by Chris Fox
“Fair enough. These ships drain magic. Gods are comprised of pure magic,” Skare explained. He dropped the volume of his voice slightly, to express the gravity. “Gentlemen, with enough of these ships you can not only kill a god, but empower your own fleet in the process. Every time these ships win a battle they grow more powerful, even as your crews grow more experienced. If you need to battle a god, then I can think of no finer weapon. For the first time you’ll be the masters of your own fate, and no longer playthings at the whim of gods and mages.”
The governor adopted a thoughtful expression, and began rubbing at the sleeve of his jacket, where a watch would be. Skare knew most officials wore a comlink there, and that a comlink was often associated with their wealth, as that was how they checked their balances in their mighty computers.
“The vessel includes a full artificial intelligence built using your own tech.” Skare knew he needed to press, and he pressed hard. “All they lack are mages, and they’ll be ready to save your world.”
“What are they going to cost us?” Austin asked. “You know our money is tied up in relief efforts, and we’re not likely to be able to acquire credit with our world…as it is.”
“And this is the part,” Skare smiled mischievously, “where I get to prove you wrong about us, Governor. From a fiscal perspective giving you money is a bad investment, I agree. But having Krox devour the sector is hardly good for business either. We will give you an armada, on 100% credit. I will charge no interest for the first three years, and after that we’ll adjust no more than two basis points a year.”
Austin blinked, then turned to his advisors. They had a whispered conference, and the only part Skare caught was when Kerr said something about that ‘pasty-faced clown.’ Skare smiled into his hand.
Finally, Austin turned back to them. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Skare. You get us a fleet of these ships, and if we survive this war we’ll pay back every penny. You’ve got my word on that.”
“Splendid.” Skare walked toward Jolene, and paused near the bridge’s wide doorway. “Welcome to your new flagship, Governor. The Redemption is yours. I’ll get out of your hair. Caelendra, transfer command authority to governor Austin of Ternus.”
“Acknowledged, Lord Skare.” Caelendra’s cheerful voice echoed across the bridge.
Skare strode away with Jolene in his wake. She hurried to catch him, then eyed him sidelong. “That was masterfully done.”
“All I needed to do was convince them that we share the same interests.” Skare shrugged. It hadn’t been that hard. “Now we sit back and let them create the weapons we need.”
14
The Mirror of Shaya
“Where are we going?” Ikadra asked, his innocent voice echoing down the empty corridor. This portion of the Spellship was deserted, and likely had been for countless centuries. Voria was left with the impression that something was watching her from the lingering shadows that the period magical lights failed to banish.
“To the Chamber of the Mirror,” she explained as she advanced up the corridor. “I had it moved here from Eros’s vessel, and haven’t had occasion to use it. Now, I need answers.”
“Oh.” Ikadra pulsed thoughtfully. “Hopefully we see something cool.”
She did need answers badly, but she knew that this move underscored her desperation. Divination was hardly her specialty, and she’d watched Eros hurl himself at the Mirror over and over, with little success. Trying to master it had taken too much of his attention at a critical time, and she couldn’t afford to make the same mistake.
Unfortunately, her need for answers was genuine. She had to try at least. Would it even interact with the godsight she’d been given?
Voria took a deep, steadying breath as she stepped into the Chamber of the Mirror for the first time since discovering it. That was its true name, though it had been merely an empty room when she’d first come aboard the Spellship. It contained a simple pedestal, with no clear indication of what the room had been intended for.
The only significant detail had been the room’s magical resonance. It hummed in a way she’d rarely heard, a deep thrumming melody that contained all eight aspects of magic. They were heaviest in fire and dream though, confirming that the Mirror had something to do with divination.
Those energies reverberated off mirrored walls, each showing endless reflections of Voria and Ikadra, and of the single object occupying the room. That object, the Mirror of Shaya, possessed an identical magical resonance.
Voria moved to stand before the ancient eldimagus, a slash in the air with a perfectly reflective surface that bobbed up and down slowly over the pedestal. The Mirror appeared two dimensional, disappearing from view when it rotated so that she was looking at it sideways.
The Mirror vibrated as she approached, almost as if greeting her. The spinning stopped, and it shifted to face her. It didn’t seem to have an intelligence in the same way that Ikadra did, but at the same time it seemed aware of both its surroundings and the needs of its viewer. If she was fortunate, it might help her unravel the maddeningly unspecific task that Inura had left her with.
“Can you show me things as they were?” she wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer. “Show me Shaya, while she still lived.”
It was a vague request, and yet the Mirror’s surface began to ripple and change. The surface clouded in mist, and when it cleared, the Mirror provided a portal onto the bridge of the Spellship, though Voria somehow sensed that it was a wholly other time, in the distant past.
A tall, raven-haired woman stood with hands clasped behind her back. She wore her hair loose, and her blue uniform was slovenly. It could have passed for a confederate uniform, with the same gold trim, though the patch on the shoulder was of unfamiliar design.
The woman rested one hand on the hilt of a spellblade, suggesting she was a war mage. She certainly had the physique for it, and despite her unkempt appearance there must be some discipline in there somewhere.
Her attention was fixed on a scry-screen, and that screen showed a moon that was both familiar and alien. The surface was barren and lifeless, comprised of grey-green rock with no atmosphere. The moon orbited the same gas giant she’d stared out her window at as a little girl.
She was looking at the moon of Shaya, before her goddess had brought it life.
The woman standing at the scry-screen turned to face Voria, and Voria gave a start until she realized the hawk-eyed woman was staring past her, not at her.
“Blast that Wyrm,” the woman snarled. “He should be here.” She took a deep, even breath, then seemed to collect herself. “Has everything been prepared as I’ve instructed?”
“Yes, Battle Leader.” A man in golden armor that was shockingly similar to current Shayan fashion hurried into view and knelt next to the woman, Shaya, she realized—it could be no one else. He offered Shaya a golden staff, tipped with an immensely powerful sapphire. “Ikadra has been prepared as you’ve instructed.”
“Huh huh,” the staff said, sapphire pulsing. “We’re going to play hide the staff.”
“None of your antics today, old friend.” Shaya’s tone softened a hair, though her features didn’t relax in the slightest. “Explain to me how this will work. No jokes. We’re pressed for time.”
“Right.” Ikadra’s sapphire dimmed. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. We can get out of here right now. It isn’t too late.”
The raven-haired beauty took the staff in her hand, then turned back to the screen. She stared at the barren moon below her, and smiled. “I’m certain. This is the proper course. My death is inevitable. It doesn’t have to occur here, but it will occur regardless of what route I choose. If that is the case, then why not ensure my end matters? My death will mean a future for the Vagrant Fleet.”
Ikadra’s sapphire pulsed forlornly, but he said nothing. That silence spoke volumes, and told Voria of the long and storied history they must have had together. It mystified her how the staff had
managed to maintain its optimism after all the horrors he’d no doubt witnessed.
Shaya turned to her lieutenant. “Take Ikadra and the Spellship to Virkon. Present them to Inura, and ensure that blasted Wyrm finds a way to hide them as discussed.”
“Of course, Battle Leader.” Her lieutenant sank to one knee, then pressed his hand to his heart. “We will never forget your sacrifice. And we will honor your wishes. If all comes to pass as you have foreseen, our people will ensure that this world flourishes, and we will watch over the sector until you rise again.”
Shaya rolled her eyes, though the man on the ground didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve no doubt, old friend. Just don’t go overboard with the whole I’m a goddess thing. You still remember when I used to scramble through air ducts, and come home covered in rust. Don’t go all worshiper on me in the final hour.”
Her lieutenant rose, and removed his helmet. The sandy-haired man clutched it under one arm, and gave Shaya a boyish grin that reminded Voria a bit of Aran. “To be fair, you are a goddess now, little sister. You were always the best of us.” He snapped his fist over heart once more.
“Goodbye, brother.” Shaya smiled, and then began to glow with immense white light. The strength of the glow was staggering, and was made no less so when Shaya suddenly teleported out of the Spellship.
Voria’s perspective shifted to match and she now hovered in orbit over the moon that would somehow become the home where she was born. Shaya maneuvered around the world, finally stopping near the Telethal mountains, which were unmistakable even without the tree to give them perspective.
Shaya’s body was comprised entirety of light, and while Voria couldn’t guess at her actual size, she’d been near enough Wyrms to make a safe guess. Shaya was nearly the size of Drakkon, which made her considerably smaller than Neith, and a speck compared to Krox.
Space folded in on itself, warping and changing at the edge of the system, far from the light of the sun. The strange magic resolved into an unfamiliar god. It could be nothing else. The being towered over Shaya, despite her increased size.
The giant appeared humanoid, from the waist up anyway. Below that his form blended into the void, and made him appear a disembodied torso. His body was comprised of the stars themselves, cosmic dust linking limbs defined by constellations. Shivan, she realized, recognizing his description from her time in the library on Marid.
“I do not understand,” Shivan thought, the force of his voice knocking Shaya a step closer to her world. “Why did you allow this possibility to occur? It should have taken nearly four centuries for this confrontation to commence. You could have run.”
Shaya gave a wicked, almost flirtatious smile. It would have horrified any Caretaker, or any devout priest of the temple. It did not at all match the chaste giver of life they painted Shaya to be. The goddess raised her hand, and began sketching a spell.
Life and air and water swirled around Shaya in a growing cloud of unfamiliar power. Voria couldn’t begin to guess what the goddess was doing, and from the very mortal expression on Shivan’s cosmic face he wasn’t having any more luck.
The god raised a spear of immense power, one that strummed a memory. She’d seen the weapon before, and now that she thought upon it she’d seen the god, too. She remembered the chaos on Marid and touching the goddess for whom the world had been named.
“Worldender has slain countless gods.” Shivan slowly raised the weapon, but Shaya made no move to dodge or hide. “It slew Marid herself, in a single blow. What will your tiny magic do that your betters could not?”
Shaya laughed, a high, musical laugh, that echoed somehow through space. She shook her head sadly. “Do you know why Inura and Virkonna chose to elevate me, Shivan?”
The magic around her swirled faster, and further out around her, until it formed a nimbus of power with Shaya’s blazing form in the center.
“I admit the decision puzzles me.” Shivan lowered the spear a hair, and seemed to consider the question. “Investing so much power in one as young as you…your perspective barely covers a century. How can you understand the complexities of this war? Why put so much power in the hands of an infant?”
“Perspective,” Shaya supplied. The spell around her grew to a crescendo. “I can see things that elder gods cannot, with my limited, mortal perspective. I remember being born, and I’ve lived with the certainty of my own death. I understand the cycle of life far better than you ever will. What I do today will ensure your rebirth, Shivan. I will set you on the path to undo all the harm you have wrought. Come, let’s end this.”
The spell burst outwards even as Worldender left Shivan’s hand. Shaya made no defense. Quite the opposite. She extended her arms and thrust her chest forward, as if embracing the spear. The weapon burst through her heart, slamming her into the moon below.
Light, and sound, and magic, and memory burst up from the world below as Voria witnessed the death of a goddess. Shaya’s body cratered an area west of the mountains, precisely where the tree would one day stand. She lay on her back, limbs splayed brokenly around her. Worldender, the vicious black spear of the gods, had pinned her to the earth, and sank deep into the moon.
Only then did Shaya’s magic begin to take hold. The energy swirled up and around the haft of the spear, covering it in a layer of life, and then water, and then all eight aspects at once. The magic rolled out of her in inconceivably vast waves, each swirl sinking into Worldender.
The weapon began to transform. Bark sprouted along its surface. Roots snaked along the ground, finding purchase on the barren rock. Long, slender limbs jutted from the main body. The tree grew quickly, an impossibly tall redwood replacing Worldender’s dark form. Onward and upward the tree grew, its roots finally obscuring Shaya’s body.
A wave of magic rippled outwards from the very tip of the tree, and the familiar bubble she’d lived with her entire life slowly descended from the tip, protecting a wide swathe of the moon. Within moments, ferns and bay trees and redwoods sprouted from the barren ground everywhere the bubble protected. A virgin forest grew swiftly, the wild growth covering nearly a quarter of the moon.
High above, Shivan stared down at the world, his cosmic gaze still confused. “I do not understand. Her sacrifice deprived me of a weapon, nothing more. I fail to see my rebirth, in any possibility.” He shook his head sadly. “Such a waste.”
The god turned, then disappeared as suddenly as he’d come.
Voria blinked as the second reality disappeared and she was back in the Chamber of the Mirror. She still didn’t understand how Shaya had ascended, but she knew how she’d died. More importantly she knew why Krox was coming.
He wanted Worldender, and no doubt to consume Shaya’s body. Either would ensure the sector never recovered. Voria had to find a way to stop him, but to do that she needed more information.
“She’s under the tree,” Voria whispered. “Under the pool. That must have been Eros’s secret, and what Inura meant. Why the Mirror chose this memory to show me.”
It was time to visit the goddess in person.
15
Bullshit Side Quest
Crewes stepped through the temple’s ivory doors, uncertain of what to expect in the dark room he entered. It was utterly silent, and after the doors swung shut behind him, it was blacker than the depths.
A sound like whispers rolled out of the darkness, all around him. And then a wet, earthy smell bubbled up, the kind he associated with the deep jungle. Had he been teleported somewhere?
“Man, I hate this creepy religious crap.” He flicked his external light on low, which illuminated Sarala’s robed form a couple meters away. “Where are we?”
Something roared in the jungle, a tiger from the sound of it. Tigers were no joke.
Crewes fed a bit of fire to the armor, and a soft glow arose from its surface, better illuminating the area around him. As he’d feared, they were surrounded by dense jungle. He hated the gods-damned jungle. It had been the reason he’d been so ea
ger to get off this blasted world in the first place.
As if on cue, the jungle burst into life. Insects began their shrill song. Monkeys shouted in the distance, answered by another troop even further away. It pressed down on him, and Crewes spun to face the spot where the doors had been only to find unbroken jungle.
“You know where we are, Linus,” Sarala finally said. She gave a soft laugh, and slowly lowered her cowl, exposing a more mature version of the face that had tilted his whole world, once upon a time. The motion exposed braids of dark hair tied into long, ropy fibers. She eyed him playfully, and a brief smile played across full lips. “We are in Shi’s domain. I know how…uncomfortable it makes you. I know you hate the trees, and Shi knows it too. That’s why this is the trial. Your weapons and tools will be stripped from you, and you will need to persevere. Not even your mark of Van will help. Fire has no power over dream. Not in her domain.”
Crewes snapped his faceplate back up, and scowled at a girl he’d once hoped to marry. “Are you saying I gotta walk through the jungle, with no gear? Why? And where am I even going?”
Sarala’s entire body dissolved into purple smoke, then flowed back into her human self a few meters away. She gave him a wink, and then a low, throaty laugh. “Find Shi, Linus. Her light will guide you. Do not rely on your tools, for they will betray you.”
“What are you going to be doing?” Crewes took a reluctant step after her, and a fallen branch cracked under his armor’s weight. He didn’t love the idea of being without his gear, and he liked the idea of being alone even less.
“This is your trial, and yours alone. I can observe, but you will not see me again unless you succeed.” Her form dissolved, then flowed along the jungle floor until it disappeared behind the wide trunk of an iroko tree.
“Well that’s just gods-damned great.” Crewes snapped his faceplate down again. “I know gods got their rules, but Shi’s just gonna have to make an exception. There’s no way I’m ditching my armor in the middle of a jungle.”
