by Chris Fox
Crewes reluctantly handed the collar to Nara, and she snapped the thin, golden necklace around her neck. The sigils flared, then it faded against her skin, almost invisible.
“I realize none of you will believe this,” Nara said quietly. Her gaze flitted between them, as if seeking a friendly face she didn’t find. “I never meant to hurt you, and I will do whatever I can to protect you.”
“Sir,” Crewes asked, his voice nearly cracking as he eyed Aran searchingly, “why, man?”
Aran tightened his hand around Narlifex’s hilt. “We’re walking into the unknown, Sergeant. I have no idea what to expect at the Temple of Shi, but Eros left Rhea here for a reason and I want the magical backup in case we run into any surprises.” He turned to face Nara, and looked her directly in the eye. “Honestly, though? The main reason is that if I leave her here, even in that cell, I feel like we’re going to come back and find out that our ride has been jacked. Again.”
“You know what? You’re right, sir. I don’t trust leaving her here either.” Crewes gave a nod of acceptance. “Come on, ex-friend. We’ve got a package to pick up.”
Aran headed for the ramp. He prayed that the Temple would be straightforward. They needed a win, and he needed to get to Shaya so he could help Voria get ready for Krox’s assault.
12
The Temple of Shi
Kheross was already waiting impatiently in the cargo hold when Aran arrived with the rest of the squad. Bord moved to don his scout armor, while Nara lurked as far from everyone else as she could get. Crewes loomed behind her, his cannon ‘accidentally’ wandering in her direction.
“This had better work out as you’ve promised,” Kheross growled, his eyes flaring with void magic. His muscles bunched under his archaic, crimson armor, a subtle reminder of the threat he posed.
After all the turbulence, Aran found the straightforward animosity refreshing. “It will, as long as you keep your temper in check while we retrieve her. These priests are supposed to be touchy. Voria was very specific about that. If I thought you’d stay behind I wouldn’t even bring you. You want your daughter back? Keep it in your pants for a bit, and we’ll get her.”
The Wyrm gave a non-committal grunt and moved to stand before the blue membrane protecting the bay from the vacuum outside. Yanthara lay below them, a lush, green world, orbiting a large, orange sun.
He walked to his Mark XI, and sketched a void sigil before the chest, then slipped inside the familiar armor. His HUD flowed to life, and a thin trickle of void magic flowed from his chest. The suit rose into the air, and he guided it over to hover next to Kheross, next to the membrane.
“It troubles me,” Kheross rumbled, “that I have never heard of this Temple of Shi. Who is this god, and why should I fear his priests?”
Aran realized that he wasn’t entirely equipped to answer the question. He turned to Nara. “Have you heard of it? Voria told me it was a dream Catalyst, and that the priests are very unpredictable.”
Nara pursed her lips for a moment, then brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’m not familiar with it, no. But I think I understand why Eros would have hidden her here. Divination can be blocked, and the easiest way to obscure it is with dream. If he wanted to prevent her from being found, this would be a great hiding place.”
Aran nodded gratefully, then turned back to Kheross. “I guess it doesn’t much matter who they are, as long as they don’t give us any grief about retrieving Rhea.”
“Sir,” Crewes said quietly. He raised the faceplate on his armor, exposing a troubled expression. “I know the Temple. My ma used to take us when we were kids. She still worships Shi, even on Shaya. The major’s right. They don’t brook no nonsense, and I’d step lightly around their priestesses.”
“If you know of any customs we’re screwing up, make sure you tell us.” Aran glanced through the membrane, and saw the world rapidly rushing up at them. His connection to the Talon alleviated the need to fly the ship directly, which would be damned helpful when preparing for combat drops. If he’d known about this back when they’d assaulted the second burl they’d never have needed Pickus to save the ship.
They descended into a seemingly endless expanse of trees. There were redwoods, like on Shaya, but also dozens of other species Aran didn’t recognize. A haze of undulating magical energy permeated the trees, elusive but powerful just the same. The magic pooled in violet eddies, permeating the entire forest in all directions, and the forest seemed to cover the entire continent.
The notable exception was a vast tree stump, easily a kilometer across. A modern city sprawled across it, with Ternus-style skyscrapers competing with the trees to reach the sky. Smaller buildings clustered around the skyscrapers, like mushrooms, and countless streams of vehicles flowed between them, lines of marching ants.
The Talon glided lower of its own accord, and angled toward a steep-sloped pyramid constructed from long planks of redwood. Unlike many of the other buildings this one was surrounded by small groves of trees, and seemed much less crowded than the rest of the city.
Only a few figures walked the mulched pathways threading between the many gardens, and a few more stood at balconies on the Temple’s upper floors. Each wore robes of scarlet and purple, which obscured their entire body, save the eyes and a bit of dark skin around them.
Bord nodded down at one of the robed figures. “They must have some lovely ladies if they need to dress ‘em up like that.”
No one responded, and after a moment Bord sighed. “I miss Kez. I feel like I should punch myself for that joke.”
Aran caught Nara’s wistful smile, though it seemed no one else did. It vanished nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something approaching guilt. That surprised him. Not that she might feel that kind of emotion, but that she would express it. The Nara he’d met before the mindwipe was calculating, and always in control.
This new Nara, if she was on the level, didn’t much resemble the woman he’d encountered just after his mindwipe. Nor did she seem like the Nara he’d fought alongside. This new version was much more reserved, a blending of both women.
“Do you feel the immensity?” Kheross asked, those dark eyes focused on the forest around them. “Something is out there, and it does not like us.”
“Speak for yourself, scaly.” Crewes slugged Kheross lightly in the arm, then nodded at the trees. “This is home. Even the gods-damned trees think you’re a slimy stain. They’re just fine with the rest of us, though.”
Aran guided his armor into a fast walk and headed for the compound’s main structure. They received a number of looks from robed figures as they approached, but no one made a move to stop them. There was no fence ringing the grounds, and they were able to thread their way up the mulch-lined walk, all the way to the Temple’s wide double doors.
The doors swung open of their own accord, exposing a wide hallway lined with marble. Pedestals lined the entryway, each containing the bust of a fierce warrior. Aran could feel the dream radiating from each, and caught fire as well.
A robed figure appeared suddenly, just inside the Temple’s doorway. One moment the space was empty, and the next a purple-garbed figure blocked their entrance. Judging from the curves, they were looking at a woman, but beyond that the only other detail was her eyes. They were swirling pools of purple-pink that shifted and changed as he watched.
“Welcome, Aranthar, once of the Last Dragonflight, now agent of the Coalition of Light.” The woman’s clear voice rang out, the words accented so that consonants often blended together, and emphasis was placed in strange places. “Do you seek access to the house of Shi?”
“I do.” Aran drifted toward the doors, but the woman didn’t budge.
The priestess turned toward Crewes, and took a step closer to the sergeant. She stretched out a robed arm, and rested her gloved hand on the barrel of his cannon. “And what of you, Linus Crewes? Do you seek access as well?”
“Linus?” Bord asked, blinking. “Your first name
is Linus?”
Crewes’s faceplate snapped up, and he leaned down toward Bord’s smaller armor. “Something funny about that name, Bord? You maybe wanna make a joke? Make it rhyme with something?” The malevolence made Bord wilt like a flower.
“No, no jokes. Sorry, sir.”
“Linus?” The priestess said, drawing the sergeant’s attention. There was emotion buried, but Aran valued Crewes’s privacy enough not to dig. “You do not recognize me, do you?”
Crewes shifted his attention to the priestess, and he gave a quick nod, then dropped his eyes to the deck. “Yeah, I remember, Sarala. A guy don’t just forget a woman like you.”
The fabric over her mouth whispered, and Aran suspected she was smiling. She patted his armor over the bicep. “You do remember. You look good, though your burdens are many. Be welcome, Linus Crewes of Yanthara. You have come home.”
“Uh.” Crewes looked more uncomfortable than Aran had ever seen him.
“He’s freezing up,” Bord whispered audibly. “Oh my god…he’s crashing and burning.”
Crewes eyes began to smolder. Orange and red flame licked out where the white used to be, and when he turned to Bord the orange went white-hot. “You’re getting on my last nerve, and we just got here, Bord. If you open your mouth again, without instructions, I will make basic your second least favorite memory. Are we clear?”
Bord’s face went pale, and a moment later the faceplate to his armor snapped down. His voice was a bare whisper. “Crystal, sir.”
Aran used the opportunity to get Sarala’s attention. “You seem to know who we are, and I’m hoping you’re expecting us. Eros, the Tender of Shaya before his death, left a…package for us.”
Sarala’s swirling pink eyes narrowed, and while Aran couldn’t see the frown he had no trouble imagining it. “And what makes you think we’d turn the Outrider over to you? Eros told us that the one who came for Rhea would be a woman. Voria, I believe her name is.”
“That’s the major,” Crewes supplied. “We work for her. Well, we used to.”
“Voria’s a little busy at the moment.” Aran kicked himself for not realizing there would be some sort of security around this. Of course, it would have been helpful if Voria had mentioned it. She probably hadn’t known. “She’s on Shaya, rallying her people for an assault by Krox. And she wasn’t the one who discovered Rhea in the first place. I did. And I have a responsibility here, and a promise to fulfill. Listen, Sarala, I know that we’re not Voria, but there has to be something we can do to show you that we’re the right people to turn her over to.”
Aran prayed, for his sake, that she’d be reasonable. Kheross throwing a temper tantrum could level several surrounding blocks if the Wyrm cut loose. That was the last thing they needed right now.
“Hmm,” Sarala murmured. She folded her arms and moved to stand before Aran. Something pulsed from her, a mixture of fire and dream. She didn’t sketch any sigils, which made the magic more similar to what a war mage would use. She leaned closer, and studied him with those bright, swirling eyes. “I believe there is no deceit in you, on this matter at least. And I trust Linus. If you have his loyalty, then you cannot be altogether bad. But I still do not trust you, and I will certainly not allow you into the inner confines of the temple.”
Aran took a deep breath. “Okay, that’s fair.” He thought furiously. “What about Crewes? You said you trust him. Will you let him inside?”
Sarala was silent for several moments. She didn’t break eye contact the entire time, and Aran found it difficult to maintain. He kept her gaze until she transferred it to Crewes. “This would be acceptable. Come with me, Linus. If you wish to undergo the trials, then I will allow you to take custody of the Outrider.”
“Trials?” Crewes eyes were very wide, and his voice was very small. “Not like, puzzles and stuff, right? You know I hate that shit.”
“Sergeant?” Aran asked.
Crewes shoulders slumped. “Fine, I’ll come inside and do your tests.”
13
The Redemption
Skare strode onto the bridge of the Redemption and turned in a slow circle. The pristine vessel was quite unlike any other ship they’d produced, and he appreciated the minimalism. There were few consoles, and no matrices. The only features were a trio of comfortable chairs, all facing a massive scry-screen.
He moved to stand opposite the chairs, and clasped his hands behind his back as he stood to wait. It didn’t take long. Within moments he heard Jolene’s cultured voice as she explained the ship’s features to their prospective clients.
“Don’t let the simplicity fool you,” Jolene was saying as she entered the bridge. Her hair had been cut even shorter, a page-boy cut that was coming back into fashion. She was followed by a young man that Skare recognized, but had never met. Governor Austin, the leader of Ternus.
He was reputed to be astute, but passionate to the point where his temper occasionally ruled. That kind of weakness could be exploited, particularly during times of intense stress, as when a god doomed your capital world.
“I thought these magic ships required, what did you call them, matrixes?” the governor asked, his displeasure manifesting into a frown. “How will my people fly the ship?”
“Welcome, Governor.” Skare called, approaching the Ternus delegation with open arms. A cloud of soldiers had followed Austin, including a grizzled man with dozens of medals pinned to his uniform. That one eyed him critically, and the ship around him skeptically. That would be Admiral Kerr. Skare smiled warmly. “Jolene, would you mind if I field his questions?”
“Of course not.” She gave him a predatory smile, then extended a hand. “Please, I know how much you enjoy talking about your creation. Governor, Skare designed the Redemption.”
Skare gave an embarrassed smile, and it was only partly an act. He’d labored for years to create this vessel, and not for the purposes that everyone assumed.
“To answer your questions, Governor,” Skare began, “the matrices do exist, but not in a conventional form. We can visit them if you’d like, but I can show you a representation here. Caelendra, display the ship layout and increase the magnification on the arcanotubes by two hundred percent.”
“Of course, Lord Skare,” a cultured feminine voice came from all around them.
A moment later an illusion of the ship’s internals appeared, and then zoomed in on the lowest section, near the heart of the ship. It showed twelve identical black tubes, each connected with a silvery array of coils that fed directly into the ship’s spelldrive.
“Those are spell matrixes?” the governor asked. He cleared his throat, and looked at his retinue, as if for guidance. None was provided, other than a few helpless shrugs. He turned back to Skare, who waited expectantly. “Where are the rings? Do the mages get inside the tubes?”
“They do.” Skare nodded, magnanimously, of course. “A mage’s physical needs are tended to. Their vitals can be tracked from the bridge, and they can remain in stasis for up to four months.”
“How do they eat?” Kerr asked, his frown still firmly in place. He removed his cap and tucked it under his arm, then leaned in closer to study the hologram.
“They’re fed intravenously,” Skare explained. He gestured at the hologram. “Caelendra, show us tube six, please.”
The illusion zoomed in and showed the outside of the tube. It centered over a small window, and beyond that window was the sleeping face of a young woman, no more than eighteen or nineteen.
“Her name is Zoraya,” Skare explained magnanimously. “She comes from Yanthara, where her entire family lived in poverty. She signed a seven-year contract with us, and she’ll spend the vast majority of it in that tube. She fuels this vessel directly, alongside seven other mages. She provides the vessel with fire. Others provide different aspects, giving the ship a mixture of abilities based on its complement of mages.”
Skare paused dramatically, and allowed his face to fall into carefully crafted sorrow. “There is a co
st for all this enormous power, unfortunately. The ship serves as a sort of magical battery. It is designed to drain magic, and at the end of her term Zoraya will have sacrificed the entirety of her magical ability. It will belong, in its entirety, to this vessel.”
“So this thing burns out mages?” Kerr asked. He folded his arms, and delivered a no-nonsense look. “Mages are rare enough as it is. Why would Ternus sacrifice the few dozen we have to fly ships around?”
“You misunderstand me, mister—”. Skare knew how Ternus officers valued their rank, and enjoyed needling the man with his feigned ignorance.
“Fleet Admiral Kerr,” the man snapped.
“Admiral Kerr,” Skare continued apologetically. “The magic, once absorbed, is a part of the ship. The ship is, in essence, a giant eldimagus, and when Zoraya is drained of her power the ship will possess it, and be able to call upon it in the same way. The ship’s commander controls the vessel through an implant we will provide, of course. This puts the power in the hands of your government, and not any random officer who wishes to disobey your commands whenever it’s convenient.”
The reference to Voria wasn’t lost on them—Skare was certain of it. The governor was nodding along, but Kerr was still skeptical.
“I still don’t like losing mages,” Kerr argued. He shook his head. “Do what you want, Governor, but I don’t like these things one bit.”
Austin raised a hand to silence Kerr, then turned to Skare. “What can these ships can do that makes such a sacrifice worth it? You know what we face.”
Skare sighed and gave a slight shake of his head. “I wish I’d been able to arrange a proper demonstration, but an explanation will have to suffice. I’m told you’re having trouble with a god, yes?”
“You know we are.” The governor’s eyes narrowed. “And my patience is not infinite. No more games, Skare.”
