Legacy of Shadow

by Gallant, Craig;

  But now that they were here, Marcus feared that the impulse that had driven them had proven as empty and pointless as Sihn Ve’Yan had declared.

  The stations of the ancient bridge remained dead. The spectacular view of the Gulf was still there, the glittering ribbon of curling water being drawn up from the planet continued to coil its eternal way upward into the Furnace far beneath them. But Sanctum itself, aside from the life support structures, lights, and heat, was still and lifeless.

  The Variyar had established a perimeter around the base of the bridge chamber, where the tall windows swept down to meet the textured floor plating on a level with the ground outside. They were keeping watch on the Council forces approaching all around them now, as if their vigilance would mean anything when the Ntja got the order to close the noose.

  And all to bring him to the Alcove and this silent wall of ancient darkness. He pressed his forehead once again into the wall, denying the impulse to dash his head against its surface. He pummeled his brain, trying to force it back onto the pathways that had worked the doors of the docking bay, and the wall behind them, but there was no echo of the contact he had felt before. This blackness was as cold and dead as the Variyar who had fallen all around him to bring him to this moment.

  It was the medallion. It had to be. Whatever residual contact had made it possible to open the blast doors during their flight was gone now. Taurani must have attuned himself to the gem, and their entire battle plan was pointless. There was no awareness here that they might negotiate with, threaten, or cajole. Without the Skorahn, he was no more special than any of the other sentients wandering the city.

  “We’re going to die here.” Ve’Yan’s voice was calm. She leaned against one of the ancient console stands, staring out over the empty expanse of bronze. For some reason, he thought she wasn’t even seeing the gathering forces beyond the crystalline panes. “This cycle ends.” She looked down at where Khet Nhan sat on a tiered step, his head in his agile little hands. “Nothing you’ve done has mattered at all. You wandered off the path, betrayed your life’s work, and the path has swept right back beneath your feet.”

  Nhan made a delicate snorting noise and turned his head away from his apprentice.

  “You have turned your back on everything you believed in, everything you taught me to believe, and it will all be for nothing.” The bitterness in her voice was painful to hear. She cast one last venomous look down at the diminished master and then turned away to pace along the viewing windows, continuing to watch out over the empty expanse.

  Nhan slumped in his place, staring at the ancient floor, his head moving slightly back and forth in denial. Marcus looked back at the immovable wall, gave it one last spiteful push, and then moved over to collapse down beside the Thien’ha master.

  “She seems more upset than usual.” He tried to keep his tone light, but Ve’Yan had never been gentle with him, and it wasn’t easy.

  “She is not wrong.” The little head remained down, the fine fingers woven into the fur at its back. “She is not wrong.”

  Marcus knew very little of the Thien’ha philosophy, or what had motivated Master Khet Nhan to assist him. But the little creature had been a friend in the short time they had known one another, and he hated to see him in such pain. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Nhan barked a cruel laugh, and his red eyes rose and pierced Marcus with a heat he didn’t remember seeing there before. “You could rise above your nature, bend the realities of space and time, and shatter the interminable cycle that has frozen entropy out of the galaxy for thousands of years!”

  With that, the little creature leapt to its feet and stormed off to find a quiet corner, leaving Marcus behind, mouth open, brows down in bewilderment.

  “Administrator!” The rumbling voice of the lead Variyar almost made him jump. “They’re coming!”

  He sighed, his own head falling between his knees, the hopelessness that had gripped him at the wall’s stubborn silence slamming back into his mind full force.

  *****

  “They’re falling back!” Justin’s voice was harsh with exhaustion as he shouted over his shoulder at the waiting Variyar. Angara shook her head but did not stop him from yelling back the report. She was not entirely convinced that the Ntja were actually retreating, and she was not about to have any of her people rush into a trap. But as long as no one sprinted past her, they should be fine.

  The last pitched battle had left four more Council soldiers bleeding out onto the decking while one of the tall Variyar had taken a falchion across one arm and looked as if he might lose the limb if they did not get him treatment in time. Luckily, they held the Tower all the way back to the executive docking bay, and a triage center had been established near the shuttles to care for the wounded.

  “They’re falling back, right?” This time he almost whispered it, as if her failure to join in his celebration had him doubting his assessment.

  “They’re not pushing anymore.” She leaned around the corner and scanned the next stretch of corridor; clear to the next jog. She could not even detect movement in the red shadows beyond. As far as she could tell, the Ntja had fallen back. The next question, of course, was why?

  “We will need to rush the control center in force.” She rocked back behind the shallow curve in the wall, turning to look at the warriors looming up behind Justin. “They will be ready for us, but we serve no good purpose sitting here in safety.”

  The big warrior at the front of the party nodded, gripping his polearm in two clawed hands, an unmistakably hungry flash lighting up his black eyes. There were at least twenty of the horned nightmares gathering behind them now, ready to rush into the control center and wreak a bloody havoc on the Council defenders.

  “We need to keep the communications gear intact so we can reach your fleet. And whatever you do, don’t damage the Skorahn!” She sank back into a ready crouch, preparing to sprint toward the control center, but then rose again. “If you see Iphini Bha, spare her. I’ll have answers from her own lips before I give her the release of death.”

  They growled and nodded, and she looked at Justin. “Would you rather go in with the second wave?” She did not want him hurt in the initial fury of battle when they pushed Taurani’s creatures into the larger killing ground of the center. But she knew his answer before she asked the question.

  “No, I’ll go in with you.” He hefted the Ntja belt knife he had been wielding instead of his discarded falchion. The belt knife was the length of his forearm, almost as long as one of her own blades, and looked far more comfortable in his Human-sized hand.

  She nodded again, put her back to the wall, and took one last glance down the corridor. She spun and was running before she could have really known it was empty. K’hzan was due to return, pursued by the Council fleet, very soon. If they did not have control of the city’s defenses by then, there would be no choice but for the Variyar fleet to abandon their cause. When the Council warships resumed their position around Penumbra, it would be over for all of them.

  She gripped her knives tightly, her arms pumping with all the strength her exhausted body could provide, and she tore into the small alcove area before the blast doors to the control center. There were no Ntja in evidence, and she leapt for the doorway, sailing through, scanning for threats as she flew.

  She tucked at the last minute and took the impact of her landing on her shoulder, arms folded across her chest, knives tucked under her chin, and rolled. She bounced up into a corner, shrinking into a fighter’s crouch, ready to start laying about her into the surprised and confused soldiers.

  The room was empty.

  As she stood, knees still bent with unrelieved tension, not really believing the enemy was gone, a score of Variyar came pounding in, Justin howling along beside them. They came sliding to a halt, their horns gleaming as they cast their black gazes in all directions. They were arrayed in a perfect attack pattern that quartered the command center, defending each other’s flanks
while presenting monomolecular blades in all directions.

  The room remained stubbornly empty.

  “What the hell?” Justin stood up, relief and disappointment battling for pride of place on his face. “Where is everybody?”

  Angara shook her head. She moved quickly through the chamber, gesturing for the Variyar to post guards at the doors, keeping a watch further down the hall, while the rest of them were to maintain their position.

  The observation and control stations were all active, but on standby, their viewing fields a hazy gray. She looked quickly to the bulkhead where Agha-pa’s body had come to rest the day Taurani had made his move. Aside from a faded stain on the floor, there was no sign that day had even happened.

  She continued to move through the dark room, her eyes sliding from point to point, catching everything. The doors to the administrator’s office were both wide open, and she sidled up to the doorframe, back to the wall, knives held tight, and then spun in, her face fierce, her breath held, and her blades ready.

  But there was no need.

  The room was empty except for a body stretched across the floor beside the long table. She recognized the purple fur and coarse black hair of an Eru, and knew at once who she had found. It was Iranse, Taurani’s body servant. He was laid out on his back, something sticking up out of the ruin of one eye. She leaned closer and almost smiled; Bha’s old stylus. She shook her head. There was more going on here than she had time to process. One thing was sure, though. The Skorahn was not here.

  As she turned to leave, she noticed that the paintings were a strange, swirling blue that she did not believe reflected her own emotions at all. It seemed to carry hints of worry and fear, but a slow, deep, churning sensation of potential energy as well, like the swelling of a great ocean tide.

  She shrugged. She had always hated those damned pictures.

  “Commander.” By now she did not give the title a second thought, only nodded to the Variyar seated at one of the communication stations. “A diplomatic shuttle has just taken off from the auxiliary bay beneath us.” He turned black eyes to her. “From the readouts, it was running heavy.”

  “Taurani.” It had to be. She had no idea why Iphini Bha had killed Iranse, or why her own body was not slumped next to his. The Ambassador must have a reason for dragging her with him. They must have decided the Skorahn needed to be moved. She cursed herself, sheathing her daggers and kicking at the floor as she rested her hands on her hips. She should have known that Taurani would see the danger and flee.

  “That is all, then.” She shook her head, disgusted. “There is no telling where he has gone. All he has to do is hide until the damned Council fleet returns, and we are beaten.”

  “Sanctum.” The Variyar at the console muttered, his claws swiping back and forth through the interface field, searching for more data.

  “What?”

  “The shuttle has assumed a direct course for Sanctum, at the center of the city.” He continued to work.

  “Marcus.” Lacking a sheath, Justin was holding the big dagger in one hand, waving it about to make his point. “Marcus is at Sanctum. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

  She shook her head. “But why? It makes no sense! Taurani has the medallion. There is no reason for him go hunting after Marcus before the battle overhead is won, and that is all but a formality if we cannot win the city’s defenses over to our side.”

  Justin shrugged. He tried to fold his arms casually as he leaned back against a console, but it proved more difficult with the long knife than he might have thought. With a frustrated snort, he put the blade down. “You can’t tell me you know everything there is to know about all of this.” He waved one hand over his head. “If Taurani is headed out that way, there’s a reason, and it means we missed something, and things aren’t as hopeless as we might think.” He smiled, his teeth bright against his dark skin. “If Taurani is running scared, there’s something to be scared of, and we might just be able to make that work for us.”

  She shook her head, but his words seemed to click into something in her own mind, something that gave off just the faintest wash of warm hope.

  “Commander, K’hzan Modath is clearing the planet’s shadow.” The big Variyar turned to her, continuing his adjustments and calling up the viewing field. He cast one claw up and the field swelled to fill the space, floor to ceiling, before his station. “The Council fleet is moving faster than we anticipated.”

  In the field she watched the dun-colored shoulder of the planet for a moment, and then saw the flickering eruption of the Variyar fleet as it flashed over the horizon, hulls glittering in the hard light. What appeared to be a dust-cloud rose up behind them, with two massive bull-shapes leading the charge: the Council fleet, narrowing the gap between them even as she watched.

  “He’s going to run.” She muttered under her breath, but everyone in the control center heard her. “He’s going to have to run.”

  “Penumbra, are you receiving?” The voice echoed through the chamber, and the display shivered, darkening, and then the unmistakable nightmare visage of K’hzan Modath loomed out of the flat plane. “Penumbra, respond.”

  Angara shifted around so that she would be in the pickup field of the active station’s communications array, and dipped her head to the massive image. “We are in possession of the control center, but we do not have the Skorahn.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, but felt relieved when he took his massive eyes off her to scan around the half of the room he could see.

  “Where is Administrator Wells? Is he not with you?” There was an edge to K’hzan Modath’s voice, and she forced herself to keep in mind he was engaged in a lethal battle of his own.

  “The administrator was unable to join us. He is currently at Sanctum.” She turned to look at Justin, and then shrugged. “We think Taurani is headed there as well.”

  There was a flash from the viewing field, and the scene shifted slightly. In the background, behind K’hzan’s calm, cold tones, they could hear agitated voices, warning klaxons, and distant detonations.

  “We are taking fire from the Council fleet. Are you reporting that the city’s defenses are not in your hands?” He glared for a moment at Justin, and then his eyes slid back to Angara’s.

  “They are not.” The words tasted like hot dust. “But they might not be under Taurani’s control either!” She saw what was happening, and had to stop it, no matter what the cost. “The city may not fire on you if you seek shelter behind it! If we—”

  “I must preserve my main strength, Angara Ksaka.” Another detonation echoed through the link. “That must be my first priority. I cannot depend upon your assumptions to keep my ships safe.”

  She tried to get angry at that, but she understood his position perfectly. She tried another tack. “You have warriors down here! You have people that will die if you abandon them now!”

  “And we are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves.” One of the taller Variyar was standing beside her, somehow conveying disappointment and sadness at her choice of ploy.

  “My warriors will follow the paths fate has set before them.” The massive head in the field nodded. “For now, we flee.”

  She knew those words must not have tasted sweet to K’hzan, but he was doing what he must. Whatever Taurani was afraid of, could they utilize it with the Council fleet over their heads?

  “Be well, Angara Ksaka. We will return if we are able.” Without waiting for a reply, the field switched back to the wider view of the fleets as they hurtled around the planet, their orbits rising, and the Variyar ships began to disperse, taking up a scattered disposition that would ensure that most of them made it away safely.

  The largest ship, K’hzan Modath’s flagship most likely, would skim close to the city before launching off into the empty reaches of the system to drop its wormhole and escape.

  She watched as their last hope scattered out and away.

  The trouble started with one of the farthest ships, sm
aller than most of the others. It dropped a wormhole that formed and grew before it became the distinctive, ravening hole in time and space that Angara had seen a thousand times before. But even as the ship began to disappear into safety, the hole collapsed, crushing the forward sections of the ship with its infinite gravity.

  The rest of the ship coasted onward for several lengths, shedding glittering pieces of itself as it went, and then detonated as the damage became too great for the structure to hold any longer.

  The Variyar around her began to scream and shout all at once, and her own eyes widened as she saw three more Variyar ships devoured by their own singularities.

  Somehow, the Council fleet was collapsing the holes, trapping them in the system where they could be destroyed in detail. K’hzan and the fleet he had hidden for a lifetime would be eliminated in one stroke.

  “There is some form of suppression field emanating from the largest Council ship.” The Variyar at the station said as his hands writhed within the interface field. “It is somehow quashing our singularities as quickly as our ships can summon them.”

  “We are making for the outer system.” K’hzan’s reappeared in the visual display. His voice was still calm, but behind him it seemed like his bridge was erupting in utter chaos. “We will come back around for another attack pass after we have regrouped and assumed a more offensive formation.”

  She was still no good at understanding Variyar facial expressions, but she did not think she was far off the mark in assuming that K’hzan was furious, not afraid.

  “We are going to go to Sanctum!” She gestured for the Variyar warriors around her to move out. “Keep the Council fleet off our backs until we can sort this out, and we may yet salvage something from all this.”

  “Apparently I have no choice, Angara Ksaka.” His stiff face was always rigid, but with his tone it seemed even more so. “It may just be that this admiral has undone himself by forcing my hand.”