by Chris Fox
Just before the ward closed, Drakkon’s shape dove for it, and he shifted to human form, dropping through the last opening the moment before it snapped shut behind him.
Voria reduced her size to match Drakkon’s human form, and drifted over to hover next to him. His watery hair was more pale, and crow’s feet radiated out from his eyes now. He’d aged, and if Shayans were any indication, that meant he’d lost a significant chunk of his magic.
“Are you all right?” she pressed, viewing him with her life sight. There was a wound in his side, and another on his right leg.
“I’ll be fine, eventually.” He stared up through the ward, where the Inuran ships had begun to cluster. They fired a volley of tendrils, which caught on the ward.
Voria could feel them draining its energy, and knew they didn’t have long. A minute perhaps? She turned back to Drakkon. “We have very little time, and that means you need to make a choice. This world is lost. What do you want to do?”
She desperately hoped his answer wouldn’t be to futilely throw his life away protecting his mother, but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to influence his decision, whatever it was.
Drakkon darted an agonized glance at the font of magic power below them. “I do not have an answer, or not a good one at least. If we allow the humans to take this magic, they will use it to resurrect Nefarius.”
“Is there any way we can prevent that?” Voria studied the magic, which sang to the water magic within her. Like calling to like.
“Partially.” Agony flitted across his now-human features. “You and I are strong enough to take a significant portion of her magic. If we both drink deeply and then flee, we will lessen the amount they are able to recover.”
Voria understood how much it must have pained the Wyrm to offer that course of action. What he was suggesting meant that his mother would never be resurrected, as he’d no doubt hoped for millennia. The magnitude of the sacrifice was humbling.
“Very well. Let’s save what we can.” Voria drifted lower, close enough that she was able to extend a hand to the magical font of power. She could feel Marid’s essence and her memories. It was quite unlike the last time she’d been here, when she’d been a mortal at the whims of a dead god. Now she controlled the magical flow, and could pick and choose what she took.
That really came down to one of two things. She could claim power, or she could claim Marid’s knowledge. Both were massive, and she didn’t have the ability to take it all.
What should she save? Knowledge could help her win the war, but power would help her battle her foes. Plus, that power would be denied their enemies.
That decided her.
Voria reached for Marid’s magic, and claimed as much water as she could drink into herself. Pulse after glorious pulse shot from the pool and into her outstretched hand. Not far from her she was aware of Drakkon sobbing, while he too drank of the magic.
High above, the black ships beat upon the ward, which was now discolored and beginning to crumble. Voria drew a few more pulses, and then with a titanic effort of will pushed the magic away. They needed to get out of here.
“Get inside the Spellship, and I’ll take us away,” she offered.
“Where will we go?” Drakkon asked, also breaking away from Marid’s magic.
She considered that. Back to Drifter Rock? No, that would put the drifters in too much danger.
There was only one world that might take them in now, and having Drakkon with her made that more likely. One world that might fight back against these ships. Voria envisioned Virkon, and translocated just as the black ships broke through the ward.
24
Sand in Their Faces
Aran fully expected an ambush the instant the Talon opened a Fissure into the Virkonan system, and kept his hand poised over a void sigil as he guided the ship through. There were no black ships, and no other visible threat, but he still didn’t release the breath he was holding until the Fissure snapped shut in their wake.
Crewes cleared his throat nervously from the neighboring matrix. “What are the odds that giant dragon’s gonna try to carry us down like it did the Hunter?”
Aran glanced at the scry-screen, which was dominated by the blue-white world above them. There was no sign of Cerberus on the screen, though Aran could feel the Wyrm’s approach through the Talon.
“Good gods!” Crewes all but shrieked as a draconic eye filled the scry-screen.
It pulled back an instant later, and they were able to see Cerberus in all his glory. The sector’s largest Wyrm, so far as Aran knew, weighing in at over twice Drakkon’s size. The creature swam around them like an excited puppy, then darted up toward the planet, as if waiting for them to follow.
“Looks like we’re invited.” Aran struggled to keep the amusement from his voice, but failed.
“What is that thing?” Rhea whispered, her eyes rivaling saucers.
“That’s Cerberus,” Aran explained as he guided the Talon after their host. “He guards the Umbral Depths, and takes down any ship that he thinks is a threat. Last time we showed up he carried our entire battleship down in his mouth.”
Aran followed the city-sized Wyrm down to the surface, and as Virkon grew, so too did the memories. Tall, jagged mountains ringed the blackened plains where the Spellship had crushed the Krox fleet. Nothing lived there now, the very soil irradiated by the nuclear weapons the Krox had employed.
The destruction was conspicuously absent in a patch of ground at the foot of one of the tallest mountains. Aran could just make out the gaping hole in the base of the mountain, which they’d entered through during his first audience with the Council of Wyrms. Or the first he could remember, anyway. Not everything had come back.
“You gonna land a ways off?” Crewes asked. He’d recovered his composure, though he still darted uncomfortable glances at the scry-screen whenever Cerberus glided by.
“Nope.” Aran gave a mischievous smile. “Last time we landed a ways off because that’s where Cerberus dropped us. Now we’re playing on our terms. They don’t have anything down there that can touch the Talon, not after the magic we took from Krox. I’m going to land right in their backyard, and we’re going to walk right in. Let them chew on that for a bit.”
“Are you certain that’s wise?” Rhea ventured. She shifted uncomfortably in the third matrix, then busied herself straightening her ponytail.
“Nope.” Aran guided the Talon into the lower atmosphere, but they were completely insulated from the reentry, and didn’t feel so much as a single bump. “Could be a mistake, but my instincts say this is the right play.”
They passed through a thick canopy of clouds, which boiled around the ship for several seconds before dissipating. The Talon descended toward the Wyrm’s mountain, and settled into a smooth landing a few dozen meters from the entrance. Aran parked the Talon off to the side, so he wasn’t blocking the way in, at least.
“All right, people.” Aran unbuckled himself from the matrix and ducked through the rings. “Let’s go ruffle some feathers.”
“Sir?” Rhea had risen from her matrix, and moved to stand before Aran. She was very nearly his height, and one of the few women he’d run into who could look him in the eye. “I don’t understand. Why are you so intent on upsetting these Wyrms? I thought we were here in search of allies.”
“I thought you didn’t like these scaly—”. Crewes cut himself off as he rose from his matrix, clearly realizing that he was talking to a Wyrm. “I mean, you don’t like them either, right? So what’s the harm in kicking a little sand in their faces? Shows ‘em humans won’t just lay down and do what they say.”
“Because if we need allies,” Rhea began, her irritated gaze flicking to the sergeant, “there is little sense in antagonizing them. It makes it less likely they will work with us, not more. There is a time and place for force, but I do not know if saber rattling is the wisest course.”
“And you’re encouraged to speak your mind about that. I’ll explain o
nce we’re underway,” Aran offered as he exited the bridge and threaded down the ramp toward the cargo bay. It was a longer walk now that the Talon had grown. He waited until they reached their makeshift armory before explaining further. “Get suited up. Full armor. Davidson?” Aran directed the question at the blond officer, who was wrenching something on the outside of his tank. Looked like he was bolting on something Pickus had made.
“Yo?” Davidson called back. He set down the drill he’d been using, and walked a bit closer.
“You’ve got command until I get back,” Aran explained as he approached his armor. He paused before it, and glanced at Rhea. “Rhea, Crewes, you’re with me. Everyone else will stay on the ship. This shouldn’t take too long.”
He slipped into his spellarmor, and fed it a bit of void to get it aloft. “All right, follow me, people.” Aran glided through the blue membrane, and onto the world where he’d been born. He scanned the sky above, and was unsurprised to see dozens of Wyrms circling, all kilometers high.
“So that explanation, sir?” Crewes’s voice crackled through his suit’s speakers.
“Right.” Aran cleared his throat. “This might be monumentally stupid, but if we’re going to win this war we don’t need to convince the council. We need to convince a goddess. And Virkonna was a warrior. If we can wake her up I don’t want her seeing us as subservient. I want her seeing us as the people she wants to be dealing with. And kicking a little sand in the council’s faces might also get Inura’s attention. We don’t know for sure where he is, but we do know he’s got a workshop here, and that he was close with his sister.”
“I’m relieved, sir.” Rhea’s voice carried no such emotion, and was as full of iron as ever. “I do not like the idea of confronting greater Wyrms, but I suppose if we do not do something extreme we will not attract Virkonna’s attention. Even my people had legends of her.”
“I don’t really need the justification,” Crewes growled. “These bastards tore at the major, and tore at her, and then when it came time to deliver on their promise of help they weren’t nowhere to be found. We got it done, without them.”
Aran agreed, though maybe a bit less vehemently. He took a deep breath as his spellarmor approached the council’s mountain. They glided in an arrowhead formation, and passed through the cavernous entryway, into the chamber where he’d first met Astria.
Thick granite pillars stabbed up to the very top of the inside of the mountain, which had been completely hollowed to form their chamber. The entire peak was covered in caves and perches, many of which were occupied by very annoyed-looking Wyrms. Their bright scales glittered under the bits of sunlight filtering through the narrow hole leading out of the top of the mountain.
“Nineteen centuries,” boomed a deep, feminine voice, “and in that time I have never seen such brazen temerity. Never witnessed a mortal so foolishly throw his life away. You must know that we cannot allow your impertinence to stand.”
Aran slowly removed his helmet, then rose into the air, toward the alcove the voice had issued from. “If you feel like you have to attack me, I guess that’s an option. I wouldn’t recommend it. My people have been toe-to-toe with Krox, lady. You want a piece of us? Get in line.”
Harsh, hissing laughter came from the opposite side of the cavern, and a wizened Wyrm appeared at the edge of a more natural-looking cave. “She’d have liked you, I think. I can sense the power brimming in you, so much, not just for one so young, but for anyone. You’re Olyssa’s pet, aren’t you? The Outrider who survived the March of Honor? My eyes aren’t what they were, and your magical signature is quite different than when you departed.”
“Matron, apologies, but I cannot allow this insult to stand,” the first voice roared. The Wyrm leapt from her alcove, and spread large, leathery wings. She dropped into a swoop, and came up into a hover over Aran. She was larger than most of the Wyrms he’d fought, but a good deal smaller than Kheross, and likely a good deal younger, too. “Put your helmet back on. You should at least die in combat.”
Aran raised an eyebrow. “You’re certain this is how you want to play things?”
“I will—”
Aran raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. He reached for the immense reservoir of void magic that now lived inside him, and poured as much as he could manage into his fist. It began to glow and pulse as the violet energy crackled out around him.
The Wyrm sucked in a breath, and Aran knew if he allowed her, she’d spit a lightning bolt in his direction. No thanks.
He hurled the void energy at the Wyrm, and winced as Rhea shrieked from a few meters away. She’d probably assumed he was going to disintegrate the thing. Instead, the void slammed into the Wyrm’s chest, and rippled out over the dragon’s body.
The Wyrm was suddenly a hundred times heavier, and plummeted toward the base of the cavern. She flapped her wings frantically, and air magic billowed out around her as she tried to save herself. It wasn’t enough, and she continued to drop. Aran let her fall to within a few meters of the floor, then unclenched his hand. The magic vanished, and she flapped back into the air.
“I am not just some Outrider,” Aran thundered, adding a bit of fire to add volume. “I have come to wake your mother, and to bring her into the war against Nefarius. The Wyrm who slew Virkonna’s mother is going to rise again, and if we don’t stop her this entire world will be nothing but ashes. You want some time to adjust to that news? I get it. I’m here as a courtesy. Stay out of my way and let me do what I need to do, and we’ll get along just fine.”
The Wyrm landed, then kicked off the floor and launched herself into the air near Aran. Her eyes crackled with air magic. “You are powerful, true, but you are not a god, little human. You may have bested me, but I am merely a sentinel. Wait until Aurelius hears of your insolence.”
“Aurelius is a pragmatist,” Aran pointed out. “You go tell him what happened, and tell him that I don’t want a fight. I just want to wake Virkonna.”
25
Sister
“Sir?” Bord’s voice echoed over the Talon’s internal speakers, issuing from the walls of Aran’s quarters. “Sorry for wakin’ ya, but you wanted to be notified if anyone approached the ship. Kez and I are having a bit of a picnic on the upper hull. Looks like a single woman’s approaching. I don’t mean single like she’s not dating. She’s alone. She’s wearing one of those mesh suits. Could be your sister, maybe?”
Aran sat up with a groan and rubbed at his temples. All that magic he’d pillaged did nothing to alleviate his need for sleep, and there’d been precious little of it lately. “Send her to my quarters if it’s her.”
He rose and buckled on his sword belt, then adjusted the scabbard so that Narlifex was within easy reach. Not that he expected to need it, but with Astria you never knew. She’d attacked him once, and even if she didn’t, she’d expect him to be able to defend himself.
Vague memories of their childhood flitted through his mind, but they were disconnected. Distant somehow. He knew that these events had occurred, but there was no emotion associated with them.
“Brother?” came a soft, cultured voice from the doorway.
Aran turned to face her, and found Astria’s tentative face. Her almond eyes were wide and hesitant. This must be just as difficult for her as it was for him.
“Hello, Astria.” Aran crossed his quarters, and offered her a stiff hug. She awkwardly accepted it, but they disengaged as soon as they could. “I probably should have come and found you, but I wasn’t even sure if you’d be living in the same place.”
“Your ship is difficult to miss.” She offered a tentative smile, and rested a hand on the hilt of her spellblade. “I’m told that you created quite a stir in the council chamber. The whole world is already abuzz. They claim you insulted Aurelius. Some even say you challenged him to a duel.”
Aran couldn’t help but laugh at that. He folded his arms, and leaned against the wall near the bed. “Not exactly. I did throw down a bit of a gauntle
t, but with good cause, I promise.” He offered a sheepish smile. “I’ll admit I enjoyed it a little though. Payback for when he left us high and dry against the Krox.”
Astria returned the smile, then moved to sit stiffly on the bed. “I’ll admit it is nice seeing an Outrider treated as a serious threat for once, but I don’t pretend to understand why. What do you gain, brother?”
“We’re here to wake Virkonna,” Aran explained. He sat next to her on the bed, and folded his hands in front of him. “I also believe Inura is here. I figured the best way to get the attention of a sleeping warrior goddess and her scholarly brother is to make a whole lot of noise right off the bat. If I did my work well, everyone on the planet knows I’m here.”
She snorted a short laugh. “I believe you have succeeded in that regard. There is not a hall on this world where your arrival is not hotly debated. Some Outriders believe you will be the instrument of our salvation, that you will show the Wyrms that we are more than just servants and cannon fodder.”
“You’ve got my sympathies, but I’m not here for that.” Aran shook his head, then rose with a sigh. “Why don’t we get something to eat? I have a feeling we might be talking for a while.”
Astria nodded, then rose and followed him from his quarters. They headed to the mess, and Aran stopped in front of the food thingie. “Prime rib, rare. Mashed potatoes, with brown gravy.”
A plate materialized and the heavenly aroma of New Texan beef filled the mess. Aran moved to the nearest table while Astria approached the food thingie.
“This thing truly is a marvel.” She bent to inspect it, and when she was satisfied she glanced at Aran’s plate. “Give me the same sustenance you have provided my brother.”
An identical plate appeared, and Astria brought it over and sat next to him. Aran savored a mouthful of beef, and closed his eyes as he chewed. There were a lot of responsibilities, but this was one of his favorite perks. He so loved the Talon.
