“That would be a miracle in all this chaos,” Admiral Braeden Wingstar muttered, glancing behind him to check on the ever-sleeping Rylynn. The six of them had agreed that the safest place to meet and plan had been at the Foréss home on Forestrium. They met in the girl’s room, because Braeden would not leave her, not even for a meeting of such importance as this. Considering her condition and location, the rest of them agreed it would be safe enough. It was the last place anyone would think that the emperor and his advisors would meet in this room on this planet. Even with refugees fleeing to the Spectral Shield systems, hardly anyone came to Forestrium. Vailence wondered if it was an unconscious avoidance of a place many considered almost sacred. It was the last place to flee. Others might even think that it would be a mistake to come here since the Zar’dakens knew about it. After all, they were the ones who had destroyed all civilization on it before the dawn of the empire.
The Earth of before may have been gone for hundreds of years now, but life was tenacious. Life continued on, especially under the protective and tender care of the Foréss family. It reminded Vailence of the Phoenix. Everything alive died, but after death came life. The Spectral Empire was but a shadow of what it had been three cycles ago. Vailence was hoping out of this fire it would regrow. They just had to find a way to protect what was left so it could continue.
“WarKing Zar’Shash must be here, somewhere,” D’rz said. “He must be. From what we know of them, anything else would be a sign of weakness. His ‘honor’ would be found here.”
“There are a hundred and fifty-plus Zar’daken warships in our skies,” Admiral Jackie Bieri began. Gesturing with a graceful hand, she said, “Finding their emperor would be like trying to find a needle with a niche out of it in a pile of needles. How do you suggest we find him?”
“Bring out some bait that he couldn’t possibly ignore,” D’rz suggested.
“Out of the question. We’re not putting any of the Imperial family out as bait,” L’Seral snapped. “That would be ludicrous and potentially disastrous. If we lose any of them, the populous will lose moral. If they think we cannot win, then we will not win.”
“And if the Zar’dakens lose their WarKing, they will scurry back home to cry.”
Vailence halted their bickering with a raised hand. “If it will bring this war to a quick end, I will gladly volunteer to be bait to bring Zar’shash into the open.”
“Sire, while that is admirable, what will we do if we do get Zar’Shash, but fail in keeping you alive?” Braeden asked. “While I am sure that the High Prince will do well in your stead, he will be inheriting an empire falling under the Soul Shadows. And that isn’t even considering the possibility that the Zar’dakens will retaliate. And what if they just destroy the ship you are on, and Zar’Shash not even being in the area?”
“All valid points, but it is a plan. And we need to do something,” Vailence replied.
“Chaos here … chaos there.” The soft mutter startled them all.
“Rylynn,” Braeden said, rushing to her side and holding her little pale hand. Vailence and the others also approached her medical bed. He could see that Rylynn hadn’t found her way back yet. “Rylynn?” Braeden asked, kneeling by her bed. The man didn’t care what anyone thought of him in that moment. Only one thing mattered to him. In almost three cycles she hadn’t said a word. Now she had spoken four.
“Homeworld … the Nest … chaos …” she continued, oblivious to them … Or perhaps she is more aware of uss than we thought, the serpent observed. Apparently, Vailence’s wild-self wasn’t the only one to think that.
“Clever girl.” Sam smiled. When the others looked to him for an explanation, he shrugged. “We have only been thinking of what we could do here. We never thought of attacking the Zar’daken Empire at its heart.”
“Probably because that would be suicide.” The silent-till-now Admiral Kielaun Jus’ka said.
“Which is probably what they think, as well. We certainly did before this war started. Their military has been keeping us busy. They wouldn’t think to guard against anyone slipping into their space. Not from us. Our people have spent the last two and a half cycles fleeing from the border,” Sam said. “A single ship, the last thing they would suspect we would send, could stay hidden for a long time and figure out what will make them bleed enough to call their troops back home.”
“We don’t have any ships to spare. Which would you send on a sure suicidal mission?”
“Perhaps the one that has always found her way home?” Braeden suggested.
“You want to send your beloved ship ?” L’Seral asked.
“She has seen desperate action. She has also been fitted with stronger shields, an SCF cannon, a scrambler, and now a ghost drive. She is the best ship for the job, no offense to the Terrenza,” he added with a nod toward L’Seral.
Vailence thought about it for a moment before saying “Very well. Inform Captain Quinn of our plan. In the meantime, let us sketch out a few contingency plans.”
***
“Once again, you volunteer me for something,” Race said dryly from his seat in the Foréss dining room.
Braeden raised a brow at him. “Are you going to tell me that you’re not the right man for this job? And here I thought you always had a flair for this kind of thing.”
Race grunted. Thank you for the compliment. Any idea of what I should be looking for?”
“Something that is obviously important to the Zar’dakens.”
“And thus, probably heavily guarded,” Race muttered.
“Probably,” Braeden agreed honestly. After a few bites to eat, Braeden felt that Race deserved to have an option. The mission was to a place the Spectral Empire knew very little about. And Race was being asked to go alone with no chance of backup. “If you like, I could ask that another ship be outfitted similarly to go instead.”
“No,” Race said, shaking his head. “I can’t walk away from this, a mission that might actually give us the breathing room we need, and have someone else take the risk. I’ll ask the crew for volunteers. That way it’s everyone’s decision.” Braeden bowed his head in acknowledgement. Race glanced away before sighing. “Even if he volunteers, I cannot take Jason with us. He has to be given an assignment here. “
“You’re right. Jason should be here when Rylynn wakes up, so should Westley and Marius,” Braeden said.
Race tilted his head with a slight frown. “What makes you think Rylynn will wake up soon?”
“There is a prophecy about the Defender that says that after three years, which apparently equals three cycles, that they will wake from the ‘living death.’ She will need her friends in the coming days. It will also,” he said with a slight nod, “give a reason to keep Jason here.”
Race thought about it a moment, glancing at Luna sitting next to him, before agreeing. “As much as I will miss having Marius and Westley on the crew, I agree with you. If you are indeed right, which you usually are—don’t get a big head—Rylynn will need them.”
***
Several days after the Hail Mary had left on her mission, leaving him, Westley, and Jason behind, Marius went to go visit Rylynn. It was a cloudy day. The sun barely filtered through the thick clouds. Its dull gray light managed to spill into the room. To Marius’ surprise, there was no one else in there. He had started to believe that Braeden lived in the room.
IVY AND RAJ MUST HAVE TOLD HIM ENOUGH TIMES TO GO REST IN AN ACTUAL BED, Zara said.
Marius glanced back out the hall before approaching Rylynn’s bed. Even though he wanted to see her, he also needed her help. Help that her father would probably have Marius’ head for. Even becoming thirty again, his body was still pulling strongly on Zara. No matter how he tried to stop his body’s instinct, he couldn’t. Zara didn’t complain, but then she never had. She wouldn’t even as she faded away. She hadn’t before he had met Rylynn. Marius pulled the chair over to Rylynn’s side.
“Rylynn, you have to wake up soon. Please,” he sa
id. Then she could tell him that it was okay. She didn’t move or even acknowledge him. Marius looked at Zara “Zara …” She was showing the strain of being bound to him. Again. It had started slow, but now it was getting worse. Rylynn could help them again, but … “Will I hurt her?”
Zara seemed to look into his soul for a moment before she turned to Rylynn. With a gentle paw she touched the girl. HER BODY IS STRONG. Zara turned back to Marius. AS SUCH, HER GIFT HAS BEEN GATHERING ENERGY SINCE SHE HEALED ENOUGH TO BE OUT OF TROUBLE. SHE ISN’T USING ANY OF IT NOW. THE ENERGY WILL KILL HER SOON. WHO KNOWS, YOU DRAWING IT FROM HER MIGHT EVEN HELP HER.
Marius frowned. “What do you mean?”
IT MIGHT HELP HER FIND HER WAY BACK.
“I’ll only draw a little,” he promised himself. Carefully, he placed his hand over Rylynn’s and immediately he felt the shock of power that satisfied his body’s hunger. It strengthened him and Zara. “Is she okay?” he asked, as he pulled his hand away. It tingled from the heat that had just flashed through it.
SHE IS FINE, MARIUS. HER ENERGY LEVELS ARE SAFE.
Marius closed his eyes in relief. Then he sat back in the chair and stared into space. Waiting.
Chapter 11 – Awakening
Rylynn
Kylesst and I walked through an endless field of memories. They looked like silvery blue bubbles that had been scattered about like seeds. Some were bright like sunlit dew. Others I didn’t want to get too close to. Most I did not recognize. Which was understandable because Kylesst had been around much longer than I had.
The voices continued. We followed them as best we could. It wasn’t easy because some of the memories spoke as well.
“He’ll never make it,” someone muttered from the memory to my left. I paused, frowning. I looked up at Kylesst. His mesmerizing silvery-blue eyes narrowed in puzzlement. He bent his avian head closer to the memory bubble.
“Of course not,” another voice sniggered. “He’s so weak and quiet. He’ll just get brushed away like the chaff he is.”
“Do you recognize this?” I asked Kylesst.
NO. IT IS NOT MY MEMORY.
“It’s not mine either — though I’ve heard voices similar.” Before Ace, Carden, and I had understood each other, they had whispered similarly hurtful things. But not these things. And the voices were neither Ace nor Carden. Nor any of the others in their gang. “Whose memory is this?” I asked aloud.
Kylesst and I shared a look. If we wanted to know, all we had to do was to touch the memory. But then we would lose ourselves in it similar to how I had when I had first gone looking for Kylesst in that storm of memory.
But we were together now. I though. We both know what was going on and this memory was something neither of us understood. As the younger of the two of us (and the mortal human), I was the weaker of the two of us. I couldn’t have pulled Kylesst to himself. But perhaps he could pull me back. Because I’ll admit right now, I was curious. Very curious. “Kylyesst, if you stay here and I touch the memory, do you think you could pull me out of it?” I asked.
Kylesst titled his head in consideration for a moment. He glanced between me and the memory orb. PERHAPS. I HAVE NEVER RUN INTO THIS SITUATION BEFORE, he told me honestly. IF I CAN’T, THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO LIVE THROUGH ALL THE MEMORIES BEFORE THEY REACH YOUR TIMELINE, SIMILAR TO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU WHEN YOU TOUCHED MINE.
“How far back do you think this memory is?” I asked, a little worried.
Kylesst ducked his head closer to the orb, one alluring eye sliding to look at me. WITHOUT KNOWING WHOSE MEMORY THIS IS, I DON’T KNOW FOR SURE. ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS? THE VOICES GUIDING US OUT ARE NOT COMING FROM THIS, THAT I CAN TELL YOU.
“As stupid as this sounds, I have to know.”
THERE IS A PHRASE THAT COMES TO MIND.
“Oh? What is that?”
‘CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT.’
I smiled. “You’re forgetting the second half of that phrase.” At his look of curiosity, I elaborated. “‘But satisfaction brought him back.’ Can you attempt to pull me back in five minutes?”
FIVE MINUTES? WHAT EXACTLY IS ‘FIVE MINUTES’ IN THIS PLACE? he asked in amusement.
“Right – um – use your best judgment?”
He shook his head. BE CAREFUL, RYLYNN.
“That’s my middle name.”
YEAH. RIGHT. He did not sound like he believed me. I shot him a look before turning back to the memory. I took a fortifying breath and touched it. I fell through it and ceased to be myself.
I was Caintallon.
Caintallon was ten years old in his first year at the Conservatory. It was the noblest school on the whole planet. Those who entered its grand halls were taught the finest of all arts: Majvolta. Everyone had a gift for using the energy around them. But it was those who showed exceptional skill that were brought to the Conservatory.
It was grand and everything. It was a privilege to be there. All the students were polite and nothing wrong could ever be said about their actions or words. It was all fake. He knew that. He could see right through it. All the students who went to the Conservatory were from the wealthy families. Their pedigrees were spectacular. Their parents often bought their admittance.
Caintallon didn’t have the wealthy father or titles. He was there because of only one thing. His test results. His mastery of Majvolta at age ten was higher than any of the other students. But they had class and he did not. They never could understand why it was that he was there. He hadn’t come from their charmed circle of existence. He came from a family that could barely scrap by under their families’ heels.
At first, they had thought him a servant. It wasn’t until he showed them his certificate of admittance that they believed otherwise. And that was when the whispers started. “He’s a weakling. – He’ll never make it. – We will make sure of that.” At first, he had been in awe of them. He believed what they told him because they were so much better educated than he. But when he heard those barely concealed whispers, he started to notice that they were not worth his admiration.
Now, he sat at his desk and never spoke to any of them. He only spoke when the professor asked him a direct question or when the rest of the class had no clue. It made the others angry when he showed them up. But they were convinced that he wouldn’t last the year. He might actually do the homework, but that didn’t mean he had the skill.
It amused him. Their pettiness. He looked around the room at all of them. Some were like much-lauded kings and queens who ruled their posse with velvet-lined iron. The larger the posse, the more they thought they ruled the school. Since he wasn’t part of a posse, nor did he have one of his own, they thought him weak. Chaff that would one day figure out that it wasn’t wanted and blow away on the wind.
Their words challenged him. He liked challenges. He liked the games they created in their existence. His goal was to not only show them that he belonged at the Conservatory more than they did, but also to yank their worlds out from under them. He smiled and one of the boys who was whispering so Caintallon could hear him, noticed.
“What are you smiling about?” Bretdire demanded.
Caintallon raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would you like to know? Shouldn’t you be concerned with other things better fitting your skill?” he asked.
Bretdire raised his chin and puffed out his chest. “You are beneath me,” he agreed. He and the others were absolutely oblivious to the insult Caintallon had offered. People really did only hear what they wanted to.
Bretdire made to leave but Caintallon continued. “Funny, that was what Rosekerry said, but about you.”
“What!?” Bretdire rounded back toward him. Rosekerry was the daughter of the Bredil family; the sworn enemies of the Kletair, Bretdire’s family. It was ridiculously easy to raise the tensions between the two of them. And it was beyond entertaining to watch them try to one up the other.
“At least that was what I had overheard during testing day,” Caintallon added, looking at his desk. T
esting day was when the students were to perform skill tests in front of everyone else. It was a kind of meet where the contestants were against each other and themselves. Advancement was based upon the consensus of all the professors who had witnessed the event. Caintallon had been sitting near Rosekerry, but she hadn’t said anything at all about Bretdire. She had been too concerned with her own advancement to give anyone much thought. Caintallon shrugged. “Of course, I could be mistaken. I’m beneath you.” His words had been loud enough for the others to hear. Bretdire seemed to realize that, too, because he put on a show of distain as he turned away.
But Caintallon knew that all the indifference to his words was a façade. Bretdire would be distracted for days, if not weeks, by the thought that his rival figured said he was beneath her. It would drive him crazy. And since he had proclaimed that Caintallon was beneath him, he couldn’t be seen to consider the lowly one’s words. But he would. He would have to find a way to pay back Rosekerry for her insult. He would do it in a back-stabbing kind of way where he would never confront the girl and discover that she hadn’t said a thing. Caintallon turned back to making sure that his supplies were in order on his desk before the professor came in.
Suddenly, I felt a yanking sensation that pulled me from the boy’s perspective. I was Rylynn again. But I was still in the classroom. No one could see me as I was just a ghost of something that was not yet in existence. I turned to look at Caintallon. He was thin and wiry. His hair was three-toned, like everyone else in the room. But most were interesting combinations of colors, his was more somber — a raven in a flock of colorful songbirds. Faintly curly locks of black, silver, and red. Another yank and pull and I was out of the memory bubble with Kylesst.
“Hey, that worked,” I exclaimed.
YES, IT DID. Kylesst sounded rather surprised by that fact. THOUGH I AM PRETTY SURE I DIDN’T DO THAT ALONE.
Defender of the Empire: Chaos Page 8