by Ren Garcia
Bang! His CARG, caught in the massive draft, hit him in the back of the leg, shattering ice layers, its intricate saddle holding fast at his hip. Wincing, he rolled over and grabbed its coppery, whipping shaft and held it steady. Yet another indignity—to fall holding one's CARG in place. What would they say back at the Fleet? In such a situation, something smaller and more compact, like the CEROS of House Probert, made better sense.
A humming began to form in his head.
He had wondered what had taken so long. Apparently, Ergos, his great black bulk getting larger and larger beneath him as he fell, wanted to talk.
Time to have a conversation with the world.
"Ergos," Davage said in reply with his wind-whipped mouth. His ability to use standard telepathy was shockingly bad. Syg would certainly not approve, and Kilos might laugh. "Well met, sir."
"I suppose your dreary skies filled with cloaked, armed Xaphan transports was not an indication that I was coming."
"Please … A sky full of transports is something of an embarrassing insult."
"I wasn't at the helm at the outset of your sneak attack, sir, but thank you for that."
"I'll not be captured, sir. I will await my rescue, which will be, no doubt, forthcoming."
"I am fine. Yes, excellent, I was hoping to run into a Black Hat or two." The air whistled through his mouth as he tried to talk.
"Thank you."
Steadying himself, holding his CARG, Davage looked down and Sighted. Far below, through the smattering of clouds and the dead dry light of Mirendra. He saw the craggy layout of Metatron in clear sight.
And there, as he saw clearly from orbit, was a silver pyramid rising up amid the black, windowless buildings, huddled alleys, and dreary byways of the central town overlooking a dank body of dark water.
Sygillis's temple. Five thousand feet high. Turned to silver.
"Excellent, I was looking forward to seeing her again."
"Yes, I found her most pleasant the first time."
"Really, and what sort of deal would you like to make?"
"And I am certain you can pre-determine what my answer will be."
A layer of icy clouds whizzed by. Davage, without needing his Sight, could now clearly see the Silver Temple and the towers of Metatron surrounding it. It was a hard thing to miss. He could also see there was a great mass clamoring at its base—a dark army trying to breach its walls.
He Sighted the mass. There, mixed in among the seething darkness, he saw ten Black Hats scattered about, their red robes standing out clearly in his Sight.
He saw black Shadow tech giants pounding its sloped silver sides. Black spiders, dripping Shadow tech venom, bit into the walls.
They'd brought the band, he guessed, for this massive attack.
And then he saw something strange. The black spiders appeared to have punched a hole though the walls of the temple. As they began to climb into the hole, he saw a barrage of silver bolts come out of the temple's interior, throwing the spiders back. Then he thought he saw silver things emerge from the hole, flying, like specs of silver dust. They then went back through the hole and it sealed behind them.
He hadn't properly Sighted the event, but he was sure he'd seen it.
He suddenly felt his insides blanch. He remembered that feeling— when Syg had first looked at him with her doll-like evil eyes. Strange, how differently he felt when she looked at him now.
He was in the gaze of a Black Hat; he could feel it.
Davage looked. He could see a twisting black streak heading right for him with speed—a blast of Shadow tech from one of the Hammers, roaring up through the heights.
No time for courtesy or modesty, Davage was going to need all of his Gifts, though he hated using them. He felt it a rude thing to do, but this was no time to be demure.
He Wafted away about a hundred feet farther north, and the Shadow tech blast sailed past. He Sighted down and saw the Black Hat who was attacking him. She was standing alone near the far end of a dark platform, south of the temple. Several Hulgismen stood near her—naked and filthy. A dark waterfall rumbled into a canal nearby. He could see her Sten field shimmering. He saw through her black sash—once again a small, pretty girl with pale skin. Her hair was fawncolored and cut into a rather roundish shape. She had high cheekbones, and small brown eyes. The usual Shadow mark darkened her right eye. A little mole stood out on her left cheek.
She was without a doubt a Hammer, ready to fight, ready to kill. She seemed rather businesslike as she proceeded with the attack.
Here we go again, he thought. He was going to be one on one with a Black Hat, only this time he was in open combat and at a distance— right in her killing field.
He thought of Syg. He sorely wished she was here at his side, and not because of her fearsome power but because he simply wanted her. He wanted to be in her quarters, in her arms. The smell of her skin. The smell of coffee in the air. The feel of her tiny body next to his. Would that make her happy, he wondered, that she was slowly coming to dominate his thoughts?
The Black Hat moved the towering blast of Shadow tech, trying to envelop him in its deadly darkness. Like a living tornado, it roared toward him again.
Again, he Wafted. It passed by.
Davage's plummet was entering its tenth minute; he guessed he was only a few miles above the ground now.
"No bargains, Ergos," Davage said, again Wafting to avoid the Shadow tech.
"Watch and be educated. I am about to make a bold statement here."
And so it began.
The Black Hats maintained a fearsome reputation and were considered by most to be invincible in battle, that only the Sisterhood could equal them in a fight. It was a belief that Davage himself once harbored.
But in his various "battles" with Syg, turning her from an evil, remorseless creature to the smiling lady she was today, he had learned a great deal about Black Hats and how to attack them.
He now knew they were far from invincible.
The Black Hats were truly daunting opponents, and Hammers, lik
e the one attacking him now, were fully capable of battling whole legions at once. The problem was that Davage wasn't a legion—he was one man, one lone opponent.
He was one lone opponent who wasn't going to play by their rules, and the rules were everything.
The column of twisting, roaring Shadow tech came again, and again Davage Wafted away from it. Such a thing could surely annihilate a mass of people, an army, a large ship, but it could never hit a single person who could simply, leisurely Waft away. It was too big, too noisy, and too slow. Some sort of winged, fanged Shadow tech beast would surely do much better.
He Sighted the flailing column and observed its interior.
In watching Syg discharge her Shadow tech, he had learned a great deal about it as well. A full, powerful charge of Shadow tech moved with fluidic life; it frothed like the bubbling head of a good buncked mug of narva. But as the charge wound down, as its presence became less and less within the Black Hat's body, its consistency changed, became more airy, more indistinct, like a storm cloud.
He noticed that this blast of Shadow tech was, certainly enough, becoming more and more cloudlike. She was running out …
Perfect, perfect. It was time to fight. It was time to save this Black Hat whether she liked it or not. Davage's ancestors, the Vith, with their Gifts of the Mind, were often called mortal gods, and it was time for him to lay all modesty aside and show what he could do. It was time to fight. With a whoosh, he unsaddled his CARG and long Wafted out of sight.
7
BETHRAEL OF MOANE
He reappeared about twenty feet in front of the Black Hat. He landed catlike, on all fours, his CARG laid out flat on the grungy brown surface, the heights of the silver pyramid rising up in the gloom behind him, its silvery light making the lightless black buildings near it appear rather olive in hue.
The Black Hat stopped her Shadow tech blast and looked at him a moment. Again, Davage had the advantage. Black Hats, it seemed, never expected to be attacked, to be met in battle by any save the Sisters. She expected Davage to either be in full flight or be on his knees, begging.
Not this, not this at all. She hesitated, confused.
Time to give her another shock. He Wafted again, only this time he appeared right in front of her, just past the end of her Sten field, which he could see clearly.
"Well met, ma'am. Captain Davage at your service," he said.
The Black Hat took a step back, flabbergasted. She extended her Sten field, hoping to catch him in its shocking embrace, leaving him senseless.
Davage, fully able to see the field, Wafted through it. Now he was in close with the Black Hat—oh the things that must be going through her mind.
And Davage knew where to hit her; he knew where it hurt. He reared up with his long, heavy CARG and slammed it down on the instep of her right foot—right into the Dora.
She let out an audible cry and fell to the ground, dropping her Sten field.
Then, there were the Hulgismen … ten of them, in a fury. The first to approach was CARGed from head to naked groin, his steaming remains slopping in a hideous mash to ground. The second was shot between the eyes from Davage's drawn MiMs pistol. Still, as far as raw bestiality goes, the Hulgismen were superb—fearless, brutal, fast, and strong. The third picked Davage up and threw him to the filthy ground, knocking away his MiMs, the small, elegant gun with its enameled surface standing out in the dust. He picked Dav back up to dash him down again, but Dav, forced to use his final gift, the Strength, brought his fists together on the Hulgisman's uncombed head—his skull collapsed in a spray of shattered bone and brain pulp.
A group of five came directly at him, hoping to overwhelm him in numbers.
Time to use another weapon—the secret weapon. Davage had noted that the direct glowing gaze of his Sight always seemed to have a mesmerizing effect on both Black Hats and Hulgismen alike. He recalled Syg's reaction, the wonder that she had for it. Hath also found his glowing eyes enchanting. His Sight seemed to take the starch out of any who beheld his glowing eyes.
He Sighted them, and they stopped, transfixed.
Davage didn't wait. He swung his CARG with a broad cutting stroke—it made the usual high-pitched whine characteristic of a killing swing. All five were cut in two, lost in his Sight … now dead. Blood again mingled the dry, dusty ground.
With two raging Hulgismen left, Davage saw the Black Hat rise, limping slightly on her right foot.
Just then, the sixth aspect of Dav's Sight began to take hold, the rarest aspect of all.
With it he could see several seconds into the future.
This aspect took him years of practice and study to master. It was a confusing thing to exist in the present yet see things that will shortly happen. It was dangerously easy to get lost in one's own Sight. But as its master, he had a tremendous advantage over his foes, and it was an advantage he was going to put to use.
He saw the Black Hat, furious, sweeping the area clear with a wave of her arm and a blast of Shadow tech.
Dav, waiting for the precise moment, Wafted away.
The sweeping blast came, killing the last two Hulgismen and leveling several dark buildings beyond. They came down in a noisy heap, black dust and soot rising, shattered blocks of stone splashing into the shallow water.
Davage reappeared next to the Black Hat to her right, intending to knock her in the foot again. This time, though, she was more ready. Quick as lightning, she roped him about the neck with a Shadow Tech brand. The dark material, fully enraged and in agony, was hideous to the touch and unbearable. He recalled when Syg had roped him that night in her old quarters—oh, that was a sore topic. You never brought that up. It was, obviously, a very painful memory for her, one that she had no interest in reliving.
Stuck in this horrid embrace, Davage knew he only had moments to act. Lighting up, he Sighted the Black Hat fully in his gaze. As before, the Black Hat stopped what she was doing and stared at his eyes, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. He could feel the power of the Shadow tech falter a bit.
The Black Hat gasped.
With a whistling crack, he slammed his CARG down on her wrist with a non-cutting blow, shattering it and her forearm as well. She screamed in agony and released him.
Whirling around, Davage, with full Strength, laid a double back-fist to the side of her face and temple. What might people say, he wondered, hitting this tiny woman with a full strength blow that he wouldn't feel good using on a much bigger, tougher person, like Kilos?
Still, he had to be sure; he needed this Black Hat out of the picture.
She fell in a heap and did not stir. Saddling his CARG, Captain Davage stood triumphant over her—not in recent memory had a Black Hat been defeated in battle by any other than a Sister.
Looking down, he Sighted: heart rate and blood pressure greatly reduced, breathing shallow—she was unconscious, no faking. Her right arm was a disaster, he noted with a bit of shame. More alarmingly, he saw her head was in bad shape. Her skull was cracked, her temple was bleeding internally, and her jaw was broken. She would need medical attention and soon.
"I am so very sorry, ma'am," he said, gently picking her up. "I hope you will forgive me later."
He took a moment to survey the situation. Most of the dark forces in the immediate area were still focused on the Silver Temple in the distance. They clamored up its sides and pounded on it with huge black fists. Many of the Black Hats were concentrating on controlling their creations—concentrating on the attack.
He looked back to the shattered buildings beyond that the Black Hat had destroyed, soot, smoke of crushed stone. He saw no survivors in the wreckage. Such was life in a Xaphan city, standing tall one moment, wreckage the next.
So, here he was, ignored for the moment, in Metatron. What should his next course of action be? He knew the Seeker, with its spine broken, needed to dry dock for repairs. It could not re-enter the atmosphere without breaking in two. They could send a landing force in ripcars, but that will be
dangerous, and the Black Hats will pick them off en mass. What they should do is patch up and Stellar Mach to a nearby outpost—Fretlocke would do nicely. There, they could call in a fleet and return battle ready—Arrow Shot, Marines, Sisters, the whole works.
He guessed such an activity will take two, possibly three days.
He scanned the bleak amber sky …
He looked down at the tiny Black Hat, the lady he had almost killed in battle. He wondered if she had that long.
Far away, Shadow tech blasts rocked off of the Silver Temple.
* * * * *
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't knock every damn tooth out of your mouth right now!" Sygillis yelled.