Disciple of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 3)

by Jacob Holo

  Veketon nodded, his mind elsewhere. In the past ten days, they’d crossed nearly two-thirds of the galaxy, Seth humbling all of them with his mastery of the portal lances.

  It is a pity the other pilots cannot endure more than one intra-gate a day, he thought.

  Tense excitement permeated the Judgment, and to a degree, he shared it. But he found his thoughts dwelling on the Keepers and the confrontation he would soon face.

  I am not the man they exiled, he thought, doubting the Keepers would share this sentiment.

  “Hopefully, we’ll see each other after this,” Veketon said.

  “Of course we will, venerable master. I wish you the best of fortune.”

  “Thank you, Fuurion.”

  The mediator bowed again.

  Veketon took a gravity platform up to the throne’s torso and entered the cockpit opposite its heart. He settled into the pilot alcove and let the cockpit envelope him in darkness.

  With eyes closed, he let his mind expand into the throne. He opened his eyes and saw the bay from the high vantage of the throne, Fuurion looking up at him from the ledge.

  Rail catapults gripped his primary and secondary halo-wings, and with great force, they fired him into space. He floated away, letting a trickle of chaos energy accelerate his spinning wings.

  Veketon flew across the Judgment’s bow and joined the other pilots. Seth, Quennin, Jared, and Yonu all wielded portal lances, and Veketon took his place in a five-point ring. Tesset waited near the Judgment; she’d flatly refused to stay on the carrier and miss meeting the Keepers.

  No words were exchanged, and none were needed. They all followed Seth’s lead and aimed their lances at a common point in front of him. A hole in space peeked open for the eleventh time.

  It started small, resembling a speck of rainbow crystal, then grew larger.

  Colors blended around the edges: red, black, a dim green, and two shades of blue funneling towards a brilliant white core. The colors swirled around the edges brightly, but seemed dim next to the brilliance of the center.

  Seth widened the intra-gate until it was a flat disc half a kilometer across. He pulled it towards them, engulfing the seraphs, thrones, carrier, and himself in one quick motion.

  Veketon closed his eyes, and the intra-gate passed over him.

  He opened them near the heart of Aktenai space and gazed across the Gate Maelstrom. The Homeland Gate gleamed like a ball of tightly wound silver thread within an array of stellar flotsam. Wreckage from thousands of warships and the fractured remains of several moons swirled sedately around it.

  The fortress planet Aktenzek shone like a bright pearl in the distance. Colossal formations of robotic ships, thousands of archangels, and hundreds of seraphs guarded the home of the Aktenai.

  Several dozen urgent hypercast messages formed a queue in Veketon’s mind. He ignored them all.

  Seth led the way through the Maelstrom. Two thrones and three seraphs followed him past huge chunks of rocky debris.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Quennin asked on a private channel.

  “No,” Veketon said. “But it is… this is something I must do. Perhaps to prove to myself I have changed. I suppose that is the best way to describe it.”

  “You have. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  A formation of twelve Earth Nation seraphs folded space above them, apparently armed with a larger and meaner-looking style of rail-rifle. Another formation of twelve Aktenai seraphs folded space below them. Dozens more messages queued up in the throne’s hypercast buffer.

  “Seth, the Choir is getting really insistent,” Yonu said.

  “Ignore them,” Seth said. “We’ll deal with the Choir after we see how the Keepers react.”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Tesset, stay close. It’ll make it easier for us to shield you from the Gate effect.”

  “Understood.”

  The small formation of thrones and seraphs closed with the Gate while the Choir’s escorts held back, unable to approach without losing power. Seth guided them around the twisted fragments of the old Gate anchors and then held out his portal lance.

  Threads of silver leaped off the Gate, unwinding from the surface and melting back into it. Veketon had to admit such a seal would have taken him hours to unlock, but within a minute the seal was broken, and the Gate loomed before them: a perfect sphere of mercury.

  “A final word of warning before we go through,” Seth said. “Do nothing to provoke the Keepers.”

  You mean like bringing me before them? Veketon thought.

  “Our very presence will put them on edge. Only Veketon and I will speak.”

  “We’re ready, sir,” Jared said. “Lead the way.”

  Seth and the others vanished into its mercurial surface. They reappeared within a spherical chamber, the Gate and their seraphs all dwarfed by its immensity.

  The chamber was as beautiful as Veketon remembered. Half-columns curved up the distant walls, segmenting the chamber like globe. Everything gleamed of polished white stone, silver, and gold.

  He scanned the chamber’s equator and found the corridor leading to the opposite end and the Homeland beyond. It was ten kilometers square, lined on both sides with huge columns that stretched from ground to ceiling. Every surface was covered with delicate silver scrollwork.

  They landed at the mouth of the corridor.

  “Veketon and I will proceed,” Seth said. “The rest of you stay here.”

  Seth walked down the corridor, and Veketon followed, checking to the left and right. Blinding light shone beyond the columns to either side. His scanners couldn’t penetrate the white-void, but he knew the Keepers were already watching them.

  The two marched down the long corridor. They were only a few kilometers in when the Keepers made their appearance.

  Hundreds of seraphs swooped out of the white-void with organic, birdlike grace. Some landed in front of them, some behind, and others hovered near the tall columns.

  All of their chaos frequencies were white.

  And all of them carried portal lances.

  These seraphs were not the biomechanical facsimiles Veketon had helped design, but living creatures. Their wings flexed naturally, and powerful muscles rippled underneath white armored skin. Intricate black patterns adorned their armor, each one a unique stylization of geometric symbols or flowing script. Veketon knew most of them by name.

  Columns broke apart along hidden seams, folding away to reveal the heavy bulk of c-cannons and phase batteries. They swiveled, bringing to bear enough firepower to destroy a planet.

  A single Keeper seraph glided forward, patterns of black triangles adorning her armor.

  “Haanuphel,” Veketon breathed. “I’m not surprised it’s you.”

  “Keeper Elexen, we welcome you,” Haanuphel said, her words resonating directly in their minds.

  “Thank you, Keeper Haanuphel.”

  “But, would you explain to us what this… tainted creature is doing here? Was it not your intent to kill him? And yet now you bring him before us so… well armed.”

  “The situation has changed drastically,” Seth said. “And we must speak with you concerning a grave threat.”

  “Is that so?” Haanuphel asked.

  “You should not have come, wingless freak,” one of the Keepers said.

  “Your exile was a mercy you did not deserve, tyrant,” another said.

  “We should kill you for your crimes.”

  “You dare come before us again, oathbreaker?”

  “Oh, I do feel honored that you all remember me,” Veketon said.

  Haanuphel leveled her lance at him. “You are not welcome here. Leave at once.”

  Veketon closed his eyes and took a slow, calming breath. I must do this.

  With a thought, he released the throne from his control. Vents across its body dimmed, and the halo-wings decelerated. Mnemonic skin parted, and the cockpit hatch folded down in front of him. He pushed out of the pi
lot alcove and stepped into the open.

  Veketon gazed across the army of Keeper seraphs, now completely defenseless. How many of the Keepers had lost friends and loved ones in his war against them? How many of them desired to settle old scores here and now? He almost expected his life to end in a blaze of c-cannon immolation.

  But the guns remained silent, and the Keepers stayed their hands. Everyone waited to see what happened next.

  Veketon fell to one knee and bowed his head before those who had exiled him.

  “Keepers of the Gates,” he said in a clear voice. “I come before you to ask for your forgiveness.”

  The silence was deafening. If nothing else, he enjoyed knowing what a shock he had just delivered.

  Haanuphel finally spoke. “We exiled you so that you would die.”

  “Well, I’m not going to apologize for beating your death sentence,” Veketon said. “You always did underestimate me, Haanuphel.”

  “Clearly. If you truly desire our forgiveness, then you must face our justice once more.” She motioned a group of Keepers forward.

  Four seraphs approached Veketon, two from either side. He repressed a desire to dash into the safety of his throne, and instead knelt there, unmoving.

  Seth stepped forward and smashed the tip of his portal lance against the white stone floor. The ground sparked, and a spider web of cracks traced out of the impact. The four Keepers spread their wings and fled into the air, and the massed ranks of Keepers backed a step away.

  Haanuphel didn’t move.

  “What is this?” Seth asked, walking forward. “He comes before you peacefully, and all you want to do is punish him again? Do you think I brought him here for you to do with as you please?”

  “We seem to have a misunderstanding, young one. Your task was to stop the Eleven.”

  “Because none of you had the courage to stop me yourselves,” Veketon said.

  “Because we cannot survive in your universe,” Haanuphel said. “Not for any great length of time. Keeper Elexen, this is why we accepted you into our ranks, provided you with a treasure trove of knowledge, and granted you one of the portal lances.”

  Veketon grinned thinly. “The merest crumbs from your laden banquet table.”

  “You still show defiance even now, wingless one?” a Keeper asked. “I see no change in you.”

  “What right do either of you have to challenge our judgment?” another asked.

  “The young baneling would have failed without our aid.”

  Haanuphel held up a hand to silence them. “ENOUGH!!! You whine like babes before their first century. But the question remains, Keeper Elexen. Why is the tyrant here if not to be brought to justice?”

  “He is proof of the danger we all face,” Seth said. “What greater evidence is there than for Veketon to aid us?”

  “Then what is this danger you speak of?”

  “All me to explain.” Seth spoke in great detail with Veketon occasionally adding his own testimony and insight. He explained the intelligent chaos fiend, children of Vierj it had recruited, the new Gate it had nearly created, and its armies of chaos spawns armed with Ziggurat technology.

  The Keepers stayed mostly silent, with Haanuphel asking a few terse questions.

  Veketon could not help but be impressed. Seth was little more than a child to them, and yet he played them masterfully with his fiery conviction and brutal honesty. Veketon watched the Keeper seraphs adjust their stances and glance nervously to either side. He knew they were in awe of Seth’s accomplishments.

  “I sense the truth in your conviction, Keeper Elexen,” Haanuphel finally said. “It is difficult to accept all you have told us, but you speak the truth. Of that, I have no doubt. You have done us a great service by warning us of this threat, and for that you have our thanks.”

  “Then thank me with deeds,” Seth said. “Not words.”

  “If that is your wish. What do you suggest, young one?”

  “I propose nothing less than the reunification of humanity.”

  Veketon wished he could have seen Haanuphel’s face at that moment. Her seraph’s wings shuddered, and the other Keepers stirred uneasily.

  “Do you think this enemy will stop at just one failure?” Seth asked. “Do you think we are safe because we thwarted one attack?”

  “But the action you suggest…”

  “Shall we confront it as scattered bands of resistance?” Seth asked. “Or shall we defeat it as one whole, Keeper, and Forsaken, and Fallen, and even the Outcasts standing side by side?”

  “The Keepers need the Forsaken,” Veketon said. “How many of you would match your skills against a chaos fiend? How many thousands would go into battle to defeat it, and how many hundreds would die in the attempt? You cannot deny the strength of these pilots.”

  “And we Forsaken need the wisdom and technology of the Keepers,” Seth continued. “Without the portal lances, we would not have been victorious, and the legions of the Lunatic Realm would now have a foothold in our universe. It was our combined strength that stopped this first invasion, and it is our combined strength at will stop each one that comes after it.”

  Haanuphel stood in quiet contemplation. Her subordinate Keepers waited for her decision.

  “You have presented us with a lofty goal, young Keeper Elexen,” she said. “Yes, it is indeed a lofty goal, though one with a difficult road ahead of it. But perhaps it is time to take it up.”

  “Haanuphel, you cannot be serious!”

  “To unite with these tainted beings!”

  “It is unthinkable! You go too far!”

  “We will not leap forward carelessly,” Haanuphel said. “But I believe Keeper Elexen is correct. The time for dialogue with our Forsaken brothers and sisters has come at last. And since this is my decision, I will go as our representative.”

  “Thank you, Keeper Haanuphel,” Seth said.

  “Understand that your universe is anathema to us. I cannot survive the crushing passage of time for very long.”

  “How long will you be able to stay?”

  “Only a decade or two.”

  “A decade,” Seth said blandly. “Or two.”

  “For an immortal, that is a very short time.”

  “I see,” Seth said. “Very well. When can you leave?”

  “Now, if you like. Let us not waste time.”

  Seth flew back to the pilots waiting at the corridor’s entrance, and Haanuphel joined them. Veketon returned to his cockpit, powered up his throne, and followed.

  They passed through the Gate and emerged within the Maelstrom of rock and ice. Seth cut a curving path of the Maelstrom and led the way to Aktenzek. Veketon watched Haanuphel’s seraph struggle to maintain formation, its shunts glowing dimly from meager influx.

  “Do you require assistance?” he asked.

  “I will never accept your help, oathbreaker,” she said, her tone as bitter as her words. “Not even if my life or that of my seraph depended on it.”

  “As you wish,” Veketon said, as if the topic were unimportant.

  The formation of seraphs and thrones flew onward to the fortress planet of Aktenzek.

  Chapter 22

  Vision of a Golden Age

  Within the Core of Aktenzek, Tesset picked at her lunch. She sat in the seventh dining hall of the Sovereign’s private residence, holding her sense close and watching the long hall’s four other occupants.

  Jared and Yonu sat to her left on the long table, both of their auras vibrant with anxious energy. Veketon and Quennin sat to her right. Veketon’s aura pulsed like a powerful engine of self-contained thought, and Quennin’s glowed like a thick shell around something foreign. She was almost as difficult to read as Jack had been…

  Tesset bit her lower lip. She wasn’t about to start crying. Not now. Not again. She rubbed underneath the blindfold, took a calming breath, and forced the moment to pass without incident.

  The four pilots around her didn’t notice.

  Come on, she t
hought, trying to focus on a different topic. When are we going to hear some news?

  Tesset expanded her sense into the corridors, rooms, stairwells, aircar causeways, and audience chambers of the Palace pyramid. Her sense passed diplomats and dignitaries from Earth, Aktenzek, and the Grendeni schisms, as well as countless Aktenai servants.

  But no pilots.

  None of this interested her, and she reached out further, searching for Seth and her father.

  Suddenly she found them high atop the Palace pyramid, standing in a room no conventional scanner could penetrate. But there was nothing conventional about Tesset’s sense, and she perceived the outlines of her father, Seth, and several Choir holograms in heated debate.

  The room gained clarity, but as soon as she focused in, thick walls of interference sprang into being, radiating outward from the only woman present. She was so weak that she sat in a hovering gravity chair.

  Tesset felt Keeper Haanuphel focus intensely on her for a brief moment before the barriers thickened even more.

  “How does she keep doing that?” Tesset muttered.

  “You say something?” Yonu asked.

  Tesset shook her head.

  She projected her sense beyond the Sovereign’s Palace. Her mind took in the Core: a small smooth-skinned moon within the fortress planet’s heart that contained the Choir and the seraph factories. A mechanical sky enveloped it, filled completely with the fold engines necessary to move a planet.

  Tesset pulled her sense in tighter. Her perception focused on the Sovereign’s Palace atop the Core and the single landing platform that sprouted from its immense flanks. The platform was large enough to hold several seraph squadrons, but was only a thin strand of vaulting metal next to the Palace’s enormity.

  Seraphs filled its docks: mostly Aktenai models with a few EN seraphs here and there. Tens of thousands of people waited on the platform or in the city below, many of them pilots.

  Tesset sighed. And they all want to speak with the Keeper.

  But that wasn’t completely accurate. The gathering crowds wished to speak with both Keepers. None of them suspected a third Keeper resided in the Palace, but their ignorance of Veketon’s new role was probably for the best.