Nefarius

by Chris Fox

  “I must admit,” Astria began as she cut a tiny corner from the steak, “that I do not believe your arrival portends anything good for this world. Thus far, you have left strife and death in your wake, and I foresee more of the same.”

  Aran coughed, and his eyes began to water. He reached for a bottle of water, and drank about half of it before turning back to Astria. “The way you say that so matter-of-factly terrifies me.”

  “What will be, will be.” Astria shrugged, then nibbled a bite of steak. She seemed to approve, and began carefully chewing a larger bite.

  “I can’t say that you’re wrong.” Aran spent some time cutting up steak before looking up at her again. “Waking Virkonna is going to violently alter the balance of power on this world. Hopefully, some good comes of that and Outriders gain more autonomy. But there will be casualties, though I don’t begin to know what they’ll be yet.”

  “And why is waking her of such desperate concern now, when it was not just a few short months ago?” Astria cocked her head, her eyes full of genuine curiosity.

  Aran dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, and then set down his fork. He eyed her soberly. “Krox changed everything. He kicked the crap out of us at Shaya, and got away with a weapon of incredible power. From what a goddess I trust told me…he’s the lesser of two evils. Nefarius is far worse. If that’s true, we’re going to need Virkonna’s help. We’re basically screwed without it.”

  “Have we no other allies?” Astria tried a second small bite.

  “We have Voria,” Aran explained. “She’s a goddess now, though not nearly as strong as Virkonna. And a few others. Drakkon.”

  Astria’s eyelids fluttered in surprise. “You’ve met Drakkon? I suppose I should not be surprised. You know of the significance he holds for our style, yes?”

  “Yeah, though I wasn’t exactly in a position to question him about it when I met him.” Aran’s mind’s eye shifted back to the world of Marid, deep in those seemingly endless swamps. “I didn’t even know what an Outrider was then.”

  “Sir!” Bord’s head poked into the mess, a lopsided grin plastered across his freckled face. “Voria just arrived in orbit. She’s here, sir!”

  26

  Not for You to Decide

  The Spellship appeared in orbit over Virkon, not terribly far from the umbral shadow. Voria manifested next to it, and waited while the largest Wyrm in the sector swam lazily toward her. She didn’t know if the beast was intelligent, as Cerberus had never spoken, but she didn’t want to intrude on the Wyrm’s domain without allowing him to metaphorically sniff her hand.

  The dragon’s azure scales glittered in the light Voria cast, illuminating the beast as it swam closer. The Wyrm paused near her face, and she realized that her simulacrum, her visible manifestation, was several times larger. That made Cerberus roughly the size of a house cat, which perfectly captured the absurdity of finding oneself a goddess.

  You are of Inura, the dragon’s thoughts thrummed into her mind. You have his power, a sliver of it. This cannot be coincidence. Inura recently returned to our world. Have you come to aid the master?

  Voria laughed and the sound somehow carried through space. She shook her head, and gave the Wyrm a real answer. “I didn’t know your master was here, and actually came to speak to Olyssa. Inura being here changes things. Can you tell me where to find him?”

  Cerberus’s tail drooped, even as his scaled face sank into a frown. He has hidden himself, even from me. I do not understand why he will not speak to us after so long away, but I will be patient. If you find him, will you tell him that we are waiting?

  Voria nodded gravely. “Of course, Cerberus. I will see that he doesn’t shirk his responsibilities.”

  Shaya winked into existence with a raucous laugh. “Oh, this I’ve got to see. It’s past time that Wyrm got his comeuppance.”

  Cerberus swam away without further comment, so Voria continued toward the planet. She needed to formulate a real plan. Olyssa was still the most logical starting point. If she could get the lay of the land, so to speak, she might be able to piece together Inura’s location. His workshop seemed like a great starting point, though never having been there, she was going to have to rely on Nara to find it.

  The atmosphere bubbled up around her as Voria descended toward Olyssa’s spire, visible even from high orbit. She moved slowly and made no attempt to cloak her approach. Quite the opposite. She hoped a giant goddess of light would cause a stir. She wanted these Wyrms to take her seriously, and who knew? Perhaps one could carry word back to Inura that she’d arrived.

  Though, she had to admit, odds were good that he knew already, but didn’t care.

  As Voria descended, Wyrms began to rise from the surface. Just a few, at first, but more and more the lower she came. By the time she reached lower atmosphere thousands of Wyrms, and even hatchlings, had taken to the skies. They swirled around her in a lazy cloud, all watching to see what she would do.

  It reminded her of a Kem’Hedj board somehow, which shouldn’t surprise her given that this was the last place she’d played.

  She descended lower, until she recognized one of the Wyrms. Olyssa spread mighty wings, her white scales gleaming as she climbed toward Voria.

  Voria paused, and waited there as her—well, if not a friend, at the very least an ally—approached. Olyssa was tiny beside her, and flapped to a halt a few kilometers before Voria’s face.

  “Welcome, Voria,” Olyssa roared, her voice magically amplified so that it cracked over the land like thunder. “I can see that your circumstances have…changed since our last encounter.”

  “Indeed they have,” Voria replied, amplifying her voice in a similar manner. “I’ve learned the true purpose of the Spellship. It is designed to elevate a god, and once created, to empower them in combat.”

  She extended her arm, and the Spellship landed in her palm. She ignited it, though with less magic than she’d use in combat. Voria twirled the staff a few times, then allowed the blades to wink out. She released the Spellship, and it moved to stationary orbit over Olyssa’s spire.

  “I’ve heard that you battled Krox.” Olyssa flapped once and almost smiled. “You turned him away, and that is promising. It suggests that we should deal with you as an equal, as I’ve been trying to convince the council.”

  “I apologize for asking this.” Voria tensed as she got to the business at hand. She hated being in someone else’s debt. “The sector is in dire peril. The kind of peril that will mean calling for your mother to wake. Inura is already here, and it is him that I’m presently seeking.”

  “And just what is so urgent to warrant this heresy?” boomed a new voice, a voice she recognized. Aurelius winged into the air, larger than Olyssa, but still comically small next to Voria.

  Voria considered whether there was any value in concealing the knowledge, but couldn’t think of a reason. So she told the truth. “Krox is more powerful than ever, but that isn’t why I’ve come. Nefarius will be reborn soon, and as I understand it Virkonna will stop at nothing to prevent that.”

  “That isn’t for you to decide,” Aurelius roared.

  Voria expected Olyssa to protest that, and could already see her opening her mouth to speak.

  She fell silent when the air begun to hum and pop near Aurelius. A moment later Drakkon appeared, and his size made apparent just how young both Aurelius and Olyssa were. They were child-sized beside him, no larger than toddlers.

  “Nor is it for you to decide,” Drakkon roared. He spun in the air above them. “Any of you. Your mother, my aunt, is needed. We have come to ensure she is aware of the looming threat, before your world is stripped from you, as mine was. Even now the twisted creations of Nefarius devour my mother’s essence. Our enemies grow stronger, while my wayward cousins spend time preening and scheming. The time for that has ended, Aurelius. Now, we are one dragonflight, and unless you seek to challenge, I claim dominance.”

  Aurelius’s tail swished, and he eyed Drakkon though
tfully. “You being here changes much, cousin. You, I will follow. If you say my mother must be raised, then we will do all we can to aid you.”

  Aurelius nodded deferentially, and Drakkon’s aggressive posture softened.

  “We should allow Voria to rest and refresh herself,” Olyssa boomed. “When she is ready we will hold a party to celebrate her arrival, and then we will see how we might aid her.”

  Voria wasn’t ready for another one of their blasted parties, but she smiled anyway. “Wonderful. I will see you this evening.”

  27

  Questions Without Answers

  Frit was blessedly insulated from the world at large, which was a relief after the events that had played out at Colony 3. She didn’t have to worry about whatever Voria was doing on Virkon. She didn’t even need to leave the ship, which meant that so far as she was concerned it didn’t really matter what world they were orbiting.

  The battle on Marid had been tense, of course. Frit had prayed alongside everyone else, and genuinely believed in Voria. It had been enough to survive, though not enough to overcome the enemy, apparently.

  After that brief moment of excitement it was right back to her usual routine, which boiled down to about sixteen hours a day reading.

  This time when Frit headed for the main library it wasn’t to grab an armload of books and flee back to her quarters. She was here to get specific answers, and doing that was going to require the help of the most experienced true mage she knew.

  Frit threaded through the tables and shelves, slowly canvassing the room as she sought Kaho. The Krox was very difficult to miss, but he also tended to like hiding in corners, as he didn’t like being noticed any more than Frit did.

  She found him in a small alcove with a pair of overstuffed chairs. Because of their magical construction they were able to accommodate Kaho’s bulk, and he lounged comfortably with a knowledge scale in one palm. Data scrolled above it in a small illusion, and Kaho’s eyes moved back and forth as he read.

  He didn’t notice Frit until she sat down in the chair next to him, and he gave a rather comedic start. “Oh! Frit. You startled me. I was engrossed in Eggenberger’s account of the death of Shivan.”

  Frit smiled and propped a foot up on the table. “I like watching you read, sometimes. Your lips move. It’s endearing.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” He returned the smile, though he seemed skeptical. “It’s good to see you. I haven’t wanted to pry, as you’ve seemed like you wanted your space. Plus, I’ve had a lot to think about.” The smile faded, and serious Kaho returned.

  “I have too. I want to ask your help with something.” Frit bit her lip and considered how best to approach this. “I want to better understand flame reading, so I can examine the future better. I’ve watched Voria with her godsight and she can literally see outcomes before she commits to an action. That seems like a depths of an advantage.” One she could use to see how things turned out if she accepted Nebiat’s offer.

  Kaho rose with a grunt, and rubbed at his backside. “My tail fell asleep.” He grinned at her sheepishly. “Not exactly the terrifying Wyrm. Anyway, I know where the flame reading section is. Many of the knowledge scales were recorded by the same unidentified scribe, and she seems to possess a singular command of both godsight and flame reading. I suspect we can begin there.”

  He led her between rows of shelves, and hummed to himself as he navigated toward a solitary shelf against the far wall. Kaho picked up a scarlet scale, and offered it to her. “This is her first treatise, and they go on from there. I don’t even know how many volumes there are as I just got through that one before getting sidetracked. If I possessed fire magic I’d probably be more interested.”

  Frit accepted the scale and slid it into her satchel. She hesitated. Kaho was more likely than anyone else to have insight on Nebiat’s problem with Krox. He could give her a starting point, at the very least. She still wasn’t certain how she intended to answer Nebiat, but privately she admitted the offer was tempting. And she figured that having the knowledge wasn’t the same thing as passing it on. Research wasn’t wrong, so she hadn’t done anything. Yet.

  “I have another esoteric topic I was hoping to understand better,” Frit asked, trying to manage a flirtatious smile, but having no idea if she succeeded. She’d never actually flirted before. “You know more about gods than anyone I know. I want to understand them better, particularly how they are formed…and how one might be…dissolved I guess.”

  Kaho’s reaction puzzled her. He stiffened, and his irises narrowed to slits. Even his scent grew more acrid, and when he spoke his tone was brittle. “You’ve been speaking with Nebiat, haven’t you?”

  Frit froze like prey. How did he know? What had she said that had given it away? Well, there was nothing for it now. Her shoulders slumped.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “She came to me and offered to make me her guardian. She’s agreed that if I accept I won’t be asked to harm my friends. She’s asked for help with a problem, and—wait, why are you laughing?”

  Kaho’s demeanor had changed yet again, and now he was chuckling. He raised a hand apologetically. “I’m sorry. It’s just that she came to me two days ago with the same offer. She wanted to make me her guardian. I refused. I’ll admit that the offer was tempting, but I don’t trust her and you shouldn’t either. It doesn’t matter how good the offer is…there’s a hook we’re not seeing.”

  “But…” She struggled to suppress the tears, and only partially succeeded. Hot flame leaked down one cheek. “I was hoping you’d come with me. That we could start over on her world. Could help lead our peoples. It would mean having a purpose again. Having friends and family. Not being outsiders like we’ll always be, as long as we stay here.”

  Kaho gave a sympathetic nod, then rested a scaled hand on her shoulder. “I understand your pain, and your desire for belonging. I share them. But I have made my choice, and do not take the vow I swore lightly. I must support Voria to the end, and I’m fairly certain she’s the only god in the sector not looking to actively enslave mortals anyway. My mother? Frit, if you decide to accept her offer I will understand, but…I can’t go with you.”

  Frit seized his hand in both of hers, and stared up at him, her stomach full of razorblades and acid. “I don’t want to leave you behind.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to be that bad,” Kaho offered. He drew her into a hug and she relaxed against his waist. “If you accept you will be able to translocate. You can come and go as you please, and could probably still remain here. I won’t reveal your secret, unless you place Nara or Voria in danger, of course.”

  “I’d never do that.” Frit disengaged, and found her resolve. “I’m going to speak with Nebiat one more time, then I’ll make my decision. If I do decide to…take what she’s offering, well, I’ll still be around. I know you can’t come with me, but I can still see you from time to time.”

  He beamed a kind smile down at her. “I’d like that, Frit. If we’re both immortal, then we have plenty of time to find each other in the way I’m hoping for. I’ll miss you. I do have one more piece of advice, though. Tell Nara, and soon. She’s been hurt too many times, and she will understand even if she doesn’t like it.”

  “I’ll—”. She was going to say ‘I’ll do it,’ but she wasn’t certain yet that she would. “I’ll think about it.”

  28

  Reunion

  After hastily saying goodbye to Astria with assurances that he’d be in contact, Aran headed back to his quarters and triggered a missive to Voria. There was a momentary lump in his throat as he waited for her to accept, because Aran remembered the missive on Shaya, when he’d realized she’d been killed. Thankfully it connected instantly, and showed Voria’s familiar face, elegant and dignified.

  There was nothing to suggest she was a powerful goddess, beyond a soft golden glow.

  “Ahh, Captain.” Voria delivered a warm smile that his old commanding officer would never have indulged in. “It�
�s damned good to see you, Aran. Are you in a position to pay a visit to the Spellship?”

  “I don’t see why not. Just give me a bit to grab—”

  “No need,” she broke in.

  There was a swirl of violet energy around Aran, and he winked out of existence. When the teleport completed, Aran was standing in an unfamiliar room, though there were some familiar faces, at least.

  Nara, Pickus, and Voria stood in a rough triangle near a large mirror. The mirror bobbed slowly up and down, while continuously rotating at the same time. It reminded him a little of a ship’s matrix, except that he could feel an ocean of power contained within the mirror. Fire and dream, in equal measures.

  Voria stood the closest, wearing her divinity like a second set of clothes, the life radiating faintly from her skin and hair in a way that hadn’t been clear on the scry-screen. Pickus stood behind her in a dark uniform, looking every inch the commanding officer.

  It was Nara who caught his attention though. She wore a simple set of dark-blue scholar’s robes, but Aran could see her Zephyr armor peaking up over the neckline. She was ready for a fight, as always. Her hair had been left loose, and was a bit longer than last time Aran had seen her, now spilling a few inches past her neck.

  “Hey.” He smiled at Nara. “You look good.” Then Aran realized with a start that they were all staring at him. “I mean you all look good, especially you, Voria. Divinity suits you.”

  Voria barked a short laugh then gave a self-deprecating eye roll. “I’m not certain I agree, especially not after what happened at Ternus.”

  Aran blinked a few times. “I take it you weren’t successful.”

  Voria folded her arms, and her face folded down into the stern commander Aran had come to know. “Worse. Another god, or something just as powerful, opened a Fissure and destroyed the planet just as I was about to save her people. Someone wanted me to fail, and ensured that I did. This move effectively ended my relationship with Ternus.”