by Chris Fox
Two smaller groups of black ships moved to support the conventional Inuran vessels, each group containing fifty vessels. Those would be their god-countering squads, Aran imagined.
Dragons began fanning out, supported by their Outriders. Then the lines met. Dragons began tearing apart starships, the atmosphere venting out like spurts of white blood. Spellfighters engaged capital ships, some blown up from Inuran cannons, while others began whittling down their opponents.
Virkonna raised a single scaled hand, and lightning crackled from each clawed finger. The air magic flowed like a living thing, arcing between ships as it clawed its way deep into the Inuran ranks. Everywhere the lighting touched metal melted, and ship after ship came apart, their keels breaking as the magic savaged their vessels.
Inura spun out magics as well, so quickly Aran had trouble tracking it all. The spells were designed to increase everything from a target’s speed to toughness, to creating fear in the mind of anyone who beheld the target. It was an incredible partnership, and dramatically increased Virkonna’s already considerable combat abilities.
Much of that magic also spilled over to Drakkon, who’d taken up a position behind Virkonna as well. Unlike Inura, however, Aran could tell from Drakkon’s posture that he was ready to support her flank.
Virkonna’s assault opened a gap in the Inuran ranks, and she began flying through, toward the fist. Aran considered sending her a missive and explaining that bypassing an enemy and leaving them at your back was a terrible plan.
Instead he guided the Talon into Virkonna’s wake, and spun to face the Inuran ranks. “We need to make this shot count. I need everything you’re capable of giving me, Crewes.”
“Can do, sir,” Crewes gave a wide, predatory smile as the fire rolled out of his skin, and into the matrix.
Aran poured an equal amount of void in, and if he’d left it there, the spell would have simply been a wide-beam disintegrate like he’d fired at the Battle of Shaya. Instead, Aran decided with a grin, he was going to take it to the next level.
He added roughly twice as much air as he had void, shaping the spell to give it one of lightning’s most common attributes. The cannon discharged a black bolt of lightning that arced between Inuran ships, hopping from ship to ship to ship in rapid succession.
Each ship the bolt touched simply ceased to exist. They exploded into particles, and then…nothing. There wasn’t even visible debris where the ships had been.
“By my count,” Rhea said matter-of-factly, “you wiped out fifty-nine capital ships with a single spell. I believe that is a record, sir, for any Outrider.”
“What was the previous record?” Crewes asked with a grin. “’Cause I was a part of that spell too.”
“Seven, sir.”
“Let’s not get too cocky.” Aran tried to make sure he took his own advice, though it was difficult. The feeling of the divine levels of void and air were…heady. It separated him from other mortals, and he already saw the trap there. “These are their conventional vessels. The black ships are the real threat.”
Aran increased the Talon’s velocity, and they shot through the now much wider gap in the Ternus ranks. The Wyrms on that side of the battle were already capitalizing on their opponents’ weakness, and that Ternus flank threatened to crumble under the weight of the last dragonflight.
The black ships entered the fight, the first group of fifty moving unerringly toward Inura. Each fired one of their terrible tendrils, which snaked their way across the void toward the sector’s oldest life Wyrm.
Virkonna twisted her bulk with impossible speed, and interposed a wing between the projectiles and her younger brother. She batted most of the tendrils away, but two clung to her wing, and pulses of white were siphoned back to the ships.
The dragon goddess roared in rage, and loosed a bolt of pure, primal air. It engulfed both offending ships, and several of their neighbors.
At first the ships merely shifted in color, their hulls becoming a shade of blue that matched the lightning.
Virkonna did not relent. Her breath continued, and one by one the ships popped in comparatively tiny explosions. Only when the last had detonated did she cease and turn back to the battle.
Their opponents hadn’t been idle. For the first time Aran realized one of the black ships was much, much larger than the rest. It wasn’t the command vessel that Nimitz had no doubt been given. It was larger, for one thing, and shaped differently. As Aran studied it he realized the ship was modeled to look like a dragon skull, complete with eye and nose sockets. It was the strangest configuration he’d encountered, but he doubted it made the ship any less lethal.
That was answered an instant later when dozens of bolts of disintegration shot from the skull—from each eye, from the nose, and from the mouth. Those spells converged on Drakkon’s exposed back in a hail of magical death.
The Wyrm, Aran’s mentor, was busy dismembering one of the black ships, and his claws were finally penetrating the thick armor. Impossibly, he twisted out of the way of many of the bolts. Somehow he dodged them, even though they were everywhere. For a while. Then one struck his wing, which began to unravel. The next two hit his back, causing Drakkon to release the black ship as his body wildly spasmed.
“No!” Aran roared, knowing it was futile.
The last flurry of bolts caught Drakkon just above the tail. The tail and one of the legs simply dissolved into particles. Drakkon’s blood sprayed out into the void in a glittering constellation of droplets, each infused with some of the most potent water magic in the sector.
Drakkon might have died then, but Inura scooped up the wounded Wyrm, and began carrying him toward Virkonna. Pure white life magic pulsed from Inura into Drakkon, stabilizing his wounds, though not regrowing his lost limbs. Perhaps that would take time. In either case it removed Drakkon as a factor on the battlefield, and put them in a much worse position.
“Guardian!” Virkonna roared, her voice magically amplified through the void. “That ship is the primary threat. Destroy it. Rip it apart. Kill its occupants.”
Aran was already planning on attacking the ship, since that was almost certainly where Skare, and perhaps Talifax, would be hiding. He guided the Talon in an evasive path that carried them toward the enemy command ship.
The black ships responded immediately, many rising from the fist to protect the Dragon Skull. “Guess we found something sensitive.”
59
Sacrifice
“Rhea,” Aran ordered as he guided the Talon deeper into the Inuran ranks, “we’re going to need some wards. Bord, relieve Crewes and get her some help.”
“Sir?” Crewes asked as he spun his command couch in Aran’s direction. “That will leave us light offensively if you’re flying the ship. Rhea can handle defensive.”
Aran shook his head. “Negative. Bord, get in there. This is going to be more about speed than damage. We need to slip past those ships and engage that skull directly. And I have a feeling they’re not at all interested in letting us do that.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Crewes leapt to his feet and rolled out of the matrix. Neeko trotted after him as he moved to take the seat Bord had vacated. “I hate sitting it out is all.”
“You aren’t. Get the others down to the hold and get suited up and ready for boarding. If you don’t see Davidson, go to his quarters and get him. Tell him we’re going to need his tank for my plan to work.”
“Your plan involves a tank?” Crewes asked as he walked to the bridge’s doorway. “This I gotta hear.”
“We’re going to blast a hole in the rear of that ship, just above the engines. Then we’re going to park and follow Davidson’s tank as he blasts a path toward the bridge.” It didn’t sound nearly as impressive out loud as it had in his head.
“Well, shit, I could have come up with that.” Crewes gave a grin, then exited.
Bord was already sitting in the command chair, and turned toward Aran. “You want me to get some wards up, sir, or should I
wait for them to engage?”
“Now would be good. Rhea, use your discretion.” Aran guided the Talon closer to the enemy.
Black ships began closing ranks around the Dragon Skull, which had begun retreating back toward the fist. As soon as he closed to range they began firing their tendrils, which in a way was better than having to face more conventional spellcannons. Spells could be fast, and could have a variety of effects. These tendrils were slow, and while it was risky to let one catch hold, it was very possible to simply evade them all.
Which made Aran wonder why there was a need for so many of them. The ships provided certain advantages, but they were hardly the weapon Aran would have created if given the same resources.
He twisted around the first volley of tendrils, then blazed past several more. Only one caught them, but it slid off Bord’s wards as they rocketed out of range.
“Sir,” Rhea said, “there are far too many vessels surrounding the fist for simple evasion. Do you have a plan for facing that many?”
Aran studied the enemy position, while still flying the Talon through their ranks. “You’re not wrong. There’s enough of them to immobilize us, if we’re not careful. Thing is, I don’t really have a backup plan.”
Rhea turned her matrix in his direction. “We could get the sergeant back up here and try the offensive approach.”
He shook his head. “No, the battle in the depths near Shaya showed how resilient these things are. They’re not going to go down like the conventional ships. We stick to defense. Keep those wards primed. I just need to fly perfectly.”
Aran focused on threading the eye of the needle, and flew as he’d never flown before. Dozens of tendrils converged on their position as Aran glided ever closer to the crack that led inside the fist. The Dragon Skull had nearly disappeared inside, but they were gaining on it.
The Talon rolled around a group of tendrils, then Aran teleported them five hundred meters. He repeated the spell, hopping ever closer in an unpredictable pattern that the Tendrils couldn’t react quickly enough to.
The cost in void magic was high, but he let it pour out of him as he narrowed the gap to the skull. Then it happened. Three tendrils predicted a hop, and caught on the wards. That slowed the Talon’s reaction times, and two more tendrils predicted their next hop.
Each hop came more slowly, and cost him more. And the ships were converging on their position. Aran thought furiously, but short of going full offensive couldn’t think of a good solution. There were just so many blasted ships, and in the distance he could see the Dragon Skull getting away.
“I can’t sustain this forever,” Rhea called, the strain evident in her voice.
“She ain’t wrong,” Bord gave through gritted teeth. “I’m still trying to impress a girl and all, but…I could use a break.”
Indecision stole Aran’s attention for a single instant. What was the right answer? He couldn’t see it. Nara was downstairs getting her spellarmor on, and she was the only other one who might have had a creative solution.
Shit.
Something punched through the closest black ship, a shining blue-white projectile that shattered the hull and left exploding fragments in its wake. The projectile shot into another ship, which also exploded. After the third ship it paused long enough for Aran to recognize it.
“My gods,” he murmured. “Is that Kheross?”
The mighty Wyrm tore into the Inuran ranks, twisting around tendrils, and clawing apart vessels with ruthless efficiency. In many ways, he was faring better than Drakkon, despite being a quarter of the size.
“Tell me, Captain,” Kheross bellowed as he assaulted another vessel, “are you a lover of good tales?” Kheross breathed a bolt of lightning, which nicked a ship’s engines, slowing it enough for him to catch up. Two tendrils snaked toward him, but Kheross rolled over the ship’s hull, using it as cover.
The tendrils latched onto their own companion, and began draining the black ship. Kheross took the opportunity to shred the hull of the vessel he was sheltering behind, and it detonated. The Wyrm rode the explosion, using the momentum to hurl away from those ships desperately seeking to entrap him.
Three of the ships arrayed themselves into a perfect line, and Aran just couldn’t ignore it. He poured fire and void into the Talon, and a wide-beam disintegrate lanced out. All three ships came apart, their particles dispersing as Kheross zipped away to safety. “I like a holodrama as much as the next guy, but this eleventh-hour stuff is pretty stressful, you know?”
“In every great tale there is a sacrifice, Captain.” Kheross curled into a ball and tumbled past a tendril, then banked and reversed course, attacking the ship that had fired it. “There are too many ships. They will attempt to follow you inside that behemoth, and they will slow your progress. You’ll never catch the lead ship, and you will never stop them before they complete their ritual.”
“Those stories are stupid,” Rhea cried. She raised a hand toward the scry-screen, where her father’s draconic face was now displayed. “You do not have to do this. Not to redeem yourself, nor to prove anything to me, if that’s what this is about.”
“You’re right, daughter,” Kheross replied as something exploded behind him. “I do not have to do this. I choose to do this. We must stop Nefarius, or this reality is as doomed as our own. We have one chance to ensure that our mistakes are not repeated. I choose life, not void. I choose your life. Live, and slay Talifax. Somehow. Find a way. If it can be done, then I believe you will help do it. And who knows? I might survive this.”
Tears streaked Rhea’s face, but she seemed unable to muster words. Finally, she choked one out. “Live.”
Kheross kicked off another ship, and gave a roar of pain as a tendril seized his wing. “Stop that ship!”
The scry-screen went dark, and Aran focused on flying. He guided them inside the fist, disappearing into the gap between the thumb and forefinger. He could still sense the Dragon Skull, and with Kheross slowing the black ships, they were rapidly narrowing the gap.
Aran pulled his teeth back in a grimace and poured void into the ship. He accelerated and increased their mass. “That bastard is not getting away.”
The Talon’s mass continued to increase, even as Aran increased their momentum. The Skull loomed larger and larger, and then he braced himself as the Talon slammed into the rear of the ship, which was far, far larger than it appeared at a distance.
They punched through the dark metal directly behind the ear hole. If not for the wards both Rhea and Bord had erected, he had no doubt the Talon would have been torn apart. Instead, they broke through the outermost layer of the enemy hull, and lodged inside like a bullet.
Aran rolled from the matrix, and paused to check on Bord and Rhea. “Everyone okay?”
The pair gave nearly identical nods, both weary and devoid of emotion. They were running close to the redline, which was not how he wanted to begin a hostile incursion into a heavily defended enemy vessel.
“Let’s get suited up. It’s time to end this.” Aran strode from the bridge, and the others followed.
60
Too Easy
Nara sketched a void sigil before the spellarmor, then quickly slipped inside. It was the first time she’d used a set in several months, and the first time she’d ever been inside of a Mark XI. She still remembered how jealous she’d been when Aran got his, and the rest of them were still cruising around in their old Mark V’s.
All five potion loaders had been filled with counterspell potions, which was perfect. She could handle whatever offensive spells they needed using her spellrifle. Speaking of….
Nara opened her void pocket and retrieved the rifle she’d recovered from the Ternus facility where she’d been trained. Now that her memories had returned she understood it like an extension of her own body.
That had been true back when she’d been a Zephyr, but now she understood magic well enough to know why. The rifle was alive, even if it only had a primitive consciousness. It und
erstood why it existed. What its purpose was. Each time Nara used it to kill, it felt complete.
The rifle was going to feel very complete today, because she wasn’t going to stop killing until Talifax was dead or on the run. The latter was far more likely if he was actually losing, and she was under no illusion that they’d be able to stop that sneaky bastard from getting away if he thought victory impossible.
If they thwarted him, that would be enough for her. She’d surprised him at Shaya, and was hoping to do so again here. Of course, she’d also expected to have Voria in this battle and wondered if Talifax was somehow responsible for Virkonna leaving her behind.
Nara paused as she felt tremendous magic rolling into the ship somewhere above her. Most of that was life, with water and spirit in lesser quantities. Wards. Powerful ones. And they were being continuously renewed. That kind of magical expenditure couldn’t be sustained for very long.
The ship suddenly lurched, which was a little surprising only because the Talon’s inertial dampeners had always blocked the impacts they’d felt, even when they’d punched through the skin of a god. What had they just hit that had been tougher than Krox?
The flow of magic ceased, and Aran appeared a few moments later, quickly followed by an exhausted Bord and Rhea.
Aran made a beeline for the membrane, then turned to face the company, who were clustered around Davidson’s hovertank. “Davidson, are you in there?”
Nara turned to face the lieutenant’s tank, which had grown considerably since she’d seen it on Marid. The sleek, blue behemoth pulsed with its own inner magic, now a powerful eldimagus in its own right. And probably alive, for that matter.
She tried not to think about Ikadra.
