Tail of the Dragon

by Timothy Reihm

  Chapter 26

  The sound of 1250 soles marching in time reverberated off of the canyon walls. Twenty-five squads moved with precision as they ran through the training sequence. No verbal commands were given, but each team of twenty-five arella, five wide and deep, rotated as one, maintaining perfect spacing as they followed the unspoken cadence of some secret symphony.

  Barman watched as each group simultaneously contracted on itself. The sixteen members on the exposed perimeter of the formation knelt, facing outward, bringing shields up before them. Six angled shields rattled into place above this defensive foundation, and the squad leader, stationed at the group's center, completed the maneuver by swinging his shield into an overhead position. As the edges of each silver rectangle touched its neighbor, the individual parts fused into a solid metallic wall for a nanosecond, before waning into a translucent dome that covered the entire squad.

  Across the dusty, ocherous canyon floor, twenty-five clear bubbles popped up within a heartbeat, like beads of dew on an autumnal leaf.

  'Those shield walls can deflect any known energy source. They are virtually impervious to attack, although I hope that we won't have any need for that today,' the newcomer said.

  Metron, the captain of the battle guard, was an imposing figure. Though not overly tall, his frame was wider than that of the typical arella. Thick curly hair topped a squarish head, which seemed to sit directly on his wide shoulders. Even with the looseness of his robes the massive arms were obvious. He exuded physical power and brute force. His voice, however, was startlingly soft and gentle.

  'Barman, I am concerned about this request of yours. It's pretty vague. And I don't like splitting up my troops without knowing exactly what we are going to be facing,' he said.

  'I understand your concerns and share them. I'm afraid we don't have any choice. We know that an attack is imminent. Sorry. Let me rephrase. We believe that an attack is imminent. But we can't take any chances. We aren't sure how long we have, so we have to assume the worst,' Barman replied.

  'I don't mean to offend, but you don't seem to know all that much. Can I ask where your information comes from?'

  'We deciphered a message from the prisoner. Based on its content, we rounded up those who have been visiting him and interrogated them. Most of them knew next to nothing, but one was very well informed. He gave us a rundown on the plot, locations where weapons are being stored, and a list of participants. We are going to hit the supply stores today. I have Seraphim rounding up everyone on the list,' Barman replied.

  'And who is this angel? '

  'He cooperated, so I can't say. He has admitted his fault and acknowledged his folly. He'll be pardoned and have his name stricken from the record of this event, should his information prove accurate. We believe that he is credible.'

  Metron studied him intently for a moment. He was obviously displeased at the lack of specificity, but being a good soldier he understood his role. He nodded and pulled out a scroll, spreading it on the stone wall before them.

  'We are going to hit all five locations simultaneously. We will use percussive matrices to incapacitate anyone guarding the stores, prior to moving in. Each location has its challenges, but my squad leaders are good at their jobs. Each site gets hit by five squads,' Metron said.

  Barman held up a finger.

  'That looks perfect. However, I need you to make an adjustment. I need to borrow one of your squads. I am going after one arella, but it is off world and I don't really know what resources he has available. He could be extremely dangerous and I need angels trained for this sort of thing.'

  You're kidding me, right?' Metron asked.

  'I'm afraid not. I've been chasing this one for a while. The last time I thought I had him I underestimated what he was capable of. Some of my arella were hurt as a result. I won't make that mistake again. That is why I need your guards. Our source has given us a location and I need to move quickly.'

  Metron turned toward the staging area below, assessing, as his squads continued to run through their drills. Groups were paired in mock battle and first attacked then retreated in ebbing waves. The simulated fighting covered the ground and the air above it, but the scene was somehow orderly. It had a rhythm and a structure, like the intricate choreography of a large dance troupe. He wondered if this day’s action would follow the course his plan outlined. He knew that was unlikely.

  'I have two conditions. Number one, I'm coming with you, and number two, I need to hear everything you can tell me about our target.'

   

  He dropped onto solid ground and skidded to a halt, tucking his wings in behind. For the briefest second his mind told him that he was still moving as his body made the adjustment from flight. When he first learned to fly that transition took much longer, but now it passed as quickly as a breath.

  The funny thing was that he understood his mind was playing a trick on him. He stood on a ball of rock, spinning at a terrible rate, hurtling across the galaxy. Gravity allowed him to feel anchored and he subconsciously accepted the illusion.

  The solidity of the ground beneath was another convenient lie. What seemed so sure was an ever shifting, unstable mass of crust, riding a plasmatic layer within the planet's interior. Seas of molten rock, rivers of electrical current, and the tide of the planetary life force all churned below.

  The events of the last days made him keenly aware of the instability his hopes rested on, both physically and figuratively. He liked to be able to plan, to test, and slowly execute only when certain of success, but others kept forcing his hand. He hadn't wanted to imprison Hageth and Romel. He certainly hadn't wished to entomb Eltoth, but they had all given him no other options.

  And now, because of their choices, he was once more forced to react to circumstances. It wouldn't take long for someone to notice that Yabler's representatives were incommunicado. They had to transmit regular reports. He had no idea when the last report had been submitted or when the next was due, but time was limited. He had to act now.

  Luckily, he had spent years working on this issue. Before that terrible accident he had made progress on the problem of inclusion. Any subordinate being, and that included all beings, that disagreed with the way things were done had no choice. They had to submit, due to the fact, that despite what everyone said aloud, they were slaves. Free will was a grand illusion, unless you managed to get yourself excluded. If you were part of the Kingdom, you were subject to the Kingdom.

  The only way to be truly free was to drop off the map, literally. And that could only happen outside of the grove. The universe appeared vast, but the grove made it too small to contain dissenting points of view. So he developed his theory. The perforation in space-time held by the paths was dependent on maintaining a strict balance. Creating a wormhole that opened for a moment was a fourth-year academy experiment. The difficulty lay in keeping it stable. A surge in either the positive or negative energy flowing along the path would cause the rift to collapse on itself.

  The inbound tree, always located on the east side of the grove, carried the current straight from Mount Kol. It was beyond his reach. The key to his plan lay in the western tree, which closed the circuit by routing the outgoing energy back into the pathway. Experiments through the years had resulted in nothing but failure, until his discovery.

  He pulled the dodecahedral spike from a long insulated pocket in his robe, its length wrapped in a shimmery metallic cloth, resembling dull chain mail. The ebony tip protruded and he held it toward the sky, observing the way it appeared to war with the daylight. It had a faint black glow as if it contained a sun, sucked dry of light, but still believing itself a star. It seemed to absorb energy, creating a shadow around itself and highlighting that inner dying radiance.

  It was the same tool he used to create a prison for Hageth and Romel. By briefly touching the rock wall after causing the cave in, he changed the composition of the stone, turning it to its opposite. He saturated it with dark energy, the building block of
this prized possession, the one thing he had taken from that world which had cost him all else.

  Although not completely sure how this peculiar relic worked, he suspected it might be part of the root system of the grove, absorbing the dark energy and funneling it into the path. He hoped by using this fragment, he might disrupt the flow along the pathway to Yabler long enough to cause its collapse. If correct, he could sever the connection between Yabler and the rest of the Kingdom. Then he would be able to rule this world the way it deserved to be ruled.

  He strode forward with some trepidation. Being this close to the path made his stomach clench. It was daunting to realize that at any moment a squadron of battle guards might storm through the hazy sheen, the only thing separating him from Mount Kol.

  He examined the thick roots extending out from the base of the eastern tree, trying to trace one of the larger ones to a safe distance. He knew that if he tried to embed his spike too close, the energy levels would be too high and his precious tool could be destroyed. In fact, it might do that anywhere within kilocubits of this place. He looked at the shimmering screen and could see a mass of armed arella pouring through it. They were there, just on the other side, ready to march through. He sensed it in his bones. He had to try. There was no more time for theorizing or experimentation. It had to be now.

  He placed the point into the soil, watching as black tendrils began to reach from the spot. He grasped a large stone with his free hand and held it aloft. This was crazy. If he did this he might be obliterated. And if he didn't, he would be captured. It was just a matter of time.

  He brought the rock down with a mighty blow. The spike penetrated a hand span into the ground. He swung again and again and again until only the flattened end of the crystalline shaft was visible. He waited. Nothing happened. There was no sound except the thunder of his heart, crashing in his chest. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

  And then the trees disappeared.