by Chris Fox
“Of course,” Nara said. Maybe she was being too defensive.
Thankfully Aran saved her further embarrassment. He tapped a series of sigils, and the spelldrive rumbled to life. The vessel lifted into the air with a great deal of shuddering.
“Don’t worry too much about the shaking.” Pickus shot her a grin. “She doesn’t do too well in atmosphere, but once we hit post-atmo she’ll settle down.”
24
WORST HANGOVER EVER
Nebiat glanced up at the glittering transport as it left Shaya’s atmosphere. Voria had left on her quest. Regrettably, Erika had been unable to learn more about the augury Voria had received.
Not that it mattered. The instant they left atmosphere, Khalahk would be on them. There was no way their battered little frigate would survive the encounter.
Nebiat almost wished she were there to see the look on Voria’s face, but she had more important work to be about. She smiled as she landed gracefully on the balcony. Several empty wine bottles lay scattered about, and a plate of piksa dust. Erika had done her job well, it appeared. Nebiat strolled into the sitting room. Several women slept wherever their drug-induced frenzy had expired. None stirred as she passed.
She entered the master bedroom and saw two figures in bed. Erika was already awake. She sat on the side hastily pulling on clothes. Her spellblade lay close at hand.
The other figure stirred groggily, but didn’t rise. He gave a low groan. “My head. I haven’t partied like that in decades. And it’s been even longer for you. Why the sudden change of heart?”
Dirk raised his head, grinning at Erika as she finished buckling on her spellblade. Only then did he realize they weren’t alone. He glanced curiously at Nebiat, as if trying to understand her sudden appearance.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she asked, with a delighted laugh. “You still don’t realize what’s going on.”
“Erika?” Dirk asked cautiously. He slipped from bed, naked. Rather than move for his clothing he went straight for his spellblade, yanking it from its scabbard. His eyebrows knit together as he reached for something, then his head cocked to the side. He tried again, then his eyes show to Erika. “Why can’t I feel my magic? What did you do to me?”
Erika hung her head. “I’m sorry, Dirk. I don’t often say this, but in this I truly had no choice.”
“You’ve been bound,” Dirk whispered. He turned back to Nebiat, and this time his eyes made it as high as her face. “You’re a dreadlord.”
He charged. Denied his magic, and suffering the effects of exhaustion and heavy drug use, he still behaved like a living weapon.
Nebiat sketched a binding and flung it at him.
He raised a hand to counterspell it, then lowered the hand in frustration. The spell slammed into him, arresting his forward momentum. Dirk came up short, eyes going glazed as he fought the spell.
Erika moved to stand in front of Nebiat, ready to shield her if Dirk resisted her magic. He groaned and fell to his knees, then blinked up at her hatefully, unable to rise without Nebiat’s permission. She’d won.
“Well done, Erika. We’d never have been able to take him in a fair fight, but Dirk is as flawed as any other man.” Nebiat smiled cruelly at him. “And now we’re going to use you to kill the abomination you call the Confederacy.”
25
EYES
Voria settled into a comfortable stance inside the command matrix’s slowly rotating rings. She’d missed being in a matrix, even a misshapen one bolted onto a Ternus vessel never designed with any sort of arcane use in mind. The layout was all wrong, preventing them from adding the correct alignment of sigils necessary to create offensive or defensive runes.
They could fire spells, and even counterspells—but if anything got through, this ship would come apart at the seams, the way her career had come apart. Even a single direct hit would likely be lethal.
The Texas rattled and whined as they pushed into the upper atmosphere. Voria licked her lips, glancing over at Pickus. “This ship can survive a climb like this, yes?”
“Course she can,” Pickus called from one of the torn leather seats against the cockpit wall. “Just give it a few more seconds. We’re leaving the atmosphere. See? She’s leveled out. Smooth as silk up here.”
The shaking slowed, then ceased. Voria slowly exhaled; once she’d composed herself, she finally turned to Crewes. “Sergeant, put up a view of the planet’s umbral shadow on the scry-screen.”
Crewes tapped a fire sigil on the silver ring, then frowned up at the unfamiliar display. “Uh, I can’t, sir. It ain’t working.”
“Pickus?” Voria asked. The eternally distracted mechanic had his face buried in his little pocket device, staring at the glowing screen.
He look up. “You need something, Captain?”
“Why isn’t the scry-screen working?” she asked with as much patience as she could muster.
“Because it isn’t a scry-screen? It’s a monitor. Attached to a camera outside the ship. I can point it wherever you’d like though.” He held a finger poised over his device.
“The umbral shadow, if you please.” Voria already hated the vessel. She hated the fact that two of the crew she’d assumed most loyal hadn’t shown up at all, and those who had…well, they’d only done it reluctantly. None of them had followed out of faith, or even duty.
What did that say about her abilities as a leader?
The scry-screen zoomed in, very slowly. It went out of focus, but when it came back it showed the region of space around the umbral shadow. Hunks of rock floated between them and their destination, but not so numerous they couldn’t be easily avoided.
“Lieutenant, guide us to the shadow and open a Fissure, please.” She rested her hands on the stabilizing ring. She was about to ask Nara to relieve her when she spotted a flash of movement behind one of the larger asteroids. “Pickus, get the camera on that cluster of rocks to the left side of the screen.”
The camera jerked, and showed a large spinning asteroid surrounded by several smaller ones. A pair of crackling white-blue flames hovered in the shadows above the asteroid. Eyes, she realized. They winked out an instant after she spotted them.
“Aran, circle wide around that asteroid. Keep as much distance between us as possible.” She pursed her lips, considering. “Nara, please relieve Sergeant Crewes.”
Crewes ducked out one side of the stabilizing ring, while Nara entered from the other. Voria turned her attention back to the primitive monitor, with its woefully pathetic camera. Her kingdom for a simple divination spell.
“Sir?” Aran asked. The ship shuddered briefly, then moved in a wide arc away from the asteroid she’d indicated.
“Nara, ready a void bolt for the cannon. Aran, stand by for evasive maneuvers.”
Voria prepared for a counterspell, hoping this was all simple paranoia.
A Wyrm materialized only a kilometer from the ship, already banking in their direction. A bolt of blue-white electricity shot from its mouth, crossing the distance almost instantly.
Almost.
Voria completed her counterspell, which burst from the cannon as the lightning licked the outer hull. The lightning shunted into a nearby asteroid, obliterating it. A smattering of pings came from outside as the debris rebounded off their hull.
“Captain, why not have Nara cloak us?” Aran asked.
The ship canted suddenly, faster than the inertial dampeners could compensate for. Voria’s stomach lurched, but the maneuver now screened them from the Wyrm with a large asteroid.
“That thing is a hell of a lot faster than we are,” he said, “and there’s no way I can get there and open a Fissure before it finishes us off. If a single one of those lightning bolts gets through, we’re toast.”
The asteroid behind them exploded, and the Wyrm burst through the debris.
Voria prepared another counterspell, waiting for the beast to close. “That Wyrm is breathing lightning, so it’s not a Krox. Air mages are illusion
ists and enchanters. It will therefore expect illusion, and likely be prepared to deal with it. It’s been lying in wait for us, giving it plenty of time to prepare. We must assume it’s using a potion of pierce invisibility. No, I have a different use for Nara’s abilities. Nara, hit it with the most powerful void bolt you can fire.”
Nara didn’t reply, but her mouth firmed into a determined line. She sketched a spell, and Voria frowned when she recognized air and dream. She was using an illusion, not a void bolt. A purple-pink bolt shot from the cannon, and the Wyrm batted it aside with a casual counterspell.
Nara had already begun her second spell, fired on the wake of the first. A fat void bolt shot from the Texas, blasting the dragon in the shoulder where the ringbone was attached.
“Uh, Captain?” Nara’s voice was a bare whisper. “Why didn’t my spell do anything?”
“The Wyrm possesses enhanced magic resistance, probably from an eldimagus it has created. Air Wyrms are some of the most dangerous, especially ones this old.” Voria judged the gap to the umbral shadow. They weren’t going to make it, not unless she could come up with another solution. “Nara, I want you to cast a support spell. The next time the Wyrm fires I want you to blink our vessel closer to the umbral shadow.”
“I’ve never teleported an entire vessel, just a couple suits of spellarmor.”
“Find a way, or we’re dead.” Voria’s words were matter-of-fact, and she quickly turned to the next phase of the plan. “Repeat that each time the Wyrm closes. Once we’re into the shadow, Nara, I want you to open the Fissure. That will leave Aran free to pilot, and I can continue to counterspell. It’s the only way we’ll reach the Umbral Depths.”
“Won’t the Wyrm just follow us?” Aran pointed out.
The ship rolled between another pair of asteroids, and something heavy pinged off the hull. The Wyrm poked around another asteroid, loosing a bolt in their direction. Voria resisted the urge to counterspell it, instead waiting for Nara. Nara had gone pale, but she calmly raised her hand and began tapping sigils.
A wave of vertigo passed over them as the ship suddenly appeared a thousand meters closer to the umbral shadow. The bolt passed harmlessly through the space they’d just occupied.
The Wyrm vanished again.
“That really seems unfair,” Pickus called, his voice high and panicked.
Aran, his fingers flying across sigils on all three rings, shot Pickus an encouraging smile. “Get used to it. Everything we deal with is unfair. Sir, I’m flying as erratically as I can, but that thing is going to be able to unload point-blank, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
The ship moved with a surprising amount of grace, a testament to his piloting skills.
“Nara, if you could—”
The Wyrm appeared, directly underneath their vessel. The crackling bolt left its mouth, slamming into the hull before Voria could complete her first sigil. Sparks exploded as a conduit tore itself loose from the wall, raw arcane power spewing into the air from the end.
The sharp stench of ozone washed over the bridge, making Voria light-headed for a moment. Her matrix stopped spinning, and the sigils went dark. She rounded, relieved to see that both Nara’s and Aran’s were operational.
Nara tapped the last sigil in her spell, and their vessel teleported another thousand meters. The camera spun to face the Wyrm, showing an alarming amount of metallic debris around it. How much of the ship had they just lost?
“Pickus, can you tell me how much damage we suffered?” she asked, as calmly as she could muster.
“Nothing vital, just atmosphere in the cargo bay. We won’t be able to access anything other than the mess and the cockpit until we can set down for repairs.”
“Noted. Aran, cease all evasive maneuvers. Nara, this comes down to you. Trust your instincts, and teleport us as you think you should. Try to anticipate the dragon.”
Voria had no idea if her instructions mattered at all, and badly wish it were her in the matrix instead of Nara. If Nara’s timing was off even slightly, the Wyrm would finish them. Voria seized the stabilizing ring with both hands, hating the loss of control. She should be part of this battle, not relegated to the rearguard, yet the practical part of her knew that the two most qualified mages were right where they should be.
Her role was command, and she needed to accept that.
A shape materialized off their starboard side, but Nara had already begun casting. The dragon’s head reared back, a deep glow building in its throat.
They jumped into the planetary shadow.
“This will have to be close enough. Open the Fissure, Nara. Aran, I want us through the instant it’s wide enough.”
The camera focused on the Wyrm, who grew larger every moment.
26
DESPERATION
Aran poured another wave of void magic into the ship. The vessel responded sluggishly—nearly as sluggishly as the Hunter, despite the fact that this ship was a fraction of the size. “Piloting a brick against the most devastating killing machine in the sector seems like a great start to this trip. I was hoping we’d at least make it out of the system before dying.”
“You didn’t really expect anything else, did you?” the Major shot back. She barked a short laugh. “I can’t believe a god would go to all the trouble of making an augury only to have us die here.”
“I’m opening the Fissure.” Nara began tapping sigils, and a large chunk of violet energy passed from her hands into the matrix. It flowed into the ship, and a moment later the sky split before them.
The Wyrm appeared behind them again, and Aran used his gravity magic to yank the ship violently out of the way. The bolt of lightning crackled past, tearing off part of the aft hull but leaving them otherwise unscathed. Aran poured on more speed, forcing the vessel into the still-opening Fissure.
“It isn’t wide enough!” Crewes roared, an octave higher than normal.
Aran centered the vessel, threading it through the eye of the needle. He passed perfectly down the center, flying with the instincts that had so recently re-awakened. The pulsing violet energies at the edge of the Fissure warped the view on the camera, but seemed to have no adverse affect beyond that.
Then they were through!
Aran piloted them deeper into the depths, then whirled to face Crewes. “Nara, drop the Fissure spell. Sergeant, I want you to relieve Nara for a moment. Nara, don’t go far—we’re going to need you in a minute.”
The Fissure winked shut in their wake.
“Lieutenant, care to share your plan?” Voria demanded.
Aran continued to tap sigils. “I can do or explain, Captain. Pick.”
“Do it,” she gave back instantly.
Aran was mildly surprised by how readily she turned over command. “Sergeant, I want you to light us up. Broadcast as much heat and light as you can. Make sure everything can see us from as far away as possible.” He tapped another pair of void sigils and dumped more power into the vessel. He was already tiring, though this was easier than it would have been a few weeks ago. He’d gotten stronger.
The outside of the hull began to glow, blasting light and heat in all directions. All that light revealed nothing but blackness, of course. But anything capable of detecting light had seen them, for millions of kilometers.
Behind them, another Fissure appeared; a moment later, a furious Wyrm clawed its way through. Its hateful gaze fell on their ship, and Aran poured yet another wave of void into the spelldrive. “I have no idea if this will work, but I don’t see another way to escape this thing. Crewes, keep the light going until that thing closes with us. When it does, turn the matrix over to Nara. Nara, I want you to cloak us when the Wyrm attacks.”
“That won’t stop it,” Voria snapped. “We’ve already been over this. What’s your plan? Explain—quickly.”
Aran took a deep breath. They had a moment and he did owe her an explanation.
“The depths are inhabited, though we don’t know by what. I’m praying someth
ing will come to investigate all the light. And, while the dragon can see through our illusions, I’m hoping whatever shows up won’t be able to. Ideally, they’ll keep the Wyrm busy, and we’ll slip away in the chaos.”
Voria gave an approving nod. “Bold.”
“And maybe stupid. Guess we’re about to find out.” Aran held his breath as he watched the monitor. The dragon was closing fast, despite his efforts to coax every bit of speed from the Texas. “If I’m wrong, and that thing kills us … uh, sorry.”
“It’s not as if I have a better plan.” Voria walked to stand before the matrix. “Either this works, or we die. As I said, I cannot believe that Marid, or some other god we’ve yet to meet, would go so far as to make an augury only to have it end like this. I choose to believe we will live.”
Aran admired that about her: her courage in the face of death. It inspired him to offer the same level of courage. “Here it comes.”
The dragon breathed another bolt of lightning, but to Aran’s surprise they teleported out of the path. He glanced at Nara, who shot him a wink.
“I imagine that thing must be getting pretty pissed off.” Nara leaned heavily on the stabilizing matrix, a bead of sweat trickling from her forehead. She stood next to Crewes, the pair of them barely fitting inside the spinning rings.
The entire ship lurched forward, sending the crew flying. Aran caught himself against the stabilizing matrix, as did Nara and Crewes. Voria tumbled forward, sliding into the far wall. She seized the loose strap on a harness, arresting her momentum as the ship righted itself.
“What in the depths hit—” the sergeant began.
An enormous claw punched through the ceiling, and Aran flung himself out of its path as it sliced into the floor near his matrix. The ship loosed an agonizing groan as the dragon began to tear the hull apart.
“Sergeant, drop the light,” Aran ordered. He rose to his feet, taking slow, shallow breaths as he prepared to cast again.
