The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  “There’s no one here,” I reported on the open line. “We should pull out.”

  “They may have moved since the photographs were taken,” said Cereli. “But I agree, this looks wrong. Commander, please advise.”

  “Have you shot a flare?” asked Telei.

  “I have not.”

  “If they’ve moved, you might be able to attract their attention by a flare.”

  “They would have seen our transporter fly in,” I said. “None of this smells good. We need to get out.”

  “I’m seconding Qaira, sir,” said Cereli, halting her team.

  Before Yahweh could respond, the ground shook.

  Both of our teams crouched, Cereli’s in the open street, mine behind a ruined building, pointing our guns into the veiled unknown.

  The shaking stopped. We all held our breaths.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked Cereli.

  “No, nothing.” She sounded shaken.

  “What’s going on down there?” demanded Yahweh.

  “A quake,” answered Cereli. “I don’t know—”

  Shadows emerged through the fog. We locked our guns on them.

  A few soldiers in chalice armor stepped forward with their hands up. We were a ways down the street, so I couldn’t hear much, but it sounded like Cereli ordered them to kneel.

  They did not. One of them was shouting something, distraught.

  Again, Cereli ordered them to halt.

  I fingered the trigger of my pulse rifle.

  And then a roar shook the streets. The sky filled with dark objects shooting up from the center of the city, soaring into the sky.

  Startled, Cereli looked toward the commotion. The soldier in the chalice armor grabbed his gun and opened fire, nailing her once in the chest before I shot him down.

  And then the street became a hot-zone, riddled with crossfire. Adrial and Zhevraine blurred into the chaos, executing the soldiers hidden by the smoke. Cereli’s team scattered, and I ordered mine to fall back and snipe.

  I darted out and grabbed Cereli, pulling her off the street. She was shouting orders and coughing blood, firing off at anything that moved. The bullet had hit something vital.

  “Yahweh, we need a fucking transporter!” I screamed into the radio. “It was a trap! The enemy is dressed as allies!”

  “Ezekiel is under attack,” he reported. “I’ll send out a transporter but I can’t guarantee it’ll get there. Cleanse the city as best you can until Seyestin can cut a safe path for rescue.”

  I was about to tell him Cereli was bleeding to death, though that would have done nothing but added more fear to the situation. Not to mention her brother was listening in. He needed a clear head.

  Stupid kid. Here was where heroics got you.

  I stayed with Cereli behind a collapsed pillar, shooting whenever a target presented itself. I would have been worried if Adrial and Zhevraine weren’t here, since I couldn’t leave Argentia’s wounded second general alone in the middle of a red zone. All I had to was sit tight and wait until the Jury eviscerated our foes.

  But every moment that I waited was another moment the Ezekiel stood unguarded. There were troops onboard, but should enemy jets somehow get past Seyestin’s team like they did at Azenou, then—

  “Leave me,” Cereli rasped, wincing in injury. “Get out there and flay them.”

  I ignored her, shooting demons as they ran into the street to escape Zhevraine’s wrath.

  “I said leave me.”

  “I do that and your brother would make me his perma-nemesis.”

  “He already has. Go. I’ll pretend I’m dead.”

  I looked at her, and she at me. The confidence in Cereli’s expression waned, and that was when I knew. I pulled the hand-cannon from her belt and she cradled it, nodding, telling me to go one more time. I jumped over the pillar and joined the fight, stowing the rifle, unleashing my scythes.

  The street was almost vacant now, the demons having long sought shelter in the alleys. The angels were nowhere in sight either, but the distant sound of gunfire told me the fight was still on.

  And then I froze.

  Zhevraine crawled from an alley and into the street, disoriented. One of her arms was missing at the elbow, the stump oozing blood across the ground. She looked up at me, and my eyes trailed down to the two tiny capsules protruding from her neck. The terror on her face was something I’d never seen before.

  “Run,” she croaked.

  I looked ahead as primers emerged from the alley, following her trail of blood. There were eight of them. I prepared to strike, but halfway there one of them shot at me. Normally I wouldn’t even bat my eye at a bullet, but what left the chamber of the gun wasn’t a bullet—;

  It was a dart.

  The shot was precise, piercing through the weaker joints of my armor. I was not in full-plate, as plate always restricted movement. The rest of my group was fully-plated, but I had opted for a more classic version of the Enforcer garb, because, you know, what could possibly hurt me?

  Hindsight certainly was a bitch.

  The primers scattered as I stumbled, memories of both the Ark and Atlas Arcantia flooded my thoughts. Fear raked across my chest. I was getting dizzy.

  I knew what this dart in my shoulder could do, and I also knew that if they shot me with another, I was dead.

  Retreat.

  I sprinted through the alley, leaving Zhevraine to her fate. Guilt clenched at my insides, but trying to save her would only kill us both. This had been a plan to draw us out and sedate us. Pick us off, one by one.

  I barreled through the alley system practically cross-eyed, giving it my all just to stay upright. If memory served correct, the sedative would wear off in ten minutes, max. The thunder of boots behind me said I didn’t have ten minutes.

  The drug inhibited clear perception. Running at full speed was out of the question, as I’d smack into something and break my skull.

  I slid into an alcove and leapt over a twenty-foot fence, landing hard on my back. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled to my feet and slipped between two large shipping containers, rusted and abandoned. If the primers followed, I’d have to think of a way to disarm them. The numb ache in my arms and legs was starting to dull, and the tingles of semi-paralysis had ceased their havoc on my spine. It was wearing off already.

  I kept my scythes at the ready, breathing hard.

  The primers never showed. They must have regarded the time-limit.

  “Telei, come in.”

  Nothing.

  “Yahweh, I said come in.”

  Static.

  This was getting better and better.

  An angel jet crashed into a building just a block over. It brought the entire thing down, creating a mushroom cloud of fire-laced smoke.

  It began raining jets, demon and angel alike.

  It wasn’t safe here.

  It wasn’t safe anywhere.

  Footsteps echoed through the alley, getting louder in their approach.

  I turned, bracing myself.

  A single primer emerged from the shadows, bereft of a dart gun. This one’s armor was different. Flashier, protecting a much tinier frame than I’d seen on others.

  At the sight of me he paused. Judging by his reaction, this primer was familiar with the Nehel.

  Light flashed from his armor, encapsulating it in a hazy sphere. A shield.

  I activated mine too, just in case this tiny elite could hit harder than I thought. Challenging a Judge took balls, especially alone. I wouldn’t underestimate him.

  But that proved impossible, because I would have never expected the primer to just disappear. He moved like us, maybe even faster, and he was behind me in a fraction of a second, ion sphere in full swing.

  I deflected it with a scythe, swinging with the other. The primer rolled away, blurring out of sight. He struck again a moment later, and again he barely missed. Traces of the sedative were still in my system, so it was hard to maneuver perfectly. Instead I bide
d time as the primer hacked away at my shield when I wasn’t fast enough to deflect. The display screen on my mask warned that a few more hits would break the shield, and then I started to worry.

  I drew him from the alcove, ducking blows. I had to get him out in the open or I wouldn’t last much longer.

  My strength was coming back, so was my perception. I began to see the spectral lines of his phase-shifts. Little tail ribbons of light wherever he moved.

  The next time he struck I parried and plunged my scythe right through his shield, shattering it on instant. The primer had moved enough that I’d only hooked his shoulder plate. I flung him down the street, watching him skid across cement and crash into a fallen pillar. A blow like that would have shattered every bone in a normal celestial’s body, but the primer got up immediately.

  He was psionicity like I’d never seen before.

  Someone should have warned me of this.

  We were at an impasse, at least until the tranq wore off. He was nimbler than me, but I hit a lot harder. The primer hesitated, considering his options. I assumed these options were driven by the fact that he was shieldless and running out of time.

  I didn’t dare strike first. That was what he wanted. Instead I stood there, waiting.

  He unleashed his razor-sewn wings, rushing me again. I released mine, bracing for impact. Black feathers laced the wind as blade hit scythe. Wings clapped.

  He clipped me right before my head collided with his, denting his visor. It shorted and he reeled away, throwing it off. I was surprised.

  He was a she.

  More surprising were her eyes. They were identical to mine, ablaze with scorn. Thin lips and nose, a pronounced chin and high cheekbones—she could have been related to me. I was looking at myself in female form.

  Adrial appeared at my side, snarling, daring the primer to charge again. Outnumbered, she backed away. The Primer phased off, disappearing for good.

  Adrial moved to take chase, but I stopped him. “Zhevraine.”

  He looked at me, questioningly.

  I headed in the direction I’d seen her last. She was still there.

  Dismembered, stone.

  Adrial dropped to his knees, stricken.

  The gunfire had ceased, and angel soldiers were regrouping in the street. We had won. Sort of.

  “Did you get hit?” I asked.

  “No,” said Adrial, unable tear his gaze from Zhev’s corpse. She was drawing a crowd. Nothing killed morale like a dead Judge lying in the middle of the street. Lucifer had the means to eliminate Vel’Haru, and this had been his way of letting us all know. Leid was going to be devastated.

  Leid.

  Ezekiel.

  I looked up at the sky, unable to spot a single jet. That was a good sign, but I had to be certain.

  “Can anyone contact central command?” I called to the group.

  “Communications have been cut,” said Michael, moving through the crowd. “They went offline after the fight began.”

  If a transporter was sent, it would have been here already.

  The dart was still in my shoulder. I was stupid not to have activated my shield from the get-go. After regenerating one of my hands, I plucked it out for safekeeping. I caught a glimpse of Cereli’s body being dragged away from the pillar, but I kept the image strictly in-peripheral. I’d seen enough already.

  Commander Raith had planted a seed he’d known Yahweh would pluck. He figured it wouldn’t crush us completely, yet just enough to weaken us in the long run. Cereli had been crucial, Zhevraine irreplaceable.

  I spread my wings, preparing for flight.

  “Where are you going?” asked Adrial.

  “To the ship.”

  “You could get shot out of the sky.”

  “Better that than stay here and let Ezekiel burn.”

  Others opted to go with me. In light of everything, it seemed I’d gained some respect.

  Adrial and a dozen soldiers stayed put. I promised to send a transporter down once the ship was secured. Hopefully I didn’t die before that.

  XXVIII

  MEDITATIO TWO

  Ixiah Telei—;

  “IXIAH, STEP BACK,” warned Zira, pulling me from the ledge.

  I could barely hear him, too taken with the battle on the skyline. No one had told me that the demons and angels had gone to war. No one had told me my brother was on a ship that was currently under attack.

  Calenus must have known, yet sent me here anyway. A test of loyalty, perhaps.

  Zira and I stood on a hill that overlooked the Golheim border, the city nestled in a crater outlined by jagged, rocky terrain. Fire ravaged the Lohr capital, plumes of black smoke swirling into the horizon. Gunfire and explosions clipped the air, audible even at our distance.

  From the information we could gather on the trek here, the Argent Court was invading Hell. I had no idea how it had come to this or why. All I knew was that my brother was in trouble. Somewhere on that fiery ship, Yahweh stood to lose his life. The violet resonance was strong, its gentle hum felt in my bones; Leid was with him. Protecting him, or trying to.

  We’d been sent here for reconnaissance, and asked to stay until an opportunity presented itself. Now was not ideal, which meant I was forced to sit here and watch the battle ensue. Zira couldn’t understand how hard this was.

  He stood beside me, solemn, watching the battle like one might pretty scenery. I wanted to smack him across the face.

  “This isn’t our fight,” he said, as if having read my thoughts. “Our orders are to watch, not intervene.”

  Zira was right, but that meant nothing. The only thing keeping me here was the memory of what had happened last time I’d disobeyed Enigmus’ charge. Those scars ran deep.

  He studied my face, his own showing concern. “Fall back. I’ll stay.”

  “No.”

  I looked back at the angel ship. It was smoking like the city, its gold halo gone. Angel jets circled the fray, trying to keep enemies away from the port, but they couldn’t stop all of them. More crafts rose up from the bowels of the city and joined the fight. There were more angels than demons, but Argentia was taken off guard. There’d been no chance to regroup, or to plan.

  Suddenly the scars didn’t matter.

  I stepped on the ledge again, releasing my wings. Zira reached to stop me but I turned and hit him across the face so hard that he stumbled. I was older than him. Stronger than him. All he could do was beg me not to go. But he didn’t have a brother, so he couldn’t know how this felt.

  “Ixiah, please, consider what you’re doing!”

  “I have.”

  “If you do this, Calenus might—”

  “If Calenus doesn’t understand, he’s even more frigid than I thought.”

  Zira stared at me, abashed.

  “Go on,” I snarled, “go back and tell him what I’ve done like a good little puppet. Earn a few more points. They’re worth everything, you know.”

  Zira clenched his jaw. He didn’t move, and I didn’t wait for his heated response.

  I stepped off the ledge and took to the sky, leaving him staring after me. Whether Zira would leave or stay was uncertain, but it didn’t matter. Expecting me to stand by and watch my brother’s murder was cruel and disgusting.

  I wouldn’t abandon Yahweh again.

  XXIX

  MEDITATIO THREE

  Avarice Delvori—;

  PRIMER GARR WATCHED ME FROM THE the corner of his eye. His visor was still intact, unlike mine, but the angle of his head gave him away. He thought me insane to board the carrier. My armor was useless—shield broken, control systems fried—but I didn’t need armor. After failing to kill Qaira Eltruan, what I needed was a win. Mastema’s army had cut a path straight to Ezekiel, and all of Commander Telei’s strongest arms were stranded at the ruins of Golheim.

  This would be like slaughtering a litter of puppies. Didn’t need a shield for that.

  The few angel crafts still in the air were too preoccupi
ed with our strike jets raining artillery on Ezekiel’s hull. Soon their halo would fade. Reports of Argentia reinforcements closing in made this a time-sensitive matter. Lucifer hadn’t given us an army, only a large strike team, and we had to make the best of it. No doubt we would get overrun.

  Incapacitate Leid Koseling.

  Apprehend Yahweh Telei.

  Those were Lucifer’s orders. I’d told him I would kill Qaira Eltruan, too. He’d shrugged and said whatever suited me, so long as it didn’t interfere with my main objectives.

  I leaned on the rail, loading my gun with the two tranqs Commander Raith had provided me. Qaira would have been dead had I used them, but I’d erred on the side of caution. Lucifer had told me nobles would need at least two, and two was all I had.

  “Praetor, you need a visor.”

  “I’m fine. Mind your post. Have you briefed the Commander?”

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  I loaded the tranq gun, clipping it to my belt. It hurt to frown; the muscles along the side of my face were tender. That head-butt had come as a surprise. Qaira fought dirty. “Does it look like I can contact Lucifer, Garr?”

  Primer Garr wisely chose not to respond, radioing Judas instead.

  Angel jets spotted our craft and we ducked as they whipped by, firing at the shell. Our meager shield held. We were almost at the port, now blown wide open.

  Primer Garr and I stood at the gate, a group of snipers and ground soldiers formed behind us as our carrier flew into Ezekiel’s base entrance. Two other primers were already on board. They were still alive, too, which was a good sign.

  The darkness lifted as bullet tail sparks sliced the air. We had no choice but to dock in the middle of crossfire, and my team exploded out to join the fight. Primer Garr and I parted ways then, as his orders were different than mine. Garr was to take out as many officers as he could find, and I was to locate and capture Yahweh Telei.

  I phased through the port, into the hangar, hacking my way on-deck. I avoided open areas and weaved between the chaos, phasing from group to group. A few demon soldiers noticed me and provided cover as I sprinted up the stairs toward central headquarters. Without my visor or shield, I wasn’t as noticeable. Few angels wasted their time on me, too preoccupied with the raiders near the halo.