by Chris Fox
“It’s a dark bargain, isn’t it? A bargain none of us wants.” She turned slowly in a circle, her eyes touching every last person in turn. “Most of you love power. You’d jump at the chance to become a god. Me? I cannot think of a worse fate. I saw what it got Shaya, and I know that even if we succeed, my godhood will likely be a short one. Our likelihood of survival is slim, and we all know it, but is any one of you willing to give up?”
Voria licked her lips. Many faces were unreadable. She wished she knew what they were thinking. “I’ve called you here because each of you represents a faction. You are influencers and leaders. You are respected, and people will listen to you. If we are to stop Krox, then you must convince our people that they play a role in doing so, and that the lowest among them matters as much as our fiercest warriors. And, as quickly as able, we need to carry word beyond this ship, to Shaya itself. Every last citizen needs to be ready for what is to come. Can I count on you to do that?”
Reluctant nods dotted the room. They didn’t like it, and she didn’t blame them, but at least they’d try.
28
The Skull of Xal
Aran tapped the final void sigil on the Talon’s matrix, and the Fissure cracked its way open across the black. The hideous purple glow along the edges illuminated the armada behind him, their wedge shapes indistinct, and menacing.
“Crewes, send a missive to the governor’s flagship,” Aran ordered as he guided the Talon back into normal space. He shivered in spite of himself. Not from the imagined chill, but from the memory of the last time he’d been to the Skull of Xal, at the very beginning of this whole mess.
“Yes, sir.” Crewes tapped a fire sigil, then a second on the silver ring. The scry-screen lit a moment later and showed a Ternus technician. Her eyes had been replaced with cybernetic implants, and a cable snaked out of her temple.
“Fleet actual,” she said in a monotone as she cocked her head.
“Please inform Governor Austin that we’ve arrived,” Aran explained. He slid out of the command matrix, and approached the scry-screen. “Let him know that I’ll be coordinating the raid directly with Admiral Kerr, but that he’s welcome to listen in to comms if he’d like.”
There was movement behind the tech, and then the governor’s face filled the corner of the screen. “Captain, I’d like you to take the ships to an altitude where they can fire directly at the Catalyst. Draining it from range seems like the safest course of action.”
“Respectfully, Governor, you put me in charge for a reason. I plan to send in a ground team to recon—”
“Why?” Austin asked coldly. The governor folded his arms in a way that perfectly expressed his impatience.
Aran forced a calming breath, and reminded himself that the governor had no idea what they were dealing with. None of them did.
“We’re coming around the planet’s horizon line now. See for yourself, Governor.” Aran kept his tone neutral. The corner of the scry-screen shifted to show their approach, and as they rounded the grey-green world Aran shivered again.
The Skull of Xal floated in the void, massive ram-like horns curling from its brow and up under the jaw. Two ridges ran along the top of the Skull—thick, dark bone. None of that was the worst, though. The hellish purple light of void magic came from the mouth and eyes, the same power Aran could feel coldly smoldering in his chest.
“Take a look, Governor.” Aran paused to allow the man a moment to see the Skull, then plunged ahead. “For us to access the Catalyst we need to enter one of the ocular cavities. There is a reason why slavers deposit groups on foot. Attacking from out here is futile, as you can’t penetrate the bone protecting the Catalyst. We could fly the fleet inside, but that puts us at the mercy of the tech demons living there. We don’t know anything about their defenses. They could have fortifications, gun emplacements, or who knows what kind of demonic monstrosities ready to attack. The last time I was here I didn’t see the Guardian, but that doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. That Guardian will be a demigod in their own right, and will be surrounded by a cadre of powerful mages. If you pilot these ships in there you’re declaring war, and I expect the locals to react badly. Are you really prepared for that kind of fight?”
Austin’s handsome face soured. “Very well. You’ve convinced me. What do you have in mind, exactly?”
Aran stared at the rapidly growing Skull as he remembered the frigid air and the bleached bone hills. “We’ll move to the edge of the ocular cavity and deploy our forces. We’ll keep several of your ships close at hand so they can fire at any hostiles that assault our landing zone. Once we deal with their initial sortie we can push toward the Catalyst. We’ll assess, and decide how to proceed. There’s every possibility we may not be able to get the ships to the Catalyst. If that’s the case I expect you to abide by my decision, or you can run this op yourself.”
“I will not leave empty handed.” The governor smoothed his suit, and collected himself. “If you can’t get the ships to the Catalyst, I expect you to expose every one of our mage candidates to the magic.”
Aran licked his lips, the screams of the dying echoed out of remembered nightmares. “It’s your people, Governor, but expect heavy casualties. The demons will defend their territory, and your conventional weapons aren’t going to do much to slow them down. Anything short of grenades or explosive rounds won’t even scratch them. And remember, if things go south I’m pulling the plug.”
The governor eyed him as if he wanted to say something, but finally gave a short nod. “Very well. Good luck, Captain.” The missive ended, and the screen shifted to show their approach. They’d nearly reached the same eye where Kazon and Aran had been dumped what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Whole lot a zeroes are about to die,” Crewes said as he exited his matrix. He wore a fresh uniform, with the Outrider’s patch monogrammed on the chest. The sergeant ducked past the spinning rings, and headed for the ramp to the cargo bay. “I’ll get the kids ready.”
Neeko’s lithe form rose from the corner and trotted after the Sergeant. The cat was utterly silent, and mostly seemed to keep to itself. Crewes didn’t acknowledge it, or hadn’t in Aran’s presence. The cat didn’t seem at all discouraged about being ignored, and Crewes had done nothing to keep it out of his quarters.
“This plan is madness,” Rhea said from the third matrix. “You seem aware of the risks, even if those fools aren’t. Why are you going along with this?” She asked it simply, with no accusation, just a request for info.
“Krox is coming for Shaya.” Aran guided the Talon into the ocular cavity, and brought them to rest roughly where Yorrak had set down not so long ago, at the edge of a vast field of bone.
There was no movement in the bleached hills rising into the distance, and nothing silhouetted against the terrible violet magic hidden somewhere beyond them. Nothing yet, anyway. “The odds of us stopping a god of that magnitude are…slim. We’re going to need allies, and Ternus offered to help us if I’d lead their fleet here. I may not like the weapons, but if they’re killing Krox then we need them on our side. I’m aware there will be a price to pay later, but I want to make sure we’re around to pay it.”
“Good enough for me.” Rhea nodded as she exited her matrix. She quickly bound her hair into a ponytail, then tucked it inside the collar of her flight suit. “Thank you again for the spellarmor. I’m going to go get suited up.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” Aran continued to concentrate on flying until after they’d landed. He briefly considered leaving Bord with the ship to ward it, but odds were good the Talon would be a lot safer than the people they were sending in. Bord’s magic would be needed there.
Aran ducked out of the matrix and hurried down the ramp. By the time he reached the cargo hold Bord, Kezia, Rhea, and Crewes were already suited up. Much to his surprise, Nara was there as well, next to the sergeant.
Aran raised an eyebrow at Crewes.
Crewes eyed him sidelong as he checked the internals o
n his cannon. “I thought she’d be useful, and besides, let’s be honest, you were gonna bring her anyway.” Crewes gave Aran a grim smile. “I ain’t stupid though. She’s wearing the collar, and I got the control rod clenched nice and tight.”
“Good call, Sergeant.” He nodded to Nara, who returned it before snapping her helmet into place.
Aran moved to stand before his Mark XI. It still didn’t truly belong to him the way his old armor had, but he was grateful to have state-of-the-art tech that wasn’t corrupted.
He’d had time to think about what happened back on Skare’s ship, and the more he considered things the more he wondered if the ship was draining his magic directly. Perhaps the tubes were just for show, and any mage on the ship was at risk. It was a horrifying thought.
Aran sketched a void sigil in front of the breastplate, and then backed into his armor. The familiar foam interior settled comfortably around his skin, and the HUD lit almost instantly as the armor drew a trickle of magic from his chest.
He triggered a missive to the squad, each of whom appeared along the bottom of his HUD. “We’re going to fan out ahead of the Ternus Marines. Odds are good the alpha strike will be leveled in our direction, so Bord, you’re going to need to be on it with the wards.”
“Ain’t nothing touching my lady.” Bord’s scout armor paused, and to Aran’s surprise he snapped a deft salute. “I’ll keep the rest of you nice and shiny too, sir, but I ain’t gonna be able to do much for the Marines. Too many people.”
“I can aid you,” Rhea’s quiet voice sounded over the missive. “I possess life magic, and am skilled in creating wards. My resources are likely more limited than yours, but I’ll do what I can. It isn’t my specialty.”
“What is your specialty?” Aran asked. He probably should have figured that out on the flight here, but he’d been too busy planning his role in the war to spend much time working with Rhea. She’d seemed fine with the arrangement, and hadn’t really left her quarters much except to eat.
As her commander, though, he needed to be the one taking the initiative, and he made a note to do that, if they lived.
“Destruction.” Rhea’s armored form drifted over to the blue membrane, and she paused to face him. “The same as every Outrider that came after you. You mandated that we all learn true magic as well, which is why I know basic wards.”
“Sounds like future me is much better at this,” he muttered under his breath. Aran fed a bit of void to the suit, then drifted through the membrane, and up into the air over the Talon and the transports dispatched by the Ternus fleet.
Icy crystals covered the bone, a reminder of the cold that he, thankfully, couldn’t feel because of his spellarmor. The first time he’d been here he hadn’t been so lucky. Back then he’d been fodder.
Dozens of Marines in the same effective position he’d been in were rushing out and assuming defensive positions wherever they could find cover. Behind them came a line of hovertanks, and Aran felt a brief surge of hope until he realized none of them were Davidson’s. The Hunter had probably already reached Shaya by now, along with the rest of Ternus’s remaining conventional vessels, which was where Davidson should be.
A few moments later clusters of grey-clad techs sprinted out of the ships. The shuttles lifted off, and the bewildered techs looked around as if seeking escape. Aran knew exactly how they were feeling. Crewes hadn’t been wrong about a whole bunch of zeroes dying.
He fed air into his suit to amplify his voice, then rose over the ranks. “I want the hovertanks to flank our advance. Marines, find any cover you can and keep the enemy at range. If a tech demon advances, scatter. Force them to chase you into the tanks, or my mages, and we’ll peel them off you. Also, keep moving. The cold can be lethal if we’re out in it too long.”
The Marines started moving, and Aran noted that each had been fitted with cybernetic implants, just as the tech he’d spoken to earlier. That chilled him more than the temperature ever could. Who knew what those implants even did? Nothing good, he was sure.
“Movement, Captain,” Rhea’s confident voice came over the speakers in his suit. “I count at least twenty hostiles. Estimate eighty seconds to contact.”
“Get to cover!” Aran bellowed. “Armor, aim for clusters. Disrupt and slow. Don’t go for kills. We need to stagger their advance.”
Crewes cut into the channel. “Sir, got another bunch over the ridge at three o’clock.
The pounding of booted feet on pallid stone grew louder, and echoed at them from multiple directions. There had to be hundreds of them out there. Countless silhouettes appeared against the glow in the distance.
The demons’ objective was clear. They were arrayed to prevent Aran’s forces from reaching the Catalyst. This was going to be a bloodbath.
29
So Much For Diplomacy
Aran realized immediately there was no way his limited forces were going to survive a push through the approaching demonic horde. Yorrak’s quick in and out raids suddenly made a lot of sense, because they happened before the locals had a chance to mobilize. A larger force was cumbersome and easily spotted, and that gave the demons all the time they needed to get into position to intercept.
“Sergeant,” Aran panted into his suit. “We’re going to double time it up to that ridge, and take the summit. I want to hold it just long enough to piss them off, and then we fall back to the LZ.”
“Copy that, sir. You heard the man, people.” Crewes’s thruster fired, and his armor soared up the ridge.
Rhea’s Mark XI rose smoothly in the sergeant’s wake, and Aran could feel the void magic she used, twin to his own. She stayed above and behind the sergeant, shadowing him in the way only a veteran would know to do. Again she seemed more skilled than anyone else in the company, himself included. And that was without tapping into any of the abilities being a Wyrm would give her.
Bord and Kezia sprinted up the ridgeline behind Crewes and Rhea, but they wouldn’t reach the ridge more than a few moments after them. Aran glanced at the Marines below, then toggled his external speakers. “In a few moments we’re going to kick a hornets’ nest. Those hornets are going to come swarming down those ridges, and when they do they’re going to be pissed off. Do everything you can to slow them, and to channel them into a kill zone that the capital ships can concentrate their fire on.”
Aran flipped off his speakers, and poured void into his armor. He zipped along the ridge, quickly eating up the gap between him and Crewes. Fire worked for flight, but air or void both did it better. He willed open his void pocket, and withdrew his spellrifle.
They’d need to kite these demons, as letting them get into melee range meant a swift death. It would be too easy for the demons to physically overpower them through weight of numbers, and while their magic might delay that, eventually it would run out.
Once he’d reached the sergeant’s position, Aran jetted up high enough that he nearly brushed the top of the ocular cavity. It afforded a better view of the bleached fields stretching into the distance, and beyond them he caught sight of the familiar icy glow of the Catalyst itself, the purple light filling the cavity where a human’s brain would be.
Columns of demons trotted across the bleached plain, all making for the ridge where his company was assembling. Most demons carried either a spellblade or spellrifle, but there were plenty of spellcannons dotting their ranks. Odds were good they’d use void exclusively, and that did make them somewhat predictable. Unfortunately, being able to predict a hail of void bolts didn’t mean they’d survive it.
“Crewes, Rhea, start dishing big spells to the group closest to us,” Aran ordered. He zipped back down toward the squad, and wasn’t surprised when a chorus of void bolts rose from the demons.
The dark spells hissed past him, and he twisted and rolled to avoid the barrage. He continued his evasive maneuvers until he was low enough to drop into cover behind a bony outcrop. A final void bolt hissed into the rock above him, echoed by angry cries from the d
emonic ranks.
“Bord.” Aran risked a quick glance around the right side of the boulder, then ducked back as a void bolt slammed into the rock. “Get ready with the strongest ward you can manage. Kezia, the first demon to make it around those boulders gets a hammer to the face. Keep them off the ranged, and don’t get lured out of cover.”
Crewes and Rhea were already moving. The sergeant darted around the right side of the boulder, and aimed his cannon at a trio of demons who’d broken ahead of the main body and were sprinting in their direction.
“Aran,” Nara gave a frantic call from where she’d crouched near the base of a boulder. “What about me?”
Aran smiled grimly as he peeked over a boulder at the onrushing demons. The front rank was a little over a hundred meters out. “I want you to create an illusion of a second group of tech mages cresting the ridge forty meters to our right, and then immediately after I want one on the left. We’re trying to get them to waste magic. Even demons have limits and every bolt that hits an illusion isn’t hitting a Marine.”
Crewes’s cannon bucked, and a ball of superheated flame arced into the air. It detonated over the trio of demons, and coated them in superheated napalm.
“Most demons are all but impervious to flame,” Rhea called as she sprinted into cover about ten meters from Crewes. She popped out of cover and cored a demon through the heart with a level three void bolt. The creature continued running for a few steps, then tumbled to the ground and didn’t rise.
“I ain’t trying to burn ‘em.” Crewes was already firing a second time, but this time the ball that burst from his spellcannon was a pure blob of icy blue. The water magic followed the same course the fire had, and when it slammed into the trio of demons, the cold washed over their superheated bodies.
