His companion gave it to him, a new voice informed me. As I am your companion, now. You are more than you were, and Jincus is correct. See how the dead are veering away from the rubble of the walls? Their target has been you all along, as you have also been the god's target from within those walls.
The god?
The one you and your friends search for, the voice replied. Turn around. Reviendus is about to send these dead to their final rest.
I turned, catching sight of Randl perhaps a hundred feet away. He faced the army of the dead after bringing the wall down, as if it were made of sticks instead of massive stones and concrete.
Travis' dragon, followed by Trent's, landed nearby with a considerable thump—they were prepared to protect us from Mebbers' people. Mebbers' guns had gone quiet, however, the moment Randl blasted the wall.
They're regrouping, Travis advised in mindspeech. They'll start firing again once their new master commands it.
Down the line, Randl lifted his arms. I had no idea what he was about to do. So far, only burning had been effective against eliminating the dead—enough that their parts and pieces were no longer a threat to anyone unshielded against them.
Yes, Trent's voice hissed in my mind when Randl, in an enormous burst of power, turned all the dead, including scraps and pieces, to winking sparks that flew away on the wind.
The hush that came after that feat told me two things. First, Randl was more than he was. Second, the Prophet was carefully considering how to destroy us all.
That's when we heard Randl's mindspeech; he'd included anyone who could hear him. I'm here, V'dar, he shouted. Let's dance.
Kooper
The moment the dead appeared, I'd folded space to the back of that gruesome army, which stretched for miles. My first blasting against them threw dead bodies into the air and destroyed the ground beneath their feet.
I realized after several rounds of doing the same that the dead weren't affected at all. They'd drop to the ground, then stand again and either walk or run away from me.
That's when I was forced to focus on singles or a handful of the dead, and after discovering that I couldn't stop them with my power, I blasted them apart, instead. This, of course, released the Prophet's disease into the very air.
Small towns lay nearby, so I struggled to place shield domes around them, attempting to prevent their infection. The harder I worked at that, the more the winds blew, sending the disease everywhere. I couldn't contain the wind, either; it was useless to try.
That's when I began to curse myself, as more of the dead appeared from nothing to join the army already traveling at top speed toward Mebbers' compound. My people were there, shooting as fast as they could, no doubt, and there wasn't any way that the thousands they might destroy would make a dent in the hundreds of thousands heading toward them.
You could pull them out of there, I reminded myself.
That would be admitting my defeat—and my poor judgment in the matter. Too, it would open a clear path for the Prophet to take Mebbers and his entire crew—the ones who didn't die in the initial fight, anyway.
Who knew—the Prophet could already be inside the compound, taking over any or all of them. My power couldn't get past the protection Mebbers held inside his walls, and that left me blind to the goings-on there.
So, you'll sacrifice your people, to save your pride?
That voice wasn't mine.
It was Zaria's.
What she said. Breanne's voice was close behind.
Then what the hells do you want me to do? I shouted at Breanne.
How about going to protect them—some of their weapons charges have run out. You'd know that if you'd gone to help them already, or bothered to ask. Breanne wasn't happy.
Sometimes, I forget that she's one of the Mighty—one of the original Three. Those are good people—the best people you have, she added. You're going to get them killed.
What's this about, anyway? Zaria demanded. You can't stand it if a woman outmaneuvers you? Is that it?
You get to do whatever you want, I snarled in mindspeech. While I'm held back.
Oh, for fuck's sake. Everything I do, I do to protect people. Now, why is it you're doing this? So you won't look weak? That your man-pride won't take a hit?
Norian was always envious of what Lissa could do, Breanne said.
Kooper, you will not, and I repeat, not, end up like Norian. Get ahold of yourself, Zaria snapped at me.
Norian's dead, I flung at her.
Exactly my point, you stupid reptile. You're a hundred times the man Norian ever was. Now straighten up and act like it. Go help your people. If you don't, then I'll be forced to do it, and that won't go so well with your boss.
That's when the entire army of the dead went up in sparks, leaving only churned ground behind to mark their passage. I was ready to breathe a relieved sigh when the mindspeech came.
Somebody help, Farzi sent. Randl—he call out Prophet. Prophet come. Things not look good.
"Get everybody out except the crews of X and XIII," Zaria appeared at my side. "They can't help Randl in this fight. Get them out, now."
"What about Mebbers?" I argued.
"Mebbers is no longer Mebbers—or haven't you figured that out, yet?"
"Fucking hells," I cursed and folded space to the front wall of Mebbers' compound, which was no longer standing, I discovered. I may have mentally bellowed Farzi's and Bear Wright's names before gathering the crews of I, II and VII to get them the hell away.
Vik
V'dar, I heard Randl shout a second time.
My breath was stolen as even the air disappeared from Mebbers' compound, along with anything living—including Alken Wilker, no doubt. I wanted to roar, but there was no oxygen left to do so.
The Prophet had arrived, sucking the air from our very lungs.
Randl
He has grown, a companion voice informed me, as the Prophet appeared just inside Mebbers' compound, where the wall stood only minutes before. V'dar, as usual, wore his hooded cloak, half-covering his face.
The face covered in flesh-colored scales, I reminded myself. I understood that V'ili, his uncle, had made him ashamed of those scales, as they weren't the dark and menacing version that V'ili wore when he turned.
How much did V'dar hate V'ili, until V'ili laid obsession not to do so?
He holds others within him, too. We were afraid this would come, the companion's voice drew me away from my thoughts.
What others? I asked.
The legacy from his father, no doubt. A new voice spoke—a female voice.
Rogue gods, hidden within his infernal spheres, another said. We cannot tell how many. They have enhanced his power.
V'dar drew back his hood as he contemplated me—and my allies who'd gathered at my back. Without the hood to cover him, the Prophet's countenance vibrated with a hazy, violet light. His eyes stood out as black holes in his face, his flesh-colored scales emanating the same purple malevolence that enveloped the rest of him as he took a step toward me.
Sal would call this High Noon for some reason, although dusk was upon us.
I have released the air, my first companion said. He cannot hold such for long anyway—he needs it, too. A small part of him remains human.
Yes—the part of him that was from my mother.
Fuck.
The god that always comes at the end, the female voice spoke again. I thought she'd disappeared after the coins hit me.
She hadn't—she'd landed on my back with the others. She'd named the Prophet, too, during that coin trip, and I hadn't guessed her meaning at the time.
Look upon him, my first companion whispered. He has never had an adversary before. Universes have fallen at his command—he is the ultimate destroyer.
We have never gone to war, before, she told me. Because the rogue gods were never destroyed in such numbers, before. We have waited long for this moment, to strike back for all the evil he has done to us in universes long dead.<
br />
"Ah, Randl, how nice of you to come to me," the Prophet spoke. His smile revealed much—they lurked behind his falseness—the rogue gods he'd inherited from his father, Liron.
"V'dar." I only spoke his name. I refused to give my doubts credence here—if he killed me, then these universes would die like the others before them.
Behind me, the others gathered closer. Dori stepped to my side, the top half of her coin visible beneath the open collar of her uniform.
Jett took the opposite side. David had moved to stand beside Vik's Thifilathi.
I've gotten everyone else out who doesn't have a medallion, Kooper sent mindspeech. We're aboard the ships. Call if you need me. I'm sorry, Randl. I had no idea this would happen.
Water under the bridge, I replied, my words curt.
Vik stepped forward, his Thifilathi intimidating. David walked beside him, eyes blazing like the sun. Travis and Trent's dragons leapt forward with simultaneous roars. Then came Perri and Zanfield. Susan, Gerrett, Sabrina, Miz, Markus and all the others from X and XIII—except X's engineer.
Harlee had no combat training and no medallion. I couldn't decide whether he was the lucky one in all this.
"Give yourself to me and I'll consider letting your—friends—live," V'dar studied his fingernails, as if he were in charge of the universes already.
"Suck eggs, V'dar," David growled.
Starship Prophet I
Le'Vestar Limn
Something had distracted the Prophet; I had no doubt about that. The breath I drew felt like the first one I'd breathed in months.
"Lev?" Mae whispered beside me.
"My love?" I turned to her. Her eyes said it all—we were far enough away from the Prophet, and out of his thoughts for however brief a time, that I felt my wyrm-dragon stirring within me.
Mae and I stood in the engine room—we'd been stationed there to ensure the continued smooth operation of the ship the Prophet named after himself. He didn't have an enormous ego—he was enormous ego.
"Lev, we need to go before he," she didn't finish—I was already walking toward Yurik, who stood near the door.
"What do you want?" Yurik growled at me while leveling a ranos pistol in my direction.
"There may be an unusual murmur in the engines," I reported. "I need someone else to confirm before we alert the pilots and our master," I lied.
"Ah. Fine, then." Yurik holstered the weapon and approached me so I could lead him to the purported sound.
A human's neck is so easily broken, if one is strong enough.
Yurik's spine snapped with a sickly crunch, and I let him fall to the ground.
"Now?" Mae asked.
"Now," I agreed.
Together—we changed.
Together, our bulk was so great that it blew out the engine compartment and sent ship fragments flying into space.
We could protect ourselves long enough to reach the atmosphere—if we hurried. Our bodies were strong enough to survive the cold and lack of air for a short time.
Fly, I sent to Mae, who followed at my shoulder as we hurtled toward A'pelur.
BlackWing X
Kooper
You see that? I shouted in mindspeech to Farzi, Bear Wright and Lynx when the explosion lit the dark of space and sent shock waves outward. That has to be one of Mebbers' ships—or the Prophet's. Fire on that location. He has others close by, I'm sure of it.
I see ships, Farzi growled back. BlackWing II was far enough away that he'd caught sight of Mebbers' fleet coming around in their orbit.
Fire, I shouted at all of them. Destroy those gods-damned things.
In moments, more blasts streaked the dark around us. I targeted other ships lit by the explosions of the first few that were hit. I'd done little in this fight, but I could do this much at least.
The Prophet's ships would go down by my command, even if I couldn't stand against him myself.
Randl
Are we strong enough? Dori sent. The standoff was taking longer than I thought it might—I imagined that V'dar would level his worst at us, and we'd either be standing or dead afterward.
Not far down the line, Miz drew in a massive breath—and turned to his wyrm-dragon.
Mae, he bellowed in mindspeech.
Above our heads, in a darkening sky, explosions lit the atmosphere. Le'Vestar and Mae had done damage to the Prophet before making their escape, it appeared.
V'dar lifted his head to see the fireworks, before lowering his head to glare at me. One last bloom of light splashed the sky before V'dar released a blast so powerful it could—and did—take the planet apart.
Chapter 19
Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis
Lissa
"We don't know anything. Haven't heard anything," Kooper settled onto a sofa in my library, a glass of Scotch in his hand. Something had changed in him—I could see and sense it. He felt responsible for deaths on A'pelur—and for the destruction of the entire planet.
The Prophet had destroyed it before disappearing. It was too much to hope that he was dead, too.
My worry now was the same as Kooper's—when and where would the Prophet reappear, and had his disease blown outward with A'pelur's destruction, to fall onto other, unwary worlds? We had no containment spheres to control this kind of threat. As long as the Prophet lived, his disease would remain a danger to every world it touched.
I'd sent mindspeech earlier to Quin. She sounded pragmatic about the entire debacle, which gave me the slimmest thread of hope.
Hope that not all was as it seemed. After all, I had three sons and a daughter-in-law on A'pelur when it died, and I didn't want to consider how heavy my grief would be if they'd died with it.
Only time would tell, I think. For now, the Prophet was likely plotting new revenge, for whatever imagined slights he could invent. He'd keep doing that, too—until he realized he no longer needed an excuse.
Bree already confirmed that much, in the brief mindspeech she'd shared with me. I'd asked other questions, too, and she'd refused to answer. Questions about the survival of family and friends, among other things.
"I wish I had better sense," Kooper sighed and emptied his glass of Scotch. I floated the bottle to him so he could pour a refill.
"Admitting your shortcomings is the first step in overcoming them," Master Morwin appeared, accompanied by Trajan, Ashe's right-hand man and high-ranking member of the Hierarchy.
"Morwin, what brings you here?" I asked, setting my glass of Scotch and soda on a nearby table. "Trajan, always good to see you," I nodded to the tall werewolf.
"I was informed that Pauley needs an advanced tutor," Morwin said, as if I should have known it already.
"But he's barely reading," I began.
"That is no longer true, according to the Mighty Hand," Morwin replied, his long, bushy red brows wiggling as he spoke.
"What happened? A miracle?" I stood, frowning at Morwin.
"I know not. I only know that my services are requested, therefore I am reporting to Le-Ath Veronis, to instruct a young one who is behind in his studies."
"I think I'd like to accompany you to Avii Castle," I said, speculation in my voice. Something was happening here; I just wasn't sure what it could be.
"Of course. You are always welcome, my Queen," Morwin bowed.
Avii Castle
Quin
I'd sent mindspeech to Kay, and she'd relayed my request to Ashe, who'd approached Morwin for me.
Now, Trajan, Morwin and Lissa stood in Gurnil's Library, staring at Pauley.
Pauley was so happy, it shone through his pores, I think. Perhaps Trajan would know what the top of the gold coin peeking above the boy's shirt collar meant, but the others were clueless.
Just as they were meant to be—for now. As for Teren and Franc—they'd disappeared shortly after A'pelur was destroyed. I wasn't concerned for their whereabouts—I'd learn that soon enough.
Kooper still has a few lessons to learn, Zaria told me. But he did figure
out how important Randl and the others were to him—when he believed them dead. He hadn't come with Lissa, likely because he didn't want to see more accusation leveled at him in the eyes of the Avii.
Word had it that Ildevar was waiting to have a meeting with Kooper. I wasn't sure what might be said, but Teeg San Gerxon was already searching for a replacement for Jett Riffler, after he'd disappeared.
Jett had stood with the others on A'pelur, while Kooper returned to an orbiting ship. I imagine that guilt ate at Kooper, too, even though he'd destroyed the Prophet's newly-acquired fleet of ships. I had no desire to assuage Kooper's guilt; it was part of his learning experience.
"You're Amterean," Pauley breathed when Morwin introduced himself. "I'm so happy—thank you for agreeing to teach me." He reached out and grasped Morwin's right hand in gratitude.
It is a miracle, isn't it? Lissa sent.
I like to think so, I agreed, pushing the edge of my blouse over the gold coin nestling on my breast, beneath Zaria's medallion. Her name was Tiralia, she'd told me, and already I appreciated her company.
Sirena
Phrinnis Tampirus
This is very nice, Revalus informed me. Together, we surveyed the palace around us. Revalus, his gold spread across my chest, saw everything through my eyes. I was always blind, he'd told me earlier, shortly after he'd adhered to my skin. Most of us were, you know. We saw through others' eyes; humanoid and creature alike, and gathered everything we needed to know that way.
Were you born? I asked. Like other creatures?
No. We became. From nothing, something. Until Reviendus came among us. He was born. We have no records in the Metal Library. We keep ourselves, he added. As we are now, together, we are Ar'pex—meaning we hold one another. The Reviendus is Ar'pexi—he holds many, and they, in return, hold him. I am grateful for you—the rarest podl-morph among rare podl-morphs, he declared. We will be quite cunning together.
Oh, perhaps even more cunning than that, I told him. He chuckled.
He and I—we'd helped other Ar'pexi remove the worthy from A'pelur before its destruction. They now inhabited Sirena, in cities built for them by Zaria. Most of those Ar'pexi were still among them, helping them settle and become accustomed to their new surroundings.
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