by D N Meinster
Keisler studied Doren as he neared. "When did this happen?"
"Right after they misused – "
Keisler's stare cut off the clone. "I was asking them."
"We were engaged with Lodmac and the peacekeepers," Rikki replied. "Then, Doren started..." Her voice cracked and she could not continue. Her eyes were watery again and her hands were shaking.
Aros answered for her. "Doren showed signs of magic right before his skin started changing. The armor's not doing that, right?"
"No, the armor does not have that capability," Keisler stated. He sighed and moved out of the way. "Very well. Take them to quarantine."
The tears were streaming down Rikki's face as the peacekeepers nudged them forward.
"And take those damn clasps off them!" Keisler shouted.
With merely a touch, the peacekeepers unlocked the bonds so they fell off Aros and Doren. None of them bothered to pick them up as they continued down the corridor and into the elevator.
"This is where we part," Lodmac's clone told them. "I hope we never see each other again."
The elevator door closed, leaving the clone behind, and the room drifted downward. Rikki felt a hand touch her shoulder. When she looked to see whose it was, she found Aros right by her side. He appeared to be as apprehensive as her, except his eyes weren't as red and he wasn't crying.
She sniffled in appreciation before returning her concentration to Doren. His condition had not changed, but at least that meant he wasn't doing any worse. Whatever the MR was, she was holding it off. Did that mean she could reverse it? But what would happen if Doren was no longer bronze? Would the plague manifest itself in another way? Yuurei hadn't turned bronze. He'd discharged fire and ice as a result of being infected. What she was witnessing was merely a symptom, and Doren needed a cure. If that wasn't beyond her, she'd at least need to know exactly what it was they were dealing with.
"Do you think – " Aros started to say before the door opened.
Waiting for them on the other side was someone with a more startling appearance than the peacekeepers. Their entire body was draped in red, so all of their features were hidden behind heavy-looking material. Where their mouth would have been was a circular contraption speckled with minute holes, and where their eyes should have been there was only a narrow, black visor. "This way please," a muffled female voice beckoned them off the elevator.
The trio departed the elevator and followed the red-clad woman down another austere corridor. Wherever she was taking them, the door slid open once they approached. "He goes in here. You two will – "
"I'm not letting go of him," Rikki said with conviction.
"Then bring him in here," the woman replied. "You," she pointed at Aros.
"I'm staying with them," Aros contended.
"All of you inside," the woman barked.
As soon as the trio entered, the door slid shut, leaving them alone with two peacekeepers. The woman had not joined them.
A three-dimensional image of Keisler formed in the corner of the room. He was transparent and immobile, and he gave off a shimmering blue light. "Strip him!" he ordered.
The peacekeepers grabbed each of Doren's arms and glowing white lines suddenly spread through the armor.
"What is that?" Aros asked.
"The controls for your armor," Keisler answered.
After the peacekeepers manipulated the lights on Doren's arm, the pieces of the armor broke apart and started falling to the ground.
"I hope you're not modest, Doren," Keisler stated as the last bit of armor clunked to the floor.
Rikki gaped at the Prince. The undergarments the Bellish provided, which she recalled being a ghastly shade of gray, had transformed into bronze as well.
The peacekeepers dug their hands into the changed material and shred it to bits as they pulled it off him. Doren was left standing naked in the middle of the room.
Rikki tried to avert her eyes as she remained by him, her hand still on his face. But she couldn't resist the temptation to look down once, and she saw that Doren's chest had turned to bronze as well.
"To the bed, now," Keisler said.
She hadn't even noticed there was a bed in the room. Rikki looked for it, but first she spotted Aros, whose back was now facing them. She let out a brief giggle before finding the bed and guiding Doren over to it. Even though he could walk, his legs remained stiff and he didn't bend his knees when she did. Would he be able to get into bed?
"They'll help him," Keisler assured.
One of the peacekeepers lifted Doren straight up, but Rikki had willed her fingers so tightly onto Doren that she rose into the air with him even though no chrome man was touching her.
It wasn't gentle when it plopped Doren's back onto the mattress, and Rikki remained right on top of him as he was forced to lie down. This wasn't how she imagined getting into bed with him.
Doren seemed amused by the situation, as she saw his eyes light up as she lay on top of him.
"Shut up!" she teased as she slithered off of him and took to standing at his bedside. With a wave of her staff, one of the sheets crawled its way up and covered half his torso. "You can look now, Aros."
Aros took his time spinning back toward them and did a poor job hiding his horror when he noticed what had become of Doren's upper body.
"I need to know more about the MR," Rikki begged Keisler.
"I will reach out to Versil Talap for you," Keisler promised.
"You don't know anything?" Aros said with skepticism as he moved on the Director's projection.
"Magic breaks the rules," Keisler sighed. "And we've been at a loss here since Versil refuses to share his data."
"How does it spread?" Rikki asked.
"I don't know."
"Can I cure it?"
"I don't know!" Keisler raised his voice.
Rikki's dissatisfaction with his responses showed on her face. She glared at him while she asked, "How long does he have?"
"The most anyone's lived with the MR is three days," the Director answered.
Three days? Rikki's eyes turned pure white and her voice was an eerie baritone when she spoke. "You did this to him! You created this MR! This is your fault!"
Keisler brushed off the accusations. "There's never been a mage at any of the victims' side. You may prolong his life."
Rikki's temper tantrum faded away and she burst into tears. All these years, and when it seemed like they may be ready to speak openly about their feelings, Doren was on his deathbed. It wasn't fair! She didn't want to lose him now. How was she supposed to go on if part of her soul died in this room?
Aros snuck up on her side, and he was crying now, too. Their wails overtook the room and even affected Keisler, whose three-dimensional image started blubbering.
Rikki and Aros rested the sides of their heads on each other's, while their tears dripped down onto their third companion.
Aros had lost someone he cared about recently. Would the Goddess really take another one so soon afterward?
She understood, now, why he might lash out in his grief. She wanted to take out all of Belliore for doing this to him. And it hadn't even claimed his life yet!
Keisler cleared his throat in the corner. "How did it go in the weapons lab? You know, besides creating a colossal, rampaging denhare."
"We failed," Rikki snarled.
"I know you may not want to continue," he started.
"I won't!" Rikki screamed back.
"If this mission is as important as you've made it seem, you must," Keisler replied.
Aros sniffled a bit and wiped at his nose before speaking. "He's right. We don't know how long we have. Hatswick could escape with the third Key and we wouldn't know it."
Rikki couldn't even conceive of leaving Doren's side. "I can't." She wouldn't lift her hand while she was delaying the effects of the MR. And even if she wasn't, they'd incinerated Yuurei because he was sick. She wouldn't allow them the opportunity ever again.
"I'll go,
" Aros said.
"What?" Rikki asked, facing her friend.
"I'll shut down the electricity. I'll go back to the weapons lab."
"By yourself?" Rikki raised an eyebrow. She didn't doubt Aros' strength, but she knew he couldn't take out an army of peacekeepers by himself. It was brave of him to offer, but it was completely unreasonable.
"You can stay," Aros said. "All you need to do from here is keep your storm going."
He was serious. He was going to leave her and Doren to try and complete their mission. "Aros, you're dumb," she said half-seriously.
"I've heard that before," Aros said, and he rubbed the back of his head. "But I can do it. I have to."
Rikki considered what Aros was saying. She could start the storm again from here. That wouldn't be a problem. But out there, he'd be alone. No backup. No one coming to save him. She didn't want him to die, too. She couldn't lose everyone on this one day. "I don't want you to."
Aros smirked. "Trust me."
Rikki looked into his blue eyes and nodded. He had made his mind up and she could tell she wouldn't be able to discourage him. "Don't be reckless. If it gets out of hand, retreat."
"Don't worry," Aros said, and he looked to Keisler. "Anything I should know before I leave?"
"Technically, I shouldn't let you go," the Director replied. "You were in the proximity of two cases of the MR. What would be the point of quarantine if I just let everyone leave? However, the Director of Health sets the rules. Isn't that lucky?"
The exit to the room slid open.
"Follow what I said before and you'll succeed," Keisler imparted. "But perhaps don't think about taking on Hatswick by yourself."
"I'll come back before I try to take out that perpetual thingy," Aros said.
"Oh, this is going to go well," Keisler replied.
Rikki held her staff up. "Clouds are moving in, Aros. Get going."
"Right," Aros said, and he hastily made for the exit.
"And may Magenine's light point you true," Rikki called out after him.
Chapter Nineteen
Restless
2 D.R.
Spira rolled the squat metal pipe between her palms before lifting it up to her eye. The inside of the cylinder was as standard as the outside, and she tossed it back onto the pile before stomping away. For this, they had her babysitting a bunch of inbred scientists? She was a mage! She could be doing so much more.
Was this a punishment? Neanthal had promised her it wasn't. He told her this was the most vital task he could give any of his followers. Besides that, she had done almost exactly as he'd requested. Amelia and her ilk were distracted for nearly the entire battle. Aergo was dead. Ghumai had a new king. Why, then, would he send her off here? Simply because she'd been unable to kill Amelia? Well, he didn't even try to do that either. What chance did she have if a god couldn't dispatch her?
Spira slammed her staff into the ground and all of Belliore trembled.
What if she killed all of these pathetic intellectuals? Maybe then Neanthal would let her go after the remnants of Tunsev devotees on the Islands. She wanted to destroy all of them, but none more than Amelia. She'd underestimated her last time, given how she'd never had to battle a grand mage before. They'd always been on the same side. Next time, the bitch wouldn't be so lucky.
"Was that you?" she heard someone croak from behind her.
Not this lifeless idiot. When she wasn't dealing with the whiney scientists, she had to put up with Peransic. Oh boy, did she hate him. If he had any individualistic thoughts of his own, he'd never let it on. It was all follow orders and obey. Anything he wasn't instructed to do, he wouldn't. He'd kowtow if anyone even said Neanthal's name.
Spira turned to face the see-through specter. He was all gray, with an intimidating chain rolled around one leg and a sickle attached to the other. But he wasn't a mage, and she had no fear of him, unlike the Bellish. With this one around, they always stayed in line. She couldn't comprehend why she was needed when he was here.
"Do you see another mage around that can shake the earth?" she retorted.
Peransic did not appreciate sarcasm. "A yes or no would suffice."
"Some roasted boar and a few days at the beach would suffice," Spira replied.
Peransic had no sympathy for her. "Your desires are irrelevant."
Spira didn't know what exactly Peransic was, but she really wanted to find out if her magic could rip him open. She pulled at a couple of her black and gray dreadlocks to resist the temptation to harm him. Neanthal would never forgive that. He loved this one, if only for his loyalty.
"Are yours?"
"I only desire to serve Neanthal," Peransic replied.
Spira should've bet gems on that response. "One day, Peransic, you'll be stuck here to babysit these Bellish on your own."
"I look forward to it," he replied in earnest.
"So do I."
Spira turned around and bumped into one of the plated Massku. With a jab of her staff, it flew back, out of her way.
"That was uncalled for," Peransic grumbled.
"So run and tell the King, then," Spira replied.
She proceeded on her way through occupied Belliore, which was in better condition than half of Kytheras. Neanthal wanted these Bellish treated well. Any buildings that had been damaged were repaired. The Massku may roam the streets in this area, but once the Bellish retired to their homes for the night, they were forbidden from disturbing them. It was a kindness these slaves didn't deserve.
All of Belliore was working toward one goal. Neanthal had collaborated with the Bellish on designing a weapon unlike any Ghumai had ever seen. This weapon was supposed to ensure his dominance not only in this world, but in the Bastion, where Magenine resided.
Many of their structures may have remained standing, but most had been converted to some sort of manufacturing center. Slabs of unrefined metals were brought in every day. Barrels of prop powder lined the streets, awaiting usage.
The web of wires that once decorated Cortex were almost entirely torn down. Only a few remained for transport of these raw materials. There was more than one building in the city where sliced wires hung from their roofs, swaying depressingly with every breeze.
For all of this work, and all of these slaves, Spira had yet to see any result. Bellish science was intended to create an unstoppable weapon, but it had yet to exist. Her presence did nothing to speed up their effort. Her powers wouldn't enable her to force the Bellish to create something she didn't understand. Why, then, was she needed here?
Spira whipped her staff to the side, and one of the demibeasts prowling about took to the air and crashed through a window. She cackled with amusement at her own antics. At least there were no consequences for acting out.
Another of the demibeasts growled at her, but it ran away as she approached. She considered going after it but decided not to waste her energy. Instead, she shifted to a nearby roof and took a seat on the ledge, with her legs dangling off it. Many of these buildings in Cortex had grown to nearly the height of Castle Tornis. From up here, she could gander on the houses where they lived, or count the mechcars that were still in operation. But the best part about this spot wasn't the view, it was the solitude. No Massku came up here, nor did Peransic. She could dream of revenge without ever being bothered.
She flicked the channeling crystal atop her staff and closed her eyes as a gentle gust rocked her dreadlocks and displaced her black uniform. Without a breeze, the sun would bake her pallid skin and the tight black attire would suffocate her. She only wore it to stay consistent with the Massku, though Spira had intentionally drawn an upside-down pyramid colliding with a broken heart into the material to mimic the King's outfit. Even Peransic hadn't adorned himself with the symbol.
"Spira Seracles."
Spira peeked her eyes open and gazed at the visitor who'd joined her on the side of the roof.
"King Neanthal," she sputtered, and she hastily attempted to swing her legs back so she'd be
able to stand.
But Neanthal raised a hand to calm her and took a seat beside her. "Why do you come up here, my dear?"
"It's the best view in all of Ghumai," she told him.
He looked around, his fiery eyes taking in all they could see. "I wonder, then, why you'd want to leave it behind." His intense focus narrowed on her.
"Have you been speaking with Peransic?" Spira asked.
"I don't have to to know," he replied.
While that may have been true, she'd guess that Peransic actually went and told him. "I am wasted here."
"Do you know what fascinates me about these Bellish?" Neanthal said. "Every culture in Ghumai has stories about how the world works around them and how they're supposed to behave. Except them. They tell you what the stars are without a clever tale. They teach their children facts without fiction. They have no imagination, only a drive to produce. So I've done the imagining for them, and now I only need them to produce."
Spira didn't know how to argue further without sounding treasonous. She kept a steady tone as she responded. "You gave me all I ever wanted from my abilities. I can control others like no one else. But you do not need me to control these scientists. Let me go to the Islands and turn all of Aergo's friends on each other. They'll wipe themselves out so you'll never have to worry about them again."
"If I was so concerned with them, they'd all be dead already," Neanthal stated. With a gentle tap against the siding, he floated into the air and returned to a standing position on the roof. "But I see no reason you can't split your time between here and the Islands." He grinned at her. "Have fun."
Spira beamed right back before Neanthal completely disappeared. She'd chosen the right deity to follow.
Spira sat cross-legged on the sand, enjoying the salt-watered scent as it blew in from the sea. She held out her hand as a beachgoer placed a slab of charred pork into her palm. With merely a thought, she sent the poor fool back to stand around the fire with the others.