Come to RQ4, was all he’d said. No mention of why he’d been ghosting me for the better part of a day. Whatever he was about to show me better have been worth the half-minute delay of my work.
Yahweh was in his usual environment; a tiny white figure amid giant equipment, face pressed against the mask of a scope as an ellipsometer hummed gloriously in response. He looked away from the scope as I entered, a troubled frown on his face.
“I’ve been calling you,” I said.
“Yes, I know.”
“So why didn’t you answer?” I snapped.
“Because I was busy.” Before I could reply, he waved me over. “Get angry with me later. Look at the data.”
I did, begrudgingly. After a moment or two of reviewing analytics of different refraction indices, dielectric constants, and frequency measurements, I asked, “What are you comparing?”
“Nothing,” said Yahweh, solemnly.
I looked at him in a squint. “So what are these results supposed to represent?”
“They’re of a fragment from your Abdaekka Forest investigation.”
“But these readings are different each time.”
“Yes.”
I hesitated, trying to grasp the implications. I couldn’t. “Alright, clue me in here.”
“I’ve been recording the properties of the same shard each hour, on the hour, for half the day. Never have the measurements been the same.”
“Some of these refracs show a liquid state,” I marveled. “But the shard is solid. What the fuck?”
“It’s changing properties, composition, energy output, all the while physically staying the exact same,” concluded Yahweh. “And I have no idea what that means. It defies any multiversal law that we know.” More quietly, he added, “I’m beginning to think Zira was right.”
I bristled at the mention of his name. “Right about what?”
“That this object didn’t originate in multiversal reality. That there is something other than the multiverse that exists, unseen to us.”
“Unseen to us,” I repeated, letting that sink in. “Not possible.”
Yahweh shook his head. “Entirely possible. Less than a decade ago we didn’t know about Alpha Insipia. We now know who, or what, created all the multiversal constituents, but I think this little non-static rock might take us a step further.” He paused. “Or further backward, I mean.”
“Is it leading us to who created the creators of the Multiverse?” I proposed, mind reeling.
“Again, I don’t know. All I know is that this material was first found by the Framer pre-genitors and contributed to their existence. It also indirectly contributed to ours. The multiversal constant you discovered synchronizes Framer and Vel’Haru resonance; it’s related to this purer shard, but as you can see—”
“It’s only a piece of the puzzle,” I muttered. “The never-ending fucking puzzle.”
“Eloquently put,” murmured Yahweh, crinkling his nose. “I’m not sure I want to solve this puzzle.”
“Me neither. I wish the plebes would stop messing around with it.”
“Mm. Unfortunately we can’t stop that from happening. Curiosity and sentience go hand-in-hand. Instead we should focus on why these shards exist in the Multiverse, and how.”
A contemplative silence washed over us. After a moment, I grinned.
Yahweh arched a brow at my expression. “What?”
“So, now how necessary do you feel?”
He looked away, cheeks flushed. “Oh, stop it.”
*
In the early hours of the morning, the Court reconvened. Some of us hadn’t slept, others had chosen to forego meals, but all of us looked like utter and complete shit.
Seeing everyone’s disheveled state made me feel strangely happy. Not for their toils, but because they’d worked as hard as they could to recover Leid. I wondered what she would think of this—seeing everyone here, for her. Did they love their Queen, as the scholars of the old regime loved their monarch?
No. They loved her, but she’d earned their love, not demanded it. It was never conveniently written into our genetic code, as we were not born Vel’Haru—;
Why the hell was I thinking about this? Focus.
Adrial didn’t take to the cistern like usual, choosing to stay among us. We’d arranged ourselves in a lazy, haphazard circle. He was holding the laminated contract he’d worked up for TriColony Sigma in one hand, a malay cigarette in the other.
“Alright, what have we got?” he asked, delving right in.
We all started at once, and then abruptly stopped, embarrassed by the explosion. No one spoke for a second, until Yahweh said, “Qaira, go first.”
I nodded. “I think I’ve been able to tune our headsets to suit the rift environment.”
Adrial’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Well, I think. There’s no way to test it obviously. And it isn’t precise; I had to round the nodes to the closest frequency functions, but I’m hoping it makes us somewhat better off than going in bare-back.”
“Anything would be better than that,” said Adrial. “Good work. Yahweh?”
“After testing the properties of the Abdaekkan shard collected from Svissa, I have found that it does not originate from the Multiverse.”
Yahweh’s declaration was met with silence. Zira stood beside him, a slow grin forming on his face. Aela, Pariah and Adrial were not as pleased.
“What do you mean?” asked Adrial.
“I mean its properties could not exist in the Multiverse,” elaborated Yahweh. The data were presented simultaneously in our conscious streams. “It shifts states, shifts weight, shifts energy output, shifts frequencies at random intervals… It’s almost like some kind of…” he trailed off, unsure.
“We called that magic, where I’m from,” I said. Yahweh gave me a scolding look. “It was sarcasm; settle down.”
“I think it’s a manifestation of the other-place,” said Zira. “They exist there in their true state, and somehow a residual image is cast in this reality is well.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” warned Aela. “Let’s stick to facts.”
Zira looked insulted. “But I do know. I’ve been there. The entire place is covered with those things. They make noise and generate power that defies any physical law. They bring your thoughts to life; wield them against you.” He looked at Adrial, determined to prove his point. “Remember the Framers. There was something in those shards that the Novitiate’s tested. Something with purpose, that tried to use the Aphoric Engines as vessels into this reality. Without Sarine’s Codemaker Law, they might have succeeded.
“It’s happening again now. Lessers are discovering and testing them, to tragic ends. You know what I think? I think that realm—that other-place, or whatever—is gaining power and somehow finding ways to bleed through into the Multiverse. The shards want to be discovered. They want to be discovered because they want out of there. It’s as Cassima said.”
When he stopped, the silence from us grew crushing. We exchanged uneasy looks, unfamiliar with the terrain to where Zira’s words were taking us. It’d been sarcasm when I called it magic, but that was essentially what this was. Magic.
Like Nehel-Sagda.
Like Maghir.
I still remembered the ice-cold grip on my ankle, pulling me below the ocean’s surface, into that black abyss. It’d been a
hallucination—an unconscious dream, but it’d felt real enough. Real enough to fear that ocean for the rest of my measly, lesser life.
My chest felt tight suddenly, and I realized my breathing was labored. I tried to compose myself. “If the shards are ‘bleeding through’, as you said, that would mean they exist in a reality parallel to ours.”
Zira nodded.
Adrial sprang back to life, as if coming out of a fugue. “Alright; Aela and Zira, I saw you working together in Euxodia. What have you uncovered?”
“Yahweh and Qaira have uncovered enough for everyone,” said Aela. “
We were working on a timeline map of Multiversal shard discoveries and their subsequent impacts.”
“It’s in the stream,” added Zira. “We won’t bore you with the details, but we’ve narrowed down the first activity to the Ophali System Confederacy, on Svissa. While they don’t experiment with the shards any longer, the long-term consequences are still felt across their civilization. Those afflicted with the ‘gift’, as they call it, are subjugated and enslaved as mindless, overpowered military serfs. Their entire system is at war, while three of their colony planets are losing numbers due to famine and collateral damage.”
“There’ve been fourteen more instances that we’ve overlooked since,” said Aela. “Across four universes. None have been as devastating as what we’re dealing with now.”
“Overlooked?” asked Yahweh, incredulous.
“Prior to the OSC, we wouldn’t have known what to look for,” Aela explained. “The OSC was the first instance, but it has been going on for decades. There’ve been others since then.”
“We’ll deal with the OSC,” muttered Adrial, rubbing his chin. “But later.”
“We could have dealt with them a year ago,” said Zira, coolly.
“We did,” snapped Adrial. “Or at least you did, with Qaira. Isn’t that right?”
Zira looked away, saying nothing. I watched his right hand curl into a fist at his side. He caught my gaze and I quickly looked back at Adrial.
Adrial took a contemplative drag of his cigarette, letting the tension in the air thin. “Does anyone have something else to add before the mission begins?”
Our silence was answer enough.
“Alright. Qaira and Zira, take this contract to the TriColony Sigma officials on your way to Poekka.” He held out the rolled script and Zira took it, as he was closest. “You leave at dawn. That gives you a few hours to eat and rest. It is required that you do. It is also required that you take your meal together in the dining room.”
Zira and I shared a look.
He seemed horrified, while I just flashed him a smug grin.
*
The meal was awkward as fuck, but that was a given.
Pariah served us grains soaked in liquored broth, a slab each of red meat, a smattering of fruit (that I didn’t touch), and an osmium sphere for dessert, which was our equivalent of a complete multi-vitamin. We ate with our mouths for the taste, or enjoyment, as all of us had hailed from species that took pleasure from consuming food in this way. We could have absorbed osmium spheres alone and been perfectly fine, but where was the fun in that?
Halfway through the meal, Zira paused, looking defeatingly at his plate. “I’m being punished for something, aren’t I?”
“I thought I was being punished for something. I wonder what that might be?”
Zira stared at me, and I at him.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if you weren’t being such a monumental prick,” he said.
“I wouldn’t have been such a monumental prick if you would only act like you give a fuck about something, anything,” I retorted.
Zira took another bite of his meal, my insult sliding off him like he was made purely of grease. “I do.”
My expression grew antagonizing. “Do you?”
“Of course.”
“And what does the ever-aloof Ziranel Throm care about?”
Zira finished his drink in three gulps, grabbed the osmium sphere and stood from his seat. “Not you. What I care about is none of your business, either. Instead of focusing on my character failings, you may want to mind yours.” And then his expression darkened; the overhanging lamps seemed to emphasize the sudden blaze of his narrow, orange eyes. “Mark my words. If you do anything on this mission to jeopardize our objective—any of the typical, bull-headed Qaira-like foolishness you can’t seem to stop doing—I will kill you.” He turned and began for the dining room exit. “Rest easy.”
I stared after him, and for some reason I found myself smiling, listening to the forceful thump thump thump in my ears.
Alright, then. Game on.
*
SEFEDRE SIX LIFTED HER HEAD TOWARD THE stellar sky, closed her eyes and exhaled. She felt like she was being crushed from an unseen force. Her teeth chattered as she trembled, and a warm tear rolled down her cheek.
Ande First.
Ande.
Beside her, the first totem flickered, then waned. They’d built the totems as soon as they were given their new home. Each was imbued with the vibrant, effervescent pneuma of the assemblage. Ande’s pneuma shined the color of diluted rust, but now his totem was dull; nothing more than an ugly snaggletooth jutting from the ground. The others—including her own—remained alit, providing some comfort, albeit not much. Ande was her favorite; the youngest and most vulnerable.
Sefedre had promised nothing would hurt him anymore.
She’d promised to stamp out their cruel, old life with a malefic boot. And he’d believed her, because she was oldest and certainly should have known more than the rest. There were so many times where she had held Ande whenever he’d cried, his lithe, little form bruised from the Facility’s conditioning, his mind bleary with the concoctions they’d pumped into him. He’d said he wanted to watch that place burn.
She’d said, ‘Soon.’
Sefedre had delivered on that promise. Suzerain had blessed her—blessed the assemblage—with the gift of quantum manifestation; the very thing their captors and tormentors had striven to obtain. But that was not how this place worked. The gift was given, not taken.
And now here she was, a girl with only one foot into adolescence, knelt within the center of a circle framed by five vibrant totems, and one forever extinguished. Her hair was ashen brown, her little, round face covered in a paste of crushed shards mixed with rainwater. Each eye was sectioned by a thin, black line of saturated corpse-char from brow to cheek. Three more lines donned the center of her lips. Sefedre was Suzerain’s acolyte, and such a title demanded such an aesthetic. At least for this ritual.
She closed her eyes and felt the ground around her, collecting a chunk of crystal, large enough to fit into the palm of her hand. It sung as her skin touched it, nipping at her focus, silvery threads pattering across her fingers. The Sixth Post was made into a beautiful garden, phosphorescent blue and gold cnideria bobbed and weaved through the air; silk thorny vines snaked around the circle, but never crossed the threshold.
Centered now, Sefedre smashed the crystal on the ground, feeling the rubble for a shard keen enough to pierce flesh. Once found, she murmured a prayer and opened her eyes, gaze cutting toward the wayward bonfire, only a hundred yards from her circle. The gate beside it was inactive, its columns already starting to chip away as her silk vines wrapped tighter and tighter around them, choking them from existence. The hovel that housed the bonfire had also begun to crumble, invaded by mold that shimmered gold against the walls and remaining bit of roof.
Sefedre’s world was taking form, while the old one dithered away. The only thing still keeping it somewhat kindled was the Wayfarer pinned to the right column of the gate, choking agonizingly along with it. She kept him alive as a power source; there was no stronger battery than a quantum guard.
The gray robe he wore was tattered and stained with black, oily blood. He’d fought for an eternity against his tightening restraints, but now seemed to give in and accept his fate; the hollow cheeks of his square, once-strong visage shimmered sickly as his milky-white eyes stared at the celestial sky.
With each step the image of Ande’s white-washed corpse, lying at the Boreal First Post, grew clearer. She saw the Shadow Witch in the red robe and the tall, black monstrosity beside her, standing over Ande’s body like it was just piddly scenery.
Oh, that witch.
Sefedre had to warn the others. Ande had assured them she was dead. He’d even shown them the body, pinned to a wall, wrung by vines. It mustn’t have been the witch after all.
She turned her anger on the dying wayfarer, slashing his fa
ce and neck with the shard clutched, in her hand. He didn’t even flinch—showed no indication that he was even still alive, except for the blood that flowed from the deep, fresh wounds. She pressed her free hand against his neck, saturating her fingers, then smeared the blood on her face.
She pressed the edge of the shard into her own palm, slicing deeply enough to force a wince. Sefedre curled her fist as crimson threads leaked through the stems of her fingers; when she opened her hand, the blood solidified into tiny, iridescent beads, elevating from her palm. They shot into the sky, scattering in all directions. She’d just sent warning flares to the others.
Ande is dead.
Fortify your posts.
Trouble is coming.
Sefedre saw the guard’s head droop from the corner of her eye, having finally succumbed to blood loss, exhaustion, starvation—take your pick. She watched his limp corpse with hatred. That’d been for Ande.
Suzerain, here is my repentance.
Sefedre bowed her head, curtseying to no one, then returned to the circle.
VI
NIBLI
THE BLOW-BACK HAD ALL BUT KNOCKED every thought from my head. The damage from the shocks on the wall—its protective, hot-white thorns—finally began to register. Each muscle fiber twitched, and I laid flat on my back, looking up at the churning, cosmic sky like a corpse well beyond rigor.
The little thing—my prize—wriggled easily from my grasp. She was a strange-looking creature—at least I thought it was a she, as she had the softer, smaller facial features that typically determined the female sex. In my world, anyway; or, the world before.
Her head whipped around, eyes darting in every direction. Half her face was hidden in a fountain of semi-disheveled jet-black hair, but from what I could see she was utterly confused, and somewhat frightened.
The effluvia erupted from my form in a finale of starved, injured desperation. Only then did it seem that she realized I was even there. Her eyes were the only large things on her, so silver that they shined, smattered with violet flecks resembling streaks of lightning. She grew still, letting the effluvia envelope her without any struggle, continuing to stare at me in muted shock.
Covenants: Anodize (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 9) Page 7