The Calypsis Project Boxed Set (Books 1-2 - The Echo-Alpha Duology)

by Brittany M. Willows

  An unexpected wave of panic had caused Kenon to recede into a state of denial. His heart was pounding so fast he almost thought it had stopped beating altogether. This is what I was looking for, is it not? An answer to my questions, a reason behind all of this madness?

  “H-how can that be?” he asked.

  “When a vykord forms a pact with a student, their energies begin to merge—like you and the human girl, for instance. The process had already been completed when Avhelliss and I met our demise. It was this combined power that traveled through the Valinquint bloodline until it could find a suitable host.”

  “Wait, what does Alana have to do with this?”

  Doramire motioned for Kenon to follow and started down a dirt path. “Come with me.” He led the young warrior away from the river, deep inside the ebony forest where a clearing awaited them.

  In the heart of the clearing, where the sunbeams touched the ground, there stood a tree stump stripped of all its bark. The branches protruding from its naked trunk came together to form a basket, in which it carried a large purple gemstone. As Doramire swept his hand over the gem, a three-dimensional image sprung from within. It rippled and shivered, expanding to accommodate the growing scene.

  Mud and water winked into being. A thicket of mangrove trees materialized atop the sodden earth, their branches weaving to form a dense canopy above the marshland floor. Finally, two figures started to come into focus—one perched on a branch way up high and the other standing below.

  Kenon recoiled in surprise when he realized he was looking at a projection of himself and Alana. This must have been a holographic representation of the night they first met, conjured up in the depths of his consciousness like a memory from a third-person perspective.

  At Doramire’s touch, both figures came alive with colored light. An icy blue glow radiated from Kenon’s silhouette, while Alana’s emitted a warmer green. Luminous tendrils lashed out from their bodies, almost as if reaching for one another—drawing them closer together. As the space between them decreased, these tendrils started to entwine and seep into their opposing forms.

  “In order for a merge to commence, a vykord’s energy must be equal to that of their apprentice,” Doramire said, then gestured to Alana. “Though human, her energy is equal to your own. This is what enables you to seek each other out even when great distances divide you, and also what drew you to her in the first place. As such, yours began to merge with hers the moment you met.”

  Kenon swept his fingers across the hologram. The tendrils twisted and coiled around his claws like smoke in the breeze. “What does this mean for her?” he asked. “Will she begin hallucinating? Will she be able to see and hear you as I do?”

  “No. The visions you have been witnessing are fragments of Avhelliss’ memory. They reside in your mind, and yours alone. Similarly, the only reason you and I are able to communicate is because my being is embedded in the energy that created you. Moreover, the merging process takes well over a century to complete. Neither of you will live to see it through.”

  Kenon withdrew from the projection. “What happens now?”

  Doramire shut the hologram down with a wide sweep of his arm, then folded his hands in front of himself. “The fate of the galaxy rests of your shoulders, child. So go. Save it. Do what we could not, and bring an end to this struggle once and for all.” He dipped his head in farewell. “Aphelion awaits.”

  The ebony forest bowed and contorted. The desert shrank into nothingness, and the world faded away. In the blink of an eye, Kenon found himself back in halls of the Silver Forge—precisely where he had been standing before. He stepped away from the mural, now able to gaze upon Bhelios’ image in a new light.

  Something had stirred within him—a sense of power he did not recognize. No longer did he feel the exhaustion of the crash, nor the mental anguish caused by his visions. Gone was the tenseness of his muscles, and the weakness in his limbs. It was as though his whole body had been renewed, rejuvenated.

  “Come, Kenon. Let’s go,” Jhiral insisted, a hint of irritation in her tone. When he still did not follow, she strode back to his side and cocked her head at him. “Kenon, what is it? What’s the matter?”

  He turned to face his comrades. For the first time since they set out on this mission, he knew exactly what they needed to do. “We must rally the Drahkori, awaken the old machines,” he said. “The Nephera will never be able to withstand their might. This is our chance!”

  Alana recoiled, overwhelmed. “Whoa, slow down! Levian and I already tried that. Even with the Nephera knocking on her doorstep, the Empress denied our request. What makes you think her response will be different now?”

  Kenon simply looked her in the eye and said, “Trust me.”

  Before she could say anything else, an explosion rocked the mountain. The worshippers gasped and stared up at the ceiling in fear as dust rained upon their heads.

  Lieutenant Jenkinson’s voice burst over the radio: “We’ve got company!”

  The three of them hurried back the way they came and burst into the forging hall, where several dancers and blacksmiths had gathered by the entrance to see what was going on. They peered out the beaded curtain in terror.

  Parker, Carter, and Jenkinson had ducked beneath the guardrail running the length of the ridge. An autonomous drone hovered overhead, peppering the railings to keep the humans at bay whilst Drocain troops ascended the mountain path. One enemy squadron had already reached the top.

  Jhiral pushed past the crowd and tossed a grenade over the portable shields lined up along the crest of the slope. As the warriors on the other side dove out of the way, she and Alana positioned themselves by the corkscrew pillars.

  With the enemy distracted, Kenon dashed across the way to get a better line of sight. The second he left the safety of the temple, a particle beam struck his shoulder. By the time he slipped in beside the statue at the far end of the ledge, the beam had depleted his shields. He hunkered down, waiting for them to recharge while he scoped out the area through a gap in the statue’s robes.

  A quivering whine filled the air, causing his hair to stand on end. He turned slowly as the Drocain dropship rose up behind him.

  Its forward turret spun around and opened fire.

  Kenon leapt out of its path and brought his dart rifle to aim. The first volley pummeled the ground where he had been standing seconds ago, but he didn’t have a chance to return fire before the turret cooled and loosed a second stream.

  One bolt zipped by his side. Another two went over his shoulder. He stooped low to dodge the fourth, only to have a fifth crash into the side of his head and send him flying across the ledge.

  He rolled to a stop precariously close to the edge and drew himself up onto his knees, dizzied by the impact. At first it seemed he was alright, that perhaps it hadn’t been a direct hit. But as he rose to his feet, droplets of molten metal rolled off his muzzle and he noticed a sizzling in his ear.

  Kenon hooked his fingers under the rim of his helmet and pulled as hard as he could, ignoring the sting of crytal residue under his palms. Then his skin began to prickle, and he started clawing at the clasps in a panic. If they fused together, he would be boiled alive inside his own armor.

  One clasp popped open, then the other.

  Kenon wrenched the helmet off, and the smell of burning flesh engulfed him. Pain seared down his neck, so intense it nearly paralyzed him—but the dropship was coming around for another attack. He could not submit to his wounds; he had to fight.

  As he reached for his bow, his limbs locked up. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Light particles flitted around him, sounds became distant.

  No, not now! he pleaded, fearing an impending vision. Time had slowed to a crawl. Crytal bolts soared past, leaving streamers of colorful vapor mere inches from his face.

  Do not try to fight it,Doramire advised.Let it take hold or else it will tear you apart.

  Though every instinct screamed at him to do the opposi
te, Kenon ceased his desperate struggle and embraced the power writhing within. A numbness overcame him, lulled him into a strange kind of trance, and his mind went blank.

  ————

  “I’m all out,” Jenkinson hollered over the gunfire.

  Alana grabbed a spare magazine from her pack. “Here!” She leaned out to toss it to him, then paused when she saw Kenon emerge from the marble statue. He wandered into the open on trembling legs, unarmed and without a helmet. It was almost as if he were in a daze . . .

  An alarm bell went off in her head. The visions. What if he was hallucinating again? “Kenon, get out of there!” she shouted, hoping to snap him out of whatever spell he was under.

  He didn’t so much as glance in her direction.

  “Damn lizard’s gonna get himself killed!” Carter winced as a turret pelted the top of the guardrail, spraying him with dust and debris. Parker promptly took out the gunner, along with another Digred warrior further down the path.

  “I’m going to get him. Cover me.” Jhiral moved to the edge of her pillar and dug her claws into the dirt, poised to spring. Just as she was about to dash to the rescue, Kenon stopped dead outside the temple’s entrance. He outstretched his arms, palms upturned. Ash stirred beneath his feet, and he closed his eyes.

  When he opened them again, they lit up like orbs of blazing blue fire. Icy tendrils bolted across his skin, coming together to form a symbol in the middle of his chest. They grew brighter, pulsating faster and faster until a wave of energy exploded from his body.

  “Everybody down!” Jenkinson cried.

  The blast overloaded Echo Team’s shields, knocked out the enemy’s defenses and sent several warriors tumbling down the sandy path. Two slipped over the cliff edge and plunged into the jagged rocks below.

  A second wave surged toward the remaining Drocain forces.

  This time, they were unprotected.

  Alana watched in horror as her enemies burst into embers before her. Those closest to the flare died instantly, but the warriors near the back of the formation were shredded without mercy. They screamed in agony as the pulse vaporized their armor and tore the flesh from their bones. What was left of their bodies turned to dust on the breeze.

  Another flash obscured Alana’s vision. She turned to shield her face from the light, and an eerie silence fell over the ridge. When the light began to fade, she leaned out from cover to examine the aftermath.

  Dust choked the air. Portable shield generators sparked. Weapons lay scattered about the ground, but there were no enemy warriors to be seen. There was no blood, no bones or gore—not even a single scrap of armor to speak of. They were just . . . gone.

  Wiping the muck from his visor, Jenkinson dragged himself into a sitting position and called out between ragged coughing fits, “Is everyone all right?”

  “I think so,” Jhiral replied, shaking her head.

  Carter patted himself down in search of injuries, then twisted to look over the guardrail at the desolate mountain path behind him. “What the hell just happened?”

  Parker snapped open his visor and squinted into the haze. “Look,” he said, pointing to something just right of the temple’s entrance.

  Alana stepped out from behind the pillar to see what he had spotted. A shimmering capsule wreathed in smoke and ash loomed before her—an energy field, hovering inches above the ground. The dust was too thick to see inside. She had to get closer.

  Jenkinson made a move toward her as she started to approach the capsule. “Wait, Carmen! We don’t know what that thing is; it could be dangerous.” When she didn’t stop, he raised his voice. “Alana, that was an order. Get back over here now!’

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, signaling for him to stay put. The draw of the energy field was too strong for her to ignore. It was almost as if this thing were calling out to her, beckoning her closer.

  She halted a foot from the capsule. The dust had settled enough for her to identify the figure suspended inside as Kenon. His arms hung limp at his sides. Icy veins still glowed beneath his skin, though it looked like they were beginning to withdraw, and the whole left-hand side of his face had been burned.

  Alana splayed her fingers over the capsule’s abnormally firm surface. Green light pulsated beneath her palm, and the energy field started to retract—sinking into the warrior’s armor like an extension of his suit’s defense system. Her own shields recharged as well.

  Once the energy had dissipated, Kenon collapsed to the ground. Raking his claws across the dirt, he drew himself up and rested on his heels, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. The ethereal glow had gone from his eyes, save for a few flecks of light around his pupils.

  Alana went to speak and closed her mouth again, at a loss for words. Was Kenon even aware of what had happened—of what he’d done? That pulse had reduced two enemy squadrons to ash in a heartbeat and left nothing but weapons in their place. It was like nothing she had ever seen in her life. After witnessing something like that, what could she say?

  The beaded curtains swayed. More Drahkori were gathering at the temple door—dancers and blacksmiths and worshippers alike. They, too, were speechless, their jaws parted in awe. One by one, they dropped to the their knees.

  Shakily, Kenon rose to his feet and looked over them. His gaze came to rest on Sypher, who emerged at the front of the crowd. With a wide sweep of her arms, she stooped low in a bow and said, “The old gods have returned.”

  Jhiral drew up beside Kenon and said in a hushed tone, “This is absurd. They must think you are a vykord.”

  “Because I am one.”

  That caught her by surprise. “Wait, what?”

  Kenon turned to her. “I could not entertain the idea at first either, but what I saw in the temple, what happened here . . . this is proof enough for me. I know what I am, and my purpose is clear.” He returned his focus to Sypher. “It was always my duty to stop the Nephera, and that is precisely what I aim to do.”

  Chapter

  —TWENTY-TWO—

  0425 Hours, September 11, 2442 (Earth Calendar) / Shindar State, planet Dyre

  A horde had gathered outside the Silver Palace in the wake of the pulse. Not merely concerned citizens, but whole families—elders, parents, children, and tiny week-old hatchlings—who appeared ready to flee the state. Some carried haversacks, while others had brought entire wagonloads of baggage.

  As Echo Team marched up to the entrance with the dancers close behind, the palace guards barred their way. The larger of the two thrust forth his head and ordered them to leave.

  Kenon stood firm. “I must speak with Adian Lisethea.”

  A growl rumbled deep in the smaller one’s throat. “The Empress is not to be disturbed. Come back tomorrow and make an appointment—and leave these parasites behind.” He flashed his fangs at the humans.

  “We may not have until tomorrow! Please, I beg of you—” Kenon made a move towards the doors, only to be shoved back by the guards. He lost his footing. Jhiral tried to catch him, but his momentum dragged her down and the pair of them toppled over.

  The large one swung his stave in the direction of the city gates. “We have more important things to do than listen to your senseless spiel. Take your pleas elsewhere, wretch.” Just when he and his partner were about to haul Echo Team off, light spilled from the palace doors.

  The Empress stepped out onto the dais, her slanted features illuminated by the candlestick in her painted claws. The commotion outside must have drawn her out of bed. “What is the meaning of this?” She scowled at the two warriors as they picked themselves up off the floor. “Who are you?”

  Kenon stooped low in a bow. “I apologize for the disturbance, Your Imperial Majesty,” he said. “My name is Kenon Valinquint. My comrades and I have—”

  “Valinquint?” Her lips curled in disgust. “The ill spawn of Ceida who evaded Athenna’s wrath by running off to join the Royal Empire? What are you doing here? We were told you had died. Twice, in fact—on two sepa
rate occasions.”

  “The first was a lie. The other . . . a misunderstanding.”

  “Yet both incidents were followed by your return to Dyre. You know you are not welcome here, Valinquint, so why have you come? And what made you choose my doorstep at this ungodly hour?”

  “I wish to speak of the old machines.”

  Lisethea didn’t even give him a chance to explain. She turned and started to walk away. The guards pushed forward at the wave of her hand, forcing Echo Team down the marble stairs.

  “Wait, you don’t understand,” Kenon called after her. “Think of your people, Adian. Dyre cannot not survive another attack. If you do not grant us access to the holds, then all of us will perish!”

  She didn’t stop.

  Blood rushed in Kenon’s ears, pressure built inside his skull. It felt like his head was about to explode. How could the Empress do this? She was about to doom her planet, her entire species, and for what? To please a false deity who had brutally murdered her own kind?

  I have to do something. I have to make her listen.

  Kenon lunged for the guards’ staves. The second his fingers touched the metal, his shields burst. Stray energy electrified the poles and sent both guards flying. The Empress spun around as they rolled to a stop behind her, then gaped at the young warrior.

  “Heed my warning, Adian Lisethea,” he said, “for the truth of my name is Kin’Sevor, and I bear the blood of a vykord!”

  Her jaws parted. Before she could respond, a crooked-tailed elder at the foot of the stairs chimed in.

  “Pay no attention to this disgrace, Your Highness,” he said. “The High Council of Ceida shamed him for a reason. Every ounce of blood in his veins is tainted with weakness. He and his comrades are nothing but blasphemers seeking to defile our goddess!”

  Several Drahkori cried out in agreement, reminding Kenon of that fateful day. However, most of the Drahkori gathered below remained silent—held their tongues in wait of the Empress’ decree.