by Molles, DJ
Perry jerked his head behind him. “What kind of a god puts nine conscious minds into this kind of hell? I’ve been Immobilized. I know what it was like. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be stuck there for hundreds of years. Why shouldn’t I free them? Why should I obey the All-Kind? Why should I obey gods that are that cruel?”
“Cruelty, Perry?” Mala quirked an eyebrow. “Or justice?”
Perry frowned. “But these are your ancestors. Aren’t they? Or is that a lie too?”
Mala shook her head. Took another tiny step, to which Perry took another step of his own. “That is not a lie. I am a descendant of Batu.” She turned her head, her eyes scanning the giants that ringed them. Her gaze stopped on one of them, directly to Perry’s right. She nodded. “That is him. Batu the Trickster. The father of my family.”
Perry wanted to look, to see what feature in that strange figure she’d identified him by, but he feared that it was a trick. He stayed focused on Mala.
“How is this justice?”
Mala’s hands lowered by a small increment.
“Nuh-uh,” Stuber growled. “You keep those nice and high.”
Mala smirked. Raised them again. “If it makes you feel better.”
“It does. I feel much better.”
Mala made eye contact with Perry again. “The All-Kind are…everything. That is what makes them All. They are the originals. The makers. The Masters. They found all the best species in the universe, with all of their myriad strengths and weaknesses, and they brought them all together. They created themselves, in a way, from all the best parts. Confluence is only one of those strengths. It is a strength that is used to harness the latent energy of the universe and direct it in destructive ways. But the All-Kind loved peace, and chose not to use Confluence, but to impart it to another race, a warlike race, who would do their fighting for them.”
“The Ferox,” Perry said. “Are they real?”
Mala shrugged. “They were real. Until the All-Kind had them massacred, and the survivors were banished from this universe.”
“That doesn’t sound very peace loving,” Stuber remarked.
“The massacring was done by the Guardians,” Mala said. “I believe you’ve met a few of them. They were…another one of the All-Kind’s ‘pet projects,’ so to speak. Artificial intelligences created only for defense. It was only when the All-Kind had no choice that they altered the Guardians’ programming and set them loose against the Ferox.”
“And how do the sons of Primus fit into this? Why would the All-Kind be so angry as to Immobilize them for centuries?”
“Oh, for a variety of reasons.” Another step, another counter step. “They were not ready for the Gift of Confluence that the Ferox had given them. They were too powerful. But not without value to the All-Kind. They’d banished the Ferox, and they recognized that they might have need of another warrior race sometime in the future. I suppose a mix of Confluence and human aggression seemed fit the bill.”
“Why not release them then?” Perry repeated. “I haven’t heard anything to make me want to obey these All-Kind, no matter how powerful they are. They’re just another false god. Just like you paladins. Just another being keeping humans under their thumb. Perhaps the consequences will be great, but how much worse to live in subjugation for the rest of our existence?”
Mala stiffened. The airy mockery gone. She was dead serious now. “You should not even think of it. This is far beyond subjugation and freedom. This is existence, or extinction.”
“I’ve put my life on the line to fight the tyranny of the paladins. I can do it again to fight the tyranny of the All-Kind.”
“These are my ancestors, it is true, but even I can admit it was not tyranny that led them to be imprisoned.”
“It sure as shit sounds that way to me. The All-Kind imprisoned the sons of Primus and then destroyed the world—my world—our world!” Perry grit his teeth. “I don’t care how peace-loving they try to sound in their legends. Those are not the actions of a god worth obeying.”
Mala tilted her head. “No, Perry. The All-Kind did not imprison the sons of Primus and then destroy the world.” She took a heavy breath and glanced up at her ancestor again, as though pained by the truth. “The sons of Primus were imprisoned because they destroyed the world.”
Against his will, Perry’s eyes flicked up to the son of Primus that hulked behind Mala’s frame. He took in the reticulated skin that seemed more armor than flesh, the seething green light that poured from the cracks. The build of their bodies. The rage of their faces. And all he could think in response to what Mala had said was, Of course they did.
“So that’s the lie,” Perry said, the hardness gone out of his voice, now replaced with a teeming bitterness. “That’s the big one in the whole pack of lies crammed into the Ortus Deorum. It wasn’t the gods that destroyed the world.” He glared at Mala. “It was your ancestors. The very people that claim to be the ones protecting us, fretting about whether or not the gods will return and destroy us. Because of our wicked ways. Ours, Mala?”
Mala no longer moved. Neither did Perry. They stood as still as the frozen creatures that surrounded them.
“My ancestors wrote the Ortus Deorum,” she said quietly. “It is a fictionalized account of history, designed to elevate our status in the minds of humans, and to set your kind against each other, rather than against us. How else would we maintain power? We have the god-tech. We have Confluence. But we are not nearly as powerful as the sons of Primus, and with each generation we grow weaker, more human-like. Without the lies, without the unending war between The Truth and The Light, we would have eventually been overrun by humanity.”
Perry couldn’t help a synical laugh from escaping his chest. “Are you defending them, Mala?”
She shook her head. “Human beings are no different. No one that has ever attained power over another race of beings has ever given it up willingly. My people wouldn’t. And neither would your people, if the situation were reversed.”
“After all these centuries,” Perry marveled. “Why haven’t the paladins released The Nine? They destroyed the world after all. They could protect you from all of us human beings. Why create this lie in the first place? Why not just release them and let them exterminate humanity and then all of you could rule the world without any chance of being overthrown?”
“We might have,” Mala admitted. Then she pointed a single finger skyward. “But the All-Kind left something in place to make sure that The Nine were not released. They left The Watcher.” She glanced in the direction she’d pointed. “Even now, it waits, and it watches us, and it judges us. It is an axe hanging over the heads of every being on this planet—human and demigod alike. It is a Guardian, and in its control are many others of its kind. And should The Nine ever be released, or if it judges my people to have become…nonviable as a warrior race…then it will unleash all that it controls, and it will destroy every living thing on this planet. It will wipe the slate entirely clean.” She sniffed bitterly, then lowered her gaze to Perry once more. “Like terminating an unsuccessful experiment.”
Perry had a sudden flash of clarity. The overwhelming cruelty of it. The pure utilitarianism. “You want me to lead the humans in a revolt against the demigods, and it doesn’t matter that we’ll eventually be slaughtered. It only matters that the war would force your people to become strong again. To keep The Watcher at bay. No matter how many lives it costs.”
“Lose some, or lose all,” Mala said, as though it were so simple. “The math is ugly, Perry. I won’t deny that. You may love your people, and you may hate mine. But the truth of the matter is, the paladins’ continued rule over this earth is the only thing keeping us all from dying.”
A flash of green light.
Mala perceived it at the very last moment, and spun, throwing up her shield in a narrow disc. An energy bolt exploded against it, sending her skidding backwards.
For a split-second, Perry thought that the seething ang
er in his heart had made him lose control of his longstaff—but no, the bolt had come from the entrance to the chamber…
Perry spun, extending his shield in a broad square to cover Teran and Sagum and Stuber.
Two shapes melted out of the shadows, entering into the dismal green glow of the chamber.
Rixo and Callidus. Both armed with longstaffs, Rixo covering Mala, and Callidus covering Perry, their own shields an impenetrable wall that advanced with each of their cautious steps into the room.
“If you’re done spilling all our secrets to the half-breed,” Rixo drawled. “I think it’s time we put an end to your ill-advised adventure, Mala. Percival is not the answer to our problems. He is a problem in and of itself.”
Callidus locked eyes with Perry. A savage smile split his face. “No more games, Percival. That’s my longstaff you have in your hands. I intend to get it back.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AWAKENING
Just as Rixo and Callidus’s shields created a seamless wall, so Perry realized that his own and Mala’s mirrored theirs. Two shimmering flanks, each facing the other. He was aware that his right side was completely exposed to Mala, and he had an inkling to extend it in a full dome, to cut her off, but he pulled back at the last second.
Mala’s attention was not on him. She was crouched in a ready stance, her focus slashing back and forth between Rixo and Callidus. She extended her left hand to Perry.
“Give me the longstaff.”
Stuber growled from Perry’s left shoulder. “Don’t you fucking give her that longstaff.”
Perry’s grip tightened on it.
Callidus sidestepped, his shield separating from Rixo’s. “Oh yes, half-breed. Let the demigod do your fighting for you. How does that make you feel? Does it make you feel helpless? Like you’re nothing? Does it wound your prideful little heart to realize that you’re so woefully outmatched?”
That was what Callidus wanted, wasn’t it? To face off with Perry, because he knew that Perry was no match for him. He knew that he would win that fight. And Perry knew it too.
Did it hurt his pride? Of course it did.
Perry stared into Callidus’s hateful eyes and gave him a tiny shrug. “I’ve grown very accustomed to being outmatched, Callidus. It’s just part of being a runt. But you know, the thing about being a small man, is that you just have to outthink your opponent. You just have to be smarter, and quicker.”
Callidus laughed, a full, hearty bellow. “Indeed! Let’s see how much smarter and quicker you are than me.”
Perry smiled back at him, as though they shared the same joke. “Oh, no, Callidus. I’m certainly not capable of beating you on my own. But that’s why I have a team with me.”
And then Perry tossed the longstaff into the air, and with it went every ounce of trust he could muster, and he put it all into Mala. A paladin. A demigod. The very same person he’d claimed he would never trust. And he had no way of knowing if that was the right decision or not. But sometimes you have to take a risk.
Sometimes you just have to decide to trust someone.
The longstaff arced through the air.
Stuber let out a shallow groan.
And then things happened so quickly that it seemed to have all occurred in the same instant:
Mala snatched the longstaff out of the air.
Callidus reformed his shield to cover Mala, then unleashed a fusillade of five energy bolts, so rapid that they seemed to be one long burst, and they all crashed into Perry’s shield, knocking it down to a third of its strength.
Mala’s own shield pivoted, covering Rixo, but opening up to Callidus, and she fired three bolts that hammered Callidus’s shield, and forced him to relinquish his attention on Perry.
With Mala exposed towards him, Callidus rapidly shifted his position, and at the same time reformed his shield, and he fired on Mala, a single blast.
Mala lunged into it, taking the bolt with the blade of the longstaff and sending it smashing into the floor of the chamber in a gout of dust.
And then everything was very still for the span of a few, heart-hammering moments.
Callidus seemed frozen, his eyes wide with shock. They jagged about to the environment around them, then back to Mala. “You play a very dangerous game deflecting bolts in this place. It would only take one to damage an Immobilizer and bring about hell on earth.”
Mala left her shield oriented towards Rixo. She switched her stance, spinning the longstaff in her hands. “You play a dangerous game by firing bolts at me, knowing that I have to deflect them. Perhaps we should all just stop right now before something terrible happens.” She jerked her head towards Perry and his friends, currently underneath the dome of Perry’s weakened shield. “Let us all go. There’s no need to dance on the razor’s edge.”
Callidus hazarded a glance at Rixo, unsure of what to do next.
The pall of smoke from the deflected blast had settled, and Perry could see Rixo now. He held his longstaff in one hand, and with the other he brought something up to his face, and he breathed deeply. A fine, white mist issued from whatever he held in his hands, and curled into his nostrils in twin tendrils.
Rixo coughed once, shook his head as though to clear it, then dropped a small, glass vial on the ground at his feet. Adjusted his grip on his longstaff, facing Mala. “What will you do now, Mala? You’ve never beaten me when I’ve taken War. Call it a crutch if you will. I prefer to call it winning.”
At Perry’s side, Stuber grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard. “Just when I’m starting to think you have a half a fucking brain in your skull, you toss your only weapon into the hands of your enemy. What in all the gods’ names were you thinking?”
Perry kept the shield in a dome, kept his focus outward, wondering where the next blast would come from, and how long his shield could stand up. “I was thinking we’re probably gonna die anyways.”
“So why not make it happen quicker?”
“I’m either a genius or an idiot. Time will tell.”
“You’re an idiot. You already admitted that to us.”
Perry nudged him in the side and whispered, “Pay attention. If I lower my shield, take the shot.”
Callidus must have perceived the weakness of his position—divided between Mala on one side and Perry on the other. His shield reformed itself into a dome. Less powerful, now that it was spread out, but at least covering his back. Then he focused on Mala.
Mala’s shield shifted into a wall, covering both Rixo and Callidus. She switched her stance, then switched it again. Rixo and Callidus began to circle to the left, trying to herd her towards Perry so that their backs were not exposed. Mala did not give in.
“How about we extinguish shields?” Mala suggested. “Rixo, you always want to treat life like a duel. Why do anything different now? Shields down. No blasts. Blades only.”
Rixo’s posture was tense, spring-loaded. He shook his head. “So that the legionnaire can peg us in the back of the head?” he clucked his tongue. “Even with War, my reason is not so compromised as—”
Mala lunged, rammed her shield into Rixo’s. She drove it into him, crackling and sparking, and leveled her longstaff at Callidus in the same instant. The muzzle flared, spat, and blasted out a string of bolts that gave Callidus no option and no quarter. He strained against the ceaseless barrage, bolt after bolt sliding him backwards on his heels, as his shield began to shrink…
He cast one, terrified glance of realization over his shoulder, eyes snapping to Perry’s. He started to bring his longstaff up.
“Now!” Perry dropped his shield.
Stuber fired a single round.
Callidus’s head snapped back, blood and brain matter splashing into his own shield and sizzling in a cloud of steam, and then his shield went out as his mind was gone, and the steam hung, and bits of curdled blood fell to the ground.
Perry charged forward. As Callidus’s body hit the ground, Perry went to his knees, sliding across the stone. H
e snatched up the longstaff as he went, connected to it, came to his feet, and slammed shield-first into Rixo.
Energy arced between their shields, but Perry could see past it to Rixo’s face. A grin now split his mouth, his teeth clenched, his eyes focused on Perry’s. Sweat stood out on his brow. He was backed against the wall between two of the sons of Primus, his longstaff gripped close to his chest.
“Two against one,” Perry growled. “Just give up, Rixo.”
It was a desperate threat, and Perry knew it. And so did Rixo. Perry’s shield was already nothing more than a disc of energy about four feet in diameter, and it shrunk rapidly as the two struggling fields shimmered against each other. Rixo’s was shrinking too, but it had taken the least amount of damage, and of the three individuals facing each other down in that close huddle, they all knew Rixo’s would last the longest.
Rixo blinked a bead of sweat out of his eyes. Adusted his stance. He was biding his time. Knowing that Perry only had a few seconds left before his shield gave out.
“Give up!” Perry insisted, hoping that the threat of two-on-one would be enough. “Give it up and we’ll let you leave!”
Rixo’s eyes twitched over Perry’s left shoulder. Towards the entrance to the chamber. He chuckled. “Yes…but will they?”
***
Stuber watched Perry’s shield shrinking. He only had a few moments left. But Stuber kept his rifle up, the reticle of his optic trained just over Perry’s shoulder, right on Rixo’s nose. The second Perry lost his shield, Stuber knew that Rixo was going to drop his own and attempt to blast Perry with his longstaff. Rixo would be quick. But Stuber’s bullet would be quicker.
Hopefully.
He was so focused on his sight picture, that he didn’t perceive the movement to his left until it was too late. And even as he perceived it, he knew he couldn’t take his rifle away from its target. He had to have Perry’s back.