by Chris Fox
The platforms continued to rise, and Utfa tensed as they passed the first of the empress’s islands. Her cluster was large, and it took many seconds to pass. Only one island was still lit: the prime temple. Zakanna was readying herself for battle, her forces no doubt lurking inside the grove of spires.
Utfa looked up, giving a pleased smile as the apex island came into view. He’d only seen it a few times, and even then only on the twin holidays, when they refreshed the wards to keep the Imperium from the gaze of the Nameless Ones.
From below, the Apex island was deceptively unadorned, a simple ivory island that would have gone unremarked even at the lowest levels of the Royal Spire. Their disks came even with it, rising high enough to provide a look at the island itself. In the center of a grassy field, a titanic blue cube bobbed up and down. That cube blazed with a bonfire of white circuitry. The cube rotated slowly, thrumming with deep power. Around the cube knelt four adepts. Only four. Utfa smiled.
“Protect the emissary.” Oako called, removing his hood. He moved to the edge of the island, and the adepts lined up to follow him. Oako turned to face Utfa. “By your word, Emissary.”
Utfa opened his lower nostrils and drank deeply. He lowered his hood, his fur now a placid brown. “Kill the adepts, then form a ring around the beacon so that I may perform the will of the Nameless Ones.”
Oako led the charge, the forces from the other disks joining the howling horde as they surged toward the cube. All four adepts leapt to their feet, moving smoothly to support each other. Seeing that grace slid tendrils of terror around Utfa’s heart, especially when he saw the last of the adepts.
Master Yulo’s snowy fur ruffled under the breeze as he glided into formation with his brothers. His gaze finally found Utfa, and his mouth tightened into a line. “Utfa, I see you lurking back there. Stop this madness. There is nothing to be gained for you here.”
“Kill them swiftly!” Utfa roared.
Yulo’s eyes hardened. He sprinted forward several steps, then leapt into the air. As he neared the apex of his jump, his body rippled and changed. He grew larger, almost the size of a full elite. His corded muscles thickened, and when he slammed back into the disk, cracks radiated out around him.
Utfa’s warriors hesitated, fanning out to ring the defenders. Even Oako seemed reluctant to engage, and Utfa couldn’t blame him. No one wanted to be the first to die.
Yulo adopted a comfortable combat stance, his companions standing back to back behind him. “We are sworn to protect this place, and you must know your numbers are meaningless. But before we cut you down, I must know. Why, Utfa? This place is sacred, even to the seekers. Why defile the beacon?”
Utfa finally stepped from the transport disk. He began his breathing as he walked slowly forward, willing his cells to accelerate and change. Power surged through him—strength, speed, and grace. It had been a long time since Utfa had felt the flow, and he welcomed it now.
“I would never defile this place, Yulo. You of all people know me better than that. How many times did we debate the whispers together?” Utfa reached up to his temple, hesitating as his hand settled around the thick, black cable. There was no other choice. He gave the cable a sharp twist, and yanked it from his temple.
The flow of data stopped, leaving his mind in troubling silence. Utfa set down his arcanotome, then removed his outer robe. He dropped the heavy, black fabric atop his tome, turning to hear Yulo’s answer.
“I see. You do not consider the murder of your former brothers a defilement. Is that it?” Yulo asked mildly, his fur remaining perfectly white.
Utfa strived to keep the envy from showing in his fur, but the best he could manage was a dirty grey. Yulo’s pristine white made mockery of it.
“I do not. You and I shared many ideas together, but we never agreed on the most important. You seek to avoid the Nameless Ones, praying that their gaze will not find you. Knowing that someday, if you do not face their terrible wrath, your grandchildren will.”
Yulo’s face hardened, but the snowy white remained. “And you believe that we have a responsibility to our children, to accept the Nameless One’s will, knowing that after we have enacted it they will once again journey into the cold. Yes, we’ve had this argument many times before. What is different now, Utfa?”
“I prayed, and the Nameless Ones answered. I have spoken to one, and learned its will. The day we debated has arrived, brother. The Nameless Ones have returned, and their gaze lands upon Imperalis. It lands upon you.” Utfa adopted a combat stance nearly identical to Yulo’s.
“Once, you were my equal, but that day is a hazy memory. You turned away from your body, away from unity. The arcanotome has been a part of you for too long. Even now, its dark knowledge twists you. If you seek to battle me, you will die.” Yulo stalked back and forth, moving with disquieting grace. His mind and body were truly one, something Utfa had never achieved.
“If I battled you alone, I have no doubt you’d be correct. Kill him,” Utfa roared. He sprinted forward, deepening his breathing. His body grew denser, his muscles bulging to compensate. He wasn’t as impressive as Yulo, but it would be enough.
Utfa launched a flying kick at Yulo, a kick the master easily parried. But it didn’t matter. The battle had begun, and now that every seeker knew they weren’t the focus of Yulo’s rage they were willing to join it.
They surged forward in a wave, crashing over the adepts. Yulo batted aside a seeker, then shattered a warrior’s face with his knee. The other adepts were nearly as skilled, each felling multiple opponents. Then Oako planted his axe in Kokru’s chest, driving the adept to the grass. His blade crackled and hummed as he forced it deeper into the adept’s body. The adept twitched once, then was still.
Oako’s companions surged into the gap, pouncing on another adept. He went down under a flurry of blows, unable to deal with the combined ferocity.
“All your training, and for what?” Utfa taunted, laughing at Yulo.
Yulo snarled, the fur around his eyes deepening to scarlet. He leapt forward, sprinting toward Utfa. Utfa backpedaled, interposing another adept between them. Yulo’s foot moved so swiftly the air hummed, and the adept’s neck snapped. Yulo leapt over the body, and Utfa dove behind a full-sized elite.
Yulo didn’t pursue. Instead, the master changed direction, sprinting fast and low toward the edge of the island.
Utfa’s eyes widened when he saw where Yulo’s path was taking him. “No!”
The master bent to scoop up Utfa’s arcanotome, then leapt off the side, disappearing silently out of sight. Utfa spun back to the combat, longing to kill. The other adepts were already dead, and his forces stood clustered around the beacon.
“We have won, master.” Oako sank to one knee, as did all the others.
Utfa ignored him. He moved to the beacon, a rising tide of rage blackening his fur.
Oako followed, wrapping a hand around his cable. He tugged it free, passing his arcanotome to Utfa. “You will need this to enact their will.”
“I know the torment of not being able to hear the whispers.” Utfa said, gratefully accepting the tome. He clipped the cable into his temple, sighing as the chorus returned. “We will find Yulo, and recover my tome. Until then, I accept your sacrifice.”
Utfa turned back to the beacon, stretching out a hand to touch it. Power surged through him. He could feel the incredible energies flowing through the beacon, waiting for a hand to guide them. His hand.
Utfa used the sequence the whispers had shown him, and the energy responded.
A pulse of bright blue light surged from the cube. It burst in all directions, rippling through the Royal Spire. The wave of energy continued, washing over the surrounding spires, then the rest of the city. Hushed silence fell in its wake. Utfa waited for something momentous to happen, but many moments passed.
The entire spire trembled violently, and through the crystal walls Utfa could see the other spires swaying. Fissures opened near the base of many spires, the ground
widening as white spires emerged. Five in all, each the equal of the Royal Spire itself.
The pristine spires rumbled, and a dark slit grew down the side of the three closest spires. The slit widened into a doorway five thousand meters high, and from that doorway stepped the most terrible weapon of war Utfa could have wished for. The creature, if that was what it was, stood as tall as a planetstrider. Yet, it wasn’t a planetstrider.
There was nothing organic about this titan. It was made from elegantly curved metal, the blueish tint made iridescent as it stepped into the sunlight. An enormous cannon jutted from its chest, and a city-sized booster was attached to its back.
“By their wrath,” Utfa murmured. “I finally understand.”
He yanked his gaze away from the titans as a cloud of ships emerged from each spire. They were curved, blue vessels, sleek and deadly.
The Nameless Ones had delivered a fleet to augment the Kthul’s own.
From the base of each spire also came an army of tiny figures, their numberless blue forms filling the area around each spire. There were tens of thousands. Perhaps more.
Utfa tilted his head back and laughed.
38
Void Wraith
Khar returned to consciousness from power conservation mode. His body had recharged back to 22 percent reserves, and the worst of his injuries had been repaired. It would have to be enough. He rose from his position against the marble wall, scanning the island where he’d awakened.
He was inside a spire, which vaulted high above. Colorful murals of nebulas and gas giants had been painted, creating the illusion of the night sky. The walls stood open, allowing in an artificial breeze.
The empress stood on a small, raised dais at the center of the room, about a meter above everyone else. A cluster of attendants stood around her, parting as a delegation of Ganog dressed in dark brown armor approached. They were hard-eyed warriors, not an adept among them.
Khar rose to his feet and padded silently toward the empress. The last group of hard-eyed warriors had tried to take her life.
“Hello, Kokar.” The empress’s clear voice cut through the low murmur of conversation. “I am glad that you came, despite the late hour.”
“I am not,” Kokar replied, sourly. His fur was a black-red. “What you have done could have lasting repercussions, Empress.”
The name and voice were familiar. Khar couldn’t place them. He didn’t think he’d met this Kokar, a hard-eyed youth with a scar on one cheek.
Then it came to him. This was the elite he’d fought back in the Royal Games. The scar delivered by Khar’s weapon.
“What I have done is warn our people,” Zakanna snapped. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them her fur had gone back to soft blue. “I understand your concerns, and that of your clan.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Kokar did not look pleased. “You have made claims of betrayal. Do you have evidence to support these accusations? Something to implicate Utfa or the Kthul? You know the Nyar hate them, but even we will not attack without proof. We are not your pawns, to punish clans that displease you.”
“I accused neither the Kthul, nor the seekers,” the empress countered. “I merely warned that my person had been assaulted, and called upon loyal Ganog to defend the capital.”
“And how do you imagine that playing out, Empress? Everyone knows you have no love for Utfa or the seekers. Everyone knows that you fear them. If you have been attacked, who else could it be by? Takkar wouldn’t dare. The Azi have no teeth. My clan has no interest. That leaves only the Kthul. You meekly pretend not to have accused them, but that is precisely what you have done, unofficial or no.”
“Of course I have. Are you mad, Kokar? You’re chastising me for manipulation? Utfa has grown bold enough to attempt assassination. He sent six warriors to slay me while I held court, breaking every tradition our people have built.” The empress’s fur darkened to a deep blue. “You know Utfa as well as I. He will come for me, and soon. I do not know his plan, but I am sure it is devious. He’s sunk his tendrils into every clan, even yours.”
“Take care with your accusations, Empress,” Kokar growled. He shifted into a combat stance, resting a hand on the haft of his axe. “No Nyar would disgrace our clan by adopting the robes of a seeker.”
“Is that so?” the empress asked, mildly. She snapped her fingers, and two adepts trotted forward, carrying a body. A body in brown armor, just like Kokar. They dropped it in front of him. “This was one of the six assassins.” Zakanna moved to the body, prodding it onto its back with her foot. “Look at the face, Kokar.”
“I recognize him. He’s one of ours.” Kokar allowed. He folded his arms. “But assassination is a long way from overt attack. Utfa would never be so bold as to attack you directly.”
“Wouldn’t he?” Zakanna shot back. “Why not? His ambition is boundless, as is his mad faith. He believes my death—and the death of the entire Yog clan—serves the whims of the Nameless Ones. If he believes that, why do you believe he wouldn’t dare anything to see their will done? The Nyar are his ancestral enemies.”
As if to punctuate her statement, a tremendous crack echoed down from somewhere high above. Khar cocked an ear, listening. There were yells. Screams of pain. Plasma fire. Khar had no idea where the combat was taking place, so he watched Zakanna to see how’d she react.
“Do you see?” she roared, her eyes blazing. She stalked closer to Kokar, leaning over the dais as she eyed him a challenge.
“What are we hearing?” Kokar asked uncertainly.
“There is only one island above this one. Someone is assaulting the beacon itself. Who do you suppose that might be, Kokar?”
The ceiling exploded, raining stone fragments. Khar leapt forward, tackling the empress from the dais. They landed heavily on the far side, and he found himself face to face with the empress. He could read the fear in her eyes, not for her safety, but for what was about to happen to all of them.
A figure rose from the pile of stone under the hole in the spire. He carefully wiped dust from his snowy fur, as he walked toward Zakanna.
“Empress,” Master Yulo called. Khar rose, staring in confusion. Yulo was four meters tall, and far more heavily muscled than the last time Khar had seen him. “I came with news at once. The others are dead, slain by Utfa. He controls the beacon, but I was able to steal his arcanotome.” The adept held up a glowing purple book, circuitry shimmering on its surface.
Khar looked up through the hole Yulo had made. If he’d leapt from the apex island, he’d fallen over six hundred meters, and looked no worse off.
The Nyar delegation had their hands on their weapons, but none had fired thus far. The empress turned to them. “You’ve heard it from Master Yulo—and, whatever you think of me, you all honor him. Will you help me against Utfa?”
“I cannot speak for my people. You know how my father views me,” Kokar admitted. “But I can return immediately, and tell him all I have seen. I believe he will support you, and move to defend your dreadnought. Survive but a little while, and you will have our support.”
The entire spire shook around them. It caused an odd sense of vertigo, because the island itself didn’t move. The spire swayed inward, slamming into a neighboring island, then it swayed outwards again.
Through the spire’s blue-tinted walls, Khar saw new spires rising, gleaming in the purplish light of the sun. Shocked cries rose from the Ganog, and the empress adopted a look of horror. The new spires began to open. Colossal machines stepped from each spire, and Khar fought the urge to run when he realized what he was seeing. He knew that armor, those too thin limbs. How could he ever forget them? He’d lived as a Judicator, knew exactly what it was like to stare out from one of those cold, lifeless bodies.
“By the Nameless, what are those things?” the empress whispered.
“They are called the Void Wraith,” Khar said grimly. “The ships you see emerging from the spires are Harvesters. The tiny figures aroun
d the base are Judicators. The giant ones? Those are something my people knew existed, but never had to face. They’re called Omega Judicators.”
“Their ships are already moving,” Kokar said, spinning to face the empress. “It cannot be a coincidence that just after Utfa found the beacon, these things appear.”
“They serve him. I’m sure of it.” The empress paced back and forth across the dais. “Combined with the Kthul fleet, there’s no way we can face him. Not without my dreadnoughts. What forces do the Nyar have in system?”
“We have three dreadnoughts and a dozen cruisers.” Kokar’s fur darkened. “We did not expect betrayal. I must speak with my people at once, warn them to warp away.”
“If that fleet leaves,” the empress protested, “we have no way to reach my ship in orbit. We need their help.”
“I cannot ask my fleet to risk the fury of these…Omegas. I’m sorry, Empress, and I know this decision may cost my own life in addition to yours. Yet, my people must continue on, must continue to watch the Cold. Now more than ever.”
“I understand,” the empress nodded. “Go to your people, and send word ahead in case you are attacked.” She turned back to her attendants. “Gather who you can. We will not be able to get a ship to orbit, so we’ll make a push toward the Warp Portal.”
“Won’t they expect that?” Khar protested.
“They will.” Yulo moved to stand next to the dais. “Yet we have no choice. We must defeat whatever lies between us and the portal, or we are lost.”
A loud whirring came from below, a different cadence from the transport disks. A familiar whirring. Khar spun to the empress. “Prepare yourselves. The Void Wraith begin their assault.”