Even now, thousands of years later, everyone assumed his soul became so twisted that the power he possessed naturally through his link with the Lands had turned to evil. They were all so terribly wrong.
As the people of the Lands were capable of such extremes of personality, so was the energy which flowed through it capable of the same. It was true that as the Lands remained pure, the safety it granted the People prevented any evil influence from taking hold.
When Tenybris returned from Sanctuary so long ago, with the suggestion of bitterness planted within his soul, he brought a sickness to the Lands which lay dormant for over a century. As his dissatisfaction with Olumé grew, so the pit of hatred and envy and lust called out to him.
The dark energy intoxicated him, drawing him deeper as he fell farther into depravity. The pit grew along with him as they fed off each other's evil. The bond between them strengthened. A part of Tenybris’s essence, the part that would eventually gain sentience and become the shadow, crossed over to the pit.
This all ended when the Veil fell. Tenybris fled in defeat, and the bond of mutual power was sundered.
The shadow was diminished to the edge of nonexistence, and it lurked in the darkest places it could find in this world filled with light and happiness.
The centuries passed as it fled every possible encounter which might reveal its existence. Eventually, over a century ago, it found its unwitting pawn, as he stumbled aimlessly through one of the densest parts of the forest.
This elf, Hallor was lost. He wasn't wise in the craft of the hunt, and though he was an experienced rider, he was knocked out of the saddle by an unexpected branch.
The shadow watched as the Faer led Hallor deeper and deeper into the woods, in their peculiar perception of fun.
As he approached its hiding place, it sensed the anger at the Faer folk which Hallor felt. It saw the ambition burning at the centre of him, the need to be greater than he was meant to be.
So it reached out, and planted its own seed, as had been done to Tenybris so long ago. It used guile and deception, because Hallor, although ambitious, was at his core a good person.
The shadow wove an intricate web of lies, so at the beginning Hallor believed it was the great Olumé himself with whom he was communicating. Oh, how the shadow laughed. Even now, the fool still believed his ever more deplorable acts could be somehow justified by serving his dead leader.
Unfortunately, events accelerated faster than the shadow anticipated. It still wasn't strong enough to grant Hallor the power to break the spell maintaining the Veil. He was about to commit his first murder, but it would take many more to develop the dark energy required to draw his soul downward into true evil.
The Faer were coming for it, the Shadow knew this with certainty. If his slave could succeed in his plan, however, and the child could be stopped, the pitiful forces the Faer could throw his way would be crushed.
So what if the Magistry came along in support? They might find the Shadow a touch more powerful than they expected.
As it stretched its power outwards, the limbs and boughs of the nearby trees obeyed its will. Mighty oaks and elms were under its command and the earth for miles around would be poisonous to any but his allies.
Let them come, the Shadow thought, smiling, and let them die!
Chapter Four
Zhibalban Space
The Zhibalban flagship glided through the void, its sleek lines speeding toward the event horizon.
Sub-commander Zjokara glanced sideways from her seat at tactical towards Zjorja, her captain. In the five years she'd served aboard the Seliaer, she had never seen her captain this concerned.
No, concern isn’t what you’re feeling, is it, my Captain, Zjokara thought. The telltale way she rubbed her cranial ridges betrayed her. You feel fear, as do we all.
The Zhibalban race was a matriarchal one. While the male of the species was loved and revered, they existed solely for procreation. The gentle beings never left the home planet.
The sub-commander checked her console, confirming the Seliaer's escorts were in support formation. The holographic sphere hovering at the centre of the bridge showed the flagship as a large green icon at its core, surrounded by over a hundred smaller ones. Throughout the command deck the atmosphere was subdued. The friendly banter and interaction between crew members was gone, replaced by silent figures hunched over their consoles, their attention focused on the unknown ahead.
“Captain, all ships are reporting full battle readiness.” Zjokara nodded at the young officer seated at the main tactical station.
“All drones are away and operating normally, Captain.” Zlotta smiled her thanks. It might have been easy for the sub-commander to make this report herself, but Zjokara believed in sharing the praise.
“Thank you.” The Captain’s two words were accompanied by a smile, which made them forget their worries, at least for a moment.
A tone alarm interrupted them. Zjokara turned to her console.
“Horizon in five minutes, Captain.”
A jump to Zhi would normally be a welcomed homecoming for the flagship’s squadron, but two weeks prior, a courier ship had found the Seliaer’s formation near Tyrranel, their closest neighboring system, bringing news of the unthinkable. Their planet had been attacked, not by any external enemy, but by a world they had been allied with for over a thousand years.
The Walkers, the beings from the world of Sanctuary, had sent a force of their Liberi warriors through the portal from Sanctuary.
Zjokara shuddered as she imagined what such a force could accomplish. She’d once witnessed a single Liberi pass through over one hundred Tenybrists, like they were no more than wheat before a living scythe.
“Four minutes, Captain.” Zjokara’s head snapped to her left. She’d missed the countdown but Zlotta had covered for her. She nodded her thanks and refocused her attention.
All of them had been shocked to the core at the news the courier bought, but the details had been kept from the majority of the crew. They knew their planet had been attacked and by whom, no more.
The bridge crew had been briefed by the Captain, shortly after the courier ship had departed to spread its terrible news. Zjokara went over the meeting in her head as they approached the horizon.
*
“All of you are aware a courier ship docked here several hours ago.” The Captain leaned back in the chair with her fingers meshed together.
“What you are unaware of is the news its commander brought with her.” She straightened upright and looked each of them in the eye.
“Two weeks ago, a small number of Liberi attacked Zhi.”
This single sentence caused a ripple of shock to move outwards from Zjorja. Several of the junior crew hiding at the back leaned in, as their superiors sat open mouthed and wide eyed.
Their home world of Zhi hadn’t been attacked in over fifteen hundred years. Their space force had pacified this entire sector of space, centuries ago. That the attack came from within, and from a supposed ally, turned the shock to something else.
Questions flew at her. Why? These are our allies. Why would they do this to us?
Denial changed to something else as the words traitors and betrayers mixed with murderers and killers, as the outrage caused a riot of sound to escalate.
Destroy them! Kill them! Revenge!
Zjorja raised her hand and brought it down hard on the table they sat around. “ENOUGH!” The noise died abruptly as she continued. “It appears the Liberi were only the advance party, intending to incapacitate our infrastructure by wiping out the central command building along with the heads of Caste.” She paused to let the news sink in.
Every one of the Zhibalban race was a member of a family. There were thousands of families on the home world of Zhibalba Prime. Most families bred internally, but occasionally, in times of conflict between them, an alliance might mix bloodlines.
All of them could trace their bloodlines back to one of five founding familie
s, and in every generation, a head of Caste was chosen to lead them. Irrespective of immediate family loyalty, the head of Caste bore final authority over them.
“They’re all gone?” Everyone turned. A small form stood crying at the back of the room. “How will we survive without leaders?” It was a sentiment they all felt.
Zjokara looked at her Captain. Her hands were clasped together in her lap and her back was erect as she projected her chin to show her leadership.
At this moment, for all they knew, their captain, Zjorja, was the senior member of their race, and they bowed to her, one-by-one as they realized this fact.
Zjokara leaned in, tears in her eyes. “Captain, how bad is it? How many were killed?”
Silence greeted her question as her captain bowed her head. She let out a long breath.
“After the Liberia finished ‘sterilizing’ the area around the main portal, thousands of troops and heavy weapons flooded through the gateway. Tanks, mechs, and aircraft wiped out any pockets of resistance.” She raised her gaze to reveal a tear flowing down her cheek.
“The city is gone, along with most of the planet.”
Zjokara felt a ball of ice form in her stomach. Her blood rushed in her head, and the beat of her hearts threatened to burst through her chest. Looking around, she saw the same expression of horror on all of the faces.
“How?” The question came out as a sob from one of the junior tactical officers. She shook with a mixture of grief and rage.
Several of the others around the table looked at the captain, wanting, needing her to answer the question.
Zjorja stood up and walked around to the young officer, whose world had just been rocked to the core of her soul. She put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Zlotta,” she said, “I know your entire family were from Central.” She addressed the group again.
“After the initial assault, a counter-attack was planned by the surviving cities. Forces were gathered, and the command was given for an orbital bombardment on Central. It was aflame anyway, so it was decided that a nuke from orbit was the only way to be sure.”
Horrified glances passed around the table. Nuclear weapons were abhorrent to their species due to their indiscriminate destructive nature, but no one wanted to interrupt the tale.
“The bombs fell,” the captain said, but her voice was edged with bitterness. “But they fell on our forces. Nukes and kinetics rained down in their thousands.”
“The Liberi!” Zjokara gasped. “They took the ships. But that must mean…”
“Yes, my daughter.” Zjorja had birthed over half the members in this room. It was common in the space force to surround yourself with those closest to you.
“They have our ships, intact for the most part,” said Zjorja as she activated the holo above the table.
“What you are about to see has been generated from the data collated by the commander of the courier vessel. She, at no small risk to her ship and crew, scoured the home system for data recorders jettisoned by the ships attacked by Liberi.”
She activated the playback, which initially showed a large scale display of the solar system they called home.
“As you can see, the system is littered with derelict ships, and if you look at the outskirts you will see just how well and how long the leadership of Sanctuary planned this attack.”
Dozens of tiny icons were scattered around the periphery of the system, flashing the orange indicating damage to their systems.
“These are all courier vessels,” said Zjorja. “They clearly wanted word of this attack to remain unknown. It was only our friend’s unscheduled return, due to an engine fault, which saved her. Thankfully, our good commander had the sense to leave before she was discovered.” She pressed the control again and the view shifted to an overhead of the planet.
The display ran at 10x speed, and the assembled officers watched as the initial three blocks surrounding the portal plaza were cleansed of life. Males, children, it mattered not. The storm flew outwards like a murderous tornado of evil. By the time it reached the three block radius, there was sufficient warning to start some sort of evacuation.
The central government might have been destroyed, but enough infrastructure remained to begin an orderly withdrawal, in an attempt to buy some time for military forces to mobilise.
The Walkers didn’t allow them this luxury. Shortly after the immediate area around the clearing which housed the huge portal was ‘pacified’, the Walkers began bringing heavy weapons through. Tanks, artillery, and aircraft assaulted any spark of resistance; all thoughts of collateral damage were completely ignored as entire skyscrapers, hundreds of stories high, were reduced to rubble.
Within the first hour, Zhi Central, the capital city of Zhibalba Prime, was reduced to a burning pyre.
They heard the communications from the military commander, calling for orbital strikes from the picket ships and defense batteries in orbit around their planet, but his calls fell on silent vessels. The Liberi had already paid a visit to them, and were in the process of murdering every single person aboard. There would be no assistance from them.
A scan of the planet, now on screen, revealed a world on fire. The voice of the courier’s commander could be heard attempting to contact the surface, but there was only silence.
The display shifted again to the recording of a ship under attack from within. Screams mingled with weapons fire as the internal monitors showed the crew’s futile attempt to kill the Liberi boarders. The last thing they saw was the captain stabbing down on a sheathed button and simultaneously ejecting the recorder as the charges destroyed her ship.
Unfortunately, it appeared this was a lone occurrence. Hundreds of ships were in orbit by the time the courier ship left the system, undamaged but lifeless.
Their world was dead, but the Portal was intact, and now Sanctuary had a fleet of mighty warships.
Seliaer and her sisters could not allow that to continue. If the Walkers secured themselves a fleet such as this, then along with their portals, they would be unbeatable.
A tone sounding brought Zjokara’s mind back to the present. She ran her fingers across the display.
“Normal space in one minute, Captain,” she said.
The Captain’s response was a grim smile. A saying had passed down through the years. “An enemy’s weakness always presented itself at the moment of greatest need.” This weakness the Captain hoped to exploit was the inexperience of the Sanctuary personnel crewing the stolen ship. Her fleet might be outnumbered ten to one, but it consisted of the elite among the Zhibalban space force.
“Are our surprises ready?” asked Zjorja. “I want any unexpected visitors to get a warm welcome.” Her smile might have frozen water.
When the ships drew close enough, the Liberi would be able to open portals between them, and once they gained a foothold aboard, the ship and its crew would be doomed.
Zlotta turned and gave a quick nod, “Yes, Captain.” She smiled. “I’m sure they’ll feel right at home.”
Her Captain nodded.
Zjokara hoped the measures they had put in place would work, because if they didn't, this was going to be a very short battle.
The grayness surrounding them rapidly transitioned to the blackness and the smattering of stars, as the ships crossed the horizon to appear at the edge of the home system.
“Status, sub-commander?” asked the captain.
“Approximately seven hundred million miles from the star. Prime is approximately six hundred twenty five million miles at current speed and heading, Captain.”
A loud tone sounded in time with hundreds of red icons appearing on the holo. The display refreshed to show over five hundred ships turning to intercept them. Even though they were still over one hundred million miles distant, all modern ships were equipped with gravitic sensors, which allowed faster than light detection of other vessels.
“Tactical, give me numbers and configuration of the approaching fleet.”
barked the Captain. “Sensors, find the rest of our ships. While it appears we have more than enough to keep us busy, I don’t want any unwelcome surprises.”
“Yes, Captain,” came a chorus of enthusiastic voices. The silence was gone, replaced with a flurry of activity. Training overcame the fear as every one of the crew slipped into a routine like a second skin.
Zlotta straightened from her display and turned to the command chair.
“Captain, five hundred twelve ships are in range and have turned to intercept, but they are operating independently.”
“They aren’t forming up before attacking?” Zjorja had expected inexperience, not outright stupidity.
“No, Captain,” replied Zlotta. She turned to glance at her display. “It appears the smaller frigates and scout vessels will arrive over an hour before the destroyers and cruisers. Even they aren’t forming up.” Zlotta’s smile betrayed her scorn at the enemy’s incompetence.
If they continued this way, the smaller ships would arrive without enough firepower to penetrate their defensive screen. Soon afterward the, larger ships would fly into a storm of missiles without a screen of their own to protect them.
“Zjokara, reduce acceleration.” An instant of hesitation gave away the sub-commander’s confusion at the order.
“I want to give the smaller ships more time to increase the distance between them and the capitals.” She smiled at Zjokara, “It’ll give us more time to ensure their destruction. I don’t want them turning to bite us on the ass when we take back our ships.”
Heads around the bridge turned, and ears perked at the change of plan.
The Captain stood. “I know we came here to destroy these ships, to deny them to Sanctuary.” She pointed to the holo, which displayed the rag tag formations separating minute by minute.
“This development has given us the opportunity to strike a much greater blow to our enemy. If we destroy this first group, we should be able to disable their capital ships with little risk to our own forces.” She paused for effect. “This is important, my friends. We must minimize the risk to our ships wherever possible.” She pressed a stud to zoom the display, showing the stricken world most here called home.
Worlds of the Never: A book with Dragons, Faeries and Elves, mixed with Science Fiction and Time Travel, for Young Adults and Teens. (Tales of the Neverwar 2) Page 2
