Dark Foundations

by Chris Walley

  Merral stared up at the trees for a last, lingering moment. “Let me collect the few things I have. I need to talk with Vero again.”

  An hour later, as the sun was setting over Isterrane Bay in a ball of orange flame, Merral knocked on the wooden door of Brenito’s old house.

  The door opened to reveal a large and familiar figure.

  “Evening, sir,” Lloyd said with a smart salute.

  “Good evening, Sergeant,” Merral replied, reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. “It’s very good to see you.”

  “My feelings exactly, sir.” Lloyd gave an awkward little cough. “I wish to apologize for deserting you at the airport. Mr. V. said you wouldn’t have wanted me to pick a fight.”

  Merral smiled. “I didn’t. No, you did right. And you made a fine medical orderly.”

  “You reckon so, sir? I was thinking I might retrain when this is all over.”

  “Ah. ‘When this is all over’ is a fine phrase, Sergeant. But sadly we aren’t there yet and Clemant has made life more complex by stealing the Dove. And we have to sort out this Lezaroth at Langerstrand yet. So there’s work to do.”

  Lloyd nodded. “So I reckon you will be needing my services for a bit longer yet.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  There was a contented smile.

  “How’s Vero?”

  Lloyd shook his head. “Mr. V. is bit low. He’s in the main room. Go on through, sir, but mind the cases. Mr. Brenito’s things.”

  The hallway was full of wrapped packages and cartons and Merral glimpsed labels on them: For Isterrane Museum(?), No real interest? and What is this?

  As he walked into the main room Lloyd closed the door behind him.

  The room, less cluttered than he had last seen it, was lit only by the rays of the setting sun, rendering it full of deep shadows broken by patches of orange light.

  Vero was sitting in the rocking chair, his head propped up by his hands. At Merral’s entrance, he looked up and his solemn expression eased slightly. He rose and exchanged a hug with Merral.

  “It is good to see you, my friend,” Vero said in a low voice, filled with bitterness and then sat heavily back into the chair. He stared at the floor, his face deep in shadow. “Oh, what a mess. I feel so much of it is my fault. You warned me against both Clemant and Zak and I disregarded your advice. Look what has happened! And now Gerry.”

  “What’s the news there?”

  “Your guess is right. It seems certain she is on the ship. She has not been seen for six days. You think she is helping with the propulsion system or something?”

  “No, it’s more worrying than that. I think it’s something to do with weapons.”

  “Ah. A subject dear to her heart. But why do you think that?”

  Merral sat on a chair. “It’s only a guess. She once told me that with Below-Space technology and a polyvalent fusion device you could create an awesome weapon. A ‘big bad bomb.’ The whole thing worries me.”

  Vero stared out of the window, his expression hidden in the shadows. “A polyvalent fusion device alone would wipe out life on an entire continent; maybe a world. Something bigger would be . . . utterly terrifying. And with Zak and Clemant . . .” He shook his head. “Oh, how stupid I’ve been. I’ve overlooked so much. I’ve asked Harrent to try to find out what her research was on. The Library is back online, but it may take days to get such information.” He shook his head in frustration. “‘Cleverness is not the same as wisdom,’ the envoy said. How right he was.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Oh yes it is.” Vero’s voice was bitter. “Take Clemant. Lots of people wanted him reined in, including you. I knew in my heart that you were right, but I reasoned that a tighter control on his police could also mean a tighter control on my irregulars. That is why I disagreed with you.”

  “I should have pressed you harder.”

  “Maybe. And Zak? Yes, I saw the dangers in him. But I felt he was a bigger threat to the enemy than to us. Like Clemant, I saw his toughness as a useful balance to your gentleness.”

  Merral said nothing.

  “And Gerry? To be honest, I had my doubts—you expressed something similar at our first meeting with her—but they were overpowered by her personality. And here as well, I found her too powerful an ally to reject.” His tone was full of remorse.

  “It was an easy mistake,” Merral said.

  “And now all three have come together—a most potent and troubling combination.” He closed his eyes as if in pain and pressed his long fingers against his temples. “You fool, Verofaza! You utter fool. What would Brenito have said?”

  “Vero, we have both done things that are wrong. But to spend time analyzing this now may not be the wisest thing.”

  Vero dug his fingers into his curly hair. “No, you are right. Now is not the moment for recriminations. They can wait; we need decisions. You have heard what Clemant said. Do you have anything to add?”

  “Yes. When he talked to me, Clemant said there wasn’t just a fleet being made ready. He said Nezhuala was making a colossal structure: the Blade of Night.”

  “The Blade of Night?” Vero’s gaze seemed to be on something far away. “Azeras has hinted about something, but he’s never been fully open. That must change. I have sent for him and Anya. They have both been in the foundations. I asked them to bring Betafor too. We may need her skills, if they can be trusted.”

  “Vero, we need to see if we can recover the Rahllman’s Star and pursue Clemant. Perhaps we can get to the Assembly first.”

  “I’d like that.”

  There was silence and then Merral asked, “Where is Jorgio?”

  “Just down the road. I think he has been overlooked by Clemant, but I didn’t want him arrested. I had him moved. I didn’t think he could face being underground, so I found a farm for him to stay on.”

  “A wise move. Is he well?”

  “He’s tired. He has been concerned for you. I think he’ll be better when he gets back here.”

  “Good. I would like to talk with him. I suspect his praying lay behind such victories as we had.”

  “I share your belief. He too fought.”

  Merral looked around. “Are you living here?”

  “I wasn’t until two days ago. I was back in the deep levels of Isterrane. I knew that Clemant dared not try and find me there. And from there I contacted all the representatives individually and told them what really happened. Clemant hadn’t told them the truth. He had portrayed you as reckless and out of control. But after a bit of work—Enatus and Colonel Lanier helped too—the tide of opinion swung. And it was obvious that Clemant had become very strange. So I decided to venture out of the darkness. I think it had begun to affect me. Perena had warned me about it. If I never see a cellar again, I won’t mind.”

  There was another silence. Merral looked around. “Are all of Brenito’s things cataloged?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Have you found anything that helps?”

  “Just hints, no more, that Moshe Adlen knew more than he said about the end of the Rebellion. I need to check the original files on Earth.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door and Lloyd ushered in the tall figure of Azeras. A second, shorter figure with red hair followed him. At the sight of Anya, a sudden powerful mixture of emotions struck Merral and he felt he was blushing.

  Azeras came over and bowed stiffly before him. “Commander, I am honored to know you. A baziliarch has been destroyed. The seven are now six—a remarkable event. The deep Nether-Realms will have shaken at the news.” He clenched his fist. “The True Freeborn would have taken great heart from this.”

  “Sarudar, as at Tezekal, we were saved not by our skill, but by the grace of the Most High.”

  “However it happened, it was a great blow against the Dominion.”

  He stepped back. Anya came forward and embraced Merral. The intensity with which she held him made his heart bound.

  “C
ommander,” she said, with a laugh, “it’s good to see you. I was worried that your promising military career would end at Ynysmant.” Merral knew that the humor was only on the surface. Her eyes showed how relieved she was to see him.

  Vero tugged Azeras’s arm. “Sarudar, let us make some coffee. There is much to discuss, and I think we need alert minds.”

  “I’ve been in the foundations too long,” said Anya. “Let’s have it outside.”

  Leaving Vero and Azeras in the kitchen, she and Merral made their way past more labeled boxes through the open door onto the veranda. The sun had just set and they stood there for some moments looking out in silence to where the red-streaked purple of the late-evening sky was reflected in the sea.

  Merral was suddenly struck by a longing so intense that it almost terrified him. I wish I could rewrite the script of my life and remove the war, edit out Isabella, bring back Perena, and erase all memories of the fighting and the deaths. But I cannot. And to even consider the idea is pure folly.

  “I thought you were lost.” Anya’s voice was soft and the levity had fled.

  “I thought I was lost.”

  “To have lost my sister and you would have been too much.”

  Merral was silent for a moment and when he spoke, it seemed to him that his words came out with a great slowness. “The problem is, Anya, that it’s not all over.”

  “No,” she said and the single syllable carried a profound sadness.

  If it were all over, I could discard my uniform. If it were all over, my relationship with Anya could go where we both want it to go.

  He stared at the darkening scene before them. A flock of gulls wheeled noisily above the cliffs as they prepared to roost.

  “There is a lot unresolved. I am alarmed by Clemant leaving without consultation. You know that Gerry is almost certainly with him?”

  “Ah. I didn’t know that. She worries me. Whenever I met her I felt an anger to her that burns like a fire. No; it’s more than anger. It’s hate.” Anya drummed her fingers softly on the railing. “I understand the temptation. There have been times when I could given in to it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s gone now. But to hate is to become like them.” She gestured westward. “To be destroyed by Krallen or become like them—two terrible but parallel fates.”

  Merral followed her gesture. Beyond the promontory, the last Dominion forces on Farholme held out.

  “I have to sort out the mess at Langerstrand,” he said. “I promised Isabella’s parents that I would do all I can to get her and the others out. And then, Azeras permitting, we can head to Earth. I’d like to beat the Dove to Bannermene.”

  “Yes.” She smiled briefly. “I’m not vindictive, but I’d love to see Clemant’s face when you arrest him—and Zak and the prebendant.”

  Vero and Azeras came out with coffee.

  Azeras handed Merral a mug. “Betafor is in the hallway in her case. I gather she tried to betray you?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘betray.’ She just left us for the Dominion when things got tough. Apart from that she was helpful.”

  “Maybe, but Commander—as I have warned you—she cannot be trusted.”

  “Perhaps, Sarudar, but as you will have just heard, we cannot trust people either.”

  “Indeed. I have heard about the Dove.”

  “So you did.” Merral turned to Vero. “What happened at the peninsula? I want to resolve that as soon as possible.”

  Vero stared westward. “It’s a mess. Colonel Lanier was suspended by Clemant. That’s being reversed. Zak took charge and disabled the Dove’s shuttle. He had a sniper put holes in some windscreen elements.”

  In the gloom, Merral noticed Azeras shaking his head in evident disapproval.

  “Then Clemant summoned him and Zak left one of his own people in charge. This morning the unit there refused to accept the authority of the new committee and is effectively autonomous. Communications are only sporadic. I presume the waiting game continues. But Lezaroth can’t go anywhere.”

  “Well, we need to sort out Langerstrand as soon as we can. I hope to go there tomorrow.” Merral turned to Azeras. “Sarudar, we need to talk. We have some questions.”

  “I am ready.”

  “Good. Some time ago we made an agreement with you. I would say our part of that agreement is now complete. Would you agree?”

  “Yes. I can’t argue with that. You have kept me safe.”

  “So, will you recover the Rahllman’s Star for us?”

  “Yes. The True Freeborn keep their promises. Whenever you’re ready, we can take a ship and find it.”

  “Thank you,” Merral said, discerning in the deepening gloom the looks of relief on the faces of Vero and Anya. “I hope we can launch a flight within the next day or so.”

  Azeras nodded. “As you wish.”

  “Thank you. We don’t understand what Clemant wants to do. But it is something that involves weapons and strategy. We want to get to Earth to at least balance what he is trying to do. I’m afraid we no longer trust him.”

  “I understand the need for haste. Yes, I’ll take you inward to the Assembly. I live in hope of getting my place by the sea.”

  “May you have it. We are grateful for your help.” Merral sipped his coffee. “But I have some questions. Clemant justified his taking the Dove because he says he found evidence that the Dominion is building a fleet—a fleet of at least a thousand ships, each the size of the Triumph of Sarata, and destined to be employed against the Assembly. Is that feasible?”

  “I have not seen such a fleet.” Azeras flexed his left hand so that the screen on it glowed, lighting up his face. “But I’ve some data on the older series. Full-suppression complex: time for completion,” he muttered, his fingers moving as if he were playing a keyboard. Then he looked up, the light on his hand fading. “Hmm. It is possible. Nezhuala will not have stood still now that the Dominion is enlarged and secure.” His thoughtful gaze turned to the darkening bay. “And he has taken over most of the manufacturing facilities of the True Freeborn worlds intact. So yes, a fleet of a thousand ships is quite possible soon.”

  Merral heard a perturbed grunt from Vero.

  “And as for soldiers to fill them . . .” Azeras waved his hand against the night sky. “Thousands of Krallen can be produced in factories daily. Men must be born, raised, and trained before they can be used in war, but not so Krallen. Bug boys and chimpies can be speed-reared.” He fell silent.

  Merral looked up to see the stars coming out. With a stab of grief, he thought of Perena.

  “N-Nezhuala’s strategy?” Vero asked.

  Azeras gestured around. “This was the first, trial blow. He will soon know that it has failed. He may already have guessed. The loss of the baziliarch will have been felt across all the Nether-Realms. But he may not know how it has failed.”

  “Will it deter him?” Vero’s voice held a note of hope.

  Azeras rubbed the scar on his cheek. “No. In fact, Sentinel, it may have done the contrary. He may well realize that he cannot risk a delay. He may believe that one or more of his vessels is taken. If so, he’ll know that secrecy is now gone, and that the Assembly will soon be making armies and defenses. I think he will head straight for Earth with overwhelming power. The lord-emperor’s hope will be to destroy any resistance even before it can be organized.”

  Merral turned, seeing Anya leaning close to him as if for reassurance. There was a long silence.

  Merral looked at the shadowed bulk of Azeras. “One other question, Sarudar. Clemant mentioned that Nezhuala was constructing a colossal construction in space—the Blade of Night. What is it?”

  Azeras shifted awkwardly against the balcony rail. “The Blade . . .” Merral heard unease—or was it fear?—in his voice. “Yes, you need to know about that now. I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t want to alarm you.”

  “What is it?” Vero asked.

  “It is what Nezhuala calls his
great project. He has been making it for years. Nezhuala’s base is Khalamaja, one of the four inhabited worlds that orbit Sarata. Above it, Nezhuala has been building a vast structure in space.” Azeras stared up, looking at the stars as if he could see what he was talking about. “It is an enormous edifice of metal and stone—by far the largest structure ever made by men. It is a sort of continuous Gate. It extends from what you call Normal-Space down for hundreds of kilometers, maybe more by now.”

  “What is its purpose?”

  “That’s never been made clear, but what we learned from prisoners is that Nezhuala sees it as something that will link the Nether-Realms to Standard-Space. The reality is that it is a dimensional excavation that goes deeper and deeper into the Nether-Realms.” Azeras stared into the darkness and visibly shuddered. “He parades it as if it were a tower up to the heavens. Instead it is a shaft down to hell.” The words were sharp.

  Merral heard a sharp intake of breath from Anya. Vero put his coffee mug down on a table nearby so awkwardly that it rattled.

  “But why has he made it?” Merral asked, already grappling with the implications of the only answer that there could be.

  Azeras looked long at the darkening sky before answering. “Power. Nezhuala derives his power from there. As the Blade has been built, so the power of the Dominion has risen. From down there comes his confidence and drive.”

  Merral felt Anya grab his hand.

  “S-so this project is an attempt to release the energies in deepest Below-Space?” Merral heard a flatness in Vero’s voice almost as if the whole idea was so overwhelming that no emotion was adequate to express it.

  “Yes and he has done it. He has already released the baziliarchs and now he has gone deeper still.”

  “Where there is the one,” Vero said softly.

  “The one. The great serpent—the one who writhes in endless hate.” Azeras’s voice was a low harsh whisper.

  “Have you seen the Blade?” Merral asked.

  “Once—two years ago on a mission that didn’t succeed. I saw it far away.” Azeras’s voice seemed to fail and when he spoke again, his voice was husky with emotion. “Even from a hundred kilometers away it can be seen, blocking out stars. It was not finished then. It may be now.”