by Chris Fox
“My condolences,” necromancer buddy called. He’d crept much closer, though still lurked beyond the battle. “You very nearly made it to your ship. Another…two minutes? And you’d actually survive. Pity. I’ve so enjoyed observing your progress. So inventive. I suppose I will have to locate another candidate.”
“We’re not dead yet!” I roared back. I used my last few fire bolts to thin the herd, but I knew he was right. We were going to die. There were simply too many. They’d force us back into the lift, where our friend the bone thief would be waiting.
Then I remembered. We had a card that had refused to play itself.
I spun to face Aruni, and my fury made my words sharp and brittle. “You’ve jerked us around, Aruni. You’ve asked us to get you to the ship. I’ve seen your little tricks. I watched you empower Seket, but apparently even that has limits. Whatever magic you’ve got we need it right now. Either you intervene, or we don’t survive long enough for the Remora to arrive. Choose, Aruni. You can’t stand on the sidelines forever.”
The Inuran’s shoulders slumped, and a sob centuries in the making rolled out of his gut. His entire body shook for several seconds as he cried. I watched in awkward silence until he mastered himself.
“You’re right.” Aruni’s mouth firmed, and in the blink of an eye his entire body transformed. Majestic wings soared up over his largely human body, more delicate than a hatchlings. Scales small enough to rival grains of sand covered his body, though so fine they resembled pores and could be mistaken for skin. A draconic tail slashed a path in the air behind him, another reminder that he was no human. “The time has come to take an active role. For good or ill I will make my stand, and attempt to rebuild what I can, in the open, though it may be my final death.”
Then it hit me. I recognized him. This was one of the two gods who’d been playing Kem’Hedj during the second trial for captain on the Word of Xal. The one set ten millennia ago or more.
“Uh, okay.” I blinked at him. “I feel like there’s some gaps you could fill in right now. Like who you are.”
“Later.” Aruni strode forward and raised both hands. Each finger released a sea of sigils, and I noted that he drew upon multiple greater paths…to weave a single spell. Nature and artificing came together in a sea of interlocking sigils that swirled over Aruni’s head. “I consecrate this place in my name. I am Inura Lifebinder, Inura Bladeforger. I…am the Maker. Unclean things are no longer welcome here.”
Vee fell to her knees, and even Seket stopped fighting and turned towards Inura.
I could only sputter. “But…like…is anyone else a god too?” I glanced suspiciously at the minister, and then my companions.
Inura strode forward as his spell competed, and a wave of golden energy rolled out from him. The deck itself shifted to a lighter hue, and the effect rippled outwards in all directions for a hundred meters or more.
Every shambler burst into flame. Every wight was snuffed like a discarded candle. The two nameless necromancers scuttled away in the opposite direction, but failed to outrun the consecration. The divine energy burned them alive, and their harnesses clattered to the deck, the only memory of their existence.
“Oh, my,” the chatty necromancer called. “That was unexpected. Necrotis will want to you know you’re alive. Neat trick, that. A word of advice if I may, Inura. She’s got abandonment issues. Try not to upset her. Maybe bring her a souvenir or something.”
The necromancer raised his staff, then slashed the air before him. What he opened resembled a Fissure, but instead of a jagged crack into darkness it was a rip in reality leading to a…paler place. The necromancer stepped inside, and the rip closed in his wake.
A high-pitched whine sounded above me as the Remora swept into view, then sailed to a landing not far from where we were sheltering.
“Well, Minister,” I panted. “I got you back to the ship.”
15
I’d never been so happy to see Briff as when the Remora’s landing ramp extended and he offered me a hand up. Kurz helped Vee on the other side, and Miri jumped up unaided, showing off those athletic skills.
I turned around and helped the minister up, noting that her exhaustion might be worse than my own. “We’ll get you to some quarters for a nap while we connect with the Word of Xal.”
“No, I have to—”
“No you don’t,” I countered. “If you transmit anything from this ship you give away the fact that you’re on it. We’re hitting orbit nice and quietly, until we can get you to your flagship, or to the Word of Xal. I am not taking chances with these guys.”
The minister nodded wearily. “You’re talking sense.”
Vee wrapped an arm around her. “Come with me. I’ll help you to some quarters so you can get some rest.”
They headed off, which left me staring down the ramp as we awaited our last arrival. I heaved a relieved sigh when Aruni came around the corner, and not Inura. I knew it was the same person, but I found his Inuran form a lot less intimidating.
“I lived up to my end.” I slammed the button next to the ramp and it began to retract into the ship. “How about yours?”
“Captain?” Seket choked out. “I do not believe you should speak to him in such a manner.”
I noted that Vee managed a scandalized look over her shoulder before disappearing out of sight with the minister.
“As I mentioned on the moon,” Aruni interjected, “you are a paladin a god can be proud of. Thank you.”
“I don’t mean to press,” I pressed, “but you need to come clean, Inura. What kind of game are you playing? Why were you in that courtroom? Why are you following us?”
Inura nodded emotionlessly. “You have honored our accord, and I will do the same. I was on that moon to meet you and Seket. To take your measure. When I made that choice you were still the captain of the Word of Xal.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know how I felt about a god taking an interest in me. Another god. “So why all the games? Why not just nuke your way off this planet, and go punch that Great Ship out of the sky? You made it didn’t you?”
“Captain,” Seket choked, his voice even more scandalized, if that were possible.
“That is no creation of mine. No longer.” Inura frowned up at the Remora’s hull, and I had the impression he was peering through it. “It has been perverted to necrotech, which devours the souls of the living to power its devices. I snuck aboard and observed the necromancers. They are many and powerful, as you’ve since seen. I’d hoped to reach you and form a coalition to resist them before it was too late.”
“Oops.” Totally not sarcasm. “So now what?”
“I don’t know,” the deity admitted. He sighed and shook his head at me. “I have no special abundance of power. Most of what I was, my ancient body, died during the battle at the Fist of Trakalon. I am not far removed from a mortal archmage in terms of power, and I am nearly as vulnerable to damage. If I earn the wrath of that ship, and they come for me, then I may die the final death.”
I lowered my mask and forced calming breaths. So. Tired. “Okay, I’ll take this at face value. I’d like to have a further discussion after I’ve had a chance to sleep. Right now I have bigger concerns. I need to find out what’s going on with the Word of Xal.”
“Wait!” The minister’s voice cracked through the hold like thunder. She’d re-emerged into the cargo hold, with Vee tugging at her arm. “You promised to rule in our favor. Was all of that a lie?”
“Of course not.” Indignation marred Inura’s features. “I am always a silent member of the board of the Consortium. I founded it. I have the authority to issue rulings, and have done so. Your debt is absolved, and the Inurans will trouble your people no more. Though it seems you have greater problems now.”
The minister blinked suspiciously at Inura, but Vee whispered something, and slowly but firmly pulled her from the hold, toward the crew quarters.
“You’re welcome to eavesdrop. I’m calling my mother.” I issued a miss
ive from my HUD, and turned from Inura as I waited patiently for her to accept. She might be busy running a war room, or asleep, or frantically making repairs. Seconds ticked by.
Finally my mother’s face appeared on my HUD. She smiled, though even that little effort piled onto her exhaustion. All of us were in the same sorry state.
“Jerek,” she began, eyes searching me as she sought a way to ask the question I knew she desperately wanted to. “Were you able to complete that last assignment?”
“Yeah, it’s done.” I smiled in a way that I hoped communicated “she’s safe.” “Can you bring us up to speed? We’re just shy of an hour from docking.”
“That may not be soon enough.” My mother’s mouth tightened, and I could tell she was in physical pain. “We think the Maker’s Wrath will attack, and we don’t have enough magic to repel them. If they hit us we’re done, unless we can find a massive source of magic.”
“How massive?” My shoulders slumped as I began connecting dots, and realized I knew of a massive source.
“The biggest source you can find, child.” Visala’s face muscled its way into view. “A starship won’t do it this time. We need a god. Or a minor Catalyst.”
“I hate my job.” I closed my eyes.
“Jerek?” There was concern in my mother’s voice.
“Well, we have a god,” I explained, eyes still closed, “but he’s probably not going to be able to help. We’ll probably need something stronger. It just so happens that the Inurans have a life reactor powering this part of the moon. Since this place still has power to the lift, I assume it’s still running. If we can get that reactor that’s probably our best chance.”
“Jerek, doing that means not coming back to the ship….” My mother raised a hand to the screen. After a moment her face hardened and she lowered it. “You’re right. We need that reactor, unless you really do have a god with you. Do what you can, and keep that last assignment safe so I can read it when you get back.”
“Of course.” I nodded, then severed the connection in case the necromancers had a way to scry on our connection. “Inura, is there anything that you can do to help them?”
He nodded, though there was a sadness to it. “I’ve revealed myself. Their leader will soon learn I’m here. If I am not going to flee, then I may as well make a stand on that ship. Be careful, Jerek. You are the best your race has to offer, and I believe a great destiny awaits you.”
“That destiny better be the name of a video game, or a hotel where I can get a bed, because I am too tired for any more cryptic god speak.” I rose and shuffled off, a shambler in all but name. I figured I could catch a twenty-minute nap before we landed and I had to lead a strike team into the core of a dead planet.
Interlude IV
Necrotis placed a scale on the far edge of the Kem’Hedj board, then stared across the vast chamber, built solely to house this one game. Over the millennia her opponent had become a dear friend. They shared similar backgrounds, and the day would soon come when they met in person. When that happened, though, Necrotis would come as an equal, as she’d proven to be in their centuries long game.
She would bring her own unseen fleet, to rival those already prowling the storming void known as Sanctuary.
A pale slit in the veil opened in the corridor outside her chamber, an affront worthy of note. She withdrew from the game, and approached the corridor, curious at who’d dare to approach in such an impertinent manner.
“Pardon, Mother.” Utred knelt on his harness, his staff in full supplicant position. “Before you reap my soul hear my news. Inura has revealed himself on the trade moon. He lives. He consecrated an area to save the boy, and himself. I am positive it is he.”
“How?” she thundered. The impossibility endangered all her plans. She’d never have begun had she known the Maker still lived. She’d witnessed memory-scales of his death. How was this possible?
Necrotis smoothed her blouse. She’d simply find out.
As Inura’s daughter she understood his magical signature. She knew him as few did. That meant getting a missive through to him, even though he wanted to hide, should be possible.
She moved to the young woman lashed to the matrix, and willed the ship to claim the rest of her. She groaned weakly, once, and then expired quietly.
The scryscreen rippled into a view of a tiny freighter. The very last type of vessel Inura would choose, unless forced to it. Her first clue as to his disposition.
Inura’s familiar face stared back at her, the human version of it anyway. The version he’d used to seduce her mother, and countless other women.
“Hello, Father.” She inclined her head slightly. “I must admit I am surprised to find you alive. How did you survive the battle at the fist? How did you cloak the possibility of your survival? Even now, it seems, you still know things I do not.”
“Daughter?” Inura raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing a mask, but I can tell you that you are no daughter of mine. You murdered my ship. You are the antithesis of everything I stand for.”
“I did what you were too weak to,” she snarled, her composure shattered. She didn’t care. The boy looked on, but he was no longer captain, so she did not bother demanding his removal. “We will finally take vengeance on your wayward children, on the Consortium. What I have done here to this trade moon is merely the beginning. In time I will locate the other two, and they will meet the same fate.”
“If you are my daughter,” Inura allowed, “then you remember why we outlawed necrotech in the first place, yes? What’s changed?”
“Apathy,” she answered without hesitation. “I do not care what fate meets this realm. I do, however, care that our enemies and their children die screaming, and as I plan to slaughter them anyway I see no reason not to harvest their bodies and their souls. Waste no material. It was you who taught me that, father.”
He cocked his head and studied her, and for a moment the strength of his scrying was incalculable. Her mask thwarted him, somehow, and left him wondering at the face beneath.
“How pathetic that you do not recognize me.” She sneered at the once great god. “Though I suppose there’s no reason you should. You sired hundreds of us.”
At least her father had the good grace to appear embarrassed at that. His ardor had been well known, as had his total lack of attention to a woman as soon as another caught his interest.
“What do you want, Necrotis?” Inura squared his shoulders, though his posture was a brittle thing. A thing she could break easily.
“I want to add the Word of Xal to my fleet.” She leaned closer to the scry-screen. “If you leave now, then I will allow you to live. I will take that ship, and then I will come for the Inurans. Stay out of my way. Go find a quiet sector on the far side of the galactic core, well away from me. We need never see each other again, and you can find some other race to dupe into worshiping you.”
“I cannot allow you to claim that ship.” Inura’s form shifted, and wings flared behind him. He truly had revealed himself. “I will stop you.”
“Will you?” She mused, then offered a coy smile. “I am ready to call your bluff, father. Defend your new little darlings, or I am about to add their souls to my drive.”
“Don’t do this, whoever you are.” Inura’s voice rang with desperation, though at least it seemed sincere. “I am a terrible deity, but that doesn’t mean you should take it out on the sector. You’ve gotten your revenge. Take the moon and leave. We will withdraw as well.”
“The spirits are whispering, father.” A cold, cruel smile cracked her cheeks. “They tell me that the name you used was Aruni. A little on the nose, yes? Aruni? Inura? Your name spelled backwards. You were daring us to find you. You crave oblivion.”
“No.” Inura shook his head, and she read pity there. “You believe that, but there is power in reflection. A symbiosis greater than the sum of its parts. Xal taught me about that.”
“You’re telling me that the keys you constructed for the Spell
ship were not merely some flippant joke?” Necrotis paused then, and began to pace. “Perhaps I misjudged you. First you survived, and now you are telling me there is some sort of ritual attached to this naming convention?”
“Not ritual sorcery,” her father corrected in that condescending tone he so loved to ooze. “Divine power. Such pairings are resonant with the universe, and serve as a focal point. Ikadra and Ardaki are forever linked, their names opposite, but their purpose, and power, twin to each other. Together they are far greater than each alone, as is true with all such pairings.”
She hated that she’d been wrong about his name. Hated that he still knew depths of magic she’d not yet plumbed.
“I call your bluff, father. It is time to end that ship.” She waved a hand and ended the missive, then turned to one of the milky-eyed underlings cabled to the console. “Dispatch our best reaper to take their captain. I want that ship leaderless, in case they somehow survive our assault.”
16
We used the trip back to the surface to have a shopping party in the Remora’s mess. The forge had plenty of grenade and ammo schematics, including my salt rounds, and when we’d retrieved the ship the reservoirs of materials from the foundry had all been full.
This time I made twelve magazines. The cost was negligible without the crazy Inuran markup, and all of a sudden I could see why they’d stop at nothing to eliminate competitors.
“What are you going to make, Briff?” I stuffed mags into the pouches on both legs. Room was tight as they already bulged with four grenades each. Half were pulse, and half were frag.
Briff gave a noncommittal grunt as he thumbed through schematics, mesmerized by stuff we’d never thought we could afford. I let him be and inspected Rava, who’d already had her turn. A bandolier lined with grenades slashed one side of her chest, and another with magazines crossed the other.