by O. J. Lowe
“Clever,” Meredith said. “Most people say the first thing that enters their head. It is usually the most important question they could ask, and yet they fail to rise beyond the mediocre.”
She ignored her. She’d had plenty of practice at tuning out anything Meredith had to say. It wasn’t much of a stretch for her talents. If the vacuous little bitch ever said anything worth listening to, it would have been different.
“Okay,” she said. She was as confident as she ever would be that the answer was right there in front of her. She saw what she needed, she knew what she needed to ask to ensure that the memories stayed with her. This was good, she felt the elation flooding through her, like sucking honey straight from the hive. “My third question. Here it comes. What are the exact coordinates of the location of the Aerius?”
Meredith blew out through her lips, looked up at her with that oh-so-familiar expression she’d often felt the urge to wipe off her daughter’s face with a few well-chosen words. Failing that, a slap would achieve the same effect. It didn’t suit Meredith, looking smug. She had nothing to be proud about.
“Clever,” she said again. “The Aerius contains all the answers you need, as well as the tools. Knowing how to work the ritual wouldn’t do you any good if you do not have the equipment. A sound stratagem. The knowledge is a gift from the Divines, three questions answered truly, knowledge as much a part of you now as if you experienced it first-hand.” Meredith laughed, something disturbingly familiar in the way she did. Another breath caught in her throat, she felt the coordinates emblazon themselves across the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t have forgotten them if she’d wanted to. “I’ve never seen it done that way before, you know. Everyone wants to know the fastest way to achieve power when they get here. They never think about the logistics of it. Power which cannot be reached does nobody any good.”
“Exactly,” Claudia said. As much as she tried to keep the excitement out of her voice, it threatened to be a losing battle. “It’s only good to you if you can make it work for you. Everything I need is on the Aerius. And now I know where to find the Aerius.” She buffed her nails against her jacket, gave the thing that looked like her daughter a smile. “This has been a productive trip.”
Her smile faded, lost amid the sharp rip rushing up her arm, the gem sliding in. Her skin proved no opposition to it, neither did the muscle below. She ground her teeth together, refused to scream. Only when it came to the bone did it halt its incursion, the tip grinding hard into her. If it hadn’t, she would have broken. She could feel the force behind it, had gone deadly still as if the slightest movement would sever her hand.
“Pain is sometimes its own price,” Meredith said. The way she cocked her head, that simpering vapid smile. She regretted saying that this thing couldn’t act like her daughter. Right now, it could out-Meredith Meredith. “Consider that little jewel a gift from me. I took it from Old Gil himself, you know. A long time ago in a different world. Stole it right off his shackles. One of seven little trinkets that could change the world. Little piece of him to take with you. More divinity in that one little jewel than there is in your world combined. Why you think he hid it here and not out there with the rest of them? It doesn’t make you what you want to be though.”
“A gift?” She studied her wrist, looked at the way the skin had fused around the stone without even a hint it had never belonged there. Tentatively, she touched it, prodded and probed with a fingertip. Not pain. Not pain as she recognised it. Something alien, an emotion she’d never experienced before. All she knew was she didn’t like it.
“I want it back one day. Nothing lasts forever. That will though. It’ll outlast you, I’m afraid. When you’re nothing but dust and decay, that stone shall look the same. I’ll reclaim it then.” Meredith smiled, her face shifted back into that of the old man who looked like the pictures she’d seen of her grandfather. She’d never met the man, at least not that she could remember.
“I’ll probably not need it then,” she said. “It shouldn’t be an issue.”
“It won’t. Never mind shouldn’t.” She saw the annoyance flicker across his face. “You can be certain of that, I assure you.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “What’s your name and why are you helping me.”
The old man cackled, clucked his tongue in glee. “Oh, my dear, if you wished to know that, you should have asked before. Everyone has their reasons, I will say that. It’s hard not to toy with mortals. You’re just so delightfully self-destructive. You know you shouldn’t do something, and yet…”
He raised his hand, let it fall as a whistle slipped from his lips. “You’ll always find a way to jump when you should be backing away from the edge.”
“We’ll see who jumps,” she said. “I’ll be back here soon.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Divinity has its pitfalls. Even with the help from that little trinket in your wrist, there’s no guarantees. Games are so much more fun when you know the outcome.”
She opened her mouth to say more, yet no sound emerged, silence followed every twitch of her oral muscles. Her feet slipped, the ground was no longer solid beneath her and suddenly nothing was rushing up to greet her, nothing but unending blackness as far as she could see…
That had been months ago. She’d been busy. Not knowing now what she had back then about the Aerius, she’d set about the research, putting Sinkins on it. He did so love to hit the records, dig through those mysteries of the past. Besides, there was a war to wage and she couldn’t chase her own fantasies half cocked. Now. Now was the time. And only now had she succeeded.
A smile played over her lips as she stared out the window at the view below. “Perfect,” she said to herself, knowing nobody was around to hear it.
The Aerius had been a magnificent ship in her day, her maiden voyage nearly fifty years ago had been to explore the newly minted five kingdoms. She’d been a joint project, a vision for the future using the labours of the past. Over two thousand feet long and half as high, massive for the time and still a record for the largest non-military vessel ever built. She’d always been fascinated by the mystery. How did something so large and constructed so perfectly just vanish from sight without even a hint as to where it had gone. People had searched for it ever since. If it had been at sea, that might have been explained. There was a lot of unexplored ocean out there. It was hard to chart every inch of the sea floor, not to mention a wasted expense. The Aerius had crashed on land. It had been over Premesoir when it had, somewhere amidst the mountains. That explained much.
Even now she knew where to look, it was still a challenge to see it. Over time, stones and shale had covered the hull, already colours on a par with each other. There’d been bronze in these mountains once, patches of discoloured earth remained where the metal had once resided, stagnant deposits too worthless to dig out. Those patches mingled with the layers of rust spattering the hull, making the task even more challenging.
They’d left the Eye in a smaller ship, to bring her stronghold down this close to the ground would have invited catastrophe. It might be shielded against radar, but they’d already found out that it could still be seen by the naked eye. The last thing she wanted was another attack. The first one had cost them too much. They’d had to jettison half the station. Too many resources lost. Some of them had never been recovered. Rocastle had made the choice, and she hadn’t blamed him. She couldn’t, not when it would have been her decision to do the same thing. Things could be reclaimed if one was in position to do so. If the entire thing had been destroyed, her efforts would be futile.
She glanced back across the hold behind her, studying the armed force that she’d brought with her. She didn’t anticipate trouble, anyone aboard had to be long dead. Yet it didn’t pay to take risks. Claudia shot a glance at the gem in her wrist, the Gilgarus Heart. Since she’d gotten it, she’d survived two assassination attempts, being shot and stabbed no longer appeared to bother her as much as it once might. A fantastic situation yet
those words about pitfalls echoed too deep in her ears. She couldn’t shake the feeling that when the moment came, and she might need it, the feeling of invincibility might fail her. She didn’t know where it came from. Maybe some lost remnant of omniscience that hung back from her time in the Chamber. Maybe. The Chamber had been a means to an end. Trinkets and artefacts of an earlier age were one thing. This stone was pretty, it had its uses. There were items of true power out there, the things that the Divines themselves would kill to hold onto.
Too many words had been spoken about the stone in her wrist, the Gilgarus Heart and why it had been created and by whom. She’d heard the stories too many times. Jeremiah Blut had believed in them, had fanned the fires in her soul and though Sinkins proclaimed a denial of belief, there was still something in his eyes that spoke of the wonder. He looked like he’d tried to suppress it, yet the anticipation had only grown. Belief was a powerful thing and seeing it in front of you tended to strip away doubts.
That was where the stunt at the final had come into play. She wanted a show of force. She wanted people to fear her. That was how the Divines had started out. They’d come, they’d conquered, they’d won the respect of their people and the enmity of their enemies. People loved them. They feared them. Over time, that belief had only grown. The more they’d believed, the more powerful they became, thriving on it. She’d heard Carson voice the theory that they’d been powerful precursors to the Vedo, they’d drawn the power from the Kjarn in ways that people today could not even start to understand. She didn’t think so. She suspected it might be more than that. Carson knew things that she couldn’t. He wasn’t all knowing. Not at all. He was fallible, he wouldn’t have fallen as far as he had if he wasn’t.
Alaxaphal had insisted on sending a squad of his finest with her. Twenty of the best soldiers trained up under the programs. They were overkill, she thought. She didn’t need them. Not when Domis sat next to her. He was worth fifty of them. More. One hundred. He was worth a hundred other men and she’d say that to anyone who argued. Sinkins had wanted to come, she’d left him on the Eye. He was needed there. She wanted everything and anything he could come up with that might give them an edge as they moved through the Aerius. His was the mind that might unlock this mystery, better suited there than it was down here.
“What are you thinking, Mistress?” Domis asked, his voice soft amidst the sounds of the engines. The men in the back were silent. Just the way that she liked. They were too well-trained to allow idle chatter to filter into their wait. A mix of clones and recruits. The best sort of blend. She didn’t like groups that were too much of one or the other. The clones could learn something from the recruits. The recruits could learn something from the clones. Subtractor had pointed it out that it was ironic that those qualities desired to be suppressed in the clones, the ability to creatively solve problems using unconventional methods, to follow initiative as well as orders, they were the ones they sought after in their recruits. They’d recruited heavily in Vazara in recent weeks, sought to augment their armed forces using volunteers for the cause.
Mazoud had spoken big about making Vazara better, but they were just words. The reality of it all was that they had no desire to do so. The worse things got over there, the more likely the disaffected would be to join up. If they joined, her armies would be stronger. More men, plus the dozens of clones they turned out daily would swell her numbers and the more they had, the more her enemies would have to kill.
She couldn’t fail to win this war. Not if she avoided the sort of carelessness that would be fatal. Complacency was a bigger enemy than Unisco, a greater foe than the Senate. She couldn’t afford it. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m thinking,” she said. “I’m thinking that I want this whole sorry mess to come to an end as quickly as possible. I’m thinking that hoping they would accept my mercy was a grave mistake.”
“Mercy is always a mistake,” Domis said. There was no missing the scorn in his voice. She knew what he thought of mercy. It didn’t take much to see that he thought of it as weakness and oh how he despised weakness of any form. His secret that wasn’t a secret. She still remembered the day she’d found him. She wondered how much of it he recalled and how many horrors still lingered locked away in that inscrutable mind. “It’s just weakness that has yet to strike back and cripple you.”
“Perhaps. I think mercy used correctly can be a more potent weapon than all the soldiers in the kingdoms. It’s about knowing when to release your boot or when to clamp down. Give them your hand in friendship or offer them a knife in the belly. One or the other. No middle ground.”
“Yes Mistress.” Either he didn’t understand, or he didn’t agree. One or the other. She turned her attention back to the controls. They were on approaching, scheduled to land in minutes. She was putting down amidst the snow, she’d dressed for the weather in weatherproof skins. All of them had. One didn’t come to a place like this and not prepare. It was suicide of the highest order and she didn’t intend to die in a place like this. Should all go to plan, she might never need die at all. At least not in the traditional sense. As long as people remembered her name, she would live forever.
“Domis?”
“Yes, Mistress?” He was alert immediately, looking at her the way a particularly devoted puppy greets a departed owner. He was a murderer, but he was a sweetheart in his own way. More than that, he was her murderer.
“Give the men a few words. Tell them what we’re to expect down here and what I need them all to do. Leave them under no impressions that this is going to be an easy mission.” She smiled at him, patted his hand. “Motivate them.”
He could be quite motivating when he wanted to be. Only a fool would fail to heed his instructions. He rose from the co-pilot seat, straightened his huge coat and looked out to the hold. His face split into a mean grin, meaty knuckles cracked together. She wouldn’t want to be the one to argue with him.
“Right!” he said, his voice breaking the silence. All eyes were on him. “You know we’re here on an exploration mission. That means you touch nothing you don’t have to, you don’t break anything either. The Mistress’ grand plan continues here. Should you be the one to derail it…” He let the sentence hang, his grin growing wider and wider. “Ah, you’re not going to be the ones who derail it. You were picked because you’re the best of the best and when our Mistress moves, she wants the best around her. Consider yourselves to be her honour guard, a beacon to be looked up to by those left behind. Remember your training and our mission will be a success.”
She brought the landing gears into play, felt the runners kiss the snow and she settled her head back. The engines died as silence overcame them.
“You’re all going to be fine,” she said, shooting a grin back at them. The rictus on her face was uncomfortable, but her words sounded more reassuring than Domis’ had. “Now let’s move out.”
Divines, it was cold. She’d bunched her coat up around her neck and ears to try and shut some of it out, yet still it threatened to chill her to the bones. She could see her breath in front of her, her hands frozen in her gloves. When she tried to move her fingers, the simplest motion brought tears to her eyes, smearing the goggles. They’d all worn the goggles. Not the most fashionably flattering of items but without them, she shuddered to think of how devastating this would be.
Domis bore it without complaint or protective gear, just strode off into the storm without a care for his own safety. She worried for him. Just because he hadn’t found anything that could kill him yet did not mean that that day might not come. Without him, things would grow harder. He had done his part in killing Nwakili, though that fight had almost brought him down. A cunning opponent could work around him, despite that fantastic healing ability that had brought Domis back from the brink so many times and that uncanny strength that she’d seen him display.
“Be safe, my black scoundrel,” she said under her breath. She didn’t want the grunts to hear her. She didn’t want Domis to
know she worried about him.
More than once, she’d wondered about his origins. When she’d found him, she’d known she was in the company of someone who had the potential to be truly special. He’d practically been raised by her, a proto-son to go with her ungrateful bitch of a daughter. If only their better qualities had rubbed off on each other, Domis getting some of Meredith’s composure and restraint, Meredith getting any of Domis’ anything would have suited her. It was a mystery yet to be denied to her. Maybe she’d found out when she’d been in the Chamber of Fate. Maybe the answer would have shocked her. Now though, she couldn’t say. It would come back to her. Soon.
The answers were here. She knew that for certain. Something about this ship called to her, its very presence screaming out at her to come enter it, a dull wail under the fine webs of her soul. It made her head ache just listening to it.
They’d enter soon. Already two of her men were starting to fire up a thermal lance, they’d cut in through the hold and make their way up towards the passenger cabins. At least the heat from the lance made the task somewhat bearable.
“Good job,” she said, taking a step back to watch them. She stopped, looked around at the Aerius. It had landed on its belly and skidded across the dirt by the looks of it, though any groove in the ground had long since been covered by the elements. Claudia glanced back and forth, she’d noticed some impact damage as she’d brought the little shuttle in and it didn’t look better from the ground.
“Now what happened here?” she mused to herself. “What brought you down?”
She could feel Domis next to her, silent and unmoving.
“We’re the first people to see this in a long time,” she said, looking up at him. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
