Disciple of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 3)

by Jacob Holo

  Veketon shook his head. “No, that was not the original, but a seraph constructed from spare parts by Bane Donolon’s carrier. From that, we know Vierj did not have it when he found her.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Quennin said. “We’re up against a powerful descendant of the original Bane who is armed with advanced Ziggurat technology and is piloting one of the first twelve seraphs in this universe.”

  “Possibly, yes.”

  “And you’ve decided to pick a fight with this guy.”

  Veketon’s face didn’t so much move as darken. He turned away from her.

  “Sorry, Vek. That came out a little harsh.”

  “You are questioning whether this course of action is wise.”

  “I am.”

  “Zophiel represents a serious threat to us,” Veketon said. “And he has made his desires clear. He wants the portal lance in my possession, and I doubt he finds no an acceptable answer. If we do not hunt him, he will hunt us.”

  “I know, Vek. It’s just…”

  Quennin wanted to say more, but she failed to find the right words.

  I swore to serve you, Vek, and I will hold true to that oath, she thought. I have killed to protect you, and I will do so again without a moment’s hesitation. But the one person I can’t protect you from is yourself.

  With a sigh, Veketon tossed the ingot onto a workbench. “Perhaps a break will clear our minds. Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  Veketon put on a forced grin. “Come on. Let’s see what our servants have prepared.”

  ***

  Veketon picked at his food.

  His servants had expertly prepared dinner. The avian meat was hot, the bones brittle and tasty, and the sauce just zesty enough for his liking. But instead of giving in to his hunger, he let his mind wander.

  Quennin ate across from him and didn’t look up.

  Veketon rested his head on a hand. Servants set the table within one of his gardens, situated on a circular platform within his chandelier-like residence. He enjoyed the openness, even if he still knew it was fake. Walkways curved between the disjoined rooms, all of them suspended within the wide spherical chamber.

  The simulacrum’s sun dipped into the horizon, draping the sky with golden orange that melted into purples and deep blues.

  Veketon leaned back in his chair. “If you have a concern, I would like to hear it.”

  Quennin set her fork down and finished chewing.

  “Look, I know you’ve had a lot on your mind lately,” she said.

  What an understatement that was. Veketon tried to recall the various tasks he was undertaking simultaneously:

  Let’s see here. Researching faster archangel construction techniques. Developing timetables and plans for Fellerossi expansion, the construction of a new fortress planet, new robotic fleets, and new thrones. Perfecting the soul transfer technology. Killing Jack Donolon. Killing Seth Elexen. Killing Zophiel. Not getting killed myself.

  And only I remain to do it all, First among the Eleven.

  And now the last.

  “Life is a challenge sometimes,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know. So why are you making it more complex?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, why should we deal with Zophiel? I mean, is he a threat to us right now?”

  “No, but he will be.”

  “Right, that’s my point. ‘Will be.’ He isn’t one right now.”

  “Are you suggesting I not deal with the problem?”

  “No,” Quennin said. “I’m saying there’s no reason to confront him now. So Vierj had a son. So what? So he’s a threat to us. So are a lot of things. I mean, this isn’t like you. Let someone else deal with the problem. If Zophiel wants a portal lance so badly, why not manipulate him to your advantage? Point him at Seth or Seth at him and have those two groups deal with each other.”

  “There is certainly some merit to your suggestion,” Veketon said carefully.

  “But?”

  “What if Zophiel won? He’d have a portal lance and would achieve goals we do not yet comprehend. Without understanding his goals, I consider that a dangerous scenario.”

  “Vek, I’m trying to figure you out here. Really I am, but I just don’t see Zophiel as that big a problem. He controls a small group of Outcasts on the far side of the galaxy from the Alliance and the Gates. Why would you care if he makes a mess of this entire region of space?”

  Veketon took a deep, slow breath and kept his face neutral. He waited for Quennin to continue.

  “I mean, isn’t your goal to return to the Homeland and overthrow the Keepers? How does risking our lives fighting Vierj’s son help us with that? Does this aid your ultimate goal in any way? Am I wrong here? Am I missing something? Because I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to confront Zophiel.”

  Veketon entwined his fingers and rested his face on them, eyes staring down at nothing as his mind worked. Two servants arrived amidst the silence, removed their plates, and refilled their drinks.

  “Vek? Say something, would you?”

  He looked up. “Is that really what you think of me?”

  “What? I didn’t say anything about you.”

  “But you implied it,” he said. “To hear you speak, I must be some kind of monster. Do you really think that poorly of me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then why do you find my actions so unusual?”

  “I just don’t see what’s in it for you,” Quennin said.

  “You think I am self-centered then.” Veketon’s face held no expression.

  “I guess that’s as good a description as any.”

  “Yes, I can see how you would think that. Let me phrase this another way. Do you think I’m evil?”

  “Where did this come from?”

  “Please, simply indulge my question.”

  “Well, evil is a really strong word.”

  Veketon leaned forward ever so slightly. “Pick another one, then.”

  “I suppose ambitious could be a good substitute.”

  “Ambitious.”

  “Yeah, that one suits you well.”

  “So, I am ambitious and self-centered.”

  “Vek, you’re the one asking.”

  Veketon nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, of course. It is not your fault if I receive answers I do not like.”

  Quennin shook her head and sighed. “Vek, I don’t understand. You and the other Eleven held to this path of conquest for twenty thousand years. I can’t even comprehend that length of time. How many deaths have resulted from your commands? How many wars have you started solely to hold onto power?”

  “Would you like a rough estimate?”

  “No!” Quennin said sharply. “We both know the crimes you and the other Eleven perpetrated. How many living humans did you experiment on to recreate the seraphs? How many more to create the archangels and the thrones? Vek, you’ve never shown the slightest hesitation when taking life. What word for these crimes is there other than evil? Why would I think for one second that you cared about someone other than yourself?”

  Veketon stared at Quennin in silence. He couldn’t think of anything to say, any reply that could address her condemnation. She held his gaze, her firm expression demanding a reply.

  Any argument I could use would simply ring hollow, he thought. And why is this?

  Servants arrived and placed a selection of desserts on the table. Veketon didn’t even look at the dishes.

  Because she’s right.

  “Please, pardon me.” He rose from his seat. “I seem to have lost my appetite.”

  “Vek, wait. I didn’t mean— Vek!”

  But he was already walking down the curving path of milky glass that joined the garden with the residence’s main walkway. Without looking back, he followed the main walkway until it met the spherical walls and took him into the ship proper.

  Veketon retreated to his laboratory, the same place he always
went when he needed to think. The holograms of Vierj and Zophiel were still active when he arrived, and he switched them off with a linked thought.

  Veketon summoned long scrolls of golden script to life. They displayed a wide assortment of his life’s work: complex intra-dimensional equations, advanced organic chemistry, chaotic temporal mechanics, and even a few more mundane power formulas. Veketon selected one at random and let the mathematics expand before him.

  Then he stopped, realizing he couldn’t concentrate.

  Quennin thinks what I am doing is wrong…

  Well, of course she does. She was once a victim of my deeds.

  Veketon shook his head, a sense of frustration building within him.

  But still, we have shared the past five years of our lives together. Have I failed that completely in teaching her where our path leads? Have I not enticed her with the power and glory that awaits us? Has she not seen that I do this not just for myself but for her as well?

  Or is it I who has learned nothing?

  I wonder…

  Veketon shut down the hologram and sat heavily, staring at nothing. He heard footsteps in the distance.

  She brings up a valid point. Why am I so eager to confront Zophiel?

  He laced his fingers and rested his chin there. But there is a better question. Why do I still tread this path of revenge and power? Do I truly desire to overthrow the Keepers? Is that all I want, all I crave? Do I thirst for revenge over them?

  Do I?

  The footsteps drew closer, clicking across the hard floor of his laboratory.

  No, I do not. I really don’t care about revenge over the Keepers. What does it really matter now that I am the last of the Eleven? Who do I have to rule the Homeland with me? Who would I share the victory with?

  But if I do not desire this power and revenge, why do I still pursue it?

  He nodded. The answer was so painfully obvious.

  Because it is all I have ever done, all I have ever known. For year after year, century after century, millennium after millennium, I have driven all my energy towards one and only one goal.

  How sad and pathetic…

  Quennin turned the corner and walked up to him cautiously. “Hey, Vek. You okay?”

  Veketon rose slowly. “Not really. I must admit, I am troubled by your condemnation.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Your opinion is important to me. I suppose I wasn’t ready to hear it.”

  “Look, I said some hasty stuff back there.”

  Veketon shook his head. “No, you didn’t. What you said was true, and I needed to hear it. I appreciate your candor.”

  “Well, I did make one mistake.” Quennin placed her hands on his shoulders. “I know of at least two people in this universe you care about.”

  “You’re not going to make some joke about me and my reflection?”

  She laughed quietly. “Only if I feel you deserve it.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Do you remember how I was when we first met?”

  “Of course. I did rescue you from your exile on Earth.”

  “Rescued. Kidnapped,” she said with a bemused grin. “I guess it all depends on your perspective. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

  Veketon thought carefully.

  “Ah. You were contemplating suicide.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Not being a pilot. Being helpless and useless. I didn’t know how to deal with that. But Vek, you gave me my life back. You made me a pilot again. You gave me a purpose again. Don’t ever think for a second I’m going to forget that.”

  Quennin came up to him, her arms slipping around his waist, and Veketon felt tender warmth well up in his heart.

  “So,” she said, their faces close. “Have you changed your mind about Zophiel?”

  “A little,” he said. “We’re still going to eliminate the threat he poses. After that… perhaps it will be time to reevaluate matters.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “It means even someone as old and stubborn as you can change.”

  Veketon chuckled. “Let’s not be hasty.”

  Chapter 7

  Convergence

  Tesset Daelus tilted her head to one side and adjusted her blindfold.

  “So, what is it?”

  “He called it an engagement ring,” Yonu said.

  Tesset sensed the small circle of metal between Yonu’s thumb and forefinger. Two finely cut stones were embedded in the band. It didn’t seem like much, certainly not something Jared should make a big deal about.

  Tesset expanded her sense. The two pilots sat on the floor in Yonu’s quarters with only the distant hum of ventilation as evidence the outside world existed. But to Tesset’s unique sense, the walls were as substantial as mist, and she perceived the entire pilot concourse with its twin rows of spacious quarters, some occupied, some not. She sensed the nearby rec center where Seth, Jack, and Jared awaited them.

  Tesset expanded her sense further, pushing through walls, bulkheads, floors, machinery, cargo, and people. Clarity attenuated the further an object was from her body, but the seraphs resembled pulsing beacons in her mind. Her seraph’s new arm was being attached by the bay’s robotics under the direction of three technicians.

  In the distant corner of the ship, Jack’s berserker seraph stood idle, calm for the moment. Its aura wriggled within it like a hundred huge self-devouring snakes all tangled together, writhing and squirming and undulating against each other.

  The seraph’s head turned and gazed straight back at Tesset. For a second, she felt a huge wall of thought pushing into her mind.

  She snapped her sense back, her heart beating furiously.

  Yonu hadn’t noticed.

  “An engagement ring, huh?” Tesset squeaked. She cleared her throat and continued. “So, what sort of engagement?”

  “I have no idea.” Yonu shook her head, genuine confusion filling her aura.

  “And yet you agreed to it?”

  “Well, yes. It didn’t seem all that bad the way he explained it to me.”

  “Is he challenging you to a duel or something?”

  “No, it’s not like that.” Yonu placed the ring in her palm and spun it with a finger. “It’s something particular to Earth Nation culture. Well, one of them, anyway. I did some reading on it and, frankly, I’m more confused now than I was before. A white dress is involved, somehow.”

  “What, to a fight? Shouldn’t it be gray with blue trim?”

  “It’s not a fight.”

  “Then why call it an engagement ring?”

  Yonu shook her head. “I really don’t know.”

  Tesset checked on the rec center. Jared was starting the game without them.

  “We should get going,” she said.

  Yonu stood up, still focusing on the ring. A flicker of emotions played over her aura. Like all pilots, Yonu possessed a tremendously brilliant aura. Hers filled her body and spilled around her like water breaking on rocks. She fit the ring on one of her fingers.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Tesset led them down the concourse. “So what brought this on?”

  Yonu looked down at the ring on her finger. “Well, it’s sort of private.”

  “Oh. Oh! So that’s what it is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was wondering why you and Jared were a little more enthusiastic these past few nights.” Tesset nudged Yonu with her elbow.

  Yonu’s mouth flopped opened but no sound came out. Heat radiated off her flushed cheeks.

  “Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Tesset said. “I sense everything that goes on in this ship, remember? For example, last nightshift, Tackett, Eignen, and S’Zet were—”

  “Don’t want to hear it.”

  “Well, I was just going to say—”

  “No, I really don’t want to hear it. Thank you, Tesset. You’ve already imparted more knowledge abo
ut my subordinates than I ever wanted to know.”

  Tesset shrugged. The two walked in silence for half a minute.

  “I must say that S’Zet’s stamina last night was really impressive.”

  “Not another word from you.”

  “Tackett and Eignen had to take turns just to keep up with her.”

  “Would you please stop?”

  Tesset put a hand to her mouth and giggled.

  “Really. Have you no shame?”

  “Think about it this way. If you could see through walls and watch someone’s emotions radiating off their body, you’d be a little different too.”

  “I suppose you have a point there.” Yonu let out a weary sigh.

  “See. It’s perfectly normal for me to act this way.”

  “Whatever.”

  The rec center was empty except for Seth, Jack, and Jared seated around one of the larger circular tables.

  Jared looked up from his game cards.

  “You’re late.”

  “Nice to see you, too.” Yonu rolled her eyes.

  Tesset passed her sense across the pilots: Jared with his calm, almost cloudlike aura that crackled with lightning whenever he piloted a seraph, Seth a beacon of power and unbreakable confidence, and Jack…

  There was something odd about Jack today. Tesset first noticed it after she was released from the medical ward. She often struggled when reading his aura. The knotted mass within him evoked a palpable sense of wrongness, vertigo, and pain. Sometimes Tesset wondered how he could go through life without screaming all the time.

  But today, there was something else, something unusual hidden within the depths of his aura. Tesset couldn’t quite put words to it. She inwardly shrugged and took the seat between Jack and Seth.

  “Come on, Jared. Deal us in,” Tesset said.

  “Sure thing.” Jared dealt five cards to both Tesset and Yonu. Tesset collected them into a neat little pile between her hands. She didn’t look at them. There wasn’t any point, since her sense couldn’t pick out the colored symbols beneath each card.

  “I liked this game better when the cards were marked.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” Jared said. “You won almost every time.”

  “So?” Tesset asked happily. “What’s wrong with that?”

  She concentrated on the auras of her fellow pilots as they peered at their cards. Both Seth and Jack had nothing. Jared must have had a dangerously good hand, because he wasn’t only thinking it was good, but struggled to contain his smirk. Yonu thought she had a good hand, too.