by Chris Fox
Aran snorted. “Terrorized. Drakkon has been in torpor since before this colony was founded.”
“Facts don’t much matter to our media.” Davidson shook his head. “Public opinion is far more persuasive. Keep watching.”
The dome began to melt, and as it did Voria and Drakkon teleported away. The black ships swooped in, and their tendrils began eagerly drinking the magic.
“The dragon and the traitor Voria fled the scene, leaving our boys to safely dispose of the magic left behind.” She shook her head sadly. “I’m told it will be a generation or more before the swamp can be made habitable again, effectively ending tourism to a once vibrant community. In the wake of all the recent tragedies it’s almost too much to bear. Our heart goes out to—”
“I don’t want to listen to this.” Aran spoke over the woman, though the footage was still playing. “This is complete—”
“Many are asking,” the reporter continued as the screen filled with an outdated picture of the Talon, “where Captain Aran and his Outriders are during all this. They won’t be coming to our rescue this time. They’ve made their choices, and as much as it broke the governor’s heart, they have also been declared enemies of the state. All Outriders are to be killed on sight, and are considered extremely dangerous.”
As she said the word ‘dangerous,’ the screen resolved into a darkened view that could have taken place in any planet’s umbral shadow. A fleet of Ternus ships engaged a single vessel. His vessel. The Talon tore through them, though much of the actual combat had been cut from the footage.
It went straight to the Talon seizing one of the ships with its own tendril, and draining the magic from it. The process was horrifying to watch, and it was unmistakable that the Talon was the aggressor.
“It appears a man we once revered has been corrupted by dark powers. It is a sad day indeed.” The reporter was suddenly all smiles again, and there was no sign of the tear now. “Our boys will do what they have to do. They’re going to eradicate every magical threat in the sector, until our worlds are safe once more. In the meantime, Governor Austin has temporarily moved the capital to Colony 3 in the wake of Voria’s treacherous attack on our capital.”
Aran sat heavily, and stared down at his coffee. “Man, there are some days when I really, really hate this job.”
36
War Council
Aran headed straight back to his quarters, and the instant he reached the scry-screen he triggered a missive to Nara. It connected, and Nara’s sleepy face filled the screen. She brushed dark hair from her eyes and covered a yawn. “Another emergency?”
“Not precisely,” Aran explained as he began to pace. “If Pickus hasn’t shown you yet I’m sure he’ll be along presently. Ternus just released a news report showing Voria as the villain, and they included me. They’ve declared us enemies of the state. Not a surprise, but I figured she’d want to know.”
Nara blinked away sleep, and instantly arrived at the same conclusion he had. “Talifax is clearing the board so Voria doesn’t have any pieces to work with.”
“That’s my thought.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I was hoping we could meet and discuss what comes next. I don’t need a lot of Voria’s time, but I figured you, me, her, and maybe Drakkon. We need to figure out what Talifax’s ultimate plan is, and we need to do it soon.”
Nara nodded and crossed her chambers, the missive following over her shoulder. “Hold on a moment, and I’ll bring you here.”
Aran closed his eyes just in time for void magic to settle around him. He very nearly fought it off, memories of Nara as she’d been before tugging at him. He ignored his instincts and relaxed into the teleport. A moment later he appeared in Nara’s chambers aboard the Spellship.
Once that prospect would have delighted him, but after everything that had happened he wasn’t sure he even thought about her like that anymore. Or anyone. He’d effectively cut romance out of his life, because there was never time when running from crisis to crisis.
Nara’s quarters resolved around him, and Aran quickly regained his balance.
Nara is the same as we are, Narlifex pulsed. She is linked to us. I feel her.
Yeah, she is, he agreed.
“It’s good to see you,” he said aloud, then smiled. “World’s coming apart, as usual.”
“It feels like it never lets up.” She gave him a smile that was reminiscent of her old self. “Speaking of, can you share more about this crisis or does it make sense to wait until we’re with Voria?”
“The short version? We can see what Talifax is doing, and we need to stop it. It’s time for a plan. We can’t sit back and wait. We need to find the threat and stop it before it comes for us. We can’t fight a reactive war.” Hearing himself, it didn’t sound nearly as compelling as he’d hoped. “The long version is better, I promise.”
Nara gave a musical laugh, something Aran realized he missed hearing. It really was good to see her. They continued in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, both of them lost in intense thought. In Aran’s case it was about how to approach this council. They needed to all be on the same page for once.
The golden doors to the Chamber of the Mirror stood open as they approached. Voria and Drakkon stood chatting near the Mirror of Shaya, but that stopped as Aran and Nara approached. There was no sign of Pickus, but Aran figured that if he needed to know, Nara or Voria could relay what they discussed.
“It’s good to see you, Captain.” Voria smiled warmly. “Circumstances are dire as always, of course. What can we do for you?”
Aran rested a hand on Narlifex and tapped the pommel thoughtfully. How best to approach this? Straightforward, as always. “Talifax is manipulating public opinion in Ternus space. He’s painted you as the destroyer of their capital, and me as your willing lapdog.”
“Yes, I am aware.” Voria’s glowing eyes tightened, the only sign of anger he was used to seeing from her.
“I’ve been thinking about the reasoning,” Aran continued. “Talifax isn’t merely denying you worshippers. I think he’s actively positioning Ternus to be Nefarius’s power base when she returns.”
Drakkon barked a bitter laugh. “That would certainly fit her style, though I don’t understand how they’d pull that off. Humans hate magic. They hate gods. I cannot imagine them following one.”
“I can.” Nara’s voice was a near whisper. She eyed each of them before speaking. “Talifax is smart. Ternus trusts technology, not magic. To them these ships are technology, even if they’re powered by magic. Those black ships are giving Ternus an edge, and he’s teaching the people to put their faith in them. We know the ships are tainted. Does that mean that, in a way, the people are worshipping her by worshipping the ships?”
Voria cocked her head as if listening to someone they couldn’t see. “Shaya doesn’t believe so. I think worship needs to be consciously directed at an entity for a god to make use of it. The worshipper needs to intend to give you that power.”
Nara nodded as she processed the information. “Then I don’t see how Talifax is going to pull this off. But that doesn’t matter. We know he’s turning our former allies, and that we’re now fighting a two-front war.”
“Ternus is recovering quickly, too,” Aran pointed out. “The factories at New Texas are coming back online, and Colony 3 never stopped producing. And while I noticed their PR machine didn’t mention it, they’ve also got New Ternus as a resource. You give them a year or three and they’ll be right back to the same strength they were before.”
“Greater,” Voria said. “Much greater. Before, they were not backed by a goddess.”
“Speaking of, where do we stand on waking Virkonna?” Aran asked. “Having another god might be more trouble than it’s worth, but at this point I’ll take all the help we can get.”
Voria squared her shoulders, and the golden halo around her brightened noticeably. “Inura has given me enough information to wake her, but was maddeningly light on the specific
s, of course. I have no idea what to expect, and I feel like I’ve been asked to throw the magical equivalent of a rock at a sleeping god. But, whatever the consequences, I will begin that ritual shortly.”
Aran nodded and scrubbed his hands through his beard. He wished he’d had time for a real shower. “I guess I’ll get back to the Talon then, just in case. Any plans we make before she wakes will be pointless, but I’m hoping she’ll respect either you or Drakkon enough to listen. I feel like we’re almost out of time to react to Talifax and Skare.”
“That time probably came and went before we met,” Nara said with a sad shake of her head. “They’re orchestrating this whole thing. Maybe since before we were born. There’s so much we can’t see, and I feel like we’re playing right into their hands.”
“Perhaps,” Drakkon allowed. “But have we a choice? We must struggle, and hope. Either it is enough, or it is not.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Aran nodded respectfully to Drakkon. “We’ll keep swinging until we can’t any more. Good luck, Voria.”
The deity gave him an absent smile, but he could see that she’d already returned to her work.
37
Waking a Goddess
Voria retreated to lunar orbit before beginning the ritual that would awaken an elder goddess. She hovered in the sky, large enough that the people on the night side of the world would see her rivaling the moon.
“You’re quite fond of theatrics, aren’t you?” Shaya appeared, a tiny speck near Voria’s cosmic cheek. “This ritual could have been performed on the ground.”
“Of course it could,” Voria agreed. She raised a hand, and began to slowly draw upon life and water. “But I have no idea how Virkonna will react. I can see her magical signature. She’s the size of a continent. In addition to pragmatism I understand the value of the theatric. How many humans are gazing up at me right now, seeing someone who looks like them perform a divine feat?”
“You are so much better at this than I was.” Shaya gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I would never have considered that a goddess being suddenly woken up might throw a tantrum. And she might.”
“Well,” Voria muttered as the magic filled her. “We’re about to find out.”
She extended a tendril of pure creation, the greater path of Nature, and touched the mountain peak that sat directly over Virkonna’s head. The magic seeped into the rock, into the planet, and into Virkonna.
A shining beacon appeared where Virkonna’s mind was, and though Voria didn’t understand what she was doing, or how, she stepped into that beacon. The planet vanished, and she appeared inside a memory.
Voria had seen this enough times to understand how it worked. Virkonna was lost in her own mind, reliving snippets of a vast life. Voria would need to find her and convince her to wake to reality, just as Crewes had managed when he’d retrieved Rhea.
She was on a rocky hillside on some long forgotten world, and a battle played out all around her. In the sky a great darkness had devoured nearly everything, and when she examined it with her godsight she realized she was seeing a supermassive black hole. That put this world at the core of some galaxy. Probably their own, though she had no way to verify that.
An azure-scaled hatchling bounded over a rock, and breathed a lightning bolt that caught a tech demon in the knee. The creature’s knee exploded, and it tumbled down the rocky slope in a tangle of limbs.
Voria had seen the demons at the Skull of Xal, and these were identical. Its black armor and wicked rifle were very nearly the same style, and it had the same prehensile tail and leathery wings.
That made Virkonna’s assault all the more impressive.
The hatchling drew a pair of spellblades as she landed, then cut through a trio of demons as if they were beneath her notice. Behind her, other hatchlings charged, with less success, but the demons were forced back, down the slope toward the valley floor.
A roar shook the world, causing the land to quake and buck. Voria glanced up, and her jaw fell open as she saw the combat playing out on the edge of the black hole. A star-sized eight-headed dragon surged into view in the southern sky, and she moved unerringly toward the darkness. As she did so Voria realized that darkness wasn’t empty.
Scarlet eyes larger than most moons flared in that lightless expanse. This creature dwarfed Krox. The leather wings flaring out behind it were similar to the dragons, but the rest could not have been more different. This creature had thick, bony hide. Demonic hide. A tail curled behind it, long enough for the barbed end to be flung at worlds on the far side of a system.
The creature was terrifying. Utterly terrifying.
“It makes our epoch of the godswar look quaint, doesn’t it?” Shaya shimmered into view, now the same size as Voria. “I don’t even know what that thing is, but Xal looks pretty similar. Might be a relative. Dad maybe? Guess it doesn’t matter.”
“When are we?” Voria studied the monstrosity, which continued to fill her with an almost supernatural dread.
“A million years ago? More?” Shaya gave a shrug, and brushed dark hair from her face. “Long before our race came to prominence, that’s for certain. Our ancestors, if they’ve discovered language, are beating each other with clubs and spears on some forested world.”
“And that would mean Virkonna, given her current size, is less than a century old, yes?” Voria watched the future deity, and already spotted the hints that had likely led to her elevation. She cut down her opponents with the same fluidity Aran used. She was efficient, lethal, and utterly merciless to her demonic foes.
“That’s my take.” Shaya planted a hand on the spellblade belted around her waist. “Drakkon gets a lot of credit for inventing a truly new style, but he’d be the first to tell you that Virkonna is a better swordsman. She used more traditional styles, but to devastating effectiveness, as you can see.”
The hatchling blurred past a quartet of demons, who stood rigidly as electricity crackled through their bodies. Virkonna swept an archaic spellrifle from a void pocket, and finished all four with a single fireball.
“At some point she must have attracted the attention of that thing.” Shaya nodded at the eight-headed dragon.
“That must be the Wyrm Mother, the one who elevated Virkonna.”
“And Nefarius,” Shaya pointed out. “Virkonna is hiding here because her sister murdered her mom, and now sis is back to murder everyone else.”
Voria tried to see the situation in those terms. Gods didn’t seem all that different than mortals. They had emotions and failings. Their senses were greater. Their lifespans immeasurable. But ultimately they were just old, powerful mortals. Could she really fault Virkonna for retreating from reality? How many millennia of war had Virkonna seen by that point?
Virkonna leapt into the air and flared her wings. She glided upwards to join several dozen of her siblings, and they descended toward the greater battle on the plain below. Gods, demigods, ancient Wyrms, and strange magical war machines tore apart the very land around them as they clawed at each other.
“The scope of it,” Voria whispered in awe. “The amount of magical power here is so far beyond what we currently have in the sector. I count hundreds of demigods, and half that number of gods, most of them elder. What are we witnessing?”
“I know that whenever someone referred to the battle with Nefarius as the godswar she looked at them as if they were insane.” Shaya also wore a look of awe. “I’m guessing this is why. There are so many of them. I wonder what they’re fighting over.”
“I suppose it’s time we find out.” Voria concentrated, and exerted the magical force she’d imparted into the spell.
The memory froze.
Only Virkonna still moved, completing the sword stroke that decapitated another demon, then landing gracefully a few dozen meters away. The hatchling whirled, and looked around in confusion. All over the sky the battle had frozen, even the eight-headed dragon, and the demonic elder god she fought.
“Wh
at…what is this?” Virkonna’s blades lowered a hair.
Voria stepped into her field of view, and waved a hand. “Can you see me?”
Virkonna sucked in a breath, and a bolt of lighting shot through the space Voria occupied. She felt nothing as the phantom spell passed through her, thank the goddess.
“What are you? How have you frozen everything like this? Are you—”. Her reptilian eyes widened. “Are you…Om?”
“Who?” Voria asked, then realized that she was going about this the wrong way. She raised both her hands. “I’m not whoever this Om is, but I am a goddess. A lesser one. I’ve been sent to wake you from torpor. This isn’t reality, Virkonna. This is a memory you’ve retreated into, because you were stricken by grief over the death of your mother.”
Virkonna’s head snapped up to view the eight-headed dragon. “So many of the things you’ve said are impossible. Nothing can kill the Wyrm Mother, not even Xakava.”
Voria gave a sympathetic sigh. She was forcing someone to process their grief, but it had to be done. “Virkonna, you are a goddess. The strongest goddess left in the sector. Krox has already risen. Nefarius is about to rise. Talifax has been orchestrating her rebirth, and we can’t stop it. Not without your help. Inura sent me to wake you. Even now he’s preparing for battle with Talifax and Nefarius.”
“Who?” Virkonna cocked her head. “That name is familiar, but I can’t place it. I feel as if I should know this…Nefarius.”
“You do know her.” Voria frowned. “She murdered your mother. She’s your sister, Virkonna.”
Virkonna’s slitted eyes widened again, and her fanged mouth worked as she struggled for words. Nothing came out. Finally, Virkonna sat on a nearby bolder, granite crunching under her weight. Voria said nothing. She let the Wyrm think.
Several minutes later Virkonna rose to her feet. She faced Voria, and her entire demeanor was different now. All compassion and all curiosity had been replaced with harsh pragmatism. “I remember now. You speak the truth, but I don’t love you for it. Why would you want to pull me from this place? This time? This is when I was happiest, and I’ve earned a few cycles to tarry here.”
