by TR Cameron
"And finding those responsible," Kraada added.
"This way, Emperor." His seneschal gestured at a hallway that led to the rear. They traversed the servant areas, headed for the hidden passage that connected to the palace. Halfway there, one of the elite guards dropped without warning, a feathered metal quarrel protruding from his throat.
"Contact," Chanii yelled as he charged forward. Variin stepped in front of Kraada, blades appearing in her hands as if by magic, poised to defend.
Having lost the element of surprise, a set of eight warriors dressed in the livery of the former emperor's elite guard advanced into the corridor.
Kraada's mouth turned down in distaste. "How did I manage to miss so many spineless, traitorous worms?"
"You’ll go to your death wondering, pretender," announced the man in front as he charged. Two attackers headed for each defender, their numerical advantage somewhat mitigated by the narrow hallway, and his own people blocked him from getting involved. The first to arrive engaged his seneschal. Chanii's paired swords caught the blades of both attackers. He retreated in a feint, then leapt forward, stabbing with his front sword and slicing into the unprotected space between gorget and helmet on one attacker. That enemy fell, his hand clasped over his severed artery as sapphire spurted from between his fingers. Chanii's second opponent half-stepped and swung, but the seneschal caught the attack on his off-hand blade. The attacker finished the move with a solid punch to the face, his heavy gauntlet cutting a jagged tear into the seneschal's skin. Chanii growled and fell backward to gain distance, while he dragged the edge of his blade along the enemy's leg armor, parting the material and slicing deep into the flesh. His foe fell with a resounding smack as his damaged support failed him.
The guardsmen fared less well. They moved into position to support one another, and focused on defense, the pair picking off each incoming attack, but unable to mount an offense against four foes. They filled the corridor, making it impossible for anyone to reach the emperor. However, two enemies had already dashed past, and advanced cautiously upon his assassin.
"Whee, playthings," she breathed in her raspy growl, and spun into motion. In a single pivot, she sheathed her left blade, dipped those fingers into the folds of her cloak, and came out with a pair of throwing knives. Before her enemy could take so much as a step, the blades were on their way, striking true into the lead attacker. The first scraped off his helmet's nose guard and clattered to the floor with a flat metallic ring. The second arrived a bare instant later and buried itself in his eye. He dropped howling to the ground and writhed in agony.
Facing forward again, Variin again drew her second sword and waggled the tip at her remaining opponent. Kraada saw the emperor's guard take a deep breath, then commit to the attack. He screamed and charged, leading the way with his giant blade. Variin stepped back and moved at a diagonal that pushed Kraada against the wall and gave her room to engage. Three quick taps of her blades on the incoming weapon deflected it past her, and a brutal elbow strike with the metal hardpoint on her armor crushed the nose guard and the nose beneath it, upending the enemy and dropping him senseless to the ground. Kraada had a moment to wonder if the blow had killed him before the assassin finished the spin and fell to her knees, driving her swords through his neck. That stroke was most definitely fatal. She leapt again to her feet, ready to deflect incoming missiles or enemy attacks.
The seneschal staggered to his feet and looked over at Variin. Messages flew as their gazes locked, then both stepped forward as one to slip their blades between the continuing defense of the two cathedral guards. Just like that, a pair of enemies stumbled back with wounds to their legs, which allowed the guards to push forward and engage the two that remained undamaged. Their advance exposed the wounded attackers to finishing strokes by the seneschal and the assassin, and suddenly silence replaced the sounds of combat as the battle ended with the guards' final thrusts.
Chanii motioned the party forward, and they advanced toward the rear of the cathedral. It was only dumb luck that saved them. The booby-traps left by the attackers triggered as the guards crossed into a new corridor, leaving the rest of them momentarily behind. A flurry of metal balls shot across the intersection, catching the first guard in the face and the other, who’d turned to defend the opposite direction, in the back. Both men were instantly reduced to lifeless tatters of flesh and blood puddling on the floor.
"Impressive," commented the assassin.
"Those are military weapons," added the seneschal. "Not a good sign."
Moments later, they arrived at the door to the corridor that led to the palace. The two guards posted there hadn’t abandoned their duty and confirmed that no enemies had come this way. Chanii turned to Kraada. "Emperor, shall we eliminate the attacking mob?"
Kraada fell to the ground with a cry, assaulted by a vision that overwhelmed his senses. In it, he saw the cathedral guards exploding into the courtyard—heavy weapons taking the lives of the attacking citizens, taking the lives of the children he was sworn to protect. Over it all, like a haze of heat that warps sight, he saw her looking down, ready to accept their souls into the in-between and give them the torment they deserved for violating the house of the gods.
He struggled against the vision, thrashing from side-to-side, as he tried to clear it from his mind. He slowly became aware that the seneschal was on the floor beside him, yelling, "Emperor, Emperor," and shaking him gently.
"The cathedral is just a building. My children are misguided. Undeniably passionate," he choked out something between a laugh and a cough and struggled to sit up, "but misguided." The seneschal assisted him to his knees, and then to his feet. "Defend the premises, but don’t kill any more than necessary. Burned furniture can be repaired or replaced, and the cathedral's bones are stone."
Kraada took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders to center himself as the mental and physical pain of the vision left him. "However, once you identify the leaders, end them. They’ve misled my children, and their lives are forfeit."
The seneschal ran from the room to relay his orders and returned several minutes later. "The battle is now at a stalemate, Emperor. We aren’t able to break the attack, but they can’t advance any further. This should give us the advantage as the battle continues."
Kraada nodded.
"It would still be safest to retire to the palace, Emperor." Kraada gestured the man forward, and the seneschal took the lead. They traversed the tunnel without further incident, and opened the door on the far end, expecting to find a pair of cathedral guards defending it. Chanii screamed and fell, quarrels in each of his legs and a blade piercing his shoulder. The assassin stepped forward, again protecting Kraada with her body. This time the enemy numbered only three, but they’d eliminated the guards set to watch the tunnel.
The assassin handed Kraada a dagger, and said, "Ware the rear, Hierarch." She stepped forward into the room, and her blades flicked out to deflect another pair of quarrels that sought her heart. After Kraada pulled Chanii to safety, she pulled the door shut behind her, and he raced to look through the spy hole. Through it, he saw her flow forward in a run at the crossbowmen as they struggled to reload. One of them managed to, and fired off a quarrel she spun to dodge, swinging her long cloak out to catch it in mid-flight. The other was still fumbling for his blade when her longsword pierced his throat.
Variin left it there and dived into a roll as she sensed the approach of the third man. His slash at her back missed, and she rose with her back against the far wall. The other crossbowman had almost reloaded, so she took the only option available. The assassin hurled her second sword like a spinning axe that forced him to dodge or be bisected. She charged in after it and slid low to sweep his legs out from under him, then swiveled on the ground and brought her heel down in an axe kick to crush his windpipe.
Again, she felt the other attacker and rolled, a blade clanging and sparking upon the stone she’d just left behind. She turned the roll into a tumble, then flippe
d to her feet and charged the remaining enemy. He stood his ground and pivoted at her assault, then slashed into the space where he’d stood to score a long cut on her arm, parting the defensive cloth and drawing blood. His move wasn’t fast enough to protect him from her side kick, however, and the strike launched him into the wall nearby. His helmeted head snapped back against the stone and left him stunned. With a clatter, he slipped down senselessly to the floor, and she finished him with his own sword.
Variin calmly wrapped her cloak around her bleeding arm, gathered and cleaned her weapons, then retrieved Kraada.
"Well done," he said. The assassin nodded in acknowledgment, and a smile played on her lips. He thought, not for the first time, she was only truly happy when she was fighting.
"Where have these bastards been hiding?" he asked. She shrugged, and they set out to find some royal guards to answer that question.
After an extensive search, they discovered a number of rooms and passages that didn’t appear on any known blueprint of the palace. Kraada left his assassin to oversee the placement of booby-traps and lethal defenses in all of them, and in most of the rest of the building as well, while he retired to the safety of his bathing chamber.
Hours later, he again lay down to sleep. He felt un-centered, hopeless, and afraid. He sent prayers out, but no answers were forthcoming.
Finally, unable to quiet his raging mind, he spoke aloud, "Variin, can you protect me while lying near me?" He saw her hooded head dip by the light of the candle near the door, and she moved forward in the darkness. He heard a rustle as her cloak dropped to the floor and a clank as she set her weapons’ belt beside the bed. Her hard form slid in behind him, and he shuddered at the touch of cold metal of the daggers she wore in wrist sheaths as she wrapped her arms around him. Within the solid protection of her embrace, he breathed in her scent and finally fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Indraat Vray was still grinning as the Ruby Rain left the gravity wave, riding high on the strategic victory gained in the last battle. What she saw killed the smile and sent her spirit spiraling downward.
"Report," she snapped in a vicious tone.
"Our reserve force is here as ordered, Fleet-Captain. Also present are sixty-two additional vessels."
"Details, curse you," she growled.
Her second hastened to obey. "The new arrivals include two cruisers, two torpedo ships, six ribbon ships, four rammers, eight gravitic assault vessels, and the remainder are gravity mine dispersion ships.
"Fleet-Captain, a message has just arrived from the home world."
"Route it to my personal display," she said, fighting to control her anger.
The message read:
To: Fleet-Captain Indraat Vray
From: Emperor Kraada Tak
The time of our triumph is at hand. These additional forces will ensure that the gods' will is done in the trespassers' home system. I'm confident that upon our success, the gods will reward us as they promised in the Dhadas. Keep your faith strong. I hold you to those words you promised me long ago.
Return shrouded in victory, Niece.
So may it be.
"So may it be," she growled and stared at the main display, taking stock of the numbers. She couldn’t imagine her uncle would send a spiritually inappropriate number of reinforcements, so there had to be more to come. Her faith was justified as two new arrivals washed into the system. The first was an automated sacrifice ship that, to all outward appearances, resembled a carrier. It even had autonomous fighters it could launch that functioned as tiny sacrifice ships on their own.
The second was the Emerald Sky, the floating fortress detailed to protecting the home world when the Sapphire Sky was reassigned to the invasion. She blinked in astonishment at the idea that her uncle had stripped Xroesha of its primary defense.
"Fleet-Captain," began the atypically timid voice of her religious officer from her side. She made a chopping motion to cut him off.
"Not here." She stood and turned to her tactical officer. "Adapt our existing plan to include the new arrivals. Where there are questions, save them for my return. We’ll depart within eight eights. Get the ships rearmed and refueled in that time. Anyone who isn’t ready gets left behind and forsakes their part in our final victory over the defilers." She motioned for Raanja to follow her and stomped from the bridge.
Minutes later, they were in her cabin. Indraat lay back on the bed, focusing all her will to quell the physical manifestations of her anger. She didn’t want to look at the religious officer, didn’t want to feel him looking at her. A day to process the new information, to master her reaction to it, would’ve been wonderful, but no such opportunity existed. She wouldn’t again sacrifice the benefits of the previous battle by delaying.
"So, the emperor has gifted us with more ships."
The fact that Deacon Raanja had referred to him by his secular title didn’t escape her. To her ears, it rang true. "Indeed, he has."
"In violation of the scriptures. Undeniable, incontrovertible violation."
"Yes, but at least in a spiritually appropriate number."
He snorted. It brought a tiny curve to the edges of her lips as she remembered their fractious beginning. "I fear whatever is at the heart of this decision."
"If I had to guess, I’d say my uncle has had a vision that leads him to believe that victory will erase any transgressions done in service of it."
"It’s possible."
"It is."
Raanja held his palms up in imitation of a scale, moving one down as the other rose. "It’s also possible that these aren’t true visions, but rather secular desires overwhelming enough to masquerade as a communication from the gods."
"It is. However, I don’t see that either source changes what we must do."
"Does it not?"
She sat up to regard him. "I cannot imagine a scenario where, based on doubts alone, without proof, we abandon the next attack. Equally foolish would be to leave part of the force behind."
He was already nodding in agreement. "Regardless of the outcome of the battle, the end for those who made the decision would be the same."
"In truth," Indraat said, "have we not come too far to turn back in any case?"
He stared at her with a radiant confidence. "There are always options, Fleet-Captain. You’re the voice of authority here, and you can change our path with a word." His gaze softened. "But I agree, there’s no evidence, and suspicion isn’t a strong enough reason."
"Thank you for your counsel, Deacon. Return to the bridge. I’ll join you in a few moments."
After he exited, Indraat stripped and stood under the hot spray of her shower, letting the scalding pain focus her mind. She considered the question from every angle she could think of, but came back to the same answer each time. Family, duty, then the gods. In this case, family and duty were both pointing her in a single direction. She couldn’t be sure of the gods; it was entirely possible that this was their will, as well. She would hold to her vow, and hope that a benevolent deity was looking down upon her.
Indraat exited the shower and dressed in a clean uniform, affixing her insignia and honors to it. She activated the secure terminal in her quarters and sent a message along the low-quality, but high-speed gravity communication network.
"Uncle," it said, "the additional forces were a welcome surprise, especially the Emerald Sky. We depart within three eights to engage the humans in the hell that spawned them, and to destroy the planet that gave them life. I look forward to sharing good news with you at the conclusion of the battle." She hit the button to send the message and sighed.
Then, she stood, and deliberately banished all doubt. She locked her spine straight and strode onto the bridge. Standing in front of the main display, she snapped, "Fleetwide communication, visual, now." A moment later, the telltale glow indicated her image was on the screens of each of her ships.
"Brothers and sisters. This is an auspicious day in the hist
ory of the Xroeshyn. For the last eight years, we’ve known that this day would come. For the last part of that time, we’ve known who our enemy is. We’ve engaged them, again and again, as prescribed by the Dhadas Ve Xroe. We’ve had decisive victories, and less decisive draws. We’ve lost ships. We’ve argued amongst ourselves. We’ve been less than perfect. We’ve been less than holy. We’ve been less than we can be."
A hard stare replaced the neutral expression on her face. "It’s now the appointed time. This is the moment. This is the battle that will set our ancestors free from the in-between. This is the battle that will deliver all of our people to paradise, that will herald the end of the endless cycle of death and birth and the torment that separates them. This battle. This day."
She raised a fist. "Together, brothers and sisters. Fight as you’ve never fought before, for this day, this moment, we fight to deliver the will of the gods, and there can be no greater calling."
She paused to let her words sink in. "Fleet-Captain Indraat Vray, out."
She turned and marched to her chair, settling into it and engaging her restraint field. "Status?"
"All ships report ready, Fleet-Captain."
"Excellent. Begin the countdown."
On the screen, a clock appeared, counting down from sixty-four. When it reached eight, Indraat spoke again across the fleet, this time in voice only, "Standby."
When it reached four, she said, "Transition imminent."
When it reached zero, she said, "Execute," and the Xroeshyn fleet, far larger than any group that had previously attacked humanity, caught the wave of gravity as it plowed through the system and vanished, heading for Earth.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Washington, DC ripped into the sector, and the tactical officer immediately started out calling out targets. Cross let the information wash over him, one part of his brain cataloguing and planning, while the rest focused on the blue planet near the center of the sector. He hadn’t been back since leaving the Academy, and this was certainly not how he’d envisioned returning to his home.
