Oblivion's Peril

by M. H. Johnson

  Angelica nodded. “Exactly.”

  Val flashed a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let me know if any inquisitors dare to enter my lands under any pretext.”

  Angelica gazed strangely at Val. “My lord, not even you would dare. Not even a Dauda...”

  "What was that you just said, Angelica? All crimes may be pardoned by the future Overlord. And I have every damned intention of being that Overlord. I walk the Path of Kings, and you, who would profit from my reign, walk beside me. Victory justifies any means in the crucible of war."

  Angelica trembled, beautiful violet eyes widening. “Are you truly so ruthless, Valor Hunter? How bloody a path will you walk for victory?”

  “I would swim in it,” he hissed, slamming her against the wall, pressed against her, bending close to whisper into her ear. “There is no limit to what I will do to seize this world. I will take Phoebe and Earth as well, and Caesar’s heart will be in my fist!”

  Charisma check made: Critical Success! Angelica’s infatuation with the man who saved her life has transformed into awe. Your dark potency blazes in her eyes, and she wants nothing more than to be close to your flame. The girl in your arms hungers for you desperately, and she will claim you here and now!

  Willpower check failed! Your dark passions have gotten the best of you. You will claim what you hunger for and take the prize before you!

  But Val had no mind for the bemused voice echoing through his soul, consumed by the fires of passion blazing through him. Hot outrage long suppressed transforming to dark hungers embraced as his limbs entwined about the softly moaning form of the beautiful girl in his arms, looking at him with such fierce adoration, her eyes hot with a hunger that matched his own.

  Far darker than his Julia.

  “And just what you need,” she whispered as her lips bit his own, all thought fleeing Val as Lucius discreetly walked away, their corner of the barracks suddenly covered in shadow as Val lost himself in the sweet rapture of Angelica’s hunger, the pair embracing a dance as old as time.

  28

  A moment’s disorientation as Val snapped his eyes open, then a sudden jolt of shame as he gazed at the beautiful girl smiling against him. He quickly looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, her voice strangely vulnerable, soft fingers gently pressing his chin to meet her gaze.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Val whispered.

  She flashed a bittersweet smile. “What, with the knowledge that Julia Highblood is the girl you’ve chosen? That you’re too ashamed of breaking the customs of Terran culture to realize you could love us both?” Her soft lips caressed his own. “And how well you loved me, my dark knight. Fierce, terrible, and so tender to those he adores. I could ask for no more from the man I would claim.”

  She put her head on his chest. He sighed and stroked her hair.

  “If fortune favors us, Val, you will wear the crown. You will become Jordia’s newest Overlord. Should that come to pass...”

  “It will.”

  She smiled. “You will be expected to do more than just rule. Having proven yourself in the greatest of all trials, you will be expected to share the greatest resource of all, for the betterment of Jordia. For the betterment of the Dominion.”

  Val gazed curiously at the beautiful young woman drawing lazy circles with her fingernail against his chest. “And what would that be?”

  She flashed a winsome smile. “Your seed.”

  He blinked as her warm, throaty laughter washed over him.

  “You will be expected to sire many healthy sons and daughters over the years, perhaps centuries, of your rule. And you will be expected to have many wives. There is no such thing as monogamy in the arenas Highlords embrace.” Her gaze turned sad even as she straddled his unresisting form, her crimson lips tasting his flesh. “Our birth rate is too low. Finding strong mates, siring many children with the most fertile and potent of partners, is the only hope we have of survival. And I intend to survive, Valor Hunter, with children healthy, beautiful, and strong. And you are the man I would choose as my mate, even if a dozen sister-wives I would claim, so long as I can claim you as well.”

  Soft, questing lips latched hungrily to his own, the clothes Val had used as a blanket covering him no longer as slaked passion blazed to life under teasing touches and gentle caresses before Angelica, cheeks flushed with desire, opened herself to him once more, eyes sparkling like jewels locking with his own as she squeezed him tightly to her and Val found himself lost in a sea of sweetest pleasure tinged with shame.

  “Give me a child, Valor Hunter. A child fierce, strong, and beautiful. Just like you.”

  A husky voice piercing in its familiarity, haunting memories of the girl he had so desperately loved and lost flooding through him, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her and hold tight to her precious form as they were swept away in tides of passion and bliss once more.

  “Valor, get up. You must get up!”

  Val jolted awake, his gaze locking upon Angelica’s panicked features. “Angelica?”

  She squeezed his hand. “An inquisitor’s party has just arrived with a full contingent of Dominion soldiers! They claim they are here about the Red Death, but they wear nothing more protective than nose plugs!”

  Val frowned. “So it’s already begun. Where are they? Never mind, I can find them my own way.” He closed his eyes, pulling up his Dominion Matrix, only to have Angelica squeeze his hand as she yanked him to his feet.

  "No, Val. It's not time for that! We are utterly unprepared to roll the dice with the gambit you're contemplating. Far better we play meek and innocent for now, a broken red figuring out its next move, having lost more than we had bargained for, daring to challenge your House! Come, Val, let us hide you until they leave!"

  Val turned to face her, gaze intent, his hand absently brushing back her silky hair. She smiled at his touch. “Can you keep your mind safe from his gaze?”

  She nodded. “Of course. Lucius is my sire, and he is one of the strongest Highlords ever to walk upon Jordian soil. Few if any inquisitors could pierce my wards, did I not let them.”

  Val nodded. “I thought I tasted just how powerful your mind was when we embraced, but I wanted to make sure. Good. If you feel safe, I will attend to things at my other territories. The important thing is we’ve purged the plague and saved Jordia from that horror. Now I will leave gathering the assets we discussed to you and your father while I handle things elsewhere.”

  Angelica nodded, though she looked a bit discomfited. “We will do what we can. But please understand, the gambit you have in mind will cost a fortune in Elementium, and that’s if we are lucky. Even if we were able to somehow get a hold of a full squadron of top-tier battle-mechs, it will cost far more than even our family’s resources can cover.”

  Val gazed thoughtfully all around him before his eye caught the nearest battle-mech and a smile graced his features. Angelica gazed in awe as Val retrieved treasures hidden away in storage, depositing a number of vials filled with precious Elementium before sealing them away such that no inspection could possibly reveal the treasure.

  Angelica whistled. “That mecha is now worth about a hundred million credits!”

  Val nodded. “More or less, and you already have the tools to free it when you need it. But for goodness sakes, hide those thoughts so the inquisitor doesn’t latch on to it. Since he won’t be expecting you here, and you’ll be heading back to your quarters, your eyes won’t give away the location with any tells.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “It never gets old, seeing you repair that mecha so effortlessly. The way the metal just flows back into place after you tear it open with your Psiblade.”

  Val grinned. “And thanks to my sense of its structure, I know the safest place to put it. And now you do too. Alright, Angelica, it’s time for me to head back.”

  Her vulnerable gaze fastened upon his own. “Do you regret it?”

  Val kisse
d her softly in reply. Her smile was poignant, a single tear running down her cheek. “Don’t forget me, Val.”

  Val ran his fingers through her hair. Enraptured by a girl who looked no older than he did. And together they would dare to take on an entire planet, in a desperate bid for the throne.

  In a desperate bid for survival.

  “Be well, Angelica. I will return when I can. And please, whether they are top of the line models or consigned to the scrap heap, do everything you can to acquire as many battle-mechs as you can, by any means necessary. And fear nothing about cost, as long as no fool seeks to blatantly rip us off. There are far more credits where that came from.”

  And before she could respond he spun about on his heel, dashing for the entrance even as he let the cool embrace of shadow flow through him, reveling in its icy touch, the way high-strung emotions bled away to a darker, more primal state of being as he flowed out of the hangar completely. A blinking guard frowned only momentarily at the rustle of grass, the feel of the breeze against suddenly chilled skin, the way shadows seemed to deepen as clouds sped across the heavens, and then all was as it should be once more.

  29

  “Nonsense, Lord Blackenthorp! Your brother was clearly cut down by a Psiblade, and I have dozens of accounts of grateful peasants claiming they have been miraculously cured of a plague. Furthermore, they claim to have been given the fruit of life itself by a savior they swore to serve in their dreams, of all things! Accounts I would dismiss as madness, had not so many of them been identical, the descriptions of their savior matching perfectly!”

  Val stilled his emotions to ice as he stared at the inquisitor so addressing the Highlord before him. The man was of average height and build, for all that Val could sense the coiled power in his movements. Cold silver eyes gazed dispassionately at the throne room, lips curled in a faint sneer. He turned to his assistant, dressed in a glossy black form-fitting mesh the same as the inquisitor, who immediately held up what looked to be a sketch tablet. Val’s eyes widened at the sketching that looked eerily similar to the face he saw whenever he looked in the mirror, for all that the figure in the drawing wore a pristine white robe with golden apples offered in each hand.

  Val quickly looked away, doing his best to calm the kick in his heart, the roaring in his ears even as the inquisitor frowned and darted his eyes around the room before rubbing his chin, seeing nothing in poorly lit corners but shadows and gloom. The man gave an irritated shake of his head before turning back to Highlord Blackenthorp. “And you would swear before the High Council that this picture is not at all familiar to you?”

  Lucius snorted. “I will swear no such thing, inquisitor. That sketch looks like half the glorified portraits lining my citadel’s halls. Pictures countless school children have gazed upon during trips covering our city’s history for centuries! Of course the picture looks familiar. It’s a blend of all the faces lining the walls of our museums and numerous personal collections you’ll find open to the public!”

  The inquisitor snarled, squeezing the hilt of his Psiblade. “That does not change the fact that your brother’s corpse bears the marks a Highlord’s duel! Someone offered challenge, and a Trial of Combat was accepted. Did your brother lose to another contender who now pulls your strings? Or perhaps the pair of you came to blows. A dispute over who would claim the throne, no doubt. It’s time to confess, Lucius Blackenthorp! What is the name of your master? Either you are someone’s puppet, or you are guilty of fratricide!”

  Val could almost taste the animosity in the air when Lucius flashed a killer’s smile. Crimson orbs pinned the inquisitor’s own as the smaller man swallowed and stepped back, white knuckles squeezing the hilt of the weapon he dared not draw. The quartet of armored troopers with him bristled, but none dared point their weapons at the Highlord before them.

  “Have a care with your words, inquisitor. The Blackenthorps have declared the red and are not to be trifled by the council’s petty games. You’ve seen for yourself that we suffer no plague, and you know as well as I the plague of charlatans and arcanists our world suffers from. Men with the slightest taste of odd powers who enjoy playing their mind games with Jordia’s superstitious populace. Now, unless you’d dare accuse me of treason involving the Dominion itself, we have nothing further to discuss.”

  The inquisitor clenched his fist. “This isn’t over, Blackenthorp. When next I return, I expect forthright answers to my questions! It is against the accords for any contender to hide himself from the High Council, and you will find that not even your influence will spare you of repercussions, should you be found guilty of fratricide!” He spun on his heel and stormed out the council chambers, his assistant and guards hurrying after.

  Lucius frowned as living shadow coalesced before him. “I know what you are thinking, Valor. Be careful. There are some lines we don’t cross. Not even me.”

  Val dipped his head. “Don’t worry. It’s too soon for me to start taking pieces off the board. Nonetheless, I would see the players aligned against us. How quickly can you get Christine up on your hyperion transceiver? I need to speak to her immediately!”

  Lucius wasted no time, heading to the rear of the throne room where several hyperion monitors were present along with a myriad other screens, and Val suppressed a momentary shudder, the image of glassy-eyed corpses splayed over the station momentarily flashing over the present.

  He shook his head. The plague was over and there was no time to waste.

  One of the screens came to life, Christine’s surprised gaze immediately turning to a satisfied smile. “Well done, Valor. Well done indeed.”

  “Lucius Blackenthorp is sworn to me. As is the entire province. And just as importantly, he and Angelica were both opposed to striking a blue. Had they been in charge, they would have left us alone. I want you to understand that before I go further.”

  Christine’s brow furrowed. “What is it you want to say, Valor?”

  “I’m opening a permanent gate between our two territories.”

  Her eyes widened, she turned her gaze to Blackenthorp, who flashed a cold smile.

  “You already know you have nothing to fear from me, Christine. You took your vengeance upon my cousins, and your champion has managed to save my entire city.”

  “True. I would ask, however, that you not flood my territory with soldiers unless we are in imminent danger.”

  "Fair enough, though joint patrols would benefit us both. And my men need to understand the lay of your land to better assist if we need to protect that front."

  “He’s right, Christine,” Val said. “And I’m sure his men will respect your boundaries and act as perfect guests while there.”

  “Of course,” Lucius assured. “They will even bring their own rations.”

  Christine jerked her head. "That is acceptable, I suppose. Of course, there is also the matter of economic considerations..."

  Lucius’s cool smile grew. “Rumors of your rejuvenation research have reached even my ears, Christine. With my manufacturing base, if we were to enter the market directly, we would have an incomparable edge over all competitors.”

  Christine hard gaze softened into a smile of her own. “Perhaps there are further matters worthy of consideration...”

  Val smirked and stepped away, happy to see his two administrators united by mutual greed, if nothing else.

  Congratulations! You have modified your Tier 2 gate. Now all loyal citizens of either territory may freely pass between Highblood and Blackenthorp Provinces. Additional point invested. You now have a Tier 3 gate. Battle-mechs and large-scale transport vehicles may now freely pass between Highblood and Blackenthorp Provinces. 11 territory points remain.

  “The gate is beside the battle-mech hangars of both territories. I will return when I can,” Val announced to the pair before slipping into the shadows and racing like the wind.

  “That insufferable fool. How dare he show me such insolence!” The hawk-nosed inquisitor snarled the words as the luxuri
ously appointed velimobile he rode within made its way from the Blackenthorp palace to the city gates, one of his guardsmen acting as chauffeur, their steady pace quickly turning to a hair-whipping ride as the veli sped up considerably along the main road upon leaving the city gates.

  If the guards thought it at all odd that their veli rode fractionally lower than normal, none thought to comment on it. For certain there was nothing unusual to be seen, if eyes that turned glassy after scanning over the backmost seats were any indication.

  “Yes, Inquisitor Dimitry, I quite agree,” enthused the man's obvious assistant as the well-disciplined guards faced forward, giving no indication they heard a word. "He was obviously hiding something. Why else would he dare to demand our expulsion?”

  Dimitry scowled. “There is little doubt he was hiding any number of things, Erion. He denies any plague, yet could not even bring forth the man who dared make the claim to Jordian Command for proper questioning! And if he thinks declaring the red will protect him from the High Council’s retribution, he is more of a fool than even his brutish features suggest!” He clenched his fist. “When he is brought low, it will be my distinct pleasure to personally oversee his punishment!”

  Erion nodded enthusiastically. “And only fair, as you are the one to bring his nefarious activities to light. And he was so arrogant as to insult you with such disrespect, not even showing you proper deference!”

  Dimitry smirked and nodded. “Quite right, boy. Quite right.”

  The younger man frowned. “But sir, what if by some chance he should actually...”

  “Actually what? Spit it out, boy!”

  Erion paled and swallowed. “What if he should win?” he whispered.

  Dimitry scowled. “Speak up or open your mind to me. The wind’s in my ear.”