by Scott Baron
“But I can do this, Father. I––”
“Idiot child. You have disappointed me repeatedly. First you taint yourself with Wampeh blood, then you fail even the simple task of bringing down a mere slave rebel. Were you not my daughter––”
“Yes, you’ve said.”
“Now get me my konuses before the others arrive.”
Malalia remained in place, gears turning in her mind.
“Do as I say!”
“Father, you have said the Maktan line has been a cornerstone of the Council’s power for generations.” Her eyes sharpened. “I will do my part to continue our family’s legacy.”
Visla Yoral Maktan gasped as he felt the small blade slide between his ribs. Blood flowed onto Malalia’s hands. It was so warm, she realized, as a strange thought entered her mind. She raised a bloody finger and proceeded to lick it clean, not knowing what to expect.
A slight tingle of power tickled her tongue, but was quickly replaced by the salty, copper taste of the dying man’s vital essence. But there had been a little something. Perhaps the Wampeh truly had tainted her blood.
The doors burst open, and Mester Norkal and Emmik Urzan strode in, followed by their retinue of guards. Malalia quickly put on her best grieving face.
“My father has been gravely wounded,” she said. “He may not survive. Quickly! The Zomoki and rebels that did this, we must find them. Find them and kill them before they escape.”
“We tracked them when they jumped,” Mester Norkal said. “They are not far from here. But what of the weapon. Our investment?”
Malalia sighed. “It was lost. Only the recently acquired Ootaki that had not yet joined the others have survived. They are with you?”
“Yes, a dozen of them, all told.”
“It will have to be enough,” she said. “We go after them. Now!”
“You are not in a position to give orders, Malalia,” Emmik Urzan said.
Malalia glanced at her father as he breathed his last, then stood, calmly.
“Hokta!” The spell ripped through her bloody slaap, dropping Emmik Urzan dead to the ground.
“I am Malalia Maktan. Visla Malalia Maktan. Those who dare defy me shall face the same fate.”
Mester Norkal thought a moment, then decided the odds were not in her favor. “Of course, Visla. What would you have of us?”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
“What’s that?” Leila shouted to the others as a dozen bright lights burned into the atmosphere.
“Council ships,” Bawb said. “Has to be.”
“But what are they doing?”
Her question was answered by the barrage of spells blasting the surface from great height. The accuracy was terrible, but whoever was in command of the attack didn’t care about pinpoint precision. They were carpet bombing the surface, willing to wipe out anything in their pursuit of the escapees
“Quickly, we must depart,” Ara said.
“But you just jumped. Can you do another so soon?” Charlie asked, climbing atop her back.
“I have the strength for a jump, yes. Though my accuracy may be a bit off. I suggest you don the protective suits from Charlie’s craft, just in case we arrive off-target. Can you assist the others?”
“On it,” Charlie said, quickly laying out the space suits and helping his friends put them on as fast as possible. Imminent death was a great motivator, and in under two minutes they were suited up, including little Baloo, safe in his own suit, clipped to Leila’s own.
The attack that had been laying waste to the outlying areas was now toppling the shining towers of Tolemac in its indiscriminate destruction.
“They are killing innocents by the thousands,” Ara said, horrified. “I cannot stand by and allow this. Hold tight.”
With a powerful flap of her wings, she took to the air, flying toward the Council ships, casting defensive spells to protect the planet below, bellowing fire at the smaller craft attempting to target them.
Swarming up from the ground, citizens were fleeing in their own ships, a stream of frantically escaping vessels darting toward outer space, their passengers and crew watching the mighty Zomoki defend their world as the Council ships lay waste to their home.
Aboard her command ship, Malalia observed the battle with increasing fury.
“Why aren’t you targeting them?” she raged.
“We are, Denna, I mean Visla Maktan. But the Zomoki is exceptionally difficult to hit. And she is so powerful. I fear our spells will be ineffective against her.”
Malalia mulled over the situation a split second, then made a choice.
“Very well, then. Harvest the Ootaki.”
“You wish to shear some of the Ootaki?” Mester Norkal said, trepidation in her voice.
“No. Not some of them. All of them. Do it now.”
The already-deadly slaaps on her hands were glowing dangerously with her nearly uncontrolled rage, and Norkal knew very well that if she was even half as powerful as her father, Malalia Maktan could very well kill them all in her fury.
“Yes, Visla. Of course,” she said, meekly lowering her eyes as she hurried off to relay the command.
Ara was doing her best to protect the city below, and while she was perhaps a bit weak for a jump, her power was more than adequate to cast defensive spells. In addition, though their spells were far less powerful, Charlie, Bawb, and Leila were casting right alongside her.
The fighting raged, and magic was flying haphazardly, the blue star’s powerful magic radiation making spells go awry as often as not. Without careful preparation, it could be difficult to cast in such an environment, and the heat of battle was anything but ideal.
A small ship, surrounded by defensive craft, dropped from the belly of Maktan’s main command vessel and began speeding toward them. The entire fleet quickly reversed direction, heading to space, then flying away at top speed.
“What the hell are they doing, Ara?” Charlie asked. “Is this some sort of last-ditch kamikaze suicide run? Did we just win?”
The dragon spun and dodged a flurry of spells, then fixed her gaze on the cluster of craft.
“They appear to be using smaller craft as a deflective shield, protecting the rear one. But this is not a surrender. There’s something odd about this. What in the worlds are they––?” Ara fell silent as a deeply unnerving sensation flashed across her senses. “We must jump. Now!”
“Wait, but we’re not in the upper atmosphere. And you’re still wea––”
The Ootaki-powered device was far weaker than intended, the destruction of the majority of the Ootaki who were to provide its magic drastically reducing its yield. Nevertheless, the power was massive. It would not destroy an entire system, but a single world would be turned to dust.
And as it detonated, that was exactly what befell the hundreds of millions of citizens of Tolemac, its horrible magic blasting out and amplifying with the blue sun’s powerful rays.
Ara didn’t have time to prepare. She was in full-on panic mode, latching on to the first habitable planet’s signature that fixed in her senses. It was an odd and unfamiliar one, but she didn’t have the luxury of even seconds to select another. Adrenaline-fueled, full of the charged waters of the Balamar Wastelands, and awash in the rays of the mighty blue star system, Ara jumped just as the magic of a dozen of the most powerful Ootaki on record hit.
There was a massive flash and a swirl of light, then a gut-wrenching pull as the Zomoki and her passengers were thrown violently through a disorienting void, before falling through the atmosphere of the lush planet they had miraculously arrived above.
“Bob, Ara’s hurt. We need to slow the fall! Can you reach your Drookonus?” Charlie shouted through the space suit’s comms.
“I hear you, Charlie,” he replied, confused by the strange communications unit speaking in his ear but not caring at the moment. Not with their violent end at hand. “I can activate it, yes. But I need help arresting this fall. She is simply too large.”
&
nbsp; “I’m with you,” Charlie said, desperately racing through the sing-song list of spells he had memorized over the years.
Come on, Charlie. Drook spells. Come on!
“Got one! Use this. ‘Invario floromar necctu!’” he shouted.
“Are you sure?”
“Just do it!”
Together, the human and Wampeh cast with all of their joined might, drawing power from the Drookonus. It was designed to power a ship, to direct inanimate objects, but given Ara’s unconscious state, Charlie thought she rather fit the bill.
They were rapidly approaching a lush, misty bog, when the spell took hold, arresting the fall just before impact. Their gear shook free, tumbling to the ground, as did the Zomoki’s passengers, a giant spray of muck and vegetation spraying through the air, covering them from head to toe.
Charlie popped off his helmet and staggered to his friends, helping them shed their gear. “You guys okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” Leila said.
Bawb was clearly fine, though not at all pleased with their current location. It seemed they had crashed at the edge of a wooded glen, the murky bog cushioning their impact along with their spells.
Baloo, for his part, was thrilled to have a whole new world of smells to explore. Charlie, however, was at a loss as he squinted at the foggy terrain, trying to make out what sort of fresh hell they had arrived in. Night was falling, but they appeared to be alone.
At least the Council isn’t here, he consoled himself.
Far, far away, Malalia Maktan stood on the bridge of her command ship, shocked at what had transpired.
“Play it again,” she ordered.
The sight-capturing spell flashed to life on the wall.
“There,” she said, eyes wide with amazement. “Just as it hit. Do you see?”
The others saw, indeed. The dangerous woman had just destroyed Tolemac in a fit of rage without consulting the other vislas in the Council, unleashing a huge amount of power they had built and saved for decades. This was bad. But even in the face of what would likely result in their punishment, if not death, they couldn’t deny what they saw.
It was unlike any magic they had ever seen. At the moment of impact with the Ootaki-powered spell, the Zomoki had jumped, and there, locked in a frozen image, was her strange escape. A swirling hole of unknown power, and through it, a strange world.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
The survivors had shed their muck-covered space suits and pulled their salvageable supplies to the bog’s shore. Charlie and Leila were quite surprised when the Wampeh recovered a container they hadn’t recalled seeing before. Even more so when he unsealed it, revealing a shaken, but otherwise unharmed Ootaki woman.
“This is Hunze,” he informed them. “She is a survivor of the Council’s slavery, and is under my protection.”
This was an unexpected turn of events, but compared to what they’d just been through, it wasn’t that big of a surprise, all things considered, so Charlie and Leila just smiled and went with the flow.
“Nice to meet you, Hunze. Any friend of Bob’s is a friend of ours,” Charlie said.
Bawb gathered up a cloak from a container and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders. “You must be cold after that,” he apologized. “We had not planned on venturing so close to space.”
“My hair keeps me warm,” she said quietly.
That was when Charlie realized what he had thought was merely a strange sort of clothing was in fact a great mass of hair, braided and woven around her body.
“That’s a lot of hair,” he said with a little grin.
Hunze’s eyes went wide with fear.
“No, he does not mean it like that,” Bawb said. “You can trust these people. They are my…friends.” He said the word strangely, almost as if speaking it in that context for the first time in a very great many years.
Baloo had no fear of the new addition to their little unit, and a radiant smile flashed across Hunze’s face as he plunged his damp nose into her leg, seeking out scratches.
“There is no way the Council can hide what they did, you know,” Bawb said. “The slaughter of so many. It will not bode well for them.”
“No, I’d think not,” Charlie said, a bit nauseated at the thought of just how many had perished. “The rebellion will definitely grow because of it. The question is whether they will––”
A metallic rumbling echoed through the foggy air, rapidly drawing closer.
“Circle up,” Bawb said, adopting what appeared to be a casual stance in front of Hunze. Charlie, however, saw the tension in his jaw. The Geist was on edge and ready to strike if need be.
“What the hell?” Charlie murmured.
Twenty men clad in what looked an awful lot like armor, sitting atop what looked like horses, rode toward them through the lifting fog, another fifty men wearing leathers of some sort, carrying torches and long pikes marching alongside them.
Bawb didn’t know this race and instinctively cast a translation spell, fixing it to himself and his companions, ensuring all nearby would be able to understand one another. Too many conflicts had occurred due to poor communication throughout history. He didn’t intend for this to be another one.
“Who art thou?” the man riding atop the foremost beast said.
“Uh, we’re strangers here, just passing through. We mean no harm.”
“Harm? Only invaders would attempt to sneak into my kingdom through the marshes in the dark.”
“What? Oh, that. Right. Well, we crashed here, you see. It was totally unintentional. Our Drooks had a problem and lost power, so down we came. Really, we’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
“You, woman,” the man said to Hunze. “Come here. I would see you better.”
Bawb stepped forward a pace. “She is under my protection.”
“Your protection?” The armored man laughed. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I am Bawb, of the Wampeh Ghalian. The Geist. And you shall not touch a single hair on her head.”
The metal-clad man laughed, sliding the helmet from his head. “You will not allow it? Do you know who I am, boy?”
“No. Nor do I care.”
“I am king of this realm,” he replied, bloodthirst in his voice. “And I shall have your heads atop these pikes.”
Bawb sighed. “I have done that in the past to make a point, and I must warn you, it is far messier than you think, and rarely worth the effort.”
A look of disbelief passed over the king’s face at the sheer gall of the man. Charlie, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh.
“Dude, we really should start calling you Vlad instead of Bob.”
“Vlad? I actually rather like the sound of that name.”
“You jest?” the king roared. “I shall behead you all!”
“Really, we don’t want to fight. Just leave us alone and we’ll be on our way as soon as our friend feels up to it.”
The king was enraged. “Kill them!” he bellowed.
Two of his faithful knights dismounted and drew their swords, quickly striding toward Charlie and his friends.
“Fuck it,” he said with a sigh, exhausted and not feeling like dealing with yet another magical battle.
Instead, he pulled his pistol from its holster and shot both of the knights dead, the bullets easily piercing their armor. The roar of the gun echoed in the night.
“What magic is this? Men, kill them all!”
“May I?” her welcome voice asked in Charlie’s mind.
“If need be. Give me one more try, okay?” he replied, turning to face the king.
“I’ll say it again. We have no quarrel with you, and I am sorry for what happened to your men. But as a leader, you should know better than to threaten strangers in your land. Especially those not looking for a fight. Now, please, lead by example and just walk away.”
“Away? Fool, it is a fight you have found. Kill them!”
Charlie sighed. “Fine. This fo
olishness ends now. Ara, if you’d please.”
The massive dragon reared up from the mud, what had appeared to be a simple hillside shedding the mud and peat from her back, revealing her true form, golden eyes bright even in the darkness.
A flurry of arrows rained down on them, but Charlie had expected it, easily batting them aside with a simple spell, though with her thick scales, Ara was in no need of his protection. He had even cast without moving his lips, as his friend constantly chided him to do.
The king flew into a rage, then drew his sword and charged. Ara sized him up, then incinerated him with a single breath, then ate both the king and his horse whole.
“Not bad, actually. I could grow to like this type of beast. Though the metal the man was wearing is a bit too tangy for my taste.”
“Gross, Ara.”
The remaining men launched another volley of arrows, which bounced harmlessly off of her hide.
“You know, you’ll just make her angry,” Charlie said. “You really should stop it.”
“What is this creature?” a terrified knight asked. Charlie couldn’t tell for sure, but he suspected the man had soiled his armor.
“She’s a Zomo––I mean, she’s a dragon. A fearsome beast, capable of great destruction,” Charlie replied. “And she is my friend. Now, are you quite finished? Because I think she’s still hungry.”
The formerly fierce armored men and their retinue of archers and pikemen looked at one another, hesitant and unsure.
“I suggest you play nice and say you’re sorry. Unless you want to meet the same fate, that is,” Charlie said, tired, irritated, and not having patience for any more of this nonsense.
The knights looked at one another, pale and in shock. A murmur passed through the ranks, stopping when the man who appeared to be their leader held up his hand for silence. He climbed down from his horse, his men doing likewise, dismounting as one. Following his lead, they all slowly drew their swords, then planted them in the damp soil as they knelt before the angry spaceman.
“Our apologies, Sire. I am Captain Sheeran, of the king’s guard. Please, spare these men from your mighty dragon.”
