by Chris Fox
Aran expected Nara to laugh that off, but she went pale as a sheet, her freckles standing out on a somber face. He briefly considered asking her what Kheross meant, but he’d be damned if he was going to let this prick steer the conversation. He could speak to Nara later, in private.
“Well that answers my next question.” Aran folded his arms. “You’re clearly still loyal to Nefarius.”
“How can I not be?” Kheross snapped. The void magic in his eyes flared. “She is a part of me. She orchestrated my rebirth. The Wyrm I once was ceased to exist decades ago.”
“And what about Rhea? Your last living daughter?” Aran demanded. He leaned in close. “Let me be very clear. If you are both irredeemably contaminated, if your loyalties are in question, then you’re of no use to us. You might not care what happens to you, but what about your daughter? Do you really want to see her executed because you couldn’t be bothered to answer a few questions?”
Kheross’s jaw clicked shut and his expression became unreadable.
“Looks like you struck a nerve.” Nara sounded very satisfied, and Aran couldn’t blame her.
Aran studied the Wyrm carefully, but couldn’t discern any emotion. Kheross had buried his feelings. “You’ve got a choice, Kheross. We had more success cleansing Rhea than we did you. It’s possible she could have a normal life, and in time gain some measure of our trust. Or, you can both be disintegrated, and your souls bound and interrogated before being dispersed.”
“You practice binding?” Kheross sneered. “And yet you still have the gall to pretend at some sort of moral high ground. You shackle souls. There is no lower deed.”
“Magic is magic,” Nara countered, “and if we need to use binding to learn what we need, then we’ll use whatever it takes.”
Aran wasn’t as sure. Binding terrified him, particularly the kind used to enslave Dirk and Erika. Shackling another’s will, or worse their very soul, just wasn’t something he could get on board with. But there was no reason Kheross needed to know that.
“As I was saying,” Aran growled. “You have a choice. Cooperate, or both you and Rhea are ashes. And yes, your souls are fair game to these people. The question is, do you want to save your last surviving daughter and give her a chance at a real future?”
“What exactly are you offering?” Kheross pulled his long hair into a topknot, then rose slowly to his feet and shuffled closer to the bars.
Aran resisted the urge to withdraw his hand. “I might be able to arrange for Rhea to be freed. She could go where she wanted and do what she wanted. She could have a real future.”
“But for me there is none.” He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
Aran nodded. There was no need to sugar it up. “There’s a chance we’ll one day trust you enough to let you out of that cell, but I assure you we’d need to be pretty desperate.”
Kheross gave a quick, nonchalant nod. “Of course. I’d stab you in the back, and you know it. Though for the time being at least, our aims align. You want to stop Krox, you said. This bargain will I strike. I will tell you everything I know about Krox, and about how you defeated him. In turn, you will release my daughter. She may go where she will.”
“Done. I’ll speak to the major about it.” Aran had no idea how he was going to get Rhea back from Eros, but that was a problem to be solved later.
Aran turned on his heel and strode from the brig. He was mildly surprised when Nara followed. He waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “What did he mean by you being a spy in our midst? That’s crazy, right?”
Nara’s expression became a carefully rehearsed version of itself. It was masterfully done, and Aran might not have caught it if he hadn’t been exposed to it once in the past. It was exactly the kind of expression she’d worn back when he’d first met her. Before she’d been mindwiped. Seeing it now terrified him, and it lent weight to Kheross’s assertions, however crazy they sounded.
“Of course it is.” Nara gave a stilted laugh. “He just makes me uneasy. Hey, listen, I need to go meet with Eros. Catch up with you later?”
“Yeah, of course.” He gave her a smile that he doubted reached his eyes. “We’ll catch up later. I need to go talk to Voria anyway.”
Aran’s mind was troubled as he watched her walk away. Could he still trust Nara? She was an ally, wasn’t she?
8
Run
Nara had no intention of going to meet Eros. She hated lying to Aran, but as more and more memories came flooding back she’d come to a very powerful realization. She was dangerous. Old Nara had hurt Aran. She’d never forget the way he looked at her in the beginning, the absolute terror in his eyes.
If she were becoming that woman again, then the smartest thing she could do was get away from her friends. Unfortunately, getting away required a ship, and she only had access to one. Aran would never forgive her. Neither would any of the others. There had to be another way. Maybe she could hitch a ride on a transport, or find some other way off world.
She hurried to her quarters and packed her few belongings into a pack. As she stuffed in a second uniform a spike of pain shot through her temple. As before, part of her head began to tingle, heralding the awakening of another memory. This one, however, was far more powerful. The room around her disappeared, and she was in the memory.
Nara was strapped into a harness in what appeared to be a shuttle. It flew unerringly straight in a way that suggested they were post-atmosphere, though she couldn’t see outside and thus had no idea of the destination. She wasn’t able to move her body, but caught sight of people sitting to her right and left. Both wore black, form-fitting uniforms. Not quite body armor, or if it was armor, it was the lightest set she’d ever seen.
Each cradled a long-barreled rifle, as she herself did, she realized. She studied that rifle and found it matched the one from her previous memory, though she sensed that this memory came before the other.
“Thirty seconds to the cradle,” an emotionless voice crackled over the comm. “Deposit your rifle and armor, and report for debriefing.”
The shuttle made an audible thunk as it docked with something, and then the rear wall slid up into the ceiling to reveal a corridor leading into a station. One by one, Nara’s companions rose, and she fell into step behind them. They did not speak. There was none of the chatter she’d expect between soldiers. Each Zephyr—the word came unbidden—wore a visor with a cord attached to their spine.
Nara realized that she was also wearing a visor, which framed her vision. The screen was currently blank, except for an X-3 label that she sensed was her name. Memories of various readouts in a number of combats flared into existence in the back of her mind. She’d been trained to use this visor, this armor, and this rifle, with these people. She had no idea how many times they’d been deployed, but she got the sense that it was over a period of at least several years.
“Closer to a decade,” a voice rumbled from the space next to her. She recognized Talifax immediately, and every part of her longed to run in the opposite direction. “We have arrived at the Cradle, a level one facility in Ternus space. We’re in an asteroid field, the remains of a shattered moon. There is no reason to come to this system, which made it perfect for Ternus to conduct their experiments.”
“Experiments?” She wasn’t sure how she spoke, since memory-Nara’s mouth didn’t move. The memory continued to play out, and Nara was now making her way up a slate grey corridor. They were approaching a sterile mess hall, with chrome walls and uncomfortable chairs. It was currently empty.
“Ternus has long lagged behind in magical theory,” Talifax explained, without a hint of condescension. “They know this, and they are not fools. So they sought to expand their understanding by commissioning the Zephyr program.”
A thrill tingled through part of her mind at the second use of that word, unlocking many associated experiences. She remembered training. She remembered being forced to approach Sanctuar
y, an air Catalyst. There was a flash of storms. Water on her face. They were boarded by another vessel, and attacked by strange, green-skinned monstrosities.
Then she was back in the memory. Nara walked to the counter in the mess and picked up a tray. It contained several sealed sections, each with a different color of paste. She brought the tray to a table, and began to eat mechanically, her back to the wall so she could see the other Zephyrs, each with their back to a wall, eating mechanically.
“Why are they so…similar?” She asked, again unsure how she was speaking. Nara’s mouth didn’t move when the words issued.
“Neuro-associative conditioning,” Talifax explained. “You were exposed to highly experimental drug therapy, and fitted with a harness in the suit that administered drugs as the handler deemed fit. Any individuality was ruthlessly culled, and each of you was monitored at all times. This process began when you were eight years old, and has continued for a decade and a half before your liberation.”
Past Nara finished the paste and rose from the table. She deposited the tray in a receptacle, and then walked slowly out the opposite side of the mess. She threaded down another corridor, then stopped in front of an unremarkable door. It slid open at her approach, and she entered the room.
It contained a narrow bed, a nightstand, and a harsh light set into the ceiling. Nara flopped onto the bed and withdrew a comm unit from her pocket. She began playing some sort of game of the variety she’d seen Pickus play, and was apparently quite skilled at it.
“Why are you showing me this?” Nara demanded. She hated being so powerless.
“This is a formative moment in your development.” A ghostly vision of Talifax’s form appeared in the corner of her vision, his dark armor revealing nothing other than that he had bulky limbs. “This is your earliest past, but on this particular day your entire life changed. For you see, Ternus had no true understanding of the forces they were trifling with. One after another, they sent their Zephyrs to the Catalysts in the sector, but when they reached the Fist of Trakalon they were noticed.”
An explosion punctuated the word noticed—deep, and not distant enough for her comfort. Memory-Nara rose from her bed and placed the sniper rifle in the corner. She withdrew a very familiar spellpistol from a holster on her hip, and waited silently next to the door.
“What’s happening outside?” Nara wished she could control her own body, just for a few minutes.
“The Zephyrs were noticed,” Talifax continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “by me. I saw your potential, and nudged Yorrak into attacking this place. He believed he would find wealth here, and was bitterly disappointed when you were the only thing of interest.”
Nara slipped through the door, then tapped a button on the keypad on her wrist. The suit shimmered and disappeared from view.
“His thinking was quite limited.” Talifax drifted in the corner of her field of view as memory-Nara advanced up the corridor looking for threats. “He did not value the Ternus research, which was, of course, a mistake that ultimately proved fatal. He did not understand what Ternus had created, or how you might use it to escape his rule.”
Nara crept around the corner, and peered at the intruders. There were four of them, each eight-legged creature made of something that resembled stone. One of the spiders leapt on X-4, a woman she’d fought beside many times. X-4 removed a vibro-knife from her boot and began stabbing the creature in its many eyes even as its razored legs bathed her in her own blood.
Behind the monsters, a scarlet ruby glittered in the darkness. A figure stepped from the shadows, and Nara gasped in spite of herself. Terror pulsed through her—inexplicable and complete. Memory-Nara had no such compulsion, and calmly drew a bead on the man in dark spellarmor.
“Yorrak,” she whispered, as memories slithered into her mind.
“Yes. He was quite cruel to you, during your years of servitude.” Talifax seemed neither pleased nor displeased by the situation. “It shaped you. Molded you. Voria’s mindwipe removed your memories, but not the programming underneath. Your neurons have been shaped. Honed. And further enhanced, because Neith assumes you are her pawn, not mine.”
Nara’s terror mounted as he used a name that no one else seemed able to say. She beat frantically at the confines of her mind, longing desperately to be back in her body.
“You will return to your body in time.” The voice was smug now. “But I am not quite done with it. While you have been unlocking your memories, you have not been…idle.”
The implications slashed at her like shards of glass. When she’d dreamed of killing Voria, it had seemed utterly ludicrous. If Talifax could really control her body at will, though, then she could be doing it right now. Her friends were in danger, and it was her fault.
9
The Demon's Choice
Frit wasn’t really sure what to expect when they arrived at the system containing the Blazing Heart of Krox, but whatever it was, this exceeded it. She and her sisters hovered in the umbral shadow of a molten ball of rock, but it wasn’t the planet that interested her. It was the star the planet orbited.
An untrained eye would call it a red dwarf, but she could feel the magic pulsing from it, and knew this was no star. Rather, it was the Heart of Krox, the repository for the god’s vast reserves of fire magic. This wasn’t just a god. It was her god. The god that had given her form, even after that god’s death.
“Sister?” Fritara asked timidly. She drifted closer to Frit. “What do we do now?”
That was the real question. Frit had done what she’d set out to do. They were free, but now she had no idea what to do. What did freedom mean? It was terrifying. Where would they go?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Frit took in all of her sisters. “I’m scared. I don’t mind admitting it.” She pointed closer to the Heart of Krox—the corona, had this been a sun. “I can see our people there, flitting about. Do you see them?”
One by one, her sisters turned to look at the star. Their connection to the Heart had already dramatically enhanced their senses, and it allowed them to perceive things humans or Shayans would have called impossible. She could see across the million-kilometer gap as if gazing across a park.
“That’s what we were…before?” Rita asked.
“I think so.” Frit drifted a little closer to the Heart. Bathing in its light felt wonderful, and her entire body tingled. She longed to get closer. To bask in that light. All around her the others slowly donned beatific smiles. “We’ve finally come home.”
Magic surged behind her, and Frit spun to face a rapidly expanding Fissure. Someone else was coming through, though that had been expected. A large, grey cruiser emerged, and moved unthreateningly in their direction. It stopped a half-kilometer away, and two figures emerged from a cargo bay.
The first was a Krox hatchling Frit thought vaguely familiar. The second captured her full attention, though. Nebiat wore her human form, her dark skin highlighted by a scarlet dress that flattered her figure. A cascade of ghostly, white hair framed her elegantly, contrasting perfectly with the dress. She and the hatchling drifted closer, and it took Frit until the pair reached them for her to recognize him as the true mage they’d battled back on Shaya what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Sisters, I am so pleased to see you.” Nebiat glided to Frit and kissed her on both cheeks. She leaned back, and gave them all a warm smile. “You survived the crossing. Nearly all of you, it seems.”
“We fought with Ree and her war mages when we escaped.” Frit’s hands curled into fists. “We lost four sisters. The cost was high, but we’re…home, I guess.”
“You don’t sound particularly thrilled.” Nebiat raised a delicate, white eyebrow.
“Who is your friend?” Frit asked, deflecting the question.
“My son.” Nebiat rested a motherly hand on his shoulder. The hatchling flinched, but did not pull away. “I believe you met Kahotep briefly on Shaya, before you defected.”
“It is an honor.” Kaho g
ave a graceful bow with his wings flared out and his tail curled artfully behind him. “We are cousins, in a way. Both children of Krox, ultimately.”
Frit couldn’t set aside her dislike for the Krox, not after Nara’s stories. But so far as she knew, this one hadn’t done anything to them, and he wasn’t wrong about their kinship.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She bobbed a small curtsey, and all around her the other girls did the same. Only Fritara didn’t repeat it. She watched everyone, and Frit noted a calculating look to her gaze that she didn’t much like. “So, I don’t suppose, maybe, you could introduce us to our people? Do they know you?” She glanced over her shoulder at the Heart, then back at Nebiat.
“I can.” Nebiat nodded, and her smile never slipped. “But you must understand that such introductions are unnecessary. I have brought with me a pattern inducer, the very device used to mold you into your current forms. If you wish, I can return you to your natural state. You will be as they are, free to bask in the glow of your god.”
Frit watched her sisters to see how they’d react to the offer. Most avoided eye contact, and all looked uncomfortable. Even Fritara.
Frit turned back to Nebiat. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I don’t want to give up what I’ve become. It’s all I’ve ever known, and while it’s true that I’d be like them if I’d never been caught…well, I was caught. I did live as a Shayan, basically. I’m grateful for all you’ve done to get us home, but I don’t think I want to stay here.”
She realized that she didn’t want to meet them. Not one little bit. They were floating balls of light orbiting a god known for controlling the minds of his vassals. Turning them into willing slaves. She’d already seen what slavery was like, and the theft of will only made it worse.
