Sanctuary

by Chris Fox

  “Nice work.” Miri gave an enthusiastic nod at me, then turned to Seket. “You’re as good as I’ve heard. Thank you for saving my ass.”

  “It isn’t saved yet,” Seket managed through gritted teeth.

  I used my sight to scan through the hull, since the scry-screen was down. The fighters were still pursuing, but Seket had already opened a gap and the storm had reinforced it. The larger ship, some sort of destroyer, had also fallen behind, which was good as I could see three more harpoon mounts.

  The storm worsened, and we were tossed like a pebble. Seket somehow guided us from one gust to another, leaning into the storm and using it to hurl us away from our enemies, and always in the direction the winds were coming from.

  Flying into the storm seemed madness, but sometimes madness was all the armor you could wear. At least we’d only have the flight to survive, and not having our souls shackled. We might even survive this.

  The drive died.

  “Hold on!” Seket roared as he dove for the stabilizing ring.

  The ship spun wildly, and I clung to the hovercouch as if it could somehow protect me. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe as we spun deeper into the storm. A gravity source had us now, and we were falling toward something…with no means of stopping ourselves.

  I forced my eyes open and peered below us, through the hull. “Oh, gods.”

  We were tumbling toward a solar-system-sized god with an alligator head, and recognizable pharaonic garb. He’d been impaled with the universe’s largest falchion, and where the curved blade pierced the water god’s heart, lightning and wind bellowed outward, the very heart of the storm. It carried ice from the skin of the water god, and just like that I understood what had birthed this maelstrom.

  I also understood why no one seemed to know. Because by the time you could see what had caused all this you were falling to your death. “Seket, any last minute tricks?”

  “Negative, Captain.” Seket’s arms bulged and he groaned with physical effort as he focused on righting our course. “Best I can do is a controlled crash. The drive is shot. Probably took shrapnel from the storm. Rocks or metal or ice.”

  I knew talking through the problem helped the paladin keep calm, and it had a similar effect on Miri. Siwit sat serenely, apparently unconcerned.

  “You don’t fear death?” I focused entirely on my ward, as Utred had called him. Might as well learn something before I died.

  “Why would I?” He gave a genuine surprised laugh. “What an odd concept. I do not embrace death, as some among us do. They hasten it, and claim their own lives. I choose to respect the cycle, and will only become unliving when this vessel expires. That will not happen for many centuries, but if it does today, because of this crash? My spirit will rise, and either seek a physical form here, or if it is time I will move on to the cycle, and finally see the deep spirit where we are ground down into dream. I have always craved that wonder, so if I die? I will embrace that, as I do life.”

  I admired his attitude.

  The turbulence abruptly ceased, and we entered free fall. I knew that had to mean…we were about to impact. I conjured a bit of void into my armor, which sluggishly accepted it, and levitated off the couch.

  Lights died as we slammed into the water god’s pharaonic headdress, and the spell matrix was torn from the deck, and hurled into the wall opposite us. My makeshift plug broke, and ice-laden air gusted into the room, coating everything with frost.

  I staggered through the mess over to the ruined matrix, and knelt to take Seket’s pulse. He lived. I pressed my hands against either side of his jaw, and poured life magic into him.

  His eyes fluttered open, and I released him then stepped back to give him room.

  “We live.” He rose to his feet and cradled his head with one hand. “The ship, however, does not. Not without extensive repairs. What now, Captain?”

  I looked around at our battered survivors. The temperature had already dropped to painful. Soon it would be lethal. “Get to your quarters. Gather what you can. Everything of value. We’ll see if any systems work. If the forge can print then we’re going to keep it running until we’re out of power. Go. We have no idea if the locals will be upset, but it’s best to count on their imminent arrival.”

  This time I didn’t need flame reading to predict the future.

  Interlude V

  Voria willed the Spellship to translocate, a feat that, so far as she knew, only it could perform, of all the vessels in the known universe. So great a power, possible because the vessel itself was a deity. Alive, and aware, though not sentient in the same way she considered herself to be. The vessel wasn’t like Ikadra. It lacked a true personality, but it possessed emotions.

  The titanic golden spear appeared in the debris at the edge of Kemet’s starship graveyard, on the far side of the trade moon. That put her well away from where the planet would have been, and away from immediate response.

  She bonded with the Spellship’s senses and scanned the system. A trivial task a goddess could easily perform herself, but Voria valued systems and procedures. When one wished to know about something, they used the sensors, and the sensors created logs. One did not use one’s divine third eye to scan the system, because if one did, that information would not be saved.

  Voria hadn’t stopped being a soldier when she ascended, and soldiers survived through an alloy of training and logistics. Mastery of the supply chain, procedure, and bureaucracy was as important as skill in arms. An army marched on its stomach, even when marching through the stars.

  And there was beauty in a well oiled machine. In a system that ran exactly as it was supposed to.

  “Trade moon on screen,” Pickus barked as the administrator prowled behind the quartet of mages managing the ship’s various systems. Voria could run the ship alone, but the idea of doing it without a redundant bridge crew seemed preposterous.

  Here again procedure mattered. She could run it alone, but what if she was forced to translocate away to deal with another threat? What if she was assassinated? Whatever the cause, having a competent bridge crew meant combat continued even if the commander was incapacitated or missing. There were ten more teams, just like this one.

  “Word of Xal in system,” a young woman Voria didn’t know called from one of the terminals. She pulsed with air magic, and her clipped accent put her from Virkon. “They’re reporting all systems green, and are moving to support our position. The rest of the fleet is using us as a Fissure point, and appearing in our wake.”

  Voria could feel the split in reality open, and observed through the Spellship’s senses as a dozen blocky Ternus battleships emerged, supported by a bevy of new destroyers and corvettes. There were also new carriers, some larger, and some small enough to pass for a frigate, with just a handful of fighters within.

  All told there must have been sixty ships, an impressive fleet after the beating Ternus had taken during the war. The New Texas shipyards really had been working overtime, and for the first time in a year she was excited to see their vessels. Not a single tainted Inuran vessel in the bunch.

  “We’ve located the Flame of Knowledge,” a young man from Yanthara called over his shoulder. “Gathering all sensor logs for relevant markers.”

  “And the other Great Ships?” Voria demanded. She needed an accounting. Had the necromancers taken any? That was the real question. If two or more came online and attacked they’d still have an advantage, but only a slight one. If the trade moon supported them with its cannon? The Word would fall, and Voria would be forced to retreat.

  “The Earthmother’s Bulwark is still here. The Shivan’s Echo is still near the center of the debris field, but appears heavily damaged.” The tech mage paused and scanned the readout. “Krox’s Righteousness is present as well, and immune to our scans. None of the vessels appear to have been claimed, though it’s possible they’ve grounded teams inside.”

  Voria snorted a laugh at the name of Krox’s vessel. She probed the syst
em around her, and verified what the tech had related. No sense not double-checking, so long as one had already followed procedure. There was no sign of the Virkonna’s Saber, which had been presumed lost in the Umbral Depths, or the system where Nefarious had originally sprung her ambush.

  Nor was there any sign of Marid’s vessel, which they didn’t even have a name for. She could probably ask Inura to remedy that particular gap in their knowledge, and made a note to ask him the next time she had a moment.

  “I’ll be leaving for a time. Pickus, you have the conn.” She nodded at her second, as worthy a choice as she could make, and then translocated inside the Flame of Knowledge.

  Nara had provided Voria the layout, and she used it to arrive in the archives, not far from the bridge. Under other circumstances she’d have found the towering shelves of knowledge scales irresistible, the largest repository outside of Neith’s hidden world. No time.

  Voria muted her power, but anyone of significant strength had probably felt her. She’d need to work quickly.

  “What are you hoping to accomplish here?” Ikadra’s dejected voice pulsed from the staff, which she’d only half realized she was still carrying. “I can feel the insanity bleeding into everything. We’re not safe here. You’re the very last thing we want this place getting ahold of. The addition of life could make the swarm even more dangerous.”

  “I’m here for the web.” She sketched a fly spell, another procedure she didn’t need. Hardcasting wasn’t strictly necessary for a deity. You could use will. But she liked hardcasting, and she was good at it. Nor was she the only god who did. “We’ll scry the system and see what Necrotis is about, and then we’ll head back to the Spellship. If possible I will do what I can to heal the ship.”

  “Don’t!” Panic vibrated from the staff, a reaction she’d never seen. “Voria, do not touch the web. Speak to the guardian. Heal the guardian if you want, but if you touch the web…once it gets inside of you, you’ll never get it out. It will grow and grow over time, and you’re immortal.”

  “I see. I won’t touch the web.” Ikadra had never given her advice like this before, never with so much urgency, so she treated it with the gravity it deserved. “I will see if the guardian can help us.”

  “Nooooo oneeee can helpppp youuuuuu.” Clacked a low ominous voice, from a thousand, thousand mouths. A swarm of spiders rapidly assembled themselves into a face. “We will devour you, and learn your mind. We will—”

  Voria raised Ikadra, and this time she didn’t hard cast. She willed pure life, amplified by the staff. The magical brilliance incinerated everything it touched, and thanks to divine guidance, it touched all the spiders. The fire raced through the ship, up every corridor, through every auditorium and hangar. She burned away webs and spiders, and touched nothing else in the massive vessel.

  This kind of divine mastery wasn’t possible without both the staff and the Spellship, but since she had both…why not leave the Flame better than when she’d found it?

  “They’ll come back quickly,” Ikadra pointed out forlornly. “In a few weeks they’ll be a threat again, and in a year this place will be overrun. The swarm is tied to the web. You can’t kill them entirely, or the web dies.”

  Voria hesitated. She hadn’t fully understood that relationship until Ikadra had explained it. “Well, then, at least we’ve afforded the arachnidrakes and the hatchlings a reprieve.”

  She zoomed into the air, and shot across the archives until she reached the lift that led to the bridge. Voria descended and tapped the button, and rode the lift up like any good passenger would. Only foolish gods were too proud to use a common conveyance. Already Frit, Nara, and Aran all used their magic like breathing. Only Crewes and Davidson seemed hesitant. The former because he’d seen his best friend turn into a demon, and the latter because the war had broken something in him.

  The lift doors opened on the bridge, and Voria cautiously advanced into the room. It lay deserted, save for a…a temporal matrix. By the goddess, that’s what the web was. A temporal matrix attached to a sophisticated recording system. You could browse all realities, and learn so much. And that’s exactly what this ship had likely done for millennia under Neith’s watchful eye. Such a loss. One that, perhaps, could be rectified.

  She strode boldly onto the bridge and reminded herself she was a goddess. “Guardian, I am Lady Voria and I have come to aid you. I have spoken with the boy Jerek, who has told me of your sacrifice, and your struggle. I am a healer. May I offer aid?”

  Bubbling lava erupted from an open pit in the floor, and resolved itself into an arachnidrake, comprised of the hottest magma. The jaws chittered but when it spoke it was with perfect clarity. “I am called Kek. You speak of Captain Jerek. Yes, he fulfilled the prophecy. Now, slowly, we are setting things right.”

  Voria sketched a true seeing spell, and studied the guardian. Black spotted its aura like tumors, most centered around the head, but others on random parts of the body. It appeared this insanity, whatever it was, could corrupt physically once it had ahold of you.

  “May I tend to your affliction, Kek? I can help remove the madness.” She took a step closer, but all eight flaming eyes narrowed suspiciously, so she stopped and awaited an answer.

  “Why have you really come? What do you seek for yourself?” Kek’s voice had shifted, and now bore an addict’s skepticism and paranoia.

  “I wish to ask questions of the web.” Voria took a step back, and bowed respectfully. “To know of the battle that will take place in this system. The necromancers are going to attack us. How? When? Where?”

  “Open your mind to me,” Kek crooned. Now it was the guardian who took a step forward. “Touch the web. Ask. The answers you seek are there.”

  Klaxons went off in Voria’s mind. The madness had him fully now, if he was luring others in like the fabled sirens onto the rocks.

  There was nothing more to be gained here. She sketched a teleport, and returned to the Spellship.

  11

  We spent about twenty minutes gathering food, cold weather gear, climbing equipment, and everything else I thought might be useful. There was a chance I’d make it back to the Remora, and a chance she’d fly again. There was a greater chance she wouldn’t. We’d made a real habit of crashing her.

  I hefted my pack, and threaded up the Remora’s main corridor, which canted at a crazy angle in the crash. I made for Rava’s room, as we were out of time for Briff to wake on his own. We needed him on his scaly feet, because there was no way we could carry him.

  I rapped at Rava’s door, and it ground open almost immediately. Rava’s concerned face appeared, then stepped out of the way to admit me. Briff sat on the bed, his slitted eyes blinking slowly as he looked around, his forked tongue flicking outward as he tested the air.

  “Jer?” Rava held her largest rifle, and had a pack of gear strapped to her back. She’d outfitted herself in a fleece parka, which I still considered too light, but she’d probably chosen so as not to restrict her movement. “Didn’t you say we shouldn’t be around him when he woke up? That he’d be hungry?”

  “Briff, bud, can you hear me?” I drew Dez, and readied a dream bolt as I stepped into the room. He didn’t react to my presence, so I took a step closer to the bed. “Hey, we need to move out soon. You want to stop by the mess and make some cake before we go?”

  Briff’s eyes fluttered, then focused on me. “Cake?”

  He rose shakily to his feet, and seemed aware of his surroundings for the first time. He fluffed his wings, and scratched his neck with a yawn. “Jer? Where are we? I’m so hungry. There’s cake?”

  “The cake is a lie,” Rava snapped. “We don’t have time.”

  “Why not? Jer, what’s going on?” Briff blinked up at me, then at Rava.

  “We just crashed,” I explained, “and the locals could be here any minute. We were escaping the necromancers. Anyway, we can’t stay with the ship. They had fighters after us, and there are probably more in system that belong to
whatever lives at these Catalysts. Anyway, get your gear. I know you don’t care about the cold, so grab as much food as you can carry. We’re moving out in five.”

  “On it.” Briff rose to his feet, his wings flapping to help him get the last bit. He’d lost weight. A lot of weight. Enough that I should be concerned? I hoped this was somehow a molting, and not some sort of degenerative condition. Gaunt was not a good look on him.

  Rava moved to assist Briff, so I headed toward the cargo hold to get everyone else ready. I still needed to take care of the part where I came up with a plan. We’d never intended to come here. Now we couldn’t leave. So where did we go? Wandering into a storm? Great plan, Jerek.

  BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. A series of thuds impacted against the cargo bay door, and I took shelter behind a pile of crates as I watched the door buckle. Something incredibly powerful was doing the punching if they were denting a starship. A Wyrm?

  The wall ripped open with a tortured shriek of metal, and a well armored creature stepped through. It had thick white fur, and hundreds of kilos of muscle. The thing stood easily three meters tall, and hateful, ursine eyes landed on me.

  “They should not make bears this large.” I sheltered behind the crates, and tried to decide how to respond as the armored bear tore its way into my hold. Three more lurked behind it, and who knew how many more after that? Well, time to lay out the welcoming mat.

  I leaned out of cover, and launched a darkness spell, which cut visibility nicely for my opponents. Then I launched a gravity sphere just behind the first bear, and watched with a grin as the enormous creature was pulled off its feet. All that muscle didn’t do squat when you were hovering in the air, blind.