Planet Breaker: A Supernatural Space Opera (Witching on a Starship Book 2)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “It is good that you came back,” the fourth in line orc said, and as he spoke the others turned to look at him in awe. Unlike the others, this orc had no legs. Instead, he had a mechanical spider-like contraption from the waist down. His eyes glowed with pulsing orange light, and more cybernetics bulged from beneath his skin. “We must warn the Federation and prepare an armada unlike that which the universe has seen.” He made a fist. “We will fight, and maybe die, but it will be glorious, and our names will be sung in the blood halls of the great orc king for all eternity.”

  “May we all dine with the orc king,” the others said, slamming their own fists against their chests in unison. Then as quickly as they’d appeared the assembled orcs vanished, leaving a profound silence in their wake.

  “Well, that was interesting,” I said, turning to Morg and raising an eyebrow.

  “It was stupid. We’re just lucky Fiedom Hammerblow was at the original battle. He was aboard the ship where the original witch cast herself into the sun to defeat Vah. No one understands Vah like him, and he has long spoken that we had only bought ourselves a reprieve. Now, his foolish old warnings have been vindicated.” He made a sad gesture. “Part of me is glad he was correct, but most of me is unhappy he was correct.”

  “Mallory, what in the bloody hell is going on?” Jeffry said, bursting into the room. He had Niko and Oliver with him, but Chloe was nowhere to be found. “You wake up, and your first impulse is to take us here.” He gestured at the ships overhead, but thankfully, they weren’t brimming with death plasma anymore. “Of all places? Are you daft?”

  “It was the orc’s idea,” I said, totally throwing him under the bus. “Besides, look at the crystals, the proximity to the planet is already recharging them. We could get back to earth much sooner waiting to recharge, and if that weren’t enough, the ship is trashed. It needs repairs…”

  I let my words hang in the air as Jeffry stared at me, his vampiric red eyes filled with annoyance. Then he must have remembered he was British as fuck because he nodded once, and by the time he’d finished the movement, he was calm and collected.

  “While true, you should have talked to me. I’d have likely okayed this plan.” He sighed. “I know you’re upset and hurt, but…”

  “Vah has Captain Brand,” I said, waving off his statement. “I saw it. He’s inside the captain.” I moved next to Morg. “Morg says there’s an item here that might help us save the captain. I had to take that chance.”

  “Do you not think I’d have taken the same chance?” Jeffry said, taking a step forward and the rage washing off him was almost palpable. “I would have fought through the planet breaker myself to save the captain had I known.”

  I smiled and reached out toward him, but he grabbed my wrist before I could touch him. The strength in it reminded me why I hated dealing with the nigh-indestructible vampires. “I knew you’d agree, so I just skipped the whole asking for permission part.” I tried my best to look repentant. “Sorry.”

  “Being sorry would indicate you are going to repent for your actions, or at the very least, not do them again. You will do neither.” The vampire released my hand. “But I suppose I’ll take what I can get.” He turned his eyes to Morg. “Is what she says true?”

  “Yes. I believe that if Mallory Quinn can get the Bone Staff of Greatward, she can defeat Vah.” He nodded to me. “It isn’t like we have much choice.” He touched the black spot on his neck. “Already the orcish command is in communication with the Federation. They’re scrambling a defense, but I know it won’t be in time.” He took a step forward and put a hand on Jeffry’s shoulder. “You know it too.”

  If what Morg said was true, we were in trouble. How the fuck could we take on Vah without the Federation. He had an army with him. If we didn’t have one for ourselves…

  “This is where you ask me to do something stupid, huh?” Jeffry said, looking over at the orc’s hand like it was an oozing slug.

  “I will take Mallory Quinn into the Pits of Demise to retrieve the staff from the bone wardens while you prepare the ship.” He took a deep breath. “Then we must attack the planet breaker directly. I cannot do it because the orcs will have received orders to merge with the Federation fleet. You will likely not have received such orders…”

  “Okay,” Chloe said, her voice breaking into the conversation, and I looked over to see her standing in the doorway. She looked like she’d been crying, and she was still covered in blood. Had she not showered and changed in all this time? It made me feel sort of bad. Granted, she hadn’t told me the truth, but at the end of the day, I’d have probably tried teleporting us, anyway. I’d have just bitched more about it first. She really shouldn’t be taking it so hard.

  “Okay?” Jeffry affirmed, nodding to the orc. “I think it’s crazy, and we’ll all die, and I’m taking battle plans from a fucking orc, but fuck it. Let’s go kill us an unstoppable body-jumping mage with a damaged ship and a staff older than nearly all of time.”

  “I like your man,” Morg said, turning to look at me, his lips spread in a triumphant smile. “He has balls.”

  21

  “So, uh, this is creepy,” I said gesturing at the forest surrounding us. It was nothing like the one I’d seen in his vision thingy. These trees were gnarled and twisted, and the ground underfoot was blackened and scorched. The sunlight piercing the broken, leafless branches felt colder and grayer than it had just beyond the forest.

  We’d arrived here only a few moments before having been transported by a winged bat-like creature that sort of reminded me of a gargoyle with a saddle. As we’d flown over the landscape, I’d marveled at the orcish towns below. Most appeared to be made of stone, thatch, and wood, but at the same time, I could see glittering turrets mounted all around, and huge steel walls with spikes along the edges.

  “Did you think the Pits of Demise was a nice place to visit?” Morg asked, glancing at me as he pulled his new chain-axe free of its sling and brandished it in front of himself. He’d gotten it when we’d picked up the transport gargoyle that was now a distant speck in the skyline. “You are on my home world. It is filled with ravenous beasts, the plants seek to undo you rather than nourish you, and the planet actively tries to do you harm.” He smashed one fist against his armored chest. “It is what makes us hard and strong.”

  “Great…” I mumbled, rubbing my hip and wishing I’d brought some kind of weapon. I didn’t necessarily need one since I had my magic, but I’d have felt more comfortable if I’d had something.

  “It is great.” He smiled at me. “Why once I spent a fortnight beyond the walls of Spleenhurt. Just me, my axe, and ten of my closest friends.”

  “So camping,” I said as I gestured to the creepy forest spread out beside us. I could literally feel animals hungrily gazing at us from within the scraggly tree-line as we moved along the narrow, weed-choked path. “What, exactly, is the plan?”

  “We travel to the center of the forest. Take the steps down toward the core of the planet. Defeat the guardians who wait at every turn and retrieve the Bone Staff of Greatward.” He smiled at me. “It will be bring us much glory.” His face paled slightly. “Then the hard part comes.”

  “The hard part, and what do you mean defeat the guardians?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “The staff is guarded by the fiercest orcish warriors. The shaman. And unlike me.” He touched his chest. “They know magic.” He shrugged. “They will not let us take the staff, so we must kill them.”

  “And that’s the easy part?” I asked, finding it hard to believe killing dudes just like Morg who also knew magic would even be possible.

  “Yes, because once you pick up the Bone Staff of Greatward, the spirit within it will test your mettle. You must succeed, or all will be for naught.” He smiled once more and smacked me on the back hard enough to make me stumble even though my battle suit took the majority of the force from it. “But fear not, Mallory Quinn. I have complete faith in you.”

  “W
hy won’t they just let us take the staff to stop Vah?” I asked, suddenly very concerned I was walking into a trap. “I feel like you may be leaving something out.”

  “How will you be proven worthy if they let you just take it?” he asked, and the confusion in his voice made me sigh. I knew trying to explain it to him would be pointless, so I just decided to go with it. After all, I was trying to get an ancient relic to stop a body jumping space wizard. My life was fucked up enough as it was.

  “You’re right. I was being silly.” I shrugged.

  “Besides. If you fail to get the staff, there must be someone to stop Vah from getting it.”

  “Wait, what do you mean?” I asked, turning toward him. Was he implying that Vah also had his sights set on the staff? “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Maybe?” he scratched his chin. “Vah is coming for the staff.”

  “He is?” I screeched, my heart practically slamming through my chest in sudden panic. “How is that possible?”

  “Well, I can’t say for certain that is why he is coming here, but he was collecting magical artifacts before we defeated him. It stands to reason he is doing it again.” Morg shrugged again, and I was beginning to think it might be his default gesture. “How else do you think he got so strong?”

  I didn’t respond because I was too busy freaking the fuck out. If Vah was coming here, we had precious little time to stop him. Earth had been considerably farther away from our location than the orcish world. If Vah was coming, he’d be here soon. Really soon.

  Hell, he could be here already.

  “We’d best hurry then,” I said, nodding to the orc. “Where’s the pit? I’ll just teleport us there.”

  Morg opened his mouth to say something as a horrific and terrifying roar filled the jungle. Bird-like reptiles leapt from the branches, bursting through the air and taking off in a direction I could only classify as away.

  Then a fifty-foot, feathered tyrannosaurus rex with spikes covering its entire fucking body burst from the foliage to our left.

  Its huge teeth were the size of my goddamned arms, and as he eyed us hungrily, a war cry split the air.

  The massive creature lowered its head to reveal a gray-skinned orc, covered from head to toe in war paint. It gestured at us with a bone spear. As it did, more similarly dressed orcs poured from the forest. While some rode what looked like velociraptors, others were on foot.

  “Fuck,” I muttered right before Morg hollowed back in a wordless battle cry of his own. His voice boomed through the forest and shook what few leaves on the trees there were to the ground. His body began to glow with crimson energy as he eyed the surrounding orcs. Then, very slowly, he flicked on his chain-axe.

  “Let’s dance,” he muttered as the chain began to whir, sending crimson sparks flying in every direction. Then he launched himself toward the tyrannosaurus with a glee-filled smile on his face.

  22

  Before Morg got three steps, roots exploded from the ground and wrapped around his legs, halting him so suddenly, he nearly toppled over. The orc snarled in rage, moving to slice through the roots as several of the unmounted gray-skins charged forward, spears held high. Only as they moved, their weapons began to blaze with energy, throwing multicolored sparks in every direction.

  Morg whirled around, whipping his chain-axe through the air in an effort to block all the incoming attacks, but as he did, I felt the ground beneath my feet rumble. Then magic swept out across the battlefield, buffeting against me in a way I knew instantly. Time magic. Some asshole was slowing down time, and because of that, Morg was going to get skewered by these pants-less douchebags.

  Well, not on my watch.

  I reached out with my own magic, grabbing hold of the tendrils of power threatening to slow down my friend and wrenched them sideways. They tore from the metaphysical symphony with a horrific crack, splintering into ethereal shards, and I saw the dude atop the tyrannosaurus scream in pain. He flopped backward on his saddle, blood pouring from his eyes. Had that been from backlash?

  I wasn’t sure, exactly since I’d never seen it before, but it seemed likely. Every time any spell anywhere was done there was a natural will of the universe to resist. Usually, it wasn’t strong enough to amount to much, a headache, some nausea, vomiting up your bloody lungs onto the floor of a spaceship you’d just teleported.

  Only, supposedly, it was way worse when a spell got interrupted like I’d done. As I watched time rip back into place, I felt magic spring backward like a rubber band, hitting the orc again, over and over with such speed it was like the Flash had decided to use him as a punching back.

  Still, even with him writhing in agony, that didn’t stop the others. Their spears clanged against Morg’s axe, and I felt them calling on the power of the planet, pulling it up through the earth and into their bare feet to strengthen and quicken themselves.

  Their bodies blurred and their muscles bulged. I’ll be honest, Morg was a lot better than I expected because he managed to hold off the goons, anyway. That said, he probably couldn’t do it for long, especially if those raptor-riding fucks decided to join in. I had to do something.

  I sprinted forward, calling upon my own magic to increase my speed. Part of me wanted to try to slow time, but I didn’t want what happened to the dino rider to happen to me. So I kept it simple. Oddly, there was so much magic swirling around the battlefield that grabbing hold of it was surprisingly easy.

  I teleported through space and time, appeared behind the group and straight up kicked the closest one in the dick. He flopped forward, reaching down right before Morg slammed the hooked end on the butt of his weapon into the orc’s chest. The blade burst through, splattering me with bits of blood and bone.

  The other orcs screamed in rage, charging forward as I threw my hand outward and jerked the roots binding Morg in place free with my mind. They snapped like the twigs they were, allowing the orc to sidestep a spear thrust while parrying another blow.

  Hoping he could finish the duo off, I turned toward the onrushing orcs on raptors and did what I did best. Fucked shit up. I reached out, grabbing hold of the magic fueling their beasts and shattered it. The result was explosive. Just like before, backlash hit the orcs, throwing them and their steeds to the ground. Howls of pain filled my ears as I summoned elemental fire to my call and flung it down between us, creating a wall of flame that blocked us from view. Then I tied the spell to the earth. It wouldn’t last long that way since the link would naturally degrade, but it’d be enough to get out of here.

  “Morg!” I cried, spinning back around in time to see the orc put boot to ass. As the last of the gray-skins fighting him collapsed to the ground in agony, Morg looked up at me. His eyes were rimmed with crimson energy and sparks danced across his skin.

  “What?” he asked, looking past me toward the leaping flames. I could tell he wanted to spring past them and continue the battle, but we didn’t have time for that.

  “Where do we need to go,” I said, rushing toward him and grabbing his arm. “Give me something I can use.”

  He shook himself as my fingers closed on his arm, and his eyes faded back to normal. “Very well.” His hand snaked out, smacking me in the head.

  I reeled, stunned as an image of a swamp popped into my brain. Thick vines fell from dying trees as bones glistened in the molten pool. In the center stood a small obsidian staircase that reached down into the depths.

  “There?” I murmured as the flames died and the orcs behind the wall charged forward, raptors tearing up the ground. Only I didn’t feel magic coming off them like before. That should have relieved me, but Morg had said they were awesome warriors without their powers.

  “Yes,” Morg hissed, and as he moved to engage the charging gray-skins, I teleported both of us.

  We slammed down on the island, and disorientation swept over me, turning my guts into mishmash as the scenery swam. The smell, like rancid eggs, hit my nose as I lay there, clutching the blood-stained sa
nd beside the staircase.

  Statues rose all around the swamp in the shape of creatures, and as I turned a quick gaze toward them, worry wormed its way into my gut. They were starting to move toward us.

  “Down!” I cried, scrambling to my feet and leaping for the staircase while Morg struggled to get up. I hit the top step and found myself staring at a solid steel door just a few steps down, so I hadn’t seen it from the surface. Magical energy sparkled and crackled all around it, and I instantly knew if I grabbed it some kind of horrible trap would go off.

  Behind me, the statues were tearing free of their century’s long slumber and beginning to rumble toward us with bone-crushing force. Their massive teeth gnashed and snapped, and worse, Morg still wasn’t standing. He was on his knees, leaning heavily on his chain-axe.

  Fuck.

  I turned my eyes back toward the door and reached out to it with my mind. I felt the wards emblazoned deep within the steel, felt the magic and destruction in them. They were designed to be unlocked one by one, each a testament to skill and fortitude. I could do it, but it’d take time we didn’t have, even if the statues weren’t coming to crush us.

  That left option two. Go for broke.

  I shut my eyes and sank to my knees in the earth. As I did, I called out to the heart of the orcish planet. Its presence came over me like hot lava, enraged and all-consuming. It burned at my flesh and scalded my insides as I drove my hands into the blood-colored sand.

  Then I asked for help, for strength.

  And my cries fell on deaf ears. I had not earned this planet, and it told me so with abject silence. The heat I’d felt receded as the statues pounded closer, seconds from turning me into street pizza.

  “Fuck you,” I snarled, reaching out once more into the symphony. Cymbals crashed, and guitars wailed as I snagged everything I had and formed a metaphysical grabber claw.