Void Legion

by Terry C. Simpson

  “Some plum wine, if you have any.”

  “Course, I do. I had pegged you for a beer man. I’m usually right.” The barkeep put the glass he had cleaned on top the bar. “Name’s Hardizan.”

  “Frost.” Frost stuck out his hand. “Beer’s always been too bitter for my tastes.”

  Hardizan stared at Frost’s hand, frowned, then finally shook it. “Nice to meet you.” The man’s grip was firm, his skin rough.

  Hardizan turned away to the bottles lining the shelves behind him. He picked out a green one with a white label, its contents dark. When he came back to Frost, Hardizan found the chain with the aether ring sitting beside the glass. He paused for a mere second before he poured the red plum wine.

  “I’m looking for a hammersmith,” Frost said, keeping his voice low.

  “I see.” Hardizan’s eyes looked past Frost, and Frost got the sense the man had just scanned the room. “Give me a moment.” Hardizan shuffled off toward the door and stairs at the end of the bar.

  Frost picked up his drink and took a sip. Swilling the sweet wine around in his mouth, he casually turned to where he could survey the room and keep an eye on the doorway. Everything was as he recalled: people busy drinking, eating, and talking. His group shot looks his way without making it obvious.

  Minutes later, Hardizan returned in the company of a coffee-colored erada a little taller than Frost. The man was dressed in plain black robes, his horns as dark as his skin, his eyes piercing black beads. His dark hair was done in neat cornrow braids. While Hardizan went about his business, cleaning more glasses, the man stopped in front of Frost, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked down at the chain and aether ring.

  “Put that away,” the man said in a soft-spoken voice.

  Frost picked up the chain, put it back around his neck, and tucked it beneath his gambeson before he said, “How do I know you’re–” The newcomer arched an eyebrow. “The person I was sent to meet?” Frost finished, meeting the man’s studious gaze with a searching one of his own.

  “You’re alive and still have your tongue.” The man put his left hand on the bar and leaned forward. An aether ring adorned his left thumb.

  “My mother sent me,” Frost said.

  “May Nif keep Anefet’s soul.” With his right hand, the man made the sign of the X over his heart. “And yes, I am Adesh Hamada.”

  Information Memory clicked.

  Locate Adesh Hamada

  Objective Complete

  Found Adesh Hamada:

  2500 experience points

  250 Ignis dominion credits

  Frost closed his eyes for a moment and let out a slow, relieved breath. Then he spoke so only Adesh could hear. “She left a letter saying you could help me. My sister and I need some place safe to hide from Setnana Botros and her Battleguards. They chased us all the way from Niba.”

  “I will try, but on the same day they killed Anefet,” Adesh said, “there were multiple attacks on Blue Sky across Khertahka, Ignis, and Lothal. Most of the Blue Sky leadership died or were captured. I came here to gather information and to pick up the pieces.”

  “Who exactly is responsible for killing her?”

  “A sect within the Coalition seeking to grab power for themselves in these chaotic times. We call them the Black Hand. Anefet named Exarch Bakui Assam, Nomarch Setnana Botros, and Nomarch Aishani Chaten among the conspirators. But myself and a few of the surviving leaders think it runs deeper.”

  Frost nodded. He took note of a new quest. Scourge of the Black Hand. He’d thought there was something odd going on when Nebsamu mentioned no response from the Exarch or directly from the Coalition. In the back of his mind he saved the two additional names for retribution. He already knew of a way he might get to Nomarch Setnana Botros.

  “Nebsamu had explained how they came after Anefet again despite her exile. How’d they manage to get the Coalition to do the same to the rest of Blue Sky?” Frost asked.

  “Your mother’s group was regularly destroying the sect’s secret mining operations and their slave camps,” Adesh Hamada said. “So, they framed us for attacks on Coalition supplies meant for the Front, an assassination attempt on Kalarch Voculo, and for the spread of the Gray Death.”

  “Spread of a plague? How?”

  “If you get enough mystics, hierkaneers, and common folk repeating the same thing to the right ears, someone with authority is bound to believe.”

  “Still–” Frost began.

  “Perception is a palette,” Adesh said. “Blending it is art. Lies become truths. Ugliness becomes beauty. Evil becomes good. Up is down and left is right. Master the colors of perception to make the world your canvas.”

  Frost couldn’t argue the point. Pops used to say something similar. But with less words. With the explanation came a quest completion.

  Circumstances of Anefet’s Death

  Objective Complete

  2500 experience points

  300 Ignis dominion credits

  500 Khertahka dominion credits

  Frost shook his head. “What now, since everything’s stacked against us? Anefet wanted me to make sure my sister was safe. It’s the reason she sent me to find you.”

  “We have two strongholds of which the Coalition and the Black Hand are unaware. One in the Nimri dominion and the other across the Empyrean Sea on Korbash, where we have the protection of the gargants and the yurids.”

  “Korbash is best. The farther away she is from all this, the better.”

  “And you? What is your plan?”

  “Become stronger so I can get justice for Anefet.”

  “Vengeance, then.” Adesh nodded once.

  “Fulfilling the promise I made to her,” Frost said.

  “Don’t turn around,” Adesh said under his breath. “Someone followed you.”

  “You sure?” Worry stirred in Frost’s chest. “I swore we got rid of them.”

  “Seems you missed one. Because Khafra the Mad, one of Setnana’s personal Blackguards, is here with several Battleguards.” Shifting his head a bit, Adesh spoke to the barkeeper. “Hardizan, tell Marivelle to go to his friends’ table and insist they join us at the bar.” He focused on Frost once more. “Keep talking to me as if I gave you no warning.” The barkeeper signaled to the serving girl.

  “Is he looking our way?” Frost tried to think how they could escape the situation. If they should fight or try to flee.

  “I can see your mind working. You are far from being strong enough for Khafra. He is at least thirty. A dementer of considerable skill. I doubt I could take him.”

  Frost swallowed. Just when he thought he’d saved Tia and made some headway, everything seemed to be falling apart. Still, he had his new cannon, Deadeye. He could turn and unleash a combo when his friends got to the bar. There had to be a backdoor to the tavern. But what then? Where would we run to?

  CHAPTER 21

  “First, they escaped Khertahka.” Setnana sneered at the drake rider captain down on bended knee before her. “Then, you lost them when their simurgh landed here in Kituan. You found them again… and lost them again? Are the pictures you have of them not clear enough?”

  “I blame myself for this failure,” Major Neferna said. Standing a few feet behind Captain Tisheru Chuma, the Sky Swords leader kept her head suitably bowed. “I should have been here, but I took it upon myself to try capture or kill Umesh Madara rather than chasing after the Hand’s children.”

  “Shouldering some of the blame is only right, Neferna. It is a company in your command.” The Nomarch strode to a nearby table and picked up a glass of wine.

  She threw her head back, emptied the blood red vintage, and replaced the glass. The wine was smooth and rich. Expensive. Kelsial Valley, if she wasn’t mistaken. She nodded her approval.
>
  Setnana stared Major Neferna in the eye and continued, “But you offset your failure with Umesh Madara by capturing Nebsamu Tadros and one of his Blue Sky helpers. That is worthy of praise. Captain Chuma, on the other hand, failed at the simplest of things. Several times. How difficult is it to catch two children when you have them in your sight? Forget catching them… how difficult is it to keep an eye on them?”

  Captain Tisheru Chuma glanced up and made as if to speak.

  “Captain Chuma… that was purely a rhetorical question.” Setnana stared the man down. Any defiance fled his eyes. He averted his gaze.

  She let out an annoyed breath. For months, she’d refused to promote the captain despite his many successes in the field against poachers, slavers, and bandits. He had even defeated grand kora raiders before she had allied with Aishani and Exarch Assam. But his short thin horns, wiry body, and forgettable face did not meet the alluring beauty she required of her officers. I should have known better.

  “Neferna, you’ve been far too forgiving with your men. Leniency is weakness. Demote this man to Soldier. The others who failed with him… they were riders, correct?” She eyed the Major, who nodded. “Have them whipped, demoted, and paraded before the army in Aprunis. Let them know what incompetence can buy them.”

  “Yes, Nomarch.” Neferna bowed.

  Setnana waited for them to leave before taking a peek at her timeorb. The day was wasting away. What was keeping the man?

  To calm herself, she strode out onto the balcony overlooking the Tiberium District’s estates. Fiery hues seeped across the sky like fading remnants of an explosion. She inhaled the rich, briny scents of the River Segia, upon whose estuary the humans had built Kituan.

  Off to her right, and continuing behind her villa, rose the tiered buildings and pillars of the Kituan acropolis, home to Kalarch Stadius Voculo, the waddling, stern-faced human who had the most influence in all the Coalition. One day she would hold sway over every erada as Kalarch Voculo did for every human. Kalarch Setnana Botros of Khertahka had a nice ring to it.

  “All in due time.” She stopped before the balustrade.

  First, she had to deal with the Blue Sky Network fugitives. The surviving Frosts, in particular. And whomever had helped them at Marna. They were the reason she was away from Perihy, away from Aishani’s loving arms, the reason Exarch Bakui Assam had punished her with this forsaken mission.

  She clenched her fist. Knowing Nebsamu Tadros was currently suffering in a dungeon back in Aprunis assuaged her anger somewhat. But capturing Anefet Frost’s children, Beketia and Drelan, and the instructions they carried, would redeem her.

  She wondered as to the content of those instructions. And to whom they might be delivering them in Kituan. She would know soon enough. Their fates were all but sealed.

  Images of Drelan and Beketia Frost bloomed in her mind. An artist’s rendering delivered to her from Exarch Bakui Assam’s people. Both children were less than stellar looking, Drelan being ordinary if not ugly. There was nothing remarkable about him. Nothing appealing. Not his dark magenta skin, slim body, his large horns, or bulbous nose. He was the opposite of her Perihy. Not surprising considering his lack of pedigree.

  Thoughts of the children brought her to the mission itself. Far ahead, beyond the acropolis’ curtain wall and the flagstoned avenues overflowing with folk from every corner of Mikander; beyond the numerous bridges over waterways and canals occupied by watercraft; the granite and marble buildings; the Aetherium’s foreboding giant pillars, walls, and arcane secrets, was the River Segia’s delta where it bled into the sapphire of the Empyrean Sea.

  Maelpith Island sat within that sea. A mystery shrouded in mist that radiated with voidstorm lightnings. Reports she’d gathered said to be wary of the storm’s remnants.

  Which part of the island held Imanok Sanctum? The seemingly abundant greenery that were forests? Or the lone cloud-cloaked mountain? Could these rumored schemas, skill shards, and this zhua, Benediction, really provide a cure for the Gray Death? A cure for Perihy?

  The click of the door opening and closing reverberated. Confident footsteps headed toward her. As did the soft tap of a staff on the carpeted floor. She could recognize that gait anywhere. As she could recognize the person’s form. The footsteps and taps stopped outside the balcony.

  “Ihuet, did you locate the sceeves?”

  “Of course, my Nomarch,” answered Ihuet’s quiet, almost bored voice. “They’re hiding at a tavern in the Gregis District. The Wyvern’s Eye. Khafra is keeping them in his sights.”

  “Good.” She looked to her left, far in the distance beyond the curtain wall, where the city’s architecture changed from granite and marble to limestone. The waterways became narrower canals. The wide flagstoned avenues meandered into cobbled or dirt lanes, except for the Via Arcadius: the thoroughfare leading into the heart of the Gregis District and its numerous small buildings and open-air markets.

  Kituan’s criminal underbelly thrived in the Gregis District. Even if vigorously denied by Ad Mauros’ nomarch, Demipho Pansa, a furtive little beast of a man who made her skin crawl.

  “Get a coach ready.” She could not stand the idea of Exarch Assam seeing her as a failure after the events in Niba. He had already sent word by Communication Orb, blaming her for Soleb and Marna also. And now, these children. Children! I will not have it.

  “Khafra and I can handle it,” Ihuet said. “You should head to the island. We’ll catch up.”

  “After I see to this.”

  “But what of little Perihy?”

  She heaved a slow breath. “We don’t know for certain if the cure is on the island. But we know where Anefet’s bastards are. We can take care of them and leave for Maelpith tonight.” A big part of her wanted to find Imanok Sanctum right now, but she also did not wish to miss out on a perfect chance at the remaining Frosts.

  “As you say. Still, your presence–”

  “I want to be there. I want to look Anefet’s children in the eye when they die.” In truth, she wanted to do more than that. She would take their lives with her own hands. She saw Papa’s smiling face. “Now, hurry, prepare a coach. I won’t forgive anyone who causes me to miss this chance.”

  “Taking a coach into the Gregis District might be a giveaway,” Ihuet said in the same bored tone. The man could be unnerving. “Alerting the vermin that nobility is among them might only serve to make them overly cautious. Disguising ourselves as sceeves is the better option.”

  She grimaced at his suggestion. Still looking out over the city, she waved a dismissive hand. “I might don a less colorful dress, something with less shimmer and frills, but making myself appear like the lowest of the low is something I will not do. Nobles are known to have darker sides and desires and are sometimes in need of things from the criminal element. I will be one such, interested in goods I could not otherwise acquire in a more reputable place. And you will be who you are: my bodyguard.”

  “As you wish, my Nomarch. But there is one thing I will not budge on.”

  Setnana sighed. “Go on.”

  “We’ll abandon the coach a few streets away, take a gondola down the nearby canal, and approach the tavern on foot amongst the locals.”

  She nodded. “That, I can do.”

  “How will you deal with not having Kalarch Voculo’s permission for military action in his dominion? In his home city? What do I advise Major Neferna to tell the Battleguards should the humans interfere?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the Gregis District. Place the blame on a thief’s guild thinking I was an easy mark. We were defending ourselves.”

  “I’ll make the necessary preparations.” His footsteps receded. The door clicked shut.

  A smile curved Setnana’s lips. Her gaze remained on the Gregis District, her thoughts on the satisfaction to come. A thrill eased through her body.<
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  ******

  Bands of hazy flame limned the western sky as they made the last portion of the trip in a gondola. Nose wrinkled at the effluvium drifting off the canal’s dark green water, Nomarch Botros sat facing away from the gondolier, a wiry human who’d bowed profusely and introduced himself as Piero.

  Ihuet sat opposite her, one hand on his staff, seemingly disinterested, but she knew he saw and heard everything around them as evidenced by his ears’ slight twitches and his shifting eyes. They passed buildings and homes that seemed to sprout from the canal itself, foundations stained with water marks. Passersby crossed over a bridge ahead of them.

  “We disembark on the other side of that bridge,” Ihuet said. “The Wyvern’s Eye is directly down the lane and across the market square. Our men are disguised as some of the local eradae, either in the market acting the part of shoppers or visitors, or inside drinking with the patrons.”

  “And Khafra?”

  “In the tavern, ensuring our targets do not escape.”

  Setnana sat up a bit straighter. Her heart fluttered. Soon, she would have redemption and a measure of vengeance, of justice for Papa. And then she could head to Maelpith Island for hierkas and shards to save her Perihy. She pictured Perihy’s smiling face, his unblemished skin, full of life and vigor.

  They pulled into the bridge’s shadow, the splash of the gondolier’s long oar echoing, as did the lap of water against the walls. The gondolier maneuvered the boat until it drew alongside a set of stairs. He tossed a rope over a hook in the wall and tied it off.

  Ihuet was the first off the boat, causing the vessel to rock. The gondolier reached a hand out to help Setnana but pulled it back at the scathing look she shot his way. She raised her gossamer hem and followed Ihuet as if she’d lived on the canals.

  Setnana and Ihuet ascended the stairs and were soon among the bustle and murmur of the throngs entering and leaving this section of the Gregis District. Criers shouted out their wares, offering sales due to the pending close of the day’s business. Being an erada, taller than most races, had its advantages. Her height provided her with a good view of her surroundings.