by Chris Fox
“We’re straying into cryptic god-speak,” Aran broke in. He’d been down this route with too many gods now. “I’m just going to lay this out tactically, so we can get out of your hair. Krox is coming for Shaya. Voria is going to attempt to resurrect a goddess to fight him, but even if she succeeds we all know it won’t be enough. We need an army, and we have to work with what we have. You said we needed to explain why we’re here, but if you can see through my eyes you already know why. We need those ships powered up, so they can help us take down Krox.”
Malila heaved a sigh of parental disappointment. She rose languidly from the throne, and walked to the edge of their perch to stare down at the mind of a dead god. “You’ve stumbled into the godswar, Aran. It isn’t like any other war you’ve endured. Each decision we make must account for the distant future. This is why Neith empowered both Nara and Voria, so that they would be able to see the long ranging consequences of their actions.”
“I get it.” Aran moved to stand next to Malila’s throne, and found her altogether too…normal somehow. Far below, Xal’s magic called out to him, and he longed to fly down into that light, to claim more of it. “Those ships are tainted by Nefarius. Using them could potentially give a powerful weapon to our enemies. If we somehow finish Krox, then we’re left weakened and unable to deal with Nefarius. Here’s my problem. If we don’t stop Krox we’re all dead. Isn’t it better to beat the enemy, and hope we can tackle the next one? If Krox wins, it’s game over. Maybe he stops Nefarius, but will it matter to us?”
“No one benefits from Krox destroying Shaya,” Nara interjected, lending weight to Aran’s argument. “At least allow us to make mages. You don’t want to power up the ships, and for good reason. But the ships are powered by mages. If you give Ternus void mages, they can power these ships, but they still have free will. They won’t willingly serve Nefarius.”
“Not at first.” Malila sighed, then stalked back to her throne. She glared at Nara, as if the suggestion made it her fault. “But over time they will be corrupted and then consumed. Giving you this strength might help you prevail in this battle, but it will ultimately empower Nefarius, and that may prove to be all of our undoing.”
“I’m so tired of hearing about hypotheticals,” Aran said. He tightened his grip on his rifle. “I’m working with certainties. We take down Krox, or we lose. It’s a simple equation. We might not like the consequences, but we need this cost if we want any hope of victory.”
“Very well.” Malila’s tail flicked in clear agitation. “One hundred mages may approach the light. No more, and none of those blasted ships. I have but one stipulation.”
“Name it,” Aran said.
She leaned closer, giving a slow, predatory smile. “You and Nara must be among those chosen.”
31
Bootes Void
Nara hovered in her spellarmor a few meters above the bleached stone, not far from where Aran waited. It was the first time they’d been alone since…well since it didn’t matter. If being surrounded by demons counted as being alone.
Rank upon rank of horned monstrosities stretched into the distance, toward the sloping walls of the ocular cavity. Her enhanced senses made counting them easy, but she’d stopped when she reached ten thousand.
Today had still been the best day she’d had in a while. It was the first time any of her old friends had treated her like a human being since she’d been confined to that cell. It was the first time she felt like she was a part of something again.
How ironic then, that she badly longed to be back inside that cell, or in any cell really. She’d run events through her head over and over, and the conclusions were terrifying. She was meant to kill Voria, and Talifax was supremely confident that she’d do it. Assuming they survived what was about to happen, then the next place Aran was likely to head would be Shaya.
That put her alarmingly close to Voria, and within arm’s reach of fulfilling Talifax’s plans for her. She couldn’t let that happen. It might even be better if she died here, removing herself from Talifax’s twisted toolbox.
“You’ve got that look on your face,” said Aran, interrupting her thoughts. His helmet hissed and he removed it, shaking sweat from his dark hair. His beard had thickened, but he’d been keeping it trimmed. It looked good on him. Aged him, in a positive way.
“I was just thinking about what comes next,” Nara admitted. She faced the light—the Catalyst she’d dragged Aran into against his will. She remembered that now, and it shamed her. “I should be focused on Xal, but I can’t help but worry about…after.”
Aran tucked his helmet under his arm and turned to face the membrane covering the ocular cavity in the distance behind them. She followed his gaze and saw the Talon drifting through. It glided rapidly in their direction, expertly guided by Crewes. It stung that the sergeant so clearly disdained her now, though it was hard to blame him since it had been her actions that had caused all this.
“We’ll have time to get it sorted. The flight back to Shaya’s going to be long.” Aran’s deep brown eyes reflected the Talon’s approach. “I can’t help but remember the last time we were here. A lot of the people going in aren’t going to make it out. I hope the volunteers were told that.”
“I’m starting to wonder.” Nara replaced her helmet as the Talon’s sleek, golden form glided to a near silent landing a few dozen meters away.
Nara’s armor sealed shut with a click, and her HUD came to life. The warm, rubbery feel against her skin was comforting, and no matter how much Voria and then Eros had tried to beat the tech mage out of her, it was here to stay. She loved spellarmor and the protection it afforded, even if it did limit the use of true magic.
A ramp of azure magical energy extended from the Talon, and well-armed Marines began trotting out in four even columns. They carried spellrifles, which was a smart investment. Those who survived would emerge with a void-empowered weapon, making them all the more valuable.
Crewes exited the Talon directly behind them, like a sheepdog guiding his flock. Kezia emerged a moment later, her massive silver armor so at odds with the diminutive pilot. The drifter carried her hammer easily in one hand, the surface of the metal glinting violet against the backdrop of the Catalyst.
Bord huddled behind her in his smaller scout armor, peaking over her shoulder at the swirling ball of magic they were all here to enter. None of them addressed Nara as they began marching toward the light. The Marines’ commander, someone named Kerr, paused near Aran and the two began chatting. Nara tuned them out, and focused on Kez.
Before she’d met and befriended Frit, she’d have called Kez her best friend. She and the drifter hadn’t known each other well, but they’d fought together, and saved each other’s lives. It hurt to see the indifference, and Nara wished there were some way to bridge the gap she’d inadvertently created. Of course, doing that would only make Kez more vulnerable to whatever Talifax ultimately had planned.
“Nara,” Aran called in his confident voice, “can you bring up the rear with Kez and Bord? I’ll take point.”
Aran rose above the ranks, the purple light painting his armor violet. He moved at a steady clip toward the light, and the ranks of Marines crunched their way across the bone in a rhythmic march.
Nara trailed after, near Kezia and Bord. They weren’t really talking to her, but she still liked being near them.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Kez panted over the internal comms. “That light is…wrong. I don’t want that kind of magic living in me.”
“Don’t go, then,” Nara ventured. She drifted down to hover next to Kezia, no more than a few dozen meters from the hellish light. “Aran and I learned something from the Guardian. She can see through us, because we’ve been touched by…that. Void magic is powerful, but there are other ways to get power.”
“You’re on dangerous ground, Nara,” Crewes snapped, his voice taught over the comms. “Don’t be giving my people orders. You’re still a prisoner.”
“I was just—”
“Enough.” Aran cut off everyone. “No one has to go in the light who doesn’t want to. I know better than anyone the risks entailed. I’m going to walk in first, so I won’t even see if you go, and I can promise you it will never be spoken of again. Make your own choice.”
Aran’s armor drifted into the light, and then disappeared. As soon as he entered, Marines began following him into the light.
“Yeah, I’m not going in there,” Bord said as he poked out from behind Kez. “Kezia, my love, you do what you need to do, and I’ll support you. Stay here, or go in the light—I got your back…side. I know you can’t see it inside my helmet, but I winked when I said that.”
Kez snorted at him. “How you can be such a bad mix of chivalrous and lecherous I will never know.” She hesitated, and her armor turned to face Nara. She wished she could see the drifter’s face. “It means a lot that I’ve got your support too, Nara. That light is joost wrong, and I’m not letting it touch me.”
Crewes stomped his way over to stand next to Kez, then turned away from the light. “After that dream shit there’s no way you could get me in there. I don’t care how much you paid. These things get in your head, and they don’t ever leave.”
They stood silently after that as rank after rank of Marines trotted into the light.
Nara took a deep breath. She couldn’t put this off any longer. She’d promised that both her and Aran would enter. “I’m already touched by it, and entering a second time probably won’t make it worse. I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Be careful, Nara.” Kezia’s tone was…well, if not friendly, it was better than it had been.
Nara turned and guided her armor toward the light. She waited for the last few Marines to enter, and then plunged into the light just as she’d done with Yorrak’s crew not so very long ago.
She felt a sense of the entire universe shifting one hundred and eighty degrees, and then something icy, like a pool of water, washed over her. When it passed, her perspective was different. She was elsewhere, and elsewhen, she sensed.
She existed in countless places at once and her perceptions expanded to encompass galaxies. She saw in spectrums and possibilities that her mortal self could not comprehend or even perceive. She was a god, and not just any god, but an elder god who’d observed the passing of millions of years.
She was the infinity known as Xal.
Xal’s demonic claws could pry apart a continent and his wings could cast shade that would deprive an entire planet of light. Whatever species he’d arisen from bore little resemblance to humans beyond having four limbs and two eyes. But, at the very least, she knew that he had begun as a mortal, an eternity ago.
The god’s voice rumbled through space, echoing through the mind of its intended target. “What have you summoned me to see, sorcerer? Speak, Talifax.”
Panic flooded Nara’s mind at the mention of Talifax, but there was nowhere to run.
Xal’s colossal head turned, and his gaze fell on Talifax’s dark armor, a tiny fly speck next to the planet-sized god. She mastered her terror. “Nothing here can hurt me. They can’t even see me. This is just a memory.”
“They cannot,” agreed Malila’s cultured voice. The demonic Guardian shimmered into existence next to Nara, her ghostly form translucent against the backdrop of the void. “We are witnessing a moment in the distant past, over a hundred millennia ago. I find it interesting that Xal chooses this memory to show you. The memory is always connected to the viewer, somehow. To your past, or your future.”
Darkness surrounded them in all directions, broken by an endless sea of multicolored stars. It was one of the most beautiful tapestries Nara had ever seen, doubly so because she could perceive and understand each bandwidth of that light. Her sight, if it could be called that, extended to the edge of the known universe. She could see nearly everywhere, all at once, and she loved it.
Right now she—or Xal, she reminded herself—was focused on an area of the night sky that was nearly devoid of light. It was curiously different than every other area she’d seen. Instead of endless interwoven lights there were a few weak flickers here and there, broken up by vast stretches of darkness.
“Thank you for blessing me with your presence, Great Xal.” Talifax delivered a standing bow with both hands clasped before him. “My mistress will arrive in a moment. I beg your indulgence. Please, only a moment.”
“Do not grovel, mortal.” Xal did not bother to mask his disgust for Talifax, and Nara wished she could somehow warn the god not to underestimate him.
Space began to shift and fold, and a second colossal god appeared. This one was unfamiliar. A midnight-scaled dragon swam through the void, bits of light glinting off her scales. Her eyes were pools of deep void magic, so dark they, too, were nearly black. She blended perfectly against the stars, especially the strange area that was so curiously devoid of them.
Nara felt Xal’s entire body tense as the god prepared for a combat he hoped would not come. He readied magics she couldn’t begin to comprehend, but did not loose them. His horned head turned toward the Wyrm-goddess. “Why has your puppet summoned me, Nefarius? My time is not yours to command, and only my curiosity prevents me from leaving this place.”
The Wyrm swam closer, and her leathered wings flared out behind her even as the light in her eyes intensified. “I have called you here because both of us are in danger, and I will begin by answering the question you did not ask. Why did I not summon the rest of the pantheon? Why only you?”
The dragon extended a clawed hand toward the empty region of space. “That is why I have called you here. For many millennia this region has quietly grown, and none of us have intervened.”
Xal spun out billions of possibilities as he studied the strangely empty region. Nothing concerning appeared in any of them, though the void would grow over time. He turned back to Nefarius. Was this a trick? To what end? He’d never trusted Nefarius, despite the rest of the pantheon blindly doing so. Only Krox shared his fears about the Wyrm.
“Why would we intervene?” Xal was genuinely mystified by her motives. Nefarius was known to be the craftiest goddess in the pantheon, but she enjoyed neither jokes nor pranks. “This appears to be a natural phenomenon. Galaxies spin through space, and what’s happened here is a haphazard pattern. Nothing more.”
“Respectfully, Great Xal,” Talifax interjected. “I do not believe that to be the case. This phenomenon is meant to look natural, but it is anything but.”
Sudden realization dawned in Nara. She recognized that void. It had been categorized, and it was labeled on the galactic map that had always hung on Eros’s wall back at the library. It was called ‘Bootes Void’. She had no idea who Bootes was, probably some ancient Terran scholar.
The region had always fascinated her, because it was many millions of light years across, and contained almost no stars. The few galaxies that survived there were isolated, so much so that their night skies were probably filled with nothing but black. To them it would be the same as living in the Umbral Depths.
Xal’s perceptions extended once more, and Nara was dragged along.
The god focused on Bootes Void, scanning it until he reached the very center. There he encountered something that she sensed the god had never dealt with. An area he was unable to perceive. A dark speck near the center of that galaxy drank in any light or magic that touched it.
“A tear in our plane?” Xal rumbled, turning back to the tiny mortal sorcerer.
Talifax’s bulky form gave another bow. “Precisely, Great Xal. Cleverly hidden, and so slow that it will take billions of years to swallow this plane. A takeover so insidious that even the pantheon might have been blind to it if not for my discovery.”
Xal sensed the pride in the sorcerer, a failing that was not limited to their kind. He eyed Nefarius. “Why tell only me? Why not the entire pantheon?”
Nefarius folded her wings against her body, and pulled her clawed feet to her chest. It w
as the most vulnerable Xal ever seen her, but Nara was skeptical. The Wyrm’s voice trembled when she spoke. “Of all the pantheon, you and I are the only gods whose magic is primarily void. Our magic is, in a way, linked to the Umbral Depths and they all know it. The ancient prohibitions prevent the denizens from working such magics. They are trapped. That means that this phenomenon must have been created by a god, or goddess, on our plane. Someone has betrayed us, Xal, and we will be blamed.”
Xal spun out possibilities, and Nara watched as those possibilities led to his own distant death. An entire pantheon of gods—a few familiar but most completely new to her—swarmed over and killed the mighty titan. It happened so quickly she couldn’t even perceive details.
“Yes,” Xal said suddenly, returning to the present. “I begin to see. They will blame us for this. They already mistrust us enough as it is, simply because our magic is darker than theirs. I will keep this secret for now, and you and I will study it. When we know enough we will bring our findings to the pantheon, but only when we have a way to repair the tear.”
“Of course.” Nefarius bowed her draconic head. “Whatever you think is best, Great Xal.”
32
Husk of Xal
Aran experienced a sudden weightlessness. He’d appeared in a familiar system, the same one where he’d witnessed Xal’s death during his Catalyzation all the way back at beginning of this whole crazy adventure.
Xal’s titanic corpse floated in the void, immense and somehow terrifying even in death. A host of other gods hovered around what must be the largest demon in the sector, feeding like piranha. He recognized the horrible, blazing star that must be Krox, though its surface swirled with far more colors than had been used at Ternus, and unless Aran was mistaken, Krox was far larger here than he’d been when they’d faced him.
