StarFlight: The Prism Baronies (Beyond the Outer Rim Book 2)

by Reiter

  “Surely not,” Ukara smiled before walking into the room.

  “The Ember Hall,” she thought, looking around at the ceiling, walls and floor, all ablaze with majikul fire. “What a needless waste of power!” Inside the door there was only a small space of flooring not in flames, and Ukara stood there as the guards pulled back allowing the large door to lower into place. Beyond the Blackstone flooring there was thirty meters of flames surrounding another Blackstone area, circular, holding a long rectangular table where two women and five men sat, all on the far side, facing Ukara. Coming up out of the flame and striding onto the fifty-meter radius area was the same black-haired man who had allowed Ukara entry into the castle. He approached the large table and bowed after taking three strides.

  “Greetings, my Masters,” the slender man spoke loud enough for Ukara to hear him. “… one of Curzakiov’s brood has approached this sacred place seeking audience with this guild. I have permitted her entry into the castle due to the standing of the family name.

  “The name is recognized,” the woman who sat at the far left of the table commented. “Well done, castellan. If there are no objections, allow her to come forward.”

  “Hearing no objections,” the castellan said as he stood up, turning to face Ukara. “… you may approach, blood of Curzakiov. Give your full name and be heard by this body of power!” The flames on the floor parted to reveal a strip of Blackstone, and a cool breeze passed over Ukara’s body.

  “Okay, I’ll let them have that one,” Ukara thought as she walked forward onto the safe ground. “Nice touch!

  “Thank you for receiving me. I am Ukara Brianne Curzakiov, daughter of Neldrynn, blood of the Tempest!”

  “The workings of the Tempest remain with us even to this day,” the woman replied. “While Neldrynn was of little note and less worth, Tempest was one of the founders of this Order and his blood will be held in good light until they diminish themselves. Perhaps you will succeed where your father failed.”

  “With that hope in mind, I stride to make that wish a reality, my mistress,” Ukara said as she walked onto the circle. The bridge she had walked upon was quickly retaken by the flames.

  “This one spoke of the purloined MannA Keys,” the castellan advised.

  “Such claims this body has received before,” the woman stated. “Forgive us if we do not jump at the naming of the power that was stolen from us so very long ago.”

  “Beings of power should jump only at so little,” Ukara smiled as she looked around the room. The nudge on her right shoulder was expected, but not so quickly, and her head dropped in disappointment.

  “Wait a moment,” one of the men spoke up, leaning back in his chair. “Did you say Ukara?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” she muttered in a disgusted tone. “Tired, old blowhard!”

  “You’re one of those Mech-Mages!” Ukara’s head came up, an indignant glare in her eyes.

  “You should really try smiling when you say that,” Ukara hissed.

  “You will watch your tone when you address this body!” the castellan warned.

  “I claim the right of blood!” Ukara snapped. “… and that means you are dismissed until these proceedings are decided.”

  “As you wish, Mistress Ukara,” the castellan bowed as he faded from sight.

  “That’s one,” Ukara muttered as she started to nibble on her index finger’s nail. She pondered as she started pacing to her left. “… six assholes left.”

  “You should truly have a care, child,” Thaporadryn grumbled as he leaned forward at the center of the table. He was something of an expected wonder. InvokeRs, as a rule, were known for slender forms, dedicating so much time to their studies that pursuits of physical development were often discarded. Standing two meters tall and weighing just over one hundred twenty kilograms, the red-headed mammoth was powerful with either wand or hammer in hand. “You have offended this hall. Do not think my hand will be held in place by my appreciation for what your grandfather has done for this guild! Your father–”

  “My father died trying to restore this guild to power!” Ukara yelled. “… just as his father before him! And they both knew the best way to do that was to restore the Tempest! I will succeed where my forefathers failed.

  “Of course, let us take a close look as to why they failed so miserably,” Ukara spoke as she paced. “If we use a sharp enough eye, we can actually see hands in their backs, pushing them to their eventual downfalls!”

  “Enough!” Thaporadryn boomed as he stood up, thrusting his hand toward Ukara. A column of white hot flame rose up behind the man and arched over his shoulder, exploding into Ukara’s chest. When the flames dispersed, she was untouched and wearing a judgmental smile.

  “Pathetic!” she said softly. “Were you daydreaming when I invoked the right of my blood?! My father was one of the four that built this place. These fires will never harm me!”

  “It would have been a kinder fate, fool!” Thaporadryn said as he put his left hand down on the table, throwing his legs over it and landing on the floor in front of the large table. Drawing his right hand back, a large black mallet formed in his grasp. “Now you will feel the power of my hammer!”

  “Funny that you should wield that weapon, Thapo,” Ukara said, crossing her wrists in front of her face. “Guess what one of the favorite tools of a Mech-Mage is!” Tonka exploded from Ukara’s back into a mass of murky black liquid that Ukara stepped back into. The fluid seemed to be consumed by her body as it formed around her, becoming living power armour complete with a hammer, shield, a winged and horned helm, and a cape made of micro-thin chains.

  “Mech MajiKs,” Thaporadryn huffed in disgust as the head of his hammer came alive with raw MannA. He grunted as he stepped forward, swinging down for his opponent’s head. Ukara lifted her shield to meet the weapon and cried out in pain and amazement. The power of the blow sent out a wave of force that the other lords and ladies at the table could feel. Ukara dropped to her knee and Thaporadryn lifted his weapon to pound down on her shield a second time.

  “Tell me, wench, what hands do you see now?!” Thaporadryn shouted, hammering down a third time. A crack formed in the middle of the shield and Thaporadryn knew this fight would not last much longer. Instead of swinging straight down, he swung across his body and removed the shield from Ukara’s arm. “I commit your black heart to the company of your failing father!” Thaporadryn swung his mighty weapon down. Ukara swung her hammer to meet his. Not to stop the force his powerful body had generated, but to drive the weapon wide of her body.

  “Sloppy technique,” Ukara huffed, standing up and driving her shoulder into Thaporadryn’s chest. Her backhand swing brought the head of her hammer to the large man’s jaw. Lifted from his feet, the large InvokeR flew back into the table that was jostled by the impact. He landed on his side and quickly shook his head clear of the power that had stunned him.

  “Get up, old man!” Ukara demanded. “I’ve got a few more Delman lessons to bestow!” Fear sparked in Thaporadryn’s eyes, knowing that the Delman race fought with nearly every sort of weapon, but they were especially good with the mace, axe, and hammer.

  “Petulant wench,” Zigana, the woman who had served as the guild’s mouthpiece spat as she stood up, her eyes glowing with more than abundant MannA.

  “No! She is mine!” Thaporadryn declared.

  “Knew I could count on you to be especially stupid,” Ukara commented.

  “Sixty seconds, Mistress,” Tonka projected.

  “Looks like I gotta monologue!” she thought. “I’ll have to channel Vyllynthe!

  “Getting back to what I was saying, taking a step back, a really long step back, I could see something just wasn’t right. Everywhere my father went, every place he turned to, one of you was there! Why?! What were you up to? You posted watchers and controllers down every avenue of casting power. Every avenue you considered worth viewing, that is. Once I declared for being a Mech-Mage, you turned your back on me
and I was free to take a closer look at the fabled Stellar Mage Guild.”

  “Were you now?” Thaporadryn said as he got to his feet. “And tell me, what did you find?!”

  “Enacranites!” Ukara hissed. “I found out where you snakes sold out to the Enacranites. The Tempest was the last of the four Stellar Mages. You betrayed him in the name of power promised to you by the Enacranites. Can’t say as I blame them for putting forward the offer. After all, if you find an idiot willing to turn on their kind, why not have them actually do it?!”

  “It seems you were able to take a good look after all, child,” Thaporadryn admitted as he readied himself. “Your find will die with you!”

  “Bring it, windmill!”

  Thaporadryn charged in, swinging for her head. Ukara leaned back as the hammer passed in front of her face. She came forward, swinging down for the large man’s face. Thaporadryn caught her wrist and quickly pivoted, putting her into a hip toss. Ukara was able to curl up so that it was her back that met with the table. Her armour held, but she had underestimated the strength of the InvokeR. Thaporadryn decided to press his advantage and threw his hammer. It collided with her chest and her body was pushed through the table, through Thaporadryn’s chair, and across the circular floor, where she rolled off into the flames. A simple summoning spell and Thaporadryn had his hammer again.

  “Time, Mistress,” Tonka projected.

  “Die!” Ukara yelled as she leapt up out of the flames, arching toward her opponent. She screamed as she swung her hammer down.

  “Now who is pathetic?” Thaporadryn muttered, meeting her swing with one of his own. Ukara flew back to the table, landing this time on her feet.

  “Tough old bird, aintcha!” Ukara smiled as sparks fired from her chest plate. “Ready to die?”

  “I am overwhelmed with your ambition,” Thaporadryn said calmly, twirling his hammer. “At least you know better than to engage in MajiKs. That I’ll give you.”

  “That’s because you don’t know the first thing about Mech-Mages,” Ukara said, hopping down to the floor. “You think I need a manufactured machine?! No, any simple machine will do. Allow me to illustrate.” Ukara snapped her fingers and everyone in the room started screaming, putting their hands to their ears. “Do you have any idea how the body hears? There is a system of bones in the ear, one is called the hammer, striking against another bone called the anvil… well, those aren’t really their names, but you play to the crowd you’ve got. Thought malleus and incus might be too much of a stretch for you. Anyway, it functions much like a machine, hammering out the vibrations of sound. As a Mech-Mage, I can enchant any machine, no matter how complex or how simple… and right now, me explaining this is probably driving you nuts!” Ukara flexed her arms and shoulders as her armour repaired itself. “Of course, another advantage, especially when your Familiar is a living machine, is that I don’t have to wave my arms about or chant in order to cast. My Tonka can do that for me!

  “Old bastard is strong!” she whispered as she walked over to her shield. “Gonna feel a couple of those in the morning! But, that’s the price one pays!

  “Time to die,” she said, hopping up to land on her shield. She passed through the aperture the shield had created the moment it was away from her body. It was simply a very small pocket dimension of no great consequence, save for that the doorway had been set up to enact an exchange. When Ukara’s body came into the pocket, the high-fusion device was ejected and activated. Ukara slowly converted her armour to an environmental suit and jumped up out of the pocket back into the chamber.

  “Ouch, that looks pretty bad people,” Ukara said as she landed on the floor. Her shield absorbed the radiation before closing the aperture. Ukara made a sweep of the room before she would say anything. “Yeah, pretty bad. That was a major flush of radiation. And I do mean major! Simply put, you’re dead. But wingdings like you always have contingencies for your death. Well, by the time you actually do die, I’ll be long gone.

  “Castellan!” Ukara called out. The dark-haired man appeared an instant later, bowing at her.

  “You called, my Lady?”

  “Bring me Maelstrom’s Press.”

  “As you wish,” the castellan said before fading.

  Ukara turned back toward the moaning guild members. “Yeah, I knew you had it. Actually, the Olasson Hierarchy knew you had it, but I’ve made the most of sharing time with people who use but do not thoroughly understand technology. Nothing like access. They figured with the strings of control they’ve woven into the Enacranites, allowing you to keep the press probably was the thing to do. Where I take advantage is the fact that the Enacranites have yet to tell the Olasson that they lost the MannA Keys. Because if they did, I am sure one of them would think up what I thought up: that the press used in making the tomes might be able to track said tomes, and lead me right to the MannA Keys. Of course, that’s only one way to do it, and while I get that perfected, I am going to look into finding the little bitch that tripped across them and make her give them up. Why go with just one approach, ya know?”

  “As you requested,” the castellan said as he reappeared with the press contained in a majikul glass sphere.

  “Thank you, castellan,” Ukara said, pocketing the small glass orb.

  With another format change to her suit, Ukara turned and flew out of the chamber and then away from the castle. Her ship was in low orbit and the bay doors were already beginning to open. The pain in her arm and shoulder remained; it had been a trying couple of days. Ukara could still hear the screams of Hurdran and Zyzo, sounds that did not rest well with her. Whatever sorrow or regret her heart might have been generating, her mind quickly dismissed. It was all replaced with images of how they had nearly died at the hands of a particular blue mass of mayhem.

  “Of course, it didn’t help matters that Hurdran didn’t level with us what we were doing,” Ukara thought as her suit became pressurized. “So why not? If he can make his play for the MannA Keys then so can I. I had all but trashed the notion of trying to rescue the Tempest, swallowing that crap Hurdran spun.

  “Dammit, Vyllynthe!” she cried. “Why’d you have to go and ruin everything?! Everything!!! Had me believing in all sorts of fantasy Kot!” she whispered, landing aboard her ship. “Gods know this would have been easier to do with them at my back. But there was no way I was ever going to pull Zyzo away from that bronze-eyed wizarding scab!

  “Screw it!” she muttered. “Better off without them. Long as I have my Tonka, I can do anything!” Her suit gave her a reassuring hug before falling from her body and reassembling on her back. “Right now, I just need to get to a place where I can lay low and start putting together a Seeker Spell. Those keys are just waiting for me!”

  If every day is an awakening, you will never grow old. You will just keep growing.

  Gail Sheehy

  (Rims Time: XII-4203.06)

  “DUNGIAS!!!!” she screamed. Her voice shot through the lodge house as lightning struck down in the center of the fire pit. No one knew what the word meant, but when she screamed it again, another bolt struck and set a lodge house aflame. Her father moved quickly, daring to awaken her, and when that failed to solve the problem, he carried her outside the lodge house. He carried the girl, shaking her, and calling out her name over and over again. His powerful voice called out the name Lauryll to no avail.

  Father and daughter were outside the mud hut when her eyes finally opened, though it was clear she was not awake. Black Tongue said she possessed the look of the Walkers. Since no one had summoned one, he concluded the girl was a Shadow Walker and should be put to death immediately. The suggestion came from Black Tongue’s mouth but no one would dare to enact it, and F’Karoon would not engage his hands against his bond-brother. He did, however, look to his mate, Neesara, to quiet her twin as he departed for the sleeping place of Willow Cha. Black Tongue argued his position until he could not answer the request from his sister to name the time when F’Karoon had failed to protect t
he tribe.

  “If she is of the Shadow Walkers, my waking dream will stop it as he stopped the last, and the counted threats to our people before that!” she shouted. “Now be silent ! Try to remember this is your sister’s child you condemn! The very child you gave the name Lauryll to!”

  Black Tongue had no words. His sister had spoken the truth and the man stopped, allowing the rest to continue running to Cha’s hut. He stood there in his shame, recalling that not only had the powerful F’Karoon defended the tribe for the last twenty-nine seasons with only a single issue of concern, he had saved Black Tongue from a fall on the ice cliffs only a season ago.

  “Spirits of my fathers, forgive me!” he pleaded. “I do not know why the fear is so strong in me!” Black smoke jetted up from the ground in a circle around Black Tongue. It was a sign he had seen before, and the reason for the name he now wore in the tribe: the spirits of the Wakasana Family were still with him and they were reaching from their side of the Misty Moon to speak with him. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and drew the mists into his mouth. His body shuddered as his feet left the ground amidst rising swirling winds.

  “It is strong in you because your bond with the child is strong and she swims in fear!” Black Tongue spoke, though his voice had been joined by a league of others.

  F’Karoon could feel a change in the wind around the lodges five hundred meters away. The swirling winds behind him did not slip his notice, neither did the arrival of a spiritual power which was Black Tongue’s mainstay. “Be with your brother,” he commanded his wife.

  “This is my only child, husband!” Neesara protested.

  “Trust me with the tribe, but not our child?” F’Karoon returned as he started up the hillside. “I have spoken, woman!” Neesara took in a deep breath as she moved to the side of the path. Most of the tribe continued with F’Karoon while two of her mate’s spearmen remained with her.

  Neesara locked her gray eyes on her husband as he ran, the incline did not slow his powerful strides. Most of the tribe’s mounts could not climb the path as fast! Two strides before the top of the incline, F’Karoon turned and his rich maroon eyes looked down at the woman. Her eyes took in all the anger the moment had created. Neesara could read that her husband wanted her with him, but he was the Defender, that was his long-stride. The entire tribe was his to protect, as was his daughter. He could not keep to his gait if part of the tribe was left behind unattended.