by Lee Watts
"WHAT IS IT?" Alexander asked Merrick.
"The unholy ones," the Guardian answered. "Dridmor spirits inhabiting the statues."
"We've got to do something!"
"Caedmon has the Elder - that's all the help he needs! We need to get to Salazar," Merrick insisted.
Fixated on the flaming monstrosity, Alexander remained motionless.
"Alexander, we must move quickly if we're to catch him!"
"Are you sure Caedmon will be alright?" Alexander asked over the roar of the flames, as the nightmare creature began sprinting at the old man.
Smite thy rod against the pillar, directed the voice of the Elder to Caedmon.
Swinging his tall, metallic staff in a wide arc, Caedmon struck it hard against the massive pillar near him, and water gushed forth. Like a raging waterfall, the waves smacked into the fiery being, extinguishing its flames. Chunks of stone flew throughout the embattled chamber, decimating the room. Alexander turned to Merrick in shock.
"I guess he'll be okay," Alexander said. "Let's go."
As the dark smoke cleared and spraying water subsided, the Faithful Voice looked for his rival, Jambrek, but saw no sign of him. Wading through the shin-high water, Caedmon began searching the palace for the Ramillie priest so they could finish their contest.
Rounding a corner, Salazar saw the head of his personal guard waiting for him at the end of the hallway.
"Hurry Regent," Tanish urged. "The ship is waiting, and your mother is already onboard!"
"Wait! Wait," came a voice from the open level above.
Turning to see who it was, Salazar noticed the ornately robed Mediator Wasi and his assistant.
"Leave them," Salazar dismissed. "I want to get out of here now. Let's-"
Stopping Salazar's flow of words came the point of a dagger jutting from Tanish's chest. Blood filled the bodyguard's mouth as his face twisted in pain. From behind the stabbed man, Salazar saw the wild-eyed face of Dakshi.
"You won't be going anywhere," Dakshi seethed, pulling the dagger out of Tanish's back and letting him collapse to the floor. With a shaking hand, Salazar pulled out the blaster pistol from his pocket and leveled it at the assassin. Dakshi bared his teeth and growled. Salazar didn't even know he pulled the trigger until the flash of the blast left the barrel. The shot slammed into Dakshi's left shoulder, pushing him back a step. He stopped and looked at the smoldering burn mark. With the sight and sensation feeding his anger, he shifted his eyes back to Salazar. Shaking his head to discard the pain, Dakshi advanced again. Salazar shot the second time - this time straight into the man's chest. Dakshi shouted from the impact of the blast, and began heaving, seemingly gaining strength with each puff. Working himself into a frenzy of power, the possessed man turned his now wild eyes to Salazar again. Losing control of his grip, Salazar dropped the blaster.
"Wha… what are you?" he quivered.
"Legion, for we are many," it replied in a team of dark voices then moved to destroy the regent.
"HOLD," came an unexpected voice from behind Salazar.
Dakshi looked and saw the angular weathered face of a muscular old man in loose-fitting robes.
"Who do you think you are?" Dakshi sneered.
"I am a servant of the Most High."
The two locked eyes, as Yilib and Timotheus watched from above unobserved.
"Come out of him," Caedmon commanded.
Crying out with the sound of many voices, Dakshi's body contorted as the spirits tore from him. Falling to his knees and then to the ground, he screamed in agony while writhing as the spirits were forced from their host. Aghast at the spectacle, Salazar backed away. At last, the final spirit departed, leaving Dakshi crumpled and lifeless on the floor. Caedmon turned to apprehend Salazar, but the Regent had fled. Without knowing the location of the ship Tanish mentioned, Yilib sunk into the shadows deciding the best thing for him and Timotheus to do was disappear into the city.
***
"Sir, the Tyrannus is slowing," a confused officer reported to Admiral Balin. "Readings show their shields lowering too."
"What in the worlds?" Balin mumbled. "It must be a trick, continue the evacuation. Let me know the minute we're in position."
"Aye, Sir."
A tractor beam reached out from the hulking Tyrannus pulling in a tiny escape pod. Secured in one of the ship's many docking bays, the pod's hatch opened and out stepped Administrator Saqir Nexos. Per his demands, he was taken to the bridge where he ordered an immediate withdrawal from the system. Ra'daq was… hesitant to comply, insisting he could retake the planets. Saqir was almost persuaded, but the sudden brilliant flash created by the destruction of the Hegemony Station cemented his decision he needed to escape the system. Compelled to adhere to the administrator's orders, Ra'daq opened a hyperspace portal - leaving Theera-Enty to The Remnant and unanswered questions for Admiral Balin.
Returning to the main hall, Alexander waded through ankle-deep water, surveying the extensive damage. Nearly all of the glass from the tall windows was shattered, burn marks and divots from lasers streaked and dotted the walls. Light streamed in from a hole blasted in the roof, and many of the massive pillars now lay at odd angles, those remaining upright were cracked, with large portions broken away.
"Place looks pretty rough," Alexander commented to Merrick.
The Guardian smiled.
"You said you wanted to redecorate."
Alexander laughed as a soldier approached.
"Sire, communication from Admiral Balin."
"Go ahead."
"He's on his way here. He reports the Ramillie fleet has withdrawn, and their ground forces on both worlds have surrendered. Theera and Enty are free."
Alexander looked to the heavens and smiled.
"All praise to the Elder," he proclaimed in thankful prayer. Looking through the hole in the ceiling, the king noticed the flagstaff atop the royal structure.
"That has to go," he pointed out while noticing what was attached to the pole.
Balin's shuttle landed in the plaza beside the still smoking palace then he and Colonel Ortiz set foot on the capital world for the first time in years. Looking at the extensive damage to the royal building, Balin noticed the palace resembled a sieve with smoke still wafting out from its many wounds.
"Look up there," shouted someone from the gathering crowd. "On top of the palace… by the flagpole!"
Balin squinted at the form on the roof. He couldn't tell who it was but had a strong guess. Alexander pulled on the rope lowering the flag of the Hegemony then attached and raised a banner that hadn't flown over the palace for too long a time. Fluttering in the breeze, the blue and white banner of the Realm waved over the capital once more. Colonel Ortiz stepped near the admiral.
"See, I told you you'd live long enough to see it," Ortiz prodded.
Balin, with tears of joy, stayed focused on the waving banner as he replied to his old comrade in arms, "That you did, My Friend; that you did."
CHAPTER 12
"Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." – Matthew 5:15
(1,000 years ago)
Only one system away, the Vault Keeper's second agent was able to quickly return to Orinth when Merrick told her about the Ramillie searching for a seer. It was well past sunset by the time she reached the village, and the flakes of snow were falling large and wet. Searching the ransacked safe-house, it was evident the seer and others were already captured. Returning to her ship, she hacked into the local prison's communication lines and learned the prisoners were to be transported off-world that very night. They were needed so they could arrive in time for a special ceremony. Unfortunately, she'd missed the first part of the transmission so didn't know what kind of a ritual the prisoners were wanted for, or even where they were going.
Taking off, she positioned her ship to hover over the planet's magnetic pole knowing the distortions of the magnetic field would keep her off of patrolling scopes.
It was a trick she'd learned from the Vault Keeper. Within the hour she detected a prison ship leaving the atmosphere. Boosting her sensors to maximum range, she tailed the craft at the greatest distance she could while still keeping track of it. Unable to contact Merrick about her heading since it would give her away, she silently followed the ship for six hours until it dropped out of lightdrive and set course for the second planet of the system. Watching the prison ship as it descended to the southern continent, she tracked it to a Ramillie complex on the edge of a small desert.
"Nowhere to set down," she grumbled to herself.
A Ramillie city was near the complex, and far too many people would see her if she went that way. With nothing useable to conceal her ship, the desert wasn't a good landing point either. Her only viable option was setting down on the opposite side of the desert from the complex. While there were primitive settlements there, she believed she could keep out of site. Even if someone did spot her, they'd likely think hers a Ramillie craft and so give it a wide berth.
After camouflaging her ship with brush, she set to work building her transport for the desert crossing. To avoid the desert's blistering heat and any watchful eyes, she waited until nightfall to begin her journey. Shortly after dusk, she set off with a pack slung over both shoulders and her weapon secure across her back. Pulling her contraption out from the tree line, she examined it a final time. It wasn't the sturdiest hang-glider in the galaxy, but she was reasonably confident it would get her across. Using a booster pack from her ship to get airborne, she let it fall to the dunes once in flight. Light from the world's single moon reflected shades of silver off of the sand. Praying for aid, the Elder answered with a strong wind whisking her swiftly across the wasteland. By the time the night was spent, and the soft shades of dawn painted the sky, the sea of sand gave way to grass. Setting the glider down, she decided to bury it. She wanted to mark the spot, but the area was barren, and she knew anything she left would itself be quickly buried by the blowing sands. Making the final leg of the trip on foot, she reached the grass-line within an hour. The building she needed to get inside was only five hundred meters beyond that point.
With the early morning sun peeking through her tiny slot of a window, Pipaluk rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and rose from her pallet on the floor. Though only fourteen, when she arched her back, it creaked and popped from the discomfort of her hard, makeshift bed. Unable to remember a day in her life when she wasn't hungry, Pipaluk was skinny, but still considered herself lucky. She had a job, a means of survival. Most in her predicament wound up as beggars, at least she had a means of income. Serving in the Ramillie Citadel made her an outcast among her people, a collaborator. The Ramillie were cruel to her, had killed her parents, but at least serving them meant she had a way to stay alive. She washed her face in the dirty water, dressed, and then grabbed a bruised piece of fruit. Finished with her meager meal, she left her shack and headed toward the magnificent, towering Citadel.
Hiding in the shadows of an alley, the Vault Keeper's agent watched a significant number of people heading toward the Ramillie complex. Figuring the Ramillie guards were probably lax at checking the local servants coming in and out every day, she decided to enter the complex by that means. Each of the servants wore an ankle-length, burgundy robe. The trouble was getting one. She didn't want to mug someone but had no idea what passed for money on that world so couldn't bribe them either. Noticing how gaunt they were, she knew what would work better than money. As a robed teenage boy approached all she had to do was hold out a handful of food she had brought in her pack.
Falling in line with the other servants, she pulled up the hood of her cloak then walked past the guards and into the complex. With the environmental controls set to Ramillie standards, it was substantially cooler than outside. As the servants began breaking off in different directions, she found a secluded corner and pulled out her portable scanner. Activating the device, she kept a sharp lookout as she programmed it to map the building. Scan completed, she memorized the basic layout, tucked away the scanner, and began searching for the seer.
Pipaluk carefully positioned each brightly colored, juicy selection of fruit on the silver tray. How much she wanted to take a bite, but the cameras were everywhere, and those caught stealing faced the torturers. Occasionally she had to go to the cells for various duties and the things she saw there kept her awake for nights; even when she could sleep, the nightmares of those visits made her wish she was awake. She would do anything to keep from that horrid fate, even if it meant starving while surrounded by food.
The overlord liked a wide selection of the choicest fruits each morning, and there was a skill to stacking it without having the lower ones bruise. She took pride in this small accomplishment. Carefully pouring the dark wine, she filled the goblet to the level he liked and placed the white linen napkin on the tray completing the master's breakfast preparations. Living next to the desert, she was used to far warmer temperatures than in the complex. Her tiny frame did little to protect her from the cold, so she blew on her hands then rubbed them for warmth before continuing.
Lifting the tray by the handles on each side, she made her way to his chambers and patiently waited outside the door in silence. Unless directly addressed, servants were to be absolutely quiet in the Citadel. Pipaluk tried to be as invisible as possible, both to her Ramillie masters and to the other servants, who each felt a deep personal shame for even being there. When the overlord's nightly companions left the room, Pipaluk knew she could enter.
Silently she took a position and waited for the overlord to gesture if he wanted her to leave or approach. Rising from his plush bed, he was naked and unashamedly walked over to the girl and picked up the goblet of wine from the tray, gulping it hard. After dressing, he picked through the fruit in irritation. Eventually, he lost his temper and slapped upward on the plate, causing the contents to splatter on Pipaluk and the floor.
"EVERYDAY IT'S THE SAME TRASH! IDIOT! PUT SOMETHING NEW ON THERE ONCE IN WHILE! Clean this mess up before I get back!"
Storming into the hall, the overlord saw another servant and poured his anger out on that person too.
"Get in there and help her clean that up!"
The Vault Keeper's agent nodded compliantly and hurried into the room. At least the shouting told her the servants were expected to understand the Ramillie language, it meant she could speak to the people. Entering the room, she saw Pipaluk on her hands and knees, quietly crying while picking up the wayward pieces of fruit. Even these soiled victuals were forbidden to her and the others, so she placed each back on the tray. The new woman entering the room crossed over to the girl, kneeling beside her.
"Oh, Little One," she whispered, her heart breaking for the girl. "What's your name?"
"Pip… Pipaluk," she stammered in hushed tones while continuing to work.
"Who's that jerk anyway?"
Pipaluk looked at her quizzically.
"Don't you know?" Pipaluk asked in surprise.
The woman shook her head.
"That's Overlord Koraden; he's the master here."
"More like the monster here."
The comment forced Pipaluk to suppress a smile.
"You shouldn't say that you know. You're new, aren't you?"
The woman nodded.
"I'm a stranger here - what you might say a… pilgrim. Maybe you could show me around. I don't know where everything is yet."
"Sure," Pipaluk nodded, "but first you've got to be quiet. They don't like us talking."
"Or smiling either from the look on everyone's faces."
This again made Pipaluk grin.
"See, there's a smile. You should smile more often; it makes you look pretty."
The words stunned Pipaluk. It was odd to hear such a thing. She thought about it a moment and decided yes; it was the first time anyone ever called her pretty. For that matter, it was one of the few compliments she'd ever received.
"What's your name?" the girl asked.
The kind woman smiled as she helped Pipaluk to her feet. Wiping a drying tear from Pipaluk's cheek, she answered.
"My name... is Shania."
CHAPTER 13
"For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil: but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a twoedged sword." – Proverbs 5:3-4
The click of Vivica's high heels echoed off the towering walls of the palace corridor leading to the king's office. Late into the evening, most of the royal residence was empty. At the far end of an intersecting hall, she noticed Aulani coming in from walking her towering pet, Tooka. Vivica's lip curled in disgust at the thought of having the island-jungle creature stay in the royal palace. For that matter, she felt the same way about Tooka.
You can take the girl off of the island…Vivica mused.
Other halls of the palace were virtually deserted, but among those working late was one of the people in charge of palace security, Commander Cale Rayne. Holding a stack of data cards, he gave the suggestively-dressed woman a lengthy, admiring glance. Noticing his not-so-subtle gawk, she reveled in her ability to turn heads and stop men in their tracks. Stepping inside the sovereign's office, the door automatically closed behind her.
At the far end of the lengthy room, Alexander sat behind his tablet-laden desk that was positioned in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. Stars in the night sky cast soft light through the tall glass. Engrossed in the mountain of seemingly-endless work, Alexander failed to notice the newcomer.
Vivica sauntered over to him, took the datapad from his hand, and placed it back on the pile. Suggestively bending over the desk, she swept the load of pads aside then turned to face him. Sliding her body on top of the desk, she sat directly in front of him. Having his undivided attention, she provocatively eyed him up and down.