Legacy of Onyx

by Matt Forbeck

  Since they had failed to capture a second Huragok at the Repository, Dural ‘Mdama had spent endless hours bickering with Ruk and Buran over what their next steps should be. Buran worried that the humans and their own Huragok would be able to figure out a way to open up the portal they had sealed off, but Dural was not about to move out of the base they had set up in the Cathedral, just so they could cower in the woods.

  While they discussed what opportunities lay ahead, Dural had the bulk of their warriors set to reinforcing the base’s defenses, bringing the last of their supplies from Song of Wrath, before hiding the vessel on Hesduros. Should the humans find the Servants on Onyx, the Pale Blade wanted to be ready for them. He knew the Servants could always try to escape through a portal, but he despised that shameful path and would demand to stand and fight.

  Shortly after everyone had settled in to their work, the recriminations began. They had lost two of their warriors getting the rafakrit into the hangar, and although that had been due to the warriors’ own foolishness, Buran was determined to lay the blame for their deaths at the Pale Blade’s feet.

  This was yet another transparent attempt to undermine Dural’s authority, and he was not going to stand for it much longer. When Buran began to agitate for the Servants to return to Hesduros, Dural stood his ground. He had shown Buran great patience, but patience spurned can easily turn to wrath—and the old damned fool seemed dead set on being taught that lesson.

  “We are not leaving the shield world,” Dural informed him. “We have only just arrived here.”

  “They know we are here, Pale Blade. We have lost the element of surprise. They have starships here, and we do not. They have a fleet heavy with vehicles and weapons, and we have a handful of scouting vehicles. What prevents them from simply grinding us into the dirt when they find us?”

  “If they find us. We will stay here and bide our time while the humans lower their defenses day by day. Eventually, the gods will provide us an opportunity to strike at our enemies.” Buran accepted that for the moment, but he grumbled as he walked away.

  Buran was correct about one thing: they needed a more concrete plan of action than simply waiting for the humans to make a mistake. Dural had already made steps toward improving upon that in the days immediately after their retreat from the Repository.

  He had taken one of the Banshees they’d managed to bring into Onyx and begun striking out from their base on scouting missions. Though Dural was alone on the first few treks, he eventually insisted on having either Ruk or Buran with him on those operations. Both warriors had their advantages in such capacities, when applied well, but Dural was tiring of Buran’s disobedience. Eventually, Dural knew that he would be forced to deal with that.

  The other reason Dural chose to bring those two was that he knew both were well respected by their fellow Servants. He did not care to have either of them influencing his remaining warriors for long periods while he was away. Were he to allow them those opportunities, it would swiftly lead to discord and mutiny, and Dural refused to let morale slide so far. By bringing one of them with him instead, he kept them from filling the warriors’ ear-pores with too much poison and discontentment, and he also kept an eye on each of them as well.

  Dural wondered if Avu Med ‘Telcam had felt the same during his time as leader. He had no doubt that the field master had.

  Wary of giving up their position on these scouting runs, Dural stayed low to the surface, veering far away from the human presence and deeper into the uncharted reaches of Onyx. The Cathedral was roughly a hundred kilometers away from the human settlement’s farthest outskirts, which was how he preferred it. Any closer and the risk of discovery would be far too great, but any more distant and they would not be able to strike when the opportunity arose—especially given their lack of success in leveraging the portals.

  Buran scolded Dural for this on one of their ventures. “With so much of the shield world to hide in, it seems foolish to put ourselves so close to the ones hunting for us.”

  “And how are we to spy on them ourselves, Buran, if we are half a solar system away?”

  The two of them had positioned their Banshees on a flat slab of stone sitting atop a remote mountain, equidistant from both the Cathedral and the human territory. From this vantage point, they could see the entirety of the human settlement. It surrounded a vast hole in the ground and was composed of a mixture of military and civilian structures. The enormous aperture, rimmed by a towering Forerunner wall, appeared to be the primary entrance they used for flying ships in and out on Onyx, yet Dural saw no activity at the present.

  Ultimately, he desired Song of Wrath to be inside the shield world—as well as the other Servants’ ships that were being kept in safety on the Sanghelios moon of Qikost. But he would have to be patient until an opportunity presented itself to make use of the entrance the humans had commandeered—or until he found another means.

  Dural climbed into his Banshee and launched it off the stony parapet and down the far side of the mountain, well outside the range of the human sensors.

  Buran wasn’t quite as quick with his decisions. He took his time to move the Banshee down the side of the mountain before accelerating to Dural’s position as they cut across the top of the tree line, jetting away from both the Cathedral and the human settlement.

  Briefly, Dural wondered if the old fool might try to shoot him out of the sky. It would be easy for Buran to explain to the others that the two had been attacked by the humans, and he could then no doubt wrest for himself the role of leader. He might even lead a mournful prayer for Dural’s soul, after which the Servants would move on, never knowing that Buran had murdered the Pale Blade in cold blood.

  If Buran had his way, the Servants would likely flee to Hesduros, tails between their legs and smelling of shame. They would abandon all the hope this world promised. Hope for freedom and independence, as well as hope for revenge against the Arbiter and his human lackeys.

  Dural realized that the same thoughts might be going through Buran’s mind even now. The Pale Blade could easily do the same to him, no matter how suspicious it might seem to Ruk or the others. They would not be surprised to learn that Buran had pushed him for the last time. Yet, despite how disrespectful Buran had been to Dural—and since the old warrior had not outright attacked him—the Pale Blade would not do the dishonorable thing to him either. Dural refused to bring shame upon the field master’s legacy by shedding the blood of one of ‘Telcam’s most trusted warriors, unless the fool lifted the blade against him first.

  Dawn was breaking over the region, and Dural cursed the lack of stars inside the shield world by which he could navigate—or even let the Banshee’s nav systems do it for him. He could see a few bright bodies in the sky, which could have been interior planets or perhaps even well-lit spots on the far side of the sphere. There was even the large visage of an enormous planet that had come astonishingly close to Onyx’s surface and was now beginning to arc upward, back toward the shield world’s core where its star lay.

  Dural wondered briefly if those inner planets were habitable. Even when the Servants had been on this world only for days, it had become clear to Dural that Onyx was every bit the legend the holy script had said it was. This place was beyond comprehension, and it seemed its constant effort was to remind all who dwelled on it that it would forever be too vast to be knowable.

  Worlds within worlds, he thought to himself, looking at the planet’s face through the Banshee’s viewport. Could one of these places be a fitting shelter for the Servants of the Abiding Truth?

  As they pressed out beyond their previous scouting line, Dural noted that this part of the world looked very different from the one in which they had been. Instead of large, dense forests and temperate lands, he found this new region swelteringly hot, and he spotted below them scattered swamps and vast clusters of tall tropical trees. Dural also saw a beach that fronted on a massive ocean not too far from the swamps, and he smelled something akin to sp
icy salt in the air.

  As he moved closer to the body of water, he rose high in the sky, with Buran following in his wake. They were a safe distance from the humans and even well out of sight of the Cathedral. As he climbed into the clouds, the wind picked up, and Dural steadied the Banshee until he passed through the gale, locking into a hover with the craft’s boosted-gravity drives, hoping to find a landmass peeking out at the far edges of the sea. Even at this height, Dural could not see across the water. It seemed to go on endlessly. It made him feel very alone.

  He was reminded of the coast of Mdama. He remembered his life as a fledgling. He remembered his brother.

  Taking the Banshee down toward the beach, Dural dropped instinctively into a scouting pattern and let his mind wander for a moment.

  He had seen Asum, his own flesh and blood, in the Repository with those human children.

  Dural had no idea what that meant. He had not seen his younger brother in years, not since shortly after the news of their mother’s death had reached them. He had no idea what path his brother’s life had taken. But to Dural it seemed beyond explanation that it would have brought Asum here—to the world of Onyx—on the other side of the galaxy. And yet he was here, and Dural as well.

  Part of Dural somehow understood instinctively that their paths had been destined to cross. After wrestling with the anger he felt for his brother’s seeming betrayal, Dural recognized that the gods must have plans for them both. There could be no other explanation for this twist of fate.

  The question was: What might those plans be?

  Perhaps they meant to set the two of them against each other. For Asum to be here must mean that he was in league with the Arbiter, whom Dural blamed for their mother’s death. When it came to Sangheili, the humans would have permitted only such faithless traitors within the shield world’s confines.

  That meant Asum, along with the rest of those unbelieving malcontents, would have to die. It made Dural heartsick to contemplate ending his own brother’s life, even after all these years apart, but if that was the sacrifice the gods demanded of him, then he would steel himself to the task.

  Dural hoped that perhaps he was mistaken about the Sangheili youth he had seen. He would have liked nothing better than to kill him and discover he only resembled Asum. Until he knew for certain, Dural decided to cling to the chance that he was in error. Despite that, he would never forsake the will of the gods, no matter whom that person turned out to be—or the cost it would incur.

  After he and Buran returned to the Cathedral, Dural set up a combat patrol to ensure that the local beasts—rafakrits or otherwise—did not encroach on their position and attack. The last thing they needed was to fall victim to the random creatures the Forerunners had populated this place with. As days passed, however, the patrols proved unnecessary. The animals near their base were mostly skittish and easily scattered, but they kept Dural’s warriors alert at least.

  As the Servants’ numbers grew from the dozens to the hundreds, having nearly emptied Song of Wrath, Dural knew he had to keep them busy or they would fall into bickering with one another to pass the time, something a good leader could not permit. He sent some out to forage for food. They could certainly have brought supplies in through Hesduros, but placing his warriors on the hunt helped keep their battle skills sharp and focused. They also needed to learn how to survive on this world for long spans, in case the conflict with the humans became drawn out.

  Onyx was their home now, just as Avu Med ‘Telcam would have desired. Here were stores of glorious technology and treasures beyond imagining, but before they could take them, they needed to establish some advantage against the humans. This realization made the way forward much clearer for Dural.

  There was no need to rush, to make foolish mistakes. They would play the long game if necessary. Even if it took years, the secrets held in the grip of Onyx would absolutely be worth it.

  Under this mandate, the Servants of the Abiding Truth faithfully bade their time well at the Cathedral for a few short weeks, until things started to fall in their favor and the precise opportunity Dural had been waiting for began to materialize. During one of their ground reconnaissance missions, they spotted the humans’ school. Dural had brought along Ruk with him this time, and his sharp-eyed gaze found the place first.

  Cresting a hill on foot, several kilometers away from the farthest reaches of the human settlement, they could clearly see the arrangement of the complex. The humans had built the school on the edge of an urban sprawl they had crudely cobbled together in the shadow of a far more majestic Forerunner city. They had desecrated the place of the gods with their crude shacks, spread randomly within and without. To Dural, it was blasphemy.

  Past these stood larger military buildings that followed the same perverse methodology, likely arranged to aid the humans in their research. From this angle, it appeared as though the military complex wrapped around the gigantic shaft in the ground that functioned as the shield world’s access point. From this close, they could absorb the aperture’s remarkable scale. It was so large that an entire fleet could fit through it at once.

  If that truly was a gate that led outside the sphere, in a place this large Dural could only assume there had to be others elsewhere. Perhaps many of them.

  If only they could locate them . . .

  The school, though, was the oddest building he had ever seen. The underlying architecture seemed all too human, but the sweeping circles and balconies that surrounded its upper edges reminded him of the big-city keeps back home. It came out as a jarring collection of all sorts of different cultures that made no sense to him, and his head hurt if he stared at it too long.

  Dural might have simply thought it some abomination that the humans had built to trumpet their alliance with the Arbiter had he not seen a number of fledglings—Sangheili, Unggoy, and human—wandering around an open yard back of the place. He cringed at the foolish way the humans let their fledglings run free like that, unprotected from any kind of attack. For a moment, Dural considered taking a patrol deeper into the human territory, perhaps even into the large outcropping of foliage near the school, and then strafing the fledglings while they played in their yard—but he saw no need to bring the UNSC’s wrath down on his head just yet.

  The next day Dural’s fortunes completely changed.

  The gods had carved him a path to victory, although it would come at a cost.

  During their planning meeting at the first sign of dawn, Buran again argued to leave Onyx. This would be the last time.

  “We have what we require,” he said to Dural, making sure that the others were all within earshot. “We have surveyed the area, and the entire world is far too large to fully explore. We know where the humans are, which is all we need.

  “Now, if we had managed to get our hands on that Huragok, perhaps we could have established a solid advantage over the humans for a direct attack. As it is, we’ve done nothing but cower in this makeshift camp of yours for weeks.”

  “Then perhaps we should go looking for a fight,” Dural said mockingly. “Or maybe you should stop looking for one with me.”

  Buran feigned a look of shock when Dural said that. The Sangheili acted as if he had not been purposefully baiting Dural since they first began this expedition. “As you constantly remind me, you are in charge of this mission of ours, Pale Blade. If you desire to lead, then lead.”

  Dural didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to keep himself from shooting Buran dead right there. Yet, remarkably, the old Sangheili continued.

  “If you prefer not to lead—or can’t—then step out of the way for someone who can.”

  Were the Pale Blade to endure Buran’s abuse any further, it would no doubt tear the Servants of the Abiding Truth apart. Dural gave up the struggle he’d fought with himself and decided to give Buran precisely what he had been spoiling for over these few weeks.

  Dural drew his energy sword and activated it.

  Buran’s skin flushed
blue at the sight of Dural’s blade. “Now wait, Pale Blade. . . .”

  “You scold me for waiting, and when I am ready, you wish to stop?” Dural snarled at him. “I am finished with you, Buran ‘Utaral!”

  To his credit, Buran went for his plasma rifle. Dural thought it a cowardly choice given that Buran had his own energy blade at hand. The older Sangheili likely believed that, if he could stay out of Dural’s reach, he might manage to shoot the Pale Blade dead before the distance was closed. Anticipating this treachery, Dural dove for him straightaway and lunged his blade directly at Buran’s throat.

  Buran brought up the rifle to block Dural’s first attack, but this did not give him the breathing room he sought. Dural brought down his energy sword with all of his might. The glowing blade cleaved straight through Buran’s weapon and bit deep into his shoulder.

  As Buran roared in pain, Dural withdrew his sword. Before Buran could even cry for mercy—which the Pale Blade was not willing to give—Dural plunged the full weapon deep into Buran’s chest and twisted it about, rotating its twin blades in a tactic he had learned from Avu Med ‘Telcam himself. It worked well, rending loose most of what had held the Sangheili’s torso together.

  Buran died with a curse frozen on his lips.

  The Pale Blade put his foot on Buran’s chest and shoved the slumped body off the blade. A wisp of smoke curled up from the large cavity in Buran’s corpse.

  Dural brandished his sword at the warriors who had stood by in shock. “And that is what I think of any who might question my right to lead the Servants of the Abiding Truth!” he growled. “I allowed Buran to complain and seed discontent for those weeks as a lesson to all of you. Take heed, for my mercy was fully spent with him, and it is no more. Are there any others who care to step forward and learn whether they would stand or fall before the Pale Blade?”

  For a frozen moment, no one dared say a word. Then a number of his warriors began pumping their fists into the air. “By the Abiding Truth!” they chanted. “By the Abiding Truth!”