The Complete New Dominion Trilogy

by Drury, Matthew J.

  “Come closer,” the old woman said, frowning to get a better look at them.

  “Esme, I have returned to you,” Paramo said, taking another step toward her. “I seek your help once again, if you will indulge me one more time.”

  The old woman, Esme, leaned forward. “Who is this man you bring with you? This man with power over the Guardian?”

  Cris took a couple of paces forward. “My name is Cristian Stefánsson, ma’am. It is a great honour to meet you. I have… some questions… about my existence here. You see, I died… ten years ago, and…”

  She raised a hand to silence him. “There is only One who may command the Guardian in such a way. The One who imprisoned me here.”

  “Damarus,” Cris nodded. “Yes. I know, I…”

  She closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. “This is impossible. Can it be?” Her eyes opened again, and she rubbed her fingers together as if trying to remember something. Then pausing, her lips creased into a sneer and she stared at him incredulously. “You!”

  “Esme,” Paramo said. “We do not have much time. Lord Damarus has returned. Xam Bahr has used the Xeilig Ark to… resurrect him somehow, with some kind of religious ritual… and it is my belief that Cristian here… was also brought back to life as some kind of… side effect of that ritual.”

  Esme said nothing for a few moments, returning his gaze, assessing his strengths and weaknesses, his thoughts and feelings. She sat back at last. “So you failed to stop Xam Bahr obtaining those artefacts. And now Damarus has returned? You spoke with such confidence about his defeat during our last meeting, Ammold. It seems the enemy has you at a disadvantage now.”

  His gaze fell. “The Empyreal Sun has proven to be a more dangerous adversary than any of us thought. Their treachery knows no bounds. The Nommos Empire has fallen, and the Terran Alliance will be next, if we do not stop them.”

  Esme suddenly stood, walked up very close to Cris, stared into the younger man’s eyes. At last, Cris saw her entire face clearly: eyes, sunken like tombs; the flesh decayed beneath skin weathered by age, lined by holocaust. “You want to know why this… Cristian… has returned, what meaning it may have in all of this,” she said. “You wish to know if his presence here is a key to defeating Damarus forever.”

  “You are correct,” Paramo said.

  Esme looked away. “And what would I get in exchange for this information? I am an old woman, Ammold. My lifetime has been spent alone in this place of darkness. There is little you can offer me.” She bent to look in the mirror, touching her aged face with a clawed hand.

  “Esme,” Cris said. An intense emotional wave flushed through his system, and he subconsciously placed a hand on her shoulder. She changed as he touched her, the wrinkles fading, the old youthful Esme brought back through the power which lay dormant within him. He jerked his hand back, surprised at what he’d just done.

  She gasped, looking at the glass, wiping at her eyes, and marvelled at the image of the exquisitely beautiful woman, perhaps nineteen years old, that looked back at her.

  “I can lift the spell which Damarus placed upon you,” Cris told her, his heart pounding at his own revelation. “Somehow, Damarus and I must be able to share his power. You can leave this cursed place - forever. That is what we can offer you.”

  Tears formed in Esme’s youthful eyes. “You allow me to see back through time. I had almost forgotten. I was so beautiful, wasn’t I?”

  “Beyond compare,” Paramo nodded. He fought to keep his emotions in check while looking upon her youthful visage.

  “You can be young and beautiful again,” Cris whispered. “Help us, and I will free you. You can have a second chance.”

  She blinked, and nodded. She turned and looked over herself, at this young body she had lost so many years ago. “The spell is lifted,” she muttered, amazed. Her gaze went back to Cris, a look of desire and appreciation on her face. “I never thought this would be possible.” She laughed.

  Paramo sighed. He suddenly felt very old. “How could I have left you all those years ago? I was a fool! Perhaps I deceived myself, perhaps I was afraid.”

  Esme smiled at him. “You did what you believed was best, in your heart, Ammold. I have never stopped loving you for it, deep down.” Her smile dropped, and her tone suddenly became very serious. “But you are right. The situation is most dire. Time is short, for the fleet of the Empyreal Sun will arrive in the Sol System within days. Xam Bahr did indeed resurrect Lord Damarus through the power of the Xeilig Ark - but his life force was cascaded into two, an effect that nobody had foreseen. You already knew this. Cristian, his original human self - here with us now - and the eidolon which soured his mind. Two parts of one whole. It is the Eidolon alone which now threatens the Terran Alliance.”

  Cris was visibly jolted by this information. “I knew it,” he breathed.

  Paramo frowned. “What exactly is this ‘eidolon’?”

  Esme looked at him. “It is difficult to see clearly, Ammold. By definition an ‘eidolon’ is an apparition, or a phantom double… I can tell you that this eidolon was once a powerful king of the Xeilig, tens of millions of years ago, his name long lost to time. Then something happened… a creature of great power set about a campaign to destroy the Xeilig Star Empire, and the eidolon was forced to ascend into an immaterial plane of existence in an attempt to escape it. He was worshipped as an evil god for some time, but imprisoned in a place of great darkness. Over the millennia, the eidolon lost all memory of what it once was, and became a malevolent force of pure evil, thirsty for power. There is more, but it is unclear. That is all I can tell you for now.”

  “What about the red stars I’ve been seeing?” Paramo demanded. “For many years now… these red stars that eventually led my people to Cristian. What is their origin? And the dusty apparition, which appeared to us and told us to follow those stars… What devilry was behind that occurrence?”

  Esme squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating with all her might, but a moment later she shook her head and shrugged gently. “I cannot tell you. That is beyond my ability to see. I sense that a great cosmic power, perhaps beyond our understanding, has been intervening here, in an attempt to influence upcoming events. The motivation is unclear. This is most disturbing, indeed. It is as though the entire universe, the space-time continuum itself, is approaching a precipice, a looming event horizon which I cannot see beyond. I have never experienced anything like this before…” She gasped suddenly.

  Paramo perceived the young woman’s despair and went to stand by her and provide what comfort he could.

  “Some aspects of the universe are still an infinite mystery, even to me,” Esme admitted, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “There is much we do not, and cannot know, as a species, for we are only creatures of flesh. Perhaps we were never supposed to know such things. Perhaps it will be revealed to you at a later time…”

  “That’s okay,” he told her. “You’ve already given us plenty to think on. Save your energy, Esme. We’re getting out of here.”

  Cristian Stefánsson nodded. “Yes. Save your strength, ma’am. Now, follow me, please. I will help you across the web. We’re all going to leave this place together.”

  26

  “Dinner is served, Master,” said Sai’bot. He entered Damarus’ private chambers aboard the Retribution carrying two steaming trays. Placing both of them on a shining table, Sai’bot gathered his jewelled hems together and settled down, breathing in the aroma of savoury meats. He looked over at the room’s other occupant with good-natured impatience. Lord Damarus was sat at a huge desk, engrossed with a series of ancient parchments, just some of the spoils from his conquest of the Nommos Empire.

  The former Holy Emperor was seemingly oblivious to Sai’bot’s presence. The aging, decrepit creature cleared his throat. “Need I remind you, O Great Damarret, that your human host body requires nourishment in order to survive,” suggested Sai’bot nervously.

  Damarus looked up from the ancient texts, frownin
g. “Perhaps you will recall that I have told you not to call me that.”

  Sai’bot shrugged, smiling inwardly. This was a familiar conversation. “Will you not indulge an old Sirkharin in his personal religious sentiment?” he said. “It is all I have left of my homeworld, after all.” ‘Damarret’ was the name of the prophesised ‘Chosen One’ from the long-extinct Sirkharin faith, sent from the Heavens to destroy the Asterite, mortal enemy of the Sirkharin Majka. Sai’bot, having witnessed the Asterite’s death in a supernova first hand, had always believed wholeheartedly that Damarus was that Chosen One, and dedicated his long life to His service. After the writing of the Third Testament some time later, and the establishment of the Holy Orthodoxy, Sai’bot had chosen not to mention his own people’s primitive religious ideas too much - but since Damarus’ Rebirth, there was now a new level of trust between them. Sai’bot had saved his Master’s life, given him a second chance, and Damarus had repaid that debt of gratitude by opening himself more to the battered creature’s ideas. The simple fact that Damarus now treated him almost as an equal made all that Sai’bot had gone through to save him absolutely worth it.

  Damarus set down his parchment and came over to sit opposite Sai’bot. “Old Sirkharin indeed! How long has it been since I found you on that planet? The better part of four centuries? I have sometimes thought that you have more of a chance of living forever than I do.”

  Sai’bot picked up his utensils and began to eat contentedly. He was old, a bony, deformed figure whose monstrous body was lost in his sparkling cassock. By contrast, Damarus looked young, vibrant, filled with energy and life. His strong-boned human face was crowned by a blonde widow’s peak and short-cropped hair. It was his fourth such host body, but his eyes never changed. They were as hard and as penetrating as ever. Sai’bot was pleased that whenever they fell on him, they seemed to soften a fraction. To bring out a tiny part of the deeply buried humanity of his malevolent Master was no mean feat.

  “Let us discuss our campaign to reconquer the Terran Alliance, Old Friend,” said Damarus after a while. “Tell Me of the latest reports.”

  “Our attacks on the Outer Colonies continue unabated, Master. So far they have put up very little resistance; decreasingly so, in fact. Our intelligence suggests that they are focusing the majority of their military strength on the defence of the Sol System, in anticipation of our arrival there.”

  “They fear Me,” Damarus said, his eyes narrowing. “Yet by focusing on the defence of Earth, foolishly, they have opened up the way to it. Little stands in our way now.”

  “Indeed,” Sai’bot looked crestfallen. “No doubt Warmaster Paramo has a few surprises ready for when we arrive…”

  “Warmaster…” Damarus frowned. “He thinks he is so much more than that. He is nothing more than a heretic and a traitor who dared to defy Me, rallying others to his blasphemous flag.”

  “When I think of how the Divine Rule of the Holy Church has suffered because of that heretic and his revolutionary ideas…” Sai’bot said bitterly. “The changes they have made to the Social Order…”

  “Take comfort, old friend,” said Damarus, “for he will be punished for his sins soon enough. All those who dared to turn against Me will pay the ultimate price for their heresy. There will be no mercy!”

  Sai’bot smiled a little. His Master was correct. None could stand in the way of the wrath of God Himself.

  “I do regret your ordeal,” said Damarus. “If I had been able to foresee the outcome, I would not have been so easily fooled by the human woman, Lorelei Chen, when she ended her own life ten years ago. Unfortunately, I was still… restricted, blinded by petty emotion, corrupted… by a part of Me that remained in touch with My former human self. I allowed those petty concerns to influence My greater judgement. But that is no longer the case. As I have told you before, the unclean element, Cristian Stefánsson, has been removed from me forever, wiped clean, like a cancerous tumour, leaving only Purity and Godliness intact.”

  “Praise be to You, O Mighty Lord Damarus!” Sai’bot said, bowing his head. “You have achieved Your Perfect Self!”

  “When I go forth with the Empyreal Sun fleet and the Retribution, nothing that Paramo or the other heretics and unbelievers have done will matter. Not even Earth will matter. I am going to crush the very spirit of the galaxy. I will make them all pay!”

  Damarus’ gaze turned inwards, perhaps visualising the conflict to come.

  They ate in silence. Finally, the table’s communication link chirped. Damarus touched a button, leaning towards it. The voice of Kelan Hesas grated from the small speaker. “My Lord, the Retribution will arrive at the Sol System in a little over twenty-four hours.” Damarus and Sai’bot looked at each other. Both knew that the battle, and final victory, was almost within their grasp. Sai’bot felt a pang of anxiety.

  “Thank you, Kelan,” Damarus said. “Have a scout ship prepared, and send it ahead of the fleet. It is time we tested these… defences… Paramo has been preparing.”

  “It shall be done, My Lord,” the voice said.

  They both stood. “We will continue our discussion… another time. Until then, Old Friend.”

  “Until then, Master,” said Sai’bot, bowing deeply. Lord Damarus strode quickly out of the room, leaving him to stare at the empty doorway for a long moment. May the Grace of God be with you, Lord Damarus, he thought. The risks you take are so that you can regain the power, and with it, the greatness you deserve.

  You will succeed.

  You will because you must.

  When Cristian Stefánsson arrived at the banquet hall in the Sacred Palace for dinner, dressed in a fine Laputan suit, the party was already into its second course. It was obvious that the assembled guests had not expected him. Warmaster Paramo sat to Queen Neferneferu’aten’s left, dressed in a conservative dinner jacket, with a group of helmeted security guards at his back. Beside him was Grand Admiral Kuolor and his entourage. Also in attendance were Lorelei Chen, Machiko Famasika and Princess Esme, among various others he didn’t recognise. Cris couldn’t help staring at Princess Esme for a moment; she was dressed in a seductive outfit of fiery red silk, with an intricately decorated sash going from shoulder to hip, and embroidery both on top and at the bottom. A sexy, see-through posterior showed a simple, full-length camisole with spaghetti-straps. Her hair was brown, radiant, and held in a bun by clips. She was exceedingly beautiful, a stark contrast to the old, decrepit witch-like lady who had haunted the caves of the Monsula Plateau for so many years.

  As the robotic servers hurriedly set a place for Cris, Lorelei Chen introduced him to Grand Admiral Kuolor.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Cristian,” Kuolor nodded, offering him a glass. “You drink Aamnaman brandy, I trust?”

  “When someone else is paying,” Cris smiled, taking the seat across from Chen. He had no idea what Aamnaman brandy was, but he was willing to try it. “I should tell you straight up,” he said, “I have no military experience of any kind, but I am prepared to help out in any way possible with the approaching battle.”

  “I understand,” Kuolor said, taking a sip of his drink and looking at him thoughtfully. “That is most admirable of you, Cristian - but you have already done the Terran Alliance a great service, by lifting the spell placed on Princess Esme Mazzic of Laputa.” His eyes moved to the young woman, his smile growing wider. “Never did I think I would ever gaze upon this woman’s incomparable beauty once again, but here she is - restored to her rightful place. Even after Lord Damarus’ apparent death ten years ago, the spell he placed on her could not be broken, despite our best efforts.”

  Cris nodded. “Yes, well, it was the least I could do.”

  Princess Esme eyed him approvingly, and smiled. “If my father, King Chaleart Mazzic, were still alive today, he would have rewarded you handsomely for your generosity, Cristian,” she told him. Then her face turned pale. “Sadly, he was murdered by Lord Damarus’ Holy Guard a long, long time ago.”

  Paramo grit
ted his teeth and nodded, dormant memories and emotions stirring within him. “It was that cold-blooded, unjustifiable murder which originally convinced me that something was wrong with Damarus - that he was less than divine,” he explained. “I was one of those Holy Guards, here in the Silver City, ordered to carry out the execution - as was Doci Chen, Lorelei’s grandfather. We both refused to carry out our orders, claiming that no true prophet of the Biblical God would ever order such a damnable thing in His Name. It was, of course, the catalyst for everything that followed…”

  Esme stared at Paramo longingly. “You stood up for what you believed was right,” she said. “You were young, foolish, but you were brave, willing to stand up where so many were too afraid, too complacent to do so… and that, ultimately, is why we are all sitting here right now, and Lord Damarus is not.”

  “I can hardly take the credit for overthrowing him myself,” Paramo said, “when so many others died to make it happen.”

  “Modest. Though it is true,” Queen Neferneferu’aten agreed. “We do owe a great debt of gratitude to you, Warmaster, for all the sacrifices you have made over the years.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, in less than twenty-four hours from now, those sacrifices may turn out to have been in vain. As we all know, an invasion fleet is coming, and if our defences fail… then Lord Damarus will have won the final victory.”

  “From what I saw at Sirius, we’re going to need nothing short of a miracle to stop the Empyreal Sun invasion fleet,” Machiko said bluntly. “Their capital ships are powerful beyond all measure. The great Nommos people were unable to stop them. How can we possibly fare better than them, when they were so technologically superior to us?”

  “Our defences will hold,” Kuolor insisted. “I know it. They will hold. We must have faith.”

  “Faith in whom, Admiral?” Chen asked. “In God? I don’t know about you, but I stopped believing in God a long time ago.” She closed her eyes against the threat of sudden tears, and took a deep breath.