A Bonfire of Worlds

by Steven Mohan Jr.

  There was nothing left.

  Trillian knew she wasn't permitted to fire on an ambassador under a flag of truce, but would it be her fault if the helo crashed? Maybe she could fire on it and pretend it crashed.

  Maybe it would crash on its own.

  Unfortunately the Wolf pilot knew his business. He hovered the Warrior over the landing pad, like it was a clear summer day.

  Callandre Kell strode up to her, followed by Julian Davion.

  "How is the loading going?" Trillian shouted over the roar of the descending bird.

  Callandre looked terrible. She was pale and there were dark circle under her doe-brown eyes. "Eight hours, Lady Steiner. Our surviving forces will be ready for lift in eight hours." She swallowed and shook her head. "For the first

  time, I think I understand why disgraced Combine warriors commit seppuku."

  Julian squeezed her hand.

  Trillian shook her head. "You were dealt a losing hand and you did the best you could."

  Callandre's voice was bitter. "A warrior must learn to lose battles. But this was Tharkad."

  "You didn't lose it, Callandre," said Julian.

  "He's right," said Trillian. "In fact, if you want to wait around here for five minutes, you can watch me give it away."

  The Warrior finally set down, bouncing slightly on her rubber tires. Ground crew raced out to chock and chain the VTOL. A hatch slid open and a figure emerged, running crouched to clear the whirring gray death promised by the helo's rotors. The man's long blond hair blew back in the wind.

  It was Alaric Wolf.

  Trillian Steiner almost ordered him shot down right there. It took all her will to keep her mouth firmly shut.

  When he reached them, Trillian bobbed her head in a little nod that was as much courtesy as she could bear to extend. "Here to gloat?" she snapped.

  A small smile twitched at the corner of the Clanner's lips. "Not at all, Trillian Steiner."

  Trillian drew a deep breath. It was a bitter moment, undoubtedly the most bitter moment a Steiner had ever faced, but she would face it, if for no other reason than she owed it to the people of Melissa's realm.

  She gestured at the Asgard facility, where even now, aides were frantically shredding classified documents and wiping hard drives. "Would you care to come inside?"

  Alaric shook his head. "A/eg. I will not be here long enough for that to be necessary. I am here to request hegira, honorable withdrawal from the field of battle."

  Trillian just stared at him.

  Julian's face was slack with shock. "You're— You're leaving?"

  Alaric nodded. "We Wolves have no need for Tharkad. So we will leave. If you permit us."

  "Yes," said Trillian. "I mean aff. I mean go. Please go."

  "Farewell, cousin," said Alaric. "I am sure we will meet again."

  And then Alaric turned and raced back to the helicopter, its rotors still turning. He climbed in, the hatch shut behind him, and the VTOL fell up into the gray sky.

  "The Wolves," said Callandre slowly. "They... They never intended to hold Tharkad."

  "It was a feint," said Julian. "But what ... ?"

  There was a moment of silence.

  "Terra," all three said at once.

  Trillian shook her head. "They distracted us and the Jade Falcons. Their real aim must have been to lay claim to an invasion corridor on the border of Fortress Republic."

  "Speaking of the Jade Falcons..." said Callandre.

  "I will offer Malvina Hazen hegira, too," said Trillian. "Now that the Wolves are gone we don't have to divide our forces. Even the mad Malvina Hazen will see she needs to retreat."

  "And if she doesn't?" asked Julian.

  Trillian turned to look at Calamity. "Then kick that damn bitch off my planet."

  Callandre snapped off a salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

  Trillian swallowed. She, Callandre Kell, Julian Davion, even Maurer and Vedet. They'd all been wrong. Only Melissa had dared to hope that Tharkad could be saved.

  She drew a deep shuddery breath and looked over at Julian Davion. The young noble wore a perplexed frown on his handsome face. "What is it?"

  He shook his head. "It's probably not important."

  "But?" Trillian pressed.

  "Did Alaric just call you cousin?"

  Overlord-class DropShip Bec de Corbin, Low Orbit

  TharkadDonegal Military Province,

  Lyran Commonwealth

  Beckett sat in the back of the space, keeping very, very quiet. He gave himself even odds of surviving this meeting. And maybe that was optimistic.

  "You withdrew?" Malvina screeched. "How dare you."

  The image of Alaric Wolf on the wall screen shrugged. "I really do not understand you, Malvina Hazen. First you are angry because I am here. Then you are angry because I leave."

  "This is not what we agreed. Your actions forced—"

  Forced me to withdraw, she almost said, before she stopped herself. It was a measure of how furious Malvina was that she almost admitted such weakness to Alaric Wolf.

  "We did not agree on anything," said Alaric pointedly. "I serve only the ways of Clan Wolf. I made no promises to Clan Jade Falcon. But—" He held his hands up, "You will recall that you indicated your desire that Tharkad be ruled under a single flag." He smiled broadly. "And now it will be."

  "Not a Lyran flag," Malvina snarled.

  Alaric shrugged. "Such are the fortunes of war."

  Malvina slammed her fist on the comms board, breaking the connection, and the screen went black. Without a backwards glance she stormed out of the space.

  Leaving Beckett Malthus to contemplate the perversity of a universe where the instrument of salvation for Clan Jade Falcon's soul was a young whelp from Clan Wolf.

  Zdenekova Square, Alliago City

  Gienah, Wolf Empire

  24 August 3143

  Bright sunlight splashed across the wide expanse of flagstone the Lyrans had called Zdenekova Square. The square abutted the royal quarters so Gienah's Duke might address crowds from a balcony or preside over troops passing in review.

  It was also a fine place for a fight.

  Alaric's eyes picked out the holorecorders in their various locations. An especially fine place for a broadcast fight.

  Alaricstood nexttoStarColonelThomas,a hulking Elemental. Both men faced Liam Ward. Beside the Loremaster was a device that had an inverted cone at its center. His eyes sought out both warriors. "What transpires here will bind us until we all shall fall. As this is your fifth battle, you know well the honor for which you fight." He nodded towards Alaric. "You, Alaric, have seen thirty-one years. Why are you worthy?"

  "I have conquered worlds in The Republic, the Free Worlds League, and the Lyran Commonwealth. I killed Thadeus Marik and defeated Landgrave Jasek Kelswa-Steiner. I defeated Anastasia Kerensky in single combat and took her as my bondsman. And I conquered Tharkad City, the heart of the Lyran Commonwealth."

  "And you, Thomas, who have seen twenty-six years. Why are you worthy?"

  Star Colonel Thomas began reciting his qualifications, great battles won, worlds conquered.

  The Loremaster clapped his hands together. "The heroism and courage displayed by both of you has been verified. Your claims are not without substance. No matter what fate you meet in battle, the brightness of your light will not be diminished." He waved both men forward. "Present the tokens of your legitimate right to participate here."

  Both men handed their coins to the Loremaster, silver disks with Clan Wolf emblems on the obverse, and on the reverse, a scroll with the Bloodname "WARD" written on it above their names.

  "The horrible chaos of war is reflected in this Trial of Bloodright. When one coin has successfully stalked the other and they complete their transit through this cone, the hunting coin will be superior. That warrior is given the choice of style for the fight. The owner of the inferior coin then decides the venue for the fight. In this way, each will fight on a battlefield not wholly of his choosing. Do y
ou understand this?"

  "Seyla," answered both warriors.

  The Loremaster inserted each coin in its respective slot. The two coins dropped through lengths of transparent pipe until they hit the inverted black cone with a hole at its apex, spinning round and round as gravity chose their fates.

  The winner of the Bloodname would almost certainly be determined by the play of the coins. If Alaric was allowed to choose an augmented fight, his Savage Wolf would easily crush a lone Elemental in power armor.

  But in a hand-to-hand fight, the Elemental would kill him.

  No doubt the commentators were explaining this all to the population of Gienah as they watched from their homes.

  Round and round flashed the coins.

  Until they clattered down to the well's bottom. Liam withdrew the coins and looked up. "Alaric is hunter."

  Was that a note of disappointment in his voice?

  Star Colonel Thomas took the news of his death bravely. He stood at attention, waiting for Alaric to pronounce sentence.

  "I choose to fight augmented."

  Thomas swallowed. Liam started to turn away.

  "But not with a BattleMech against power armor."

  Both Loremaster and Elemental turned back to look at him.

  Alaric smiled. "With knives."

  Both men had stripped to the waist. For a moment they stood facing each other.

  Then Thomas lunged at Alaric, seeking to end it quickly.

  Alaric danced away from the attack. He was faster then the Elemental, but not as much as he had hoped.

  He swung his body around, hitting Thomas in the jaw with a flying kick to the jaw.

  The blow landed, hard. But not hard enough. The Elemental did not fall, did not even take a knee. Thomas spit out a shattered tooth and then he grinned, revealing a film of blood on the teeth he had left.

  "Perhaps you should have taken the BattleMech, Alaric Wolf."

  "The battle is not over yet, Thomas."

  The Elemental lunged again, this time swinging his knife in a long, slashing attack.

  Alaric dove right, but not quite fast enough. The blade sliced through his chest from nipple to side in a blow that only just glanced off his ribs.

  A little closer and Thomas would have punched the knife through his ribs.

  Alaric hit the ground and rolled, not right, away from the Elemental, but left, towards him. He came up under the man and behind him. With a precise cut, he severed the Elemental's left Achilles tendon and leapt backwards.

  A good thing, because Thomas turned his fall into a mad lunge.

  That missed Alaric by millimeters.

  This time Thomas did sink to a single knee. With his Achilles cut, he could not put any weight on his left leg. Now he was as slow as Alaric had originally hoped.

  "It is over, Thomas. Yield."

  "It is over?" asked the Elemental, flashing a bloody smile at him. "Well, then come here and finish it, little man."

  Alaric set himself, studying the wounded Elemental. Thomas's chest gleamed with sweat. Alaric studied those powerful muscles.

  "You taste fear," sneered the Elemental. And he began to laugh.

  Alaric drew a deep breath—and then his arm flashed forward. A cruel thud stilled Thomas's laughter, Alaric's blade protruding from the Elemental's chest, just below the heart.

  "Your left lung is punctured, Thomas. Shall we wait for you to drown in your own blood? Or will you yield?"

  Alaric saw the surrender in the man's eyes as he fell.

  * * *

  Alaric was glad that Thomas lived.

  There had been atime when Alaric would have killed Thomas as a matter of course, simply because he dared to challenge him. But now he saw that Thomas would one day serve him, as would all Wolves.

  And Alaric would not willingly throw away any weapon.

  * * *

  Alaric stepped over to the dais where Loremaster Liam Ward stood beside Katrina Steiner. Liam found he was bitterly disappointed that Thomas had failed to kill Alaric. That had been an extraordinary throw of the knife.

  Almost as extraordinary as the throw that had killed Seth.

  For a moment, just a moment, he toyed with the idea of pointing out this coincidence.

  But Seth's guards swore the Khan had been murdered by a Loki agent. And Liam would not subject his Clan to a civil war. He was not Malvina Hazen.

  Which meant he would have to perform the perverted Bloodname ceremony dreamt up by Alaric and his mother. It was a dark day indeed when a Steiner-Davion would be allowed to take the name Ward. But that would not be the end to the day's perversions. Normally the Bloodname ceremony was an occasion of great gravity and dignity, attended only by Bloodnamed warriors. Not this time. Alaric had plans for this particular ceremony. The young warrior would reveal his chalcas.

  But there was nothing Liam could do. He was adept at seeing several moves ahead in the game. So he knew he could delay Alaric's ascendancy.

  But he could not stop it.

  Bloodnamed Wolves in gray leathers gathered around Liam and Alaric in a circle. A golden lamp in the shape of a wolf had been placed between them on a stand.

  Liam raised his voice. "Trothkin, seen and unseen, near and far, living and dead, be of brave heart. Another of your number has been blooded." Holorecorders trained on the Loremaster caught his words and sent them to the people of Gienah. Eventually they would be carried to all the conquered worlds of the Commonwealth.

  "Five battles he has fought, defeating a Star of his peers, and he is victorious. We have all witnessed his contest, and none may deny the rede of it."

  "Seyla," cried out the assembled Wolves.

  "Alaric, your Bloodname exalts you above the mere warriors with and against whom you have fought. Ten and ten and five are the number who bear the same surname as you. With it, you become a member of the Clan Council and are eligible for election to even greater office and responsibility."

  Liam looked down at him. "Give me your dagger."

  Alaric handed the Loremaster his silver dagger, presenting it pommel first.

  Liam reached forward and took Alaric's left hand, slicing deeply into his palm. Alaric smiled tightly at the pain, but did not complain. He closed his fist around the cut and reached for the lamp. He squeezed out a drop of blood and the lamp's flame hissed.

  Liam returned the blade to Alaric. "You are now and for all time known among the Clans as Alaric Ward. All are to abide by the rede given here. Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall."

  "Thus it shall stand until we all shall fall," echoed the assembled Wolves.

  "And now to the business of the pack," called out Liam. "I call for the election of a new khan to replace Seth Ward."

  Galaxy Commander Elise Ward's voice rose above the murmur of Wolves. "I nominate Alaric Ward."

  And as the voices of the Wolves rose in acclimation, Liam knew that his beloved Clan had truly lost its way.

  * * *

  Alaric stepped through the gathered Wolves to a waiting microphone positioned before a trio of holorecorders. This was what the whole thing had been about: the knife-fight with Thomas, the public Bloodname ceremony, his quick election as Khan.

  "Brothers and sisters of the Lyran Commonwealth. What you have just witnessed is a sacred ceremony of Clan Wolf. You have seen the winning of a Bloodname, the elevation of a simple warrior to high rank.

  "But there is more here than you may know. I regret to inform you that Archon Melissa Steiner is dead. At the end of her life, she acted to save the people of Tharkad from terror and destruction."

  His blue eyes gazed steadily into the holorecorders. "The Lyran Commonwealth is without an Archon."

  "Brothers and sisters, please allow me to remind you of your history. At the end of the Jihad, Peter Steiner died without leaving a viable heir. Adam Steiner stepped forward to steer the Commonwealth in trust for the true Steiner line." Alaric shook his head. "But Adam made a mistake. For there was an heir from the original Ste
iner line. At the end of the conflict known as the FedCom Civil War, Victor Steiner-Davion sent his sister Katrina into exile with the Wolves.

  "Katrina Steiner is my mother." He raised his voice. "I am her heir."

  "I do not expect those listening to believe my word." He pressed his hand to the bleeding flap of skin Thomas had cut into his chest and held his bloody right hand out to the cameras. "So I offer my blood as proof that I carry Katrina Steiner's genetic legacy within me."

  "Brothers and sisters of the Lyran Commonwealth, within the Wolf Empire I shall always be known as Khan Alaric Ward. But to you , I will be known by another name." He raised his voice into a triumphant shout. "Archon Alaric Steiner."

  The Royal Palace, Tharkad City

  Tharkad, Donegal Military Province

  Lyran Commonwealth

  31 August 3143

  Trillian Steiner reached forward with a trembling hand and paused the recording. Alaric Wolf, Alaric Ward (or was it Alaric Steiner?) was framed in the shot, a jagged slash of blood running diagonally across his bare chest, his blond hair matted to his head by sweat.

  The composition had been arranged so that a pair of banners hung behind him, one blood red and bearing a wolf's head, the other a mailed fist centered on a field of Steiner blue.

  Just like the banners Melissa arranged before the conference with the Wolves, she thought. My God, that was a lifetime ago.

  Melissa's lifetime.

  "He's crazy," said Julian softly. "No Lyran will follow him."

  Trillian shifted in her chair and said nothing.

  "He's lying," said Callandre. "He's got to be."

  "Look at that those eyes," Trillian whispered, "those blue eyes. The golden hair, the bone structure. Gott im Himmel. Why didn't I see it before?"

  "Still," said Callandre, "we could say he's lying."

  Trillian shook her head. "First rule of politics. If you know an uncomfortable truth is going to come out, don't bother lying about it—that only makes it work."

  "He's Trueborn," said Julian. "The fact that they scraped a few cells from the inside of Katrina's mouth doesn't make him Archon. Ask yourself: what if the Free World's League had cloned a Steiner? Genetic code alone wouldn't make him or her an heir to the throne."