by Chris Fox
“Before we can leave, I need to retrieve my companions. They are having audiences with Neith,” Voria explained. She started back toward the double doors she’d arrived from, using Ikadra as a walking staff. “So, I’m afraid I must be rather indelicate. I’m a military commander, and I’m used to orders being followed. Are you normally this chatty?”
“No,” Ikadra said forlornly. “Most of the time it’s don’t speak unless spoken to, unless I’m warning you of a threat. I have additional latitude right now since I’m supposed to instruct you about a whole bunch of boring stuff. You don’t have to worry about my constant, awesome commentary after that. I mean, unless you want to remove that particular limitation?”
“No, I think I’ll leave that bit in place for now.” Voria stopped in front of the doors. She shook her head in wonder. “I’m still waiting for the dragon dung to drop, so to speak. We haven’t been attacked in two full days, and we’re actually receiving resources to fight with. I feel like someone’s made an awful mistake, and they’re going to correct it any moment.”
The staff was blessedly silent and Voria relaxed a hair. She took long deep breaths, considering how best to proceed. She wanted a ready solution when Aran and the others arrived, so they could get out of here, get back to Shaya, and deal with Nebiat.
The doors finally swung open. Voria stepped out of their path, watching the darkness as footsteps approached. Aran emerged a moment later, encased in spellarmor and holding a naked spellblade. His armor had changed again—grown larger and sleeker. The armor’s alloy had gone from a deep grey to a dark, angry crimson.
“Are the others here yet?” Aran asked in a subdued voice. He placed his spellblade in a void pocket, then removed his helmet. The doors closed silently behind him.
“Not yet, but you arrived only moments after I did. I doubt it will be long before the others join us. Which gives us our last moment of real privacy.”
“And you want to talk to me about falling into line?” Aran asked. Whatever awe he felt for Neith had been replaced by amusement.
“Quite the contrary. I want you to do more questioning,” Voria countered. She stroked Ikadra’s runes with her thumb. “Thalas was a blowhard, but he was a competent first officer. I don’t know where we’re going to end up, or even if we’ll continue to be affiliated with the Confederate Marines. I hope so. But either way, I need a strong first. That might have been Davidson, but he’s back on Shaya, or already shipped off to someone else.”
“I’ll follow your orders, but I won’t do it unquestioningly.” Aran spoke with a quiet confidence. “I’ll try not to be an ass about it, but, especially after learning about my past, I’m not going to take anything lying down any more. The Confederacy—you—screwed me. The reasons make sense, but that doesn’t change the facts. I’m not just some Marine. I’m an Outrider.”
“That’s exactly the tenacity we will need, I think.” Voria smiled at his determination and candor—at his growth, really. The Tabula Rasa had been replaced with a strong, confident war mage. “We are both of us tools, Aran. Tools with complimentary purposes. If we work together, I don’t know that anything can stop us. Not even the Krox.”
Aran offered her a hand, and Voria shook it. He cleared his throat. “I blamed you for a lot initially, but I get that it isn’t your fault now. I’m sorry if I was a little…assholish.”
“Thalas did not set the bar very high.” She laughed and pointed to the starport. “I know you want to wait for Nara, but I think you’ll approve of the transportation Neith has provided.”
“I’d wondered if they were going to give us a ship.” Aran’s spellarmor rose from the deck and he peered into the area where the ship was parked.
The doors opened again, and Nara drifted slowly up the stairs. Her staff was clutched in her armored hand, the end now pulsing as fire rubies slowly orbited the tip. She glided to a halt next to Voria, and stowed her staff in a void pocket.
Nara slowly removed her helm, and her dark hair spilled out. “Now that was a…fascinating experience.”
“Agreed.” Voria brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it on the ship, but the sooner we get underway, the better.”
“Ship? The Talon isn’t the ship. She’s just a shuttle, to get us to the ship,” Ikadra said. Aran’s blade snapped into a guard position, while Nara merely gawked at the staff. “Oh, uh, sorry. I thought Voria was going to introduce us.”
Voria cleared her throat, and held up the staff for their inspection. “This is Ikadra, a guide left for us by Neith. He’s yet to explain what he is a guide to.”
“I was just doing that,” the staff explained jubilantly. “I’m supposed to guide you to the real ship. As in the first spellship. I act as a super charismatic key.”
“Where is this spellship?” Voria demanded.
“Why not store the spellship here?” Aran asked, right on the heels of her own question.
“I don’t know where it’s stored, but it isn’t stored here, because that would bring too much risk. If this world were discovered we couldn’t have both the key and the vessel fall into the hands of our enemies.”
The door opened again, and Crewes strode through with his helmet tucked under one arm. He wore the largest smile—and one of the only smiles—Voria had ever seen on the man. “That hairy, eight-legged dragon ain’t half bad. So what did I miss?”
“We’re about to board the vessel left for us.” Voria’s glee faded. “Once we take off Khalahk will almost certainly attack us. But I may have a plan.” She started striding toward the ship.
“Wait!” Nara called. She pointed back at the door. “Pickus, remember? He hasn’t come out yet.”
“Oh, yeah,” Crewes muttered. “The kid can fix things. We should keep him breathing.”
The door opened a final time and Pickus came stumbling out, his mouth hanging open. He stared wide-eyed around him, then thrust a hand into the air. “Check. This. Out!”
His fist burst into flames.
“Excellent,” Voria said. “Another fire mage. Nara, will you take charge of his training?”
“I’d be happy to.” Nara perked up, and Voria smiled.
Being a commander, as it turned out, involved more empathy and trust than she’d have guessed.
43
VANISH
Aran turned around slowly in wonder, drinking in the interior of a vessel older than the Confederacy, or Ternus. “This thing is amazing.”
The spellship didn’t resemble any vessel he’d flown on. The walls were sloped, golden metal, with tall, arched hallways that easily accommodated spellarmor.
Several rooms radiated off the main entryway where they stood, and a ramp sloped up toward what Aran guessed must be the battle bridge.
“These rooms are larger on the inside.” Nara’s head poked out from one of the rooms. “Like a void pocket. They’re incredibly spacious. They even come with a full reference library! This place is a palace.”
Aran started for the room, but Voria raised a hand to block him. “Wait. I realize we are all eager to explore, but could I see you all on the bridge first?”
Aran headed that direction, and the others fell into line behind him. He didn’t mind following orders, but mostly he wanted to see the Talon’s battle bridge.
He paused at the top of the ramp, a grin spreading across his face as he moved immediately to the the command matrix. A black, contoured chair floated within, and would allow the pilot to touch any part of the rings without needing to stand. The pilot could be comfortable for hours, without ever needing to duck out and sit while another mage took a standing shift.
Two other matrices sat at the corners of the room, each identical to the command matrix.
“Which is offensive, and which is defensive?” he asked.
“I can’t distinguish any differences between the matrices. Ikadra?” Voria looked at her staff.
It spoke in a warm pleasant voice. “The matric
es are interchangeable. The practice of segregating them was introduced as a cost-saving measure, long after this vessel was constructed, but before Shaya died.”
“How long is that?” Aran asked.
“Many millennia,” Voria supplied impatiently. “So any mage can cast a spell from any matrix?”
“Yes, and the ship also possesses a fourth matrix: me.” Ikadra’s sapphire flared. “You may cast spells directly through me, and I will funnel them through the appropriate spellcannon.”
“Four pilots? That’s a pretty hefty tactical advantage, especially on a ship this small.” Aran slid into the command matrix and sat in the floating chair. It flowed around his body, the contours adjusting to fit his posture. “We could have two dedicated offensive casters, a counterspeller, and a pilot.”
“And that’s going to form the foundation of our defense.” Voria moved to stand before a floating scry-screen comprised of clear magical energy. She waved a hand before it, and the scry-screen flared to life. Right now it showed the sky above, empty black.
“Strategy? Does that mean you have a plan to deal with Khalahk?” Aran asked slowly. He’d been chewing on the problem himself, without a lot of success. Even a pre-godswar spellship might not be enough to deal with a Wyrm as old as Khalahk.
Nara had moved to the second matrix, and climbed cautiously into the chair. Crewes watched her do it, and only moved to the last matrix after she seemed comfortable.
“Man I hate this piloting shit. We gotta get someone better for the last spot.” He climbed in, his comically large armor spilling over the sides of the chair. “At least this thing will hold me in my armor.”
“Yes, I do have a plan. We’re going to leave the planet, very openly,” Voria said. “The dragon will, in all likelihood, attack us immediately. It has no idea what this vessel is capable of, and we don’t really either—which means we don’t know how we’ll fare in the first confrontation.” She turned from the viewscreen, touching Aran’s gaze, then the others. “This fight still doesn’t favor us. First, let’s compile our resources. Ikadra, what’s the highest level spell this ship can cast?”
“Up to ninth-level spells,” Ikadra supplied happily. “Is there a specific spell you have in mind?”
“Possibly. Ikadra, can you cast spells?” Voria asked.
“A few. I can only cast the spells stored in me by the last owner. Would you like a list?”
“Yes.”
“Icy Storm of Death, Disintegrate Shit, Impervious Bubble of Coolness—”
“You named these spells, didn’t you?” Voria put a hand to her temple. “We’re given the key to the most powerful ship in the galaxy, and it has the mind of an eight-year-old. Do any of the spells involve poop?” She sighed. “Continue.”
“Vanish, and a ninth-level counterspell,” Ikadra finished.
“What does Vanish do?” Aran asked.
“We fade from one location, and appear in another. When we reappear, it will be under the effects of a hardened invisibility.”
“Which will work against the dragon?” Nara asked. “I’m not familiar with the term hardened as it pertains to a spell.”
“Hardening increases the magical resonance, allowing it to defeat most counterspells or defensive responses,” Voria said. “In this case, yes, it means the dragon will not be able to see us. We can use that spell, and escape toward Shaya.”
“He’ll be waiting for us when we arrive. That thing is still faster than us, even in the Talon,” Aran pointed out. He reached out for the spelldrive, syncing with it. The ship thrummed eagerly, a living thing, just like his spellblade. “I can feel the limits. For its size, this thing is insanely fast, but Wyrms are faster than every spellship I’ve ever heard of.”
“That’s fine.” Voria gave a grim smile. “It will take three days to reach our exit point. By the time we arrive, we’ll have a plan.”
“This assumes we can get the past the dragon in the first place. Are we ready to take off?”
“Do it,” Voria ordered.
“On it.” Aran smiled slowly as he tapped the initiation sequence. The corvette drew a sliver of void from his chest, then rose slowly into the air. “Okay, here goes.”
He poured power into the ship, and she shot from the starport, into the sky. The speed was incredible, but there was no increased g-force as they accelerated toward orbit. “This thing’s internal dampeners are phenomenal.”
“The excess gravity is channeled into additional velocity,” Ikadra explained.
They’d nearly reached orbit when a dark shape appeared on the horizon. Wings unfurled as the dragon sped in their direction. The scry-screen tracked its progress, and the thing was growing larger at an alarming rate.
Aran’s eyes narrowed, and he guided the ship into a steep climb. “It’s on us in fifteen seconds.”
“I want erratic flying as soon as it fires the first lightning bolt. I’ll counter it.” Voria moved to the scry-screen, pacing back and forth before it. “Crewes, cast a fire bolt when the dragon is within range.”
The dragon closed, and finally loosed a lightning bolt. Aran jerked the ship out of its path, but the bolt adjusted to track their flight. Voria tapped a spirit sigil, then an earth. A dark brown counterspell shot from the spellcannon under the main body, slicing the lightning bolt in two. The energies were then sucked toward the counterspell, completely negated as the whole ball popped out of existence.
A moment later, a scarlet fire bolt shot from the side cannon, then a void bolt from the left cannon.
“Improvisation. I approve, Lieutenant.”
Aran smiled, unsurprised that she realized he’d been the one to add the void bolt. Both spells streaked toward the dragon. It dodged the fire bolt, but the void bolt slammed into its side. The creature shrieked silently as scales on its rear leg disintegrated, exposing muscle underneath.
“I’d say that’s pissed it off sufficiently. Ikadra, if you’d kindly cast your stored vanish spell, we’d be grateful.” The staff began to glow around the tip, and waves of pink-and-white energy flowed through it, into the floor. All three spellcannons exuded dark, violet light, and the perspective on the scry-screen jumped suddenly.
“How far did it move us?” Aran asked, scanning the space around the ship.
“About twenty kilometers. Enough to avoid any response from the Wyrm.” Ikadra sounded pleased with himself.
Aran found himself liking the staff. He bet it would get along great with Bord. He spun his matrix to face Voria. “Well, that went a heck of a lot better than the last time.”
“That it did.” She smiled warmly. “And we did it without revealing any of our other resources. The Wyrm isn’t even aware of Nara yet. We’ve bought ourselves a few days, and by that time we’ll know what this vessel can do. Well done, all.”
“What will we do now?” Nara asked. “I mean how will we prepare?”
Aran stifled a yawn. “First, I’m going to get a good night’s sleep.”
“He’s right,” Voria said. “We can convene in the morning to discuss tactics. Why don’t we enjoy some well-earned rest? I doubt the coming days will allow for much sleep.”
44
FINAL PREP
Nara combed her fingers through her hair, then tugged it into a tangled ponytail.
Good enough.
She resisted the urge to bring her staff, because knew she was only carrying it around so much as a sort of look at me aimed at the rest of the crew. She was proud of being a true mage, but there was no need to rub it in everyone else’s faces.
She headed up into the mess—a spacious dining chamber with a quartet of tables, each large enough to seat six. Aran, Crewes, and Voria sat together chatting in wide, comfortable chairs.
“What is that amazing smell?” Nara asked, as she entered the room.
“It’s whatever you want it to be. See that golden disk over there?” Aran pointed with a drumstick. “It’s a food conjurer. You can make whatever you want. We might be dead i
n a couple days, but at least we’ll die happy.”
“Give me a slice of Shayan layer cake,” Nara ordered. The disk flashed, and her cake appeared. “This is incredible.”
“And it breaks several laws of physics,” Pickus said, entering behind Nara. “But this thing can make chicken wings, so I don’t really care.”
“Nara,” Voria said, “would you please join us?”
Nara brought the cake to the table and sat next to Aran. “Did you finish hashing out the plan to deal with the Wyrm?”
“We have, but what I want to discuss is what happens when we reach Shaya.” Voria’s face went hard. The major was back. “I won’t require anyone to speak about their experience with Neith, but I am willing to relate part of my own encounter. Neith gave me the ability to see possibilities the same way gods do. I’ve been studying this ability in my quarters. Using it, I believe I have discovered Nebiat’s plan—or the shape of it, at least.”
Voria planted her palms on the table. She eyed them all to make sure they were paying attention. “Nebiat is going to kill Tender Aurelia.”
“How the depths is she gonna do that?” Crewes asked. “The Tender can summon her royal guard. Those guys scare me the way I scare Bord. I don’t care how good that scaly bitch is, she can’t deal with the Tender and her guards. They got spellfighters. Lots of ’em. Even dragons don’t like fighters.”
“What if her guards were called away by someone they trusted implicitly?” Voria countered. “Sent away to deal with a threat to Shaya, led by a talented military strategist… like my father.”
“Are you saying… she’s bound Dirk?” Nara asked, setting down her cake. Her appetite was ashes.
“That’s brilliant and ruthless.” Aran clenched a fist. “Send us away, so we can’t interfere. Arrange our buddy Khal to make sure we don’t make it back. Bind Dirk, and use him to respond to a fake emergency, then assassinate the Tender. She leaves Shaya in chaos, without ever facing us directly.”
