by Chris Fox
Most of the horde appeared to have moved on, probably heading deeper into the enclave-cities where the wealthy lived, as they were the most likely survivors. And thanks to us they were without power.
I reminded myself that we’d only hastened the inevitable, but it still weighed more than I would have liked.
The Remora accelerated, and we climbed away from the doomed moon, unencumbered by atmospheric friction, though we still contended with gravity.
Seket stumbled, but caught himself against the matrix’s stabilizing ring. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I am not sure if I can continue. My magic is gone. I can no longer power the wards. You may want another pilot for what comes next.”
I closed my eyes and willed the mask to slither from my face. The HUD didn’t work anyway, and I needed to breathe air that hadn’t been anywhere near that moon.
“Our options,” I explained aloud as I worked through the problem, “are Briff, Rava, Miri, or myself.”
“I’m not a pilot.” Miri shook her head. “I’m a bad choice.”
“If I’d gotten life magic I’d volunteer.” Rava tugged on her jacket, which she’d put on over her armor. “Guess I’ll just stand here and look pretty. Fire isn’t going to cut it on those engines. We need void. Or life.”
“Listen to you rambling on about magic.” I gave her a proud smile. “That leaves Briff or myself. I’ll take this one, bud. I’ve got some flying experience. It’s not much, but it might make a difference.”
“It’s okay, Jer. It’s a good call.” Briff clapped me on the shoulder, and knocked me forward a half step. “You’re faster than I am too. I know you’ll get us back to the Word.”
Seket tumbled out of the matrix gracefully, and Rava darted forward to catch him. Miri joined her, and the pair carried the paladin over to one of the hovercouches lining the side of the bridge.
I allowed a single pensive breath, then ducked into the rings. My fingers flew over the life sigils on all three rings, and just like that the ship and I were one once more. The connection differed, though.
Void allowed precise, minute movements. Life produced huge amounts of thrust, but relied on the pilot’s skill to direct them. It was much more like a flight simulator, and less thinking about where you wanted to go and being there.
That was fine. I liked flight simulators.
The difference between my skill and Seket’s was obvious, but at least I could fly the Remora competently. And hey, if we lived, then this counted as practice.
In the distance a trio of wedge-shaped fighters approached, each tiny even beside the Remora, one of the smallest starships. That size didn’t reflect their lethality. It just made them more difficult targets.
“Erect your wards,” Seket called weakly from the hovercouch.
“Right.” I tapped life all three times, and winced as the vessel drew magical star stuff from my chest. Golden magic rolled out of me, and into the floor of the matrix.
I willed the wards to activate, and my magic surged through them in a latticework of tiny sigils. Not three seconds later the fighters screamed into range, and unleashed a trio of void bolts.
At my command the Remora abruptly changed course, and dodged two of the three bolts. The third slammed into our wards. The magic weakened, but held as we shot past all three fighters.
They were already coming around, but it would take them a minute to reach us again. That gave me time to think, and maybe come up with a plan. We were larger, but slower and less maneuverable. That kind of fight only ended one way.
“Vee,” I called, my senses still subsumed under the ship’s perceptions. “Can you look for a mana potion? Anything in the schematics or existing supplies that can give me a bit of pool?”
“On it.” Vee raced off the bridge and up the corridor to the mess.
I didn’t hold out much hope that she’d find anything, but if she did it could add void back into the mix for me.
The Remora tore through the black at incredible speeds, but I already knew I couldn’t reach the Word before the enemy fighters would get another try for us. This time, though, they could maneuver into our backfield and stay there as they peppered us with spells.
I could flip the ship and fly in their direction, but then I’d be flying away from our destination, and that afforded them more chances to kill us, or to bring more fighters.
The Remora rumbled as a volley of spells streaked out from the fighters, but miraculously my wards held. I tapped the life sigils once more and reinforced them, but another volley quickly depleted them. I was quickly running out of life magic.
“Jer!” Vee came skidding back onto the bridge with a bright blue vial in her hands. “I’ve got a mana potion. No beer involved, but it will replenish raw magic.”
“Oh, you are amazing.” I extended a hand to the edge of the rings and she passed it through. I removed the stopper with my thumb, and upended the contents, which tasted of blueberries.
Potent rolling magic swirled in my gut, then suffused my body. A bit of fire, a bit of void, a bit of dream and a bit of life all rose within me, ready to heed my call.
Right now all I needed was the void.
As the necrotech fighters began their next assault I tapped the void sigils on all three rings, then willed the spelldrive to teleport. We vanished a moment before the spells would have connected, and re-appeared in the backfield behind the fighters.
I switched to life, and cored the first fighter with a life bolt. The fragile thing exploded, but the other two fighters peeled off before I could aim. That was fine by me. I poured on the speed, and pushed hard for the Word of Xal.
The fighters came back around, but they were distant, and we’d very nearly reached the Word’s protective guns. They kept after us anyway, and fired again when they reached range.
I blinked again, this time closer to the Word. Their spells sailed harmlessly through the space we’d occupied, while we flew into the Word’s protective shadow.
The last two fighters peeled off, and winged back toward the Maker’s Wrath.
I’d just flown my combat mission, and we’d lived.
My elation died as we sailed into the Word’s cargo hold, and I saw an utterly massive bone thief surging toward a trio of young mages in the far corner, probably first year students.
23
I reached for the magic now coiling within me as I tapped life and fire on the spell matrix’s gold and silver sigils, and fed much of my newly restored power into the highest magnitude spell I could cast.
An unforgiving beam of scarlet-gold brilliance streaked into the bone thief, and eradicated thousands of bugs, and several of the wicked skulls.
I switched to pure fire to finish off the stragglers, and finally relaxed a hair when the kids appeared to be safe. All three held weapons, and had been holding their own, as much as anyone could.
It took the last of my focus and concentration to land the ship, and an awful pounding took residence behind my temples as the first migraine I’d suffered in some time began to build.
At least it would keep me awake long enough to do what we had to.
“Let’s move, people,” I slurred as the ship lumbered to a halt. The bone thief hadn’t reformed, so I disconnected from the ship.
Everyone had already filed off the bridge, so I ducked through the rings and followed them toward the cargo bay.
I raised a trembling hand and sketched a fire sigil, then a dream, then another fire. They fused into a missive spell, and by the time I entered the cargo bay a blessedly beautiful face had appeared on the scry-screen along one wall.
“Mom,” I croaked as I leaned into the stabilizing ring. “Minister is sleeping safely. She’s had a sedative and will be out for hours. We recovered some magic, but not nearly as much as we were hoping. A mostly depleted reactor.”
There was so much more I could say, but I wanted to give her time to respond, and ask whatever she deemed important. I’d deferred to command to her, after all, and that wasn
’t in name only. My mother was the captain of this ship, and I’d treat her as that rank warranted. Also words were hard right now.
“How do you plan to introduce it into the system?” Stress applied enormous pressure to her tone, though it didn’t make it as far as her face. Her Heka Aten’s mask was down for the moment.
“Just like I did the ship,” I offered. “We teleport it directly into the drive. The ship eats it, and then we’ve got juice for the shields, and maybe enough to hit them back.”
“I don’t know, Jerek.” Vee scratched anxiously at her cheek, and avoided eye contact. “That much magic all at once could blow a drive, even on a ship like this. Magic transmutes, sure, but you’re only supposed to use sympathetic magic. For void that’s either earth or fire. You can get away with dream or spirit, and maybe even water and air, but life? Transmuting an opposite will be a violent war for dominance, and it will yield the least amount of magic possible.”
“All true.” I rubbed my temples, and ran the numbers. I considered the data gathered when I’d fed the Inuran cruiser to it. If my math was correct, then the drive was about twelve times larger than the previous amount of magic we’d introduced. That wouldn’t go very far, but it also seemed unlikely to endanger the ship. “I don’t like it. It’s risky. But less risky than taking a hit from the Wrath without our wards in place. We saw what the wights did on the surface, and there were…worse things.”
Mom glanced off screen, and this time the worry did show on her face. Her mouth worked, and she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “The Wrath is charging their cannon. They’ll be able to fire in the next few minutes. We’re out of time.”
“What do you want me to do?” I moved to stand next to the crate. We both knew she’d been trapped into a single logical answer.
“Do it.” She killed the missive, presumably to tend to the damage I was about to cause.
“Rava, Miri.” I turned to the pair, who’d been lounging near the ramp. “Get out there and reassure those kids. Bring them inside, and give them access to one of the unused rooms.”
Rava nodded. Miri stabbed the button to activate the ramp, then followed my sister into the Word’s cargo hold. The stench wafted in immediately, charred deadbug. It did awesome things to my head, let me tell you. Smell sensitivity is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
The trouble was my HUD had been shattered, and while I knew the system could repair it I suspected it would be many hours before that occurred. My suit needed rest as badly as I did, but the job wasn’t done. Not yet.
“Guardian?” I called, and waited for him to manifest.
“Yes, Officer Jerek?” Kemet appeared with a magnificent pair of staff sparkles.
“Can we port directly to the bridge? And have we identified infected areas of the ship? Are those walled off with salt lines?” I forced myself to stem the tide of questions long enough for him to answer.
“We have partially identified areas where spirits roam.” Kemet adopted a very Briff-like expression of chagrin. “Sensors are down over much of the ship. We’ve lost control of roughly 64% of the vessel. Areas of control center around the bridge and the cargo hold where Highspire resides. The corridor between them is well patrolled, but dangerous. If you teleport it will mitigate that danger, and save time, but is a significant drain on resources.”
“Let’s see what kind of resources we’re talking about.” I rubbed my gauntlets together, and forced the words. “Teleport the Inuran core into the ship’s reactor.”
“Ah, of course, Officer.” A single staff sparkle this time.
The air warped and spun around the core, and then it was gone. The results were nearly immediate. The entire ship began to shake, and about four seconds later sparks flew from every light, and every console as systems burnt out all over the ship.
Dammit. My bad.
I willed the Remora to tap into the Word’s sensors, and had it feed the scrying spell directly to our screen. The Wrath’s spellcannon hummed with a hellish glow, one I well recognized from the last shot.
A stream of unnatural death flowed toward the Word, but the wards flared to brilliant life, and the blow shunted aside. On and on the flow of souls went, but the wards never slackened, or dimmed.
“All right!” I fist pumped. No one can tell me that isn’t cool. I don’t care what anyone says. “Time for some payback.”
I waited for my mother to order the cannon to cast the mother of all disintegrates, and to finally even the score. Instead we simply sat there, not responding.
Should I missive her again? No she had plenty of things to deal with. Maybe the core had done more damage than I’d calculated? Maybe it had disabled critical systems?
Uh oh.
A missive tugged at my attention, and I willed it to display on the scry-screen. My mother’s harried face appeared once more. She rubbed her temples in exactly the same way I had a few minutes before.
“Jer, we’ve got a problem.” She looked up, eyes bloodshot, and crowfeet exaggerated. “The cannon is damaged. We can see the relay that’s causing the issue, but if those runes aren’t repaired…there’s no way we’re going to be able to hit them back. Eventually they’ll get through our shields, and all the while they’re consolidating that moon, and picking off our crew.”
“We’re not going to let that happen. Can you transmit the location of the damage?” I forced a grim smile, for Mom’s benefit. We had the answer to this problem. “Vee is an incredibly gifted artificer and engineer. We’ll get that cannon back online. Just keep them off our backs.”
Vee met my gaze. “I’m ready.”
24
I willed the Word to teleport me and Vee from the Remora’s cargo hold to the conduit my mom had indicated on the schematics. I considered bringing more people, but each one exponentially increased the cost of the spell, and it wasn’t like I’d dumped a ton of magic into the ship. We needed to conserve what my team had provided.
Vee and I appeared in a tube with black walls, broken by millions of tiny runes that covered every available space. The level of detail defied mortal description.
Large swathes of runes had gone dark, especially in the area we’d arrived in. A good twenty-meter gap separated the chains of sigils, which I took for a bad thing. “I assume we need to connect the sigils?”
“Exactly.” Vee knelt and began sketching a sigil, which drew a tiny amount of life out of her. “We need to connect, then strengthen, a conduit of runes to bridge the damaged area.”
“Can I use dream to draw these?” I moved to the opposite area, and knelt while awaiting a reply.
“I think so.” Vee bit her lip. “It isn’t ideal, but if you don’t have life or air, that will do. They’ll probably cook away the first time we fire.”
I reached for dream and began drawing. The wrong tool for the job, just like I felt most of the time. But the wrong tool could still get the job done.
Each sigil took concentration and precision, which are pretty much the opposite of exhaustion. My hands trembled violently, and more than once I had to wipe a rune away and redraw the sigil.
I paused to start the next, but hesitated when I heard something in the distance. A low moaning, like soft wind through the stacks. Only…there was no wind inside of a starship.
“Contact,” I hissed, then rose to my feet and drew my pistol. “Keep fixing the runes. I’ll hold them off.”
It was all bravado, I assure you. I had no idea what was coming, and had already seen some things I couldn’t deal with on my own. My team was elsewhere now, my one companion unable to even defend herself.
I needed to hold the line, but I was a scholar. Wasn’t I?
It seemed a strange moment for a life-defining moment, but there it was, seconds away from combat with an unknown foe. My identity had always been scholar. Relic hunter. Archeologist. Gamer. Slacker.
But I’d pulled off some crazy shit. I’d fought and killed mercs, wights, and worse. Maybe I could deal wit
h whatever was coming, and maybe not, but I wouldn’t be facing it as a scholar. I’d be facing it with Dez in my hand, and a spell in the barrel.
Or a salt round.
Relief washed away my brittle combat edge as a trio of wights surged up the barrel of the spellcannon. It was only wights. Only. Ha. They began their screeching wail the moment they saw me, and rushed in my direction.
I already had a bead on them, and squeezed the trigger twice. Two wights went up in puffs.
The third surged forward, and my next shot went wide as it flung spectral arms around me. I don’t have words for the agony that bubbled up in my gut, and climbed toward my lungs, as the frigid embrace numbed me.
In the dimmest, oldest part of the animal brain something screamed that I must not let this happen. The consequences meant more than death. I’d be damned. Doomed to inflict the same fate on all living things until someone or something put me to rest.
I corrected my aim and squeezed Dez’s trigger once more. A salt round exploded millimeters from my face, and coated my skin and hair with a salty, sickly residue that instantly triggered a gag reflex. I missed my helmet so much.
“Everything okay?” Vee called absently, her back to the combat. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that I’d deal with whatever came.
“Magical,” I gasped, hand clutching my chest. I knew she was out of life, but I still had a little left. Could I really heal myself? That seemed crazy. I laid a hand on my breastplate, and willed the life to stir within me. It did, and the same brilliance Vee used rippled through the armor and took away some of the pain the wights had brought.
I rose and hobbled back over, elated that it was over.
A keening wail began up the barrel in the direction the wights had come from. The kind of overlapping wail that issued from dozens of throats.
“No pressure, but we need this done now.” I knelt and began sketching the next sigil. Less than a meter separated my work from Vee’s, but it felt like kilometers.
