Rez’nac drew his ceremonial dagger and pressed it against the throat of the High Prelain. “All soldiers shall drop their weapons immediately! Or this ends now!” He then raised his dagger to show that he had drawn blood—although the injury to the High Prelain’s neck was superficial, it made the point he wanted.
“In the name of the Essence of Rythicar, drop your weapons!” one of the councilmen said. “The life of the Most Divine is at stake!” Once he did, the soldiers complied, seeming hesitant to do so, but they each, in turn, set their rifles upon the ground.
“Very well, then, Fallen One, you shall have your audience. Speak and speak true. This Council does not exist to hear folly, nor lies, and by the Essences we shall know if you have misled us. For we are the Prelains of the Religion of Light, and the Essences will bestow the knowledge upon us.”
“I am counting on that,” said Rez’nac. “But sometimes a demonstration is the way in which the Essences communicate. It is not so often in words.”
“And what would you demonstrate?” asked a councilman.
“I would have you know, and search your minds and hearts deeply for confirmation from the Essences, but this Council, and our glorious Confederation, even our most sacred and Forbidden Planet itself, has been invaded by Dark Ones, in disguise as us, and they would purge the galaxy of all who believe in the Essences and the Light. Leaving only the Dark Ones and their lies of a singular, almighty God in the place of the true Essences.”
Shock filled the room. Shock and a profound sense of disbelief. No doubt Rez’nac sounded like a raving lunatic. After all, there seemed to be no evidence to support his claims. And the idea that the Dark Ones could bypass the Veil, and bypass Custos, and take the form of the dearest, and highest echelon of the Polarian religion did, Rez’nac had to admit, sound impossible on its face. And yet, he trusted Calvin, he believed the Reckoning to be a false and violent Reckoning, and because of these things he was left with no other explanation than that his words, and warning, were true.
“You speak bold and outrageous things,” said a councilman.
Another added, “Preposterous is the word I would use. For here we are, as plain as the Light of our Most Beloved Star, and there is not a Dark One to be seen.”
“That and the Essences would never allow for such a thing to occur. It would show a great weakness in them, and call into question their power. No, you speak lies and they cannot be believed,” said yet another councilman.
“I speak the truth, as ugly and hard as it is to hear,” said Rez’nac. “As it is said, the truth is a sword that cuts forward at times, and backwards at times; this is a time when it has cut backwards, and we would be fools not to notice our own wounds from it.”
“You too have become rakh,” said the most hostile councilman. “For they, the humans and the Rotham, they live to deceive. Their societies are comprised of lies, lies conjured in darkness, like the Fallen Ones, for they have no souls to keep them pure and no Essences to guide them. They are born from nothing and, in death, they return to nothing. You have become as them. Afraid of your own shadow, trusting in nothing, and forgetting about the wisdom, power, and clarity of the Essences. Once you may have been a Son of the Light, but now, whether you realize it or not, you have become not just a Fallen One, but a soldier of the Darkness.”
Rez’nac took great offense at that accusation. “I was of Khalahar!” he said instinctively, as if he still could claim any of the rights, honors, or privileges that such a thing meant.
“And the Seer who declared that you were of Khalahar was not given the knowledge by the Essences that you would spit on your spiritual heritage and reject the ways of the Light and choose, instead the Darkness,” said the same councilman.
There were murmurs of assent, and he could tell that, despite his warnings, and despite the sincerity with which he had spoken them, hoping to persuade the councilmen, it had proven to be of no use. They waited now only for him to release the High Prelain so that they could kill him and Calvin, or take them into custody and subject him to a Blu-qi and tortuously interrogate Calvin, and discover how he too had invaded the world, despite Custos and the Veil protecting them, and then execute him in brutal fashion. Although the thought, as unpalatable as it was, did give Rez’nac one more idea.
“You speak to me believing that my truths that I have shared—”
“Your lies,” corrected one of the councilmen, interrupting Rez’nac.
Rez’nac continued, as though the interruption had not occurred. “Are impossible to believe because, surely, the Essences would never have allowed the Dark Ones to pass through the Veil, or to invade our precious and sacred Forbidden Planet, no doubt because Custos would destroy any who would besmirch our soil.”
They seemed to agree with this assessment. And so Rez’nac had baited the trap.
“And yet you call me rakh, and a soldier of the Darkness, and—even in the gentlest of accusations—you say I am a Fallen One, and indeed I am a Fallen One, although I keep to our ways. But despite these things, and the taint that I bring, and the taint of the rakh who stands next to me, we have succeeded in crossing the Veil.”
“You yourself revealed that you were of Khalahar; of course you could bypass the Veil,” said the most hostile councilman. “No doubt you used this sacred knowledge and allowed the rakh to pass through alongside you.”
“And what would have stopped one of our wayward youth from doing the same for the Dark Ones?” asked Rez’nac. The Council, he knew, was keenly aware of the schism growing inside the Polarian religion. One that separated those who kept to the old, true ways, the ways of the Light, and those who rejected the Essences and were cast out, non-believers who found sanctuary among the Dark Ones, who were also outcasts, and whose monotheistic religion of a single One True God had poisoned the beliefs and knowledge of the Fallen Polarians.
“I find it absurd,” said the most hostile councilman.
“I…do not,” said another. His confession that what Rez’nac said was possible seemed to make the most hostile councilman look nervous—although it was such a subtle change in his demeanor that Rez’nac was unsure if it was simply his imagination.
“I too can see that there is possibility in such a claim,” said another councilman. “For some who have been banished have been of the Great Essences: Khalahar, Dorathia, Rythicar, Magnyrium, Toq’ir…there are many who would know the way past the Veil. And, once cast out, could still get through it, and might bring Dark Ones with them.”
“That still would not fool Custos,” said the most hostile councilman.
“It shouldn’t fool Custos,” the councilman agreed. “That is true.”
“And yet, despite Custos, here I stand,” said Rez’nac. “As does this rakh by my side, and Custos did not destroy us. Therefore, it is possible to reach the planet, as Fallen Ones, maybe even Dark Ones—as I have claimed—and not be destroyed by Custos.”
This led to murmurs of concern. He had not persuaded them, not of his accusations, that much Rez’nac knew, but he had created an inkling of concern among all but the most obstinate of councilmen.
“You speak of hypotheticals,” said the most hostile councilman. “You might as well speak in riddles. You make accusations, but you offer no proof. There is no reason to believe you—about any of these warnings you give us, these lies—tell us, Fallen One, why should we believe you? Use whatever words you wish, but choose them carefully, for we are not so easily fooled as you seem to believe.”
Rez’nac knew there was nothing more he could say to convince them and, like the councilman had implied, nothing he said would be taken as evidence of his claims. But what he had succeeded at was to introduce the possibility that Dark Ones could have invaded the planet and might be walking around among the Prelains of the Light. They still seemed skeptical, but the seed of concern had been planted. Now all that remained was to grow that seed into a full-fledged agnorikka.
“As I said before, there are many ways the E
ssences divine knowledge upon us,” said Rez’nac, knowing the time had come to lift the blindfolds from their eyes. “And that one of those ways, perhaps the best way, is through demonstration.” Rez’nac then turned to Calvin and, changing his language from his native Polarian, which he and the Council had been speaking, much to Calvin’s disadvantage, he spoke in Human. “Show them,” he said. “Show us all.” Rez’nac, too, needed to see this proof, to dispel the one-percent of him that did not believe in Calvin’s claims. The one-percent of him that desperately did not wish to believe Calvin’s accusations could possibly be true. “Do it.”
Calvin nodded, as if to say, With Pleasure. He then said, in an angry whisper, “This is for Miles, you son of a bitch!” There was quiet report as Calvin’s pistol went off, sending a needle deep into the neck of the High Prelain.
Shock and anger filled the room and the guards immediately went for their rifles. But the mood suddenly changed to a different kind of shock—and even greater sense of alarm—when the Council and the guards, saw the High Prelain begin to melt and deform before their eyes. The Xinocodone from the needle having found the imposter’s bloodstream and rapidly sent it to his brain and whatever other organs, if any, such a Dark One possessed.
The false High Prelain, what was left of him, became a disgusting puddle of biological ooze and dissolving body parts, and his clothing fell upon the floor in a heap.
“The Dark Ones are here!” Rez’nac shouted in the Polarian language.
“He’s right!” said one of the councilmen in a state of panic. Others too expressed their deep concerns and fears, and began to look at one another with suspicion. As for the guards, they began reaching for their weapons, despite seemed momentarily confused about how to respond.
Calvin, however, did not hesitate. He began firing his pistol at various councilmen—as if they had been targets he had pre-selected—and one, two, and then a third began to exudate back into the fatal form of a ruined replicant…of a dying Dark One.
“Now!” Calvin yelled, and his men charged into the hall, each of them taking aim at the various council members, and even some of the guards, and firing needles of their own.
The guards raised their rifles and fired back, killing two of the humans nearly instantly and one shot narrowly missed Rez’nac as he stood, taking stock of the situation. As for the guards who were hit by the needles, they too turned out to be replicants, and they too began their death transformation. The rest of the guards took cover and the firefight intensified. Calvin and his people took cover also, as best they could, but the powerful beam weapons were able to penetrate the chairs and tables that were their only cover, meanwhile the needle-bullets were not.
That was when Rez’nac charged up the ramp, wielding his ceremonial dagger, and thrust it into the neck of the nearest guard, killing him instantly. He did not know for sure whether this guard had been a Dark One, but he had chosen the side of the Dark Ones by firing upon Calvin and his men, and that meant he deserved to be sent back to his Essence—or to the black oblivion—depending on what he was.
Some of the guards took notice of Rez’nac then, but he artfully side-stepped and dodged, with hot, fiery beams narrowly missing him, and he reached another guard, this one ducking behind a Council chair for cover. Rez’nac plunged his dagger downward, straight through the skull of the guard and killed him just as quickly as the first. He then went into a fury and found himself slicing the throat of a third guard and then ripping the rifle away from a fourth—to save himself—and plunging his dagger deep into the heart—or what would have been the heart—of that guard.
In reaction, the rest of the guards stood and took aim at Rez’nac.
Let me fall if it is thy will, almighty Essences, thought Rez’nac, as he charged a fifth guard, knowing he couldn’t expect to dodge all six of their rifles.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to. By standing up to get a steady aim at him, the remaining guards had made themselves vulnerable to attack by Calvin’s men, who fired a barrage of needles into them, killing them all. Rez’nac was shocked to learn that the entire bodyguard of the Council of Prelains had proven to be Dark Ones.
Damn them and damn their insidious invasion of our world, he thought, wiping the gore from his dagger onto his pant leg. He spun to see the council members in a full panic, most of them had needles sticking out of them, no doubt they were in pain, but the fact that they remained in their Polarian form proved that they were true Prelains and not imposters—although the revelation that several of their cohorts had been Dark Ones had sent them into a terrible fright, one obviously heightened by the attack by, and sudden appearance, of so many humans, who had hidden in the Villa’s tunnel.
The Prelains were nearly finished opening a secret passage that would lead them away from the Council Dome and to a safe bunker where they could recollect and try to make sense of what had just happened. This was a good thing; those who were not Dark Ones, they would be together, united, and, after getting over the shock of the experience, could restore order to the religion and—hopefully—to the Confederation.
Calvin and his men continued firing needles at the Prelains, wanting to make sure all of them had been struck at least once, so no Dark One would manage to infiltrate the bunker and continue to misdirect the Council of Prelains. As far as he could tell, Rez’nac believed that every one of the Prelains—who had just managed to open the secret passage and begun to flee through it—had multiple needles sticking out of them. They were bleeding, but not from fatal wounds, and the needles—although an unfortunate necessity—had proven them to be who they claimed they were. This gave Rez’nac hope.
What concerned him was that news of this would spread, and that both true Polarian warriors, and Dark Ones disguised as warriors, would race to this location and either try to protect the Prelains, or else slaughter them, ensuring that the Darkness and the chaos would continue. Which was why Rez’nac decided then and there to make it his personal mission to protect them—even if it was the last thing he ever did.
He spun around to face the entrances to the Council Dome, both of which were on the raised platform at the south end of the room, and he saw one more Prelain. He had no needles in him. He had successfully hidden from the fight and now, unlike his fellow Prelains, seemed to be making a rush for the south exit instead of the secret bunker. This was enough to prove to Rez’nac that the fleeing Prelain was a Dark One, one who had escaped the barrage of needles. Rez’nac considered throwing his knife—though he was unsure he could strike his target from that distance—and so instead he chose to warn Calvin and his men that one was escaping.
“Up there, there’s—” Rez’nac stopped his warning halfway through when he saw Calvin, leaping from seemingly nowhere, and managing to tackle the fleeing Prelain just as he was about to reach the exit. Calvin pinned him down and his men, those who had survived—which Rez’nac was sad to see had been less than half of them—quickly approached, raising their guns to fire the rest of their needles at this last Dark Prelain.
“No! Hold your fire!” Calvin ordered. And his men obeyed.
Rez’nac was unsure why Calvin would make such a request, but then Calvin explained. “We’re taking this one with us. For information. Someone secure him!” And, after a few seconds, they had dragged the nearly-escaped Dark Prelain to his feet and cuffed him with restraints behind his back. Two soldiers kept a grip on him and Calvin stood and dusted himself off. Rez’nac was unsure whether the Dark One would cooperate, but, so long as Calvin and his people took him with them—and he was no longer allowed to taint the Forbidden Planet with his presence—Rez’nac figured there was no harm done.
“We have to go,” said Calvin, looking at his group of men, and then to Rez’nac, who, looking thoroughly bloodied but was in fact uninjured, stood resolutely next to the entrance to the secret passageway, ready to defend the Prelains with his life, if necessary. “Come on, Rez’nac, let’s move. More will be coming!”
That much R
ez’nac was sure of. More would be coming. And likely it would be the Dark Ones who arrived first. Which was why Rez’nac knew he had to remain behind. At least then the Prelains had some chance of reaching their bunker before being overtaken, or shot in the back as they fled through the long tunnel.
“I’m not going with you,” said Rez’nac.
“What?” asked Calvin, incredulously.
“I’m not going with you,” repeated Rez’nac.
“Why?” asked Calvin.
“I’m afraid this is goodbye,” said Rez’nac. “For someone must stay and defend the Prelains. Only they can bring an end to the chaos that has consumed the galaxy.”
“But…that’s suicide,” said Calvin, no doubt believing that one soldier could not stand against whatever Dark armies were no doubt already on their way. Rez’nac did not fear them. For, though he was a Fallen One, he believed the Essences were with him. At least in this. And never had he been more sure of anything in his life.
“Perhaps it is suicide,” Rez’nac admitted. “But someone must defend them. And that someone must be me.”
Calvin nodded, seeming to understand, as best a human could.
“I guess this is farewell, then,” said Calvin, his human face betrayed his emotions and he appeared sad to be saying goodbye.
“It was an honor to have known you,” said Rez’nac. “And an even greater honor to have been your friend.”
“The honor was all mine,” said Calvin.
“But now you must go, and quickly. Or you will share my fate,” said Rez’nac.
A look of urgency appeared on Calvin’s face, and Rez’nac could tell Calvin knew that time was running out. He had to return to his pods, with whatever soldiers he had left—and their prisoner—and return to his ship which, Rez’nac desperately hoped, Custos had not destroyed. Although it seemed unlikely that Custos would have failed to defeat the Nighthawk. Still, Rez’nac wished Calvin the greatest of fortunate and, as he watched the humans file out one of the south exits, it was Calvin who left last. He gave Rez’nac one last look. Neither of them saying anything. And then Calvin was gone. And Rez’nac knew he would never see his friend again.
The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) Page 16
