by Chris Fox
“Last warning, Ree. Turn back.” Nara didn’t stiffen the argument any further. She knew Ree wouldn’t turn around. At least this way she eased her own conscience for what was about to follow.
As expected, Ree and her fighters pursued Nara in the most direct course possible. That put them in a neat, nearly single-file line. The further they got from Shaya, the tighter that line became. Nara smiled wickedly as she performed the calculations in her head.
Ree was going to be so pissed, and while part of her felt a little guilt, she immensely enjoyed what came next.
Nara had nearly reached Fissure range when she flipped the ship and began casting her first defensive spell. Nara began with an images spell that created several identical clones, all springing up around the real ship. They were indistinguishable and would distract the initial volley. Then, rather than attempt to open a Fissure, Nara cast an invisibility and cloaked the ship. Only the false images remained.
She guided the Talon back toward the spellfighters while the illusions continued toward the umbral shadow, and angled her flight on an intercept course. Just before the spellfighters reached range of her illusions, Nara fired. She poured void into the spellcannon, and sent a level three void bolt directly at Ree’s engines from close range. The spell hit the casing beside the right engine, which detonated spectacularly. Ree’s wounded craft spun out of control, and her companions were forced to dodge.
By the time they’d recovered, Nara had already cloaked the ship again.
Ree’s voice would have chilled the void. “If you want to fight, then show yourself and we’ll give you a fight.”
“Goodbye, Ree.” Nara guided the ship back toward the umbral shadow as the fighters launched a withering hail of light bolts at her illusions.
“We will hunt you, traitor,” Ree hissed. “Aran will hunt you.”
Nara flinched at those last words, but anger quickly overrode her guilt. “Maybe, but at least in your case I’m not too worried about you finding me. You’ve demonstrated today that you’re as bad at your job as I always assumed. First Frit escaped, and now me. You’re outclassed, little war mage. And I’m only going to warn you once. If you come after me again, I will shoot to kill, and it will be the last time you come after anyone.”
Ree’s response was a wordless cry of rage that would no doubt have shocked her sensible superiors.
Nara’s own anger faded, leaving her suddenly empty. She shivered, and began casting a Fissure. Her vessel didn’t appear until the moment the Fissure veined across the sky, and by the time the enemy fighters were aware of it, she’d already piloted the Talon through. She cast a final invisibility, then made the rudest gesture she could think of at Ree’s disabled fighter.
“Hear me, Pirate Girl.” Ree’s voice was deadly calm now, barely louder than a whisper. Intimate somehow. “I will kill you for this. No matter what it takes.”
Nara ignored her as the Fissure snapped shut behind her, sealing her in the depths. She began plotting a course using the maps that had come with the Talon. An illusion appeared over the scry-screen, and she studied it until she found what she was looking for. There it was, in an otherwise unremarkable system.
She had no idea what to expect at the Zephyr research facility, but at the very least it would contain more answers about her past. From there she could make some decisions about how best to thwart Talifax.
12
Resignation
Aran knew he was a mess as he stepped off the transport and walked into Confederate HQ, such as it was. He didn’t know where Nara had gone, or why. Her sudden departure was out of character, or out of character for the woman he’d thought he’d known. He refused to believe she’d been lying the whole time. Something had changed for her on Virkon, but he’d be damned if he could figure out what it was. He just wished she’d trusted him enough to share whatever she was going through.
There was no way to track the Talon. Nara had used wards to disguise her passage, and even Voria hadn’t been able to locate her. That meant that, for the time being at least, there was nothing he could do about it.
He took a deep breath, then approached the receptionist. A plastic blonde sat in a comfortable chair with her knees tucked under her, and held a datapad in her lap. Not a scry-pad, but one of the devices Pickus used. Evidence of similar technology was all around them. The lights were fluorescent instead of magical. The soft music in the room came from artfully hidden speakers, and not the air itself.
It was rather refreshing to see a people who didn’t use magic for everything they possibly could. Aran might not understand Ternus tech, but most of the principles didn’t seem at all different than magic, except with a different power source.
“Ahh, welcome, Lieutenant,” the receptionist called with a wave and a practiced smile. Her drawl drew a half smile. “The admiral is expecting you. He’s right through that door.”
She nodded to the office on the left, though he probably could have figured that out since the only other door was the bathroom on the right side. How frightening was it that the ‘Confederate Headquarters’ was nothing more than a single office with a receptionist and an officer?
“Thank you.” Aran nodded gratefully as he passed and strode confidently into the admiral’s office. It was a whole different feeling than the last time he’d been on Shaya. He knew who he was now, and what he could do. He knew his role in things, and no longer needed to answer to people like this.
“Have a seat, son,” groused a steel-faced man who sat behind the desk. His posture was immaculate, as was his olive Ternus uniform. Despite pushing seventy, his physique revealed a lifelong gym habit.
Aran did as asked, and sat. “Thank you, Admiral.”
“What did you want to see me about?” The admiral eyed him hawkishly over steepled fingers.
“I’m here to resign my commission.” Aran reached into his jacket and removed a stack of blue scales. The idea that his entire future could be purchased with a handful repelled him. He set the scales on the desk and slid them across. “The rest of my unit will be resigning as well, and I will be buying out their enlistments.”
The admiral leaned back in his chair and exhaled a long, slow breath. “Son, I’ve had a devil of a week. I’ve got supply problems of every kind. We’re short on men and material. I have to be on a transport to the front in three hours. We have no—”
“Let me stop you right there, Admiral,” Aran interrupted. “I apologize if I gave you the impression we weren’t invested in the war. My men are forming a—I guess—a mercenary unit of sorts. We’re resigning because we’re tired of Confederate bullshit. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to prosecute this war to the best of our abilities.”
Nimitz eyed him searchingly for several uncomfortable moments.
“What are you are saying, son?” The admiral raised a snowy eyebrow.
“I’m saying that if Ternus were looking to hire a mercenary unit to, say, hunt binders on New Texas, that we’re looking for work.” Aran relaxed back into his chair. The words released a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This was the right path.
The admiral’s weathered face split into a grin. “I knew I liked you, son. You’re a good soldier, unlike that arrogant woman you served under. I’ll have the papers drawn up immediately. We can even grant you a line of credit to purchase gear before you head to the front. You’ve got that fancy ship, right? Think you can get there pretty quick?”
Aran’s shoulders slumped. “We won’t have access to the Talon,” he admitted. That hurt, for obvious reasons.
“I see.” The smile vanished, replaced by a slight frown. “How do you intend to get to the front then, son?”
“I understand you’re not a fan of Major Voria, but I have a lot of respect for her, and with good reason.” Aran raised a hand to forestall the admiral when he began to object. “Hear me out. She’s going to the Tender right now to get Shaya to commit to helping New Texas. We can hitch a ride on one of the vessel
s she sends.”
“You know those self-important slits aren’t going to help,” the admiral snapped. “Eros is too paranoid to send so much as a single ship, so you’re not going to find help there.”
“I’m aware of that possibility, and I’ve come armed with a contingency plan. Sir, it’s safe to say that the Wyrm Hunter wouldn’t be flying if not for the Ternus Marines on Virkonna, and Davidson specifically.” Aran gave the man a conspiratorial smile. “We’re in complete control of that vessel, and it’s doing no good parked in a berth on Shaya.”
“Are you suggesting I look the other way while you and Davidson steal a Confederate warship?” The admiral’s face had gone neutral, and Aran had no idea if he approved or not. Too late to back down now.
He took a chance. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Aran held the man’s gaze.
“You’ve got some weighty, brass balls, son.” The admiral relaxed back into his chair. He reached into his desk drawer and removed a foil-wrapped bar. He unwrapped a bit. “Chocolate?”
“Sure.” Aran accepted a piece of the hard, brown candy. He’d never tried chocolate, but Kazon had mentioned it often. Aran tried a nibble, and his eyed widened in surprised. He gobbled down the rest.
The admiral smiled grimly. “Tell you what, son. If the major you’re so loyal to can’t get these slits to help, then I might just find myself otherwise occupied when the Hunter lifts off. Would be a real shame if someone made off with it.”
13
Honor Your Oath
Voria would never have admitted it aloud, but she was proud to carry Ikadra into the Chamber of the First. She wore her dress uniform, but she’d added her satchel and tome. She was an officer, but she was also a mage, and she wouldn’t let these people forget it.
Seven people waited in a half circle around the Pool of Shaya, and their adversarial stance wasn’t lost on her. She was still the outsider. She always would be.
“Shall we skip the preamble, Eros?” she called as she approached. She thumped Ikadra on the floor with every step, resisting the urge to smirk when several of the Caretakers gawked at the ancient eldimagus.
“Aww,” Ikadra pulsed, “that staff is about to celebrate its first millennium. It’s fully sentient. Hey there, little guy.” She knew which staff Ikadra meant. Eros’s right hand was wrapped around a midnight haft that drank in the light around it. The tip was an oval diamond that studied her as surely as she was studying it.
“You know I share your distaste for protocol,” Eros allowed, but then gave a reluctant sigh. “However, some protocol is warranted, in honor of my esteemed colleagues. Why have you come before us, Child of Shaya?”
“Because the Krox have invaded New Texas.” She met his gaze evenly, ignoring Ducius and the other Caretakers. “The hammer has fallen. If we don’t react, and react now, then Ternus will cede from the Confederacy. If that happens, the farce is over. There will be no more cooperation. We will stand alone against the Krox.”
Eros’s eyes flashed and his face twisted into a parody of itself. “We already stand alone against Krox. Have you forgotten that they attacked the Tree itself? If not for Lieutenant Aran we’d have lost an entire district. They struck at us in the heart of our power, Voria. They will do it again, and soon. I have seen it. You play at being a flame reader. Surely you can see the possibility I’ve dreamt of.”
Ikadra began to pulse. “Hey, uh, the metrosexual guy with the long hair—that’s Eros right?” His voice was loud enough to carry, and doused all conversation.
After a long moment of silence Eros finally spoke. “I assume you mean me?”
“Yeah,” Ikadra allowed. “Sorry if that was insulting, but you do look like you’re prepping for a shampoo commercial.”
Eros’s nostrils flared. “Out of deference for your immense age I will tolerate your…eccentricities. For now. Are you circling a point, staff?”
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Ikadra pulsed. “I just wanted to correct you. You said that Voria is playing at flame reading. She’s been gifted with full godsight. She isn’t playing at anything.”
“Godsight?” Ducius demanded. “Explain yourself. Quickly. This is a sacred place and I will not have it profaned by your…poo jokes.”
That drew a smile from Voria. “Word of your humor has apparently preceded our arrival.”
“I’m famous!” Ikadra pulsed rapidly.
“The point you were getting to?” Eros snapped.
“Godsight is the ability to perceive potential realities that stem from this one.” Ikadra pulsed thoughtfully. “You call it flame reading, but they aren’t the same thing. Flame reading allows you to perceive a single reality. You’d know the difference, if your goddess were still alive. Voria’s goddess is alive, and gave her the full ability. So I guess what I’m saying is that…well, your magic kind of sucks. Sorry, bro. No offense. Don’t you hate how people say that to soften things right after they say something offensive?”
Voria had never loved a man as much as she loved Ikadra in that moment. He’d ridden to the defense of her honor like a knight riding to war. Eros’s expression darkened.
“I apologize for the interruption.” Voria gave a respectful bow. “I understand your fear of another invasion. I’m not suggesting you strip our world of defenses, but we must send aid. At the very least we should dispatch the Wyrm Hunter, the Spellship, and a division of your finest spellfighters. These people are not equipped to battle binders, and you know it. All of you know it. They need us.”
A few had the self-awareness to understand her arguments, but it was clear by their expressions that most did not. Most could not see beyond their own system, and hadn’t left this world in decades. They had all they needed here, after all. Their precious bubble, provided by Shaya.
“Let the Krox spend themselves against Ternus,” Ducius finally called. A few others murmured their approval, though thankfully Eros was not one of them. Ducius was emboldened by the response, and his voice was louder as he continued. “I have nothing but respect for our allies, but we must be pragmatic. We know the Krox are coming. We can either spend time fortifying our world, or we can spend our strength to prolong the defeat of our most esteemed ally.”
“Eros?” Voria demanded. She locked eyes with him.
“My predecessor signed the Confederacy into law,” Eros said. His voice was icy, but his eyes blazed. “She is dead. The accord she created died with her. I have a responsibility not only to this world, but to the mother of us all. What I speak of now cannot leave this room. Literally.”
Eros raised a hand and began deftly sketching a complex sea of sigils. The speed and dexterity were peerless, at least from a mortal. Voria certainly couldn’t have duplicated it. Within moments the spell came together, and a wave of invisible energy pulsed through the room. Her skin tingled as it passed, and some sort of effect settled over her.
“There, we can speak freely now. For millennia we have sent our mages out into the sector to gain strength from other Catalysts. We have slowly gathered power, and at the twilight of their life each mage poured that magic into the Pool of Shaya. All this, thousands of years of dedicated effort, with the intent of resurrecting our goddess.” Eros licked his lips, and stared down at the Pool of Life. “The time of her rebirth nears. We have very nearly procured enough energy. That was Aurelia’s great secret. That was the reason she focused all her attention on Shaya, instead of helping the Confederacy in a more active way.”
Ducius grinned suddenly, and his excitement infected his neighbors. “If we can raise the Mother, then she can oppose Krox directly. We’ll have a goddess to fight their god!”
“Wow, Shaya would be really embarrassed to see this,” Ikadra pulsed. His words snuffed out Ducius’s excitement, leaving a cloud of anger in its wake.
“If that thing speaks of our Mother again—”
“You’ll what? Cast a third level spell? Oh, no. Save me, Voria,” Ikadra taunted. “I could disintegrate you before you started mangling w
hatever spell you were about to cast. I knew Shaya. Not this tree we planted over her grave. She’d be embarrassed by this display.”
Voria expected an explosive response, but instead Ducius’s eyed widened. His mouth worked, but he seemed unable to summon words.
“You knew Shaya?” Eros choked out.
“Yeah, and more importantly I know how she died.” Ikadra’s pulses came faster now. “Krox killed her. And many others. You act like a god is a fixed concept. It isn’t. Gods come in all sizes and strengths, and Krox is a greater god. Shaya was a lesser god, even when she was at her peak. If you bring her back she’ll be weaker than she was.”
“If Krox comes back he will likewise be weaker,” Voria pointed out. “But your point is taken.” Her gaze touched each Caretaker as she continued, “I’ve met a living goddess. I’ve seen her strength. She’s terrified of Krox, so much so that she won’t intervene directly. She’s stricken all memory of her name from every possibility, just to prevent Krox from finding her. Raising Shaya is a noble goal, but we cannot count on our Mother to stop Krox. We need to work with the resources and the allies that we have right now. We need to act, gentlemen. Send the Hunter. Send the Spellship. Keep your fighters if you must, though I doubt those will do anything to stop Krox if he should come for us.”
“Eros, you can’t allow yourself to be bullied,” Ducius roared. “Send nothing. Your Caretakers forbid it.”
“You speak for all of them now, do you?” Eros asked sourly. He turned back to her. “The Hunter stays here. The Spellship stays here. I know I can’t stop you leaving, of course, but I can recall my mages and you can find someone else to cleanse the vessel.”
“I see.” Voria squared her shoulders. She briefly considered a protest, but there was little point. “Well then, thank you for your time.”
She turned on her heel and strode from the Chamber of the First. There was silence in her wake, though she heard low voices once she exited the room. She’d certainly given them a lot to consider. Hopefully enough to keep them busy arguing while she took both the Spellship and the Hunter and left this wretched world.
