brown eyes, her pink and black hair rolling onto her left shoulder, he wondered how anyone could convince themselves that they deserved her.

  With practiced ease he covered up his thoughts with pensive silence before allowing himself to deliver an appropriate answer. “My Grace, we have lost but one ship. Your tactics have once again proven to be brilliant.”

  Solitaire nodded slowly, returning to look at the hologram. “It takes a lot of energy to project an image of a Blackstar into the void like we did. It was fortuitous that we had enough ships to supply the decoy” she said thoughtfully. All trace of her youthfulness was gone from her voice; at that moment, she appeared only as the austere, striking woman that he had seen her during times of battle and self-reflection.

  “It was not due to luck, but to your mind my Grace. If not for you, we would have lost the fleet by now. It is by your actions that we have survived against the enemy this long, even if through guerrilla warfare” Jestarr told her.

  She smiled again at him, her warmth returned by his words. She placed a hand on his shoulder and thanked him for his counsel. As she did this, the blips showing the enemy vessels were decreasing at a steady rate. Her forces had moved in quickly and efficiently to their rear, destroying the engines of the Hellbirth destroyers and Harbinger carriers to immobilise them. Without the ability to run or even turn, the vulnerable foes were easy pickings. For the next half hour, Solitaire and Jestarr watched together as the slaughter came to an end.

  Satisfied with another brutal victory against the Phantoms, Solitaire walked back to her command throne, a slight bounce to her gait. When she was seated, she called out to the bridge. “Communications, bring the fleet together and assemble us ready for the next jump! Navigation, plot the fastest route back to Kraxus; we are returning to my brother and sister Apostles and I mean to do so quickly.” Then she turned to look at Jestarr who had dutifully followed her from the centre of the bridge. “Ready the ship, Jestarr. I can feel something in the void, something ready to meet us there. Out of one game and into another, I fear” she said.

  The Commander bowed to her and made his exit from the bridge. On his way to the hangar bay, where he would ensure the Voidhawk squadrons were ready for launch and that countermeasures would be available upon translation to Kraxus, he allowed himself a small smile. Only after the Fall of Pheia had his Apostle been given command of the Blackstar. Since that time, she had proven time and again that the Lion had been right to trust her with not only one of the Guardian’s most powerful ships, but with a fleet to accompany it.

  Jestarr knew that with her at the head of his legion whatever they would find at Kraxus, they could defeat it.

  WHEN AKUREI TOLD Phoenix about the enemy’s movements over a secure channel, she knew where the Apostle had been. Though some legionnaires begrudged her for leaving the lines at times to be a recluse, the Commander understood without judgement why she did it. In many ways, Akurei was glad that Phoenix forced herself to confront and deal with her feelings. Though the fighting on Kraxus was always thick, the morale and capability of the legions there was so durable and high that it wasn’t necessary for an Apostle to be with that at all times. Now, however, Akurei knew that was going to change.

  “I am coming to you, Commander. We will face this new threat together and push the enemy back” Phoenix had promised her.

  Ten minutes later, a Stormfalcon landed on the roof of Akurei’s command post that was situat
ed amongst the tertiary series of defences in the western flank. Bearing both Apostles, the transport was as graceful as it was important. Had the enemy been closer to their position, that method of arrival would have been far more difficult.

  “Apostles,” Akurei bowed as the pair of them approached her. They were in human form, but wore the black armour of legionnaires, with red and sky blue stripes marking them as affiliating with the Fireblades and Dawntreaders respectively.

  Phoenix wasted little time in formalities. “What are we facing Commander?”

  Akurei led them into the command post to the same level where she had observed the change in play less than an hour ago. In the centre of the room was a holo-table that projected the battle as reported by the forward elements of the 77th. The 906th held the northern flank and had also been forced into a withdrawal. Oz carefully observed a bank of holo-screens that displayed the movements of his legions. Both forces were in capable hands, but it was evident that at this time the Apostles were needed on the field.

  “We’re not entirely certain, my Grace” Akurei confessed as she introduced the projections to Phoenix. “All we know for now is that the Phantoms have a sudden drive and capability to match it. They’re using tactics that are entirely unknown to them. Our forces cannot anticipate their next moves. At present, they have both the numbers and the strategy to overwhelm us”.

  Oz turned to speak to her. “Strategy? Since when does that word belong in the same context as the enemy?”

  “Since today, my Lord” a male voice answered from behind them.

  Oz felt surprised rather than gladdened to find that it was Volanquis, the Commander of his legion. “Commander, why are you here?” he asked, taking the Guardia to one side not trying to sound uncaring and rude, yet concerned for his absence from the northern flank.