“She wants to play,” Nada breathed. “She wants me to fly with her.”
“We might want to talk to her parents first...”
Mortals?
The voice thundered down on them like an unrelenting waterfall, nearly pushing Coraolis to his knees. He gazed up; a dragon with a long, sinuous neck glared down, silver-white fire escaping from its neck in elegant plumes.
Coraolis grit his teeth, struggling against the sheer force of will it resonated. “We’re humans…from Earth. We came…to ask for your help.” Coraolis’s dragon came forward, reaching through their bond and lending him its protection, helping him stay upright. Nada wasn’t as fortunate. She had fallen to her knees, head bowed, though her body shook as it tried to resist.
Humans, yes, but bonded? The titanic beast lowered its head until the massive snout nearly brushed Coraolis. Hot, acidic breath rolled over him. How? Why? We vowed never to bond with mortals again!
The dragon’s breath burned, and Coraolis dearly wanted to pull back. “For good reasons. Four of us have bonds. It was the dragons’ idea…but I don’t know what I’d do without mine now.” Coraolis forced himself to stand still.
Why have you dared to come here?
The young dragon had circled back and, now, curled its tail around Nada, lifting her to her feet. “We’re hoping one of you will bond with me, actually.” Nada said, looking both fearful and comical as the young dragon nuzzled her cheek.
Mixing with mortals leads to disaster. Release your dragons at once! Cease nuzzling, young one!
“Release them?” Coraolis said. “Even if we wanted to, and we don’t, I wouldn’t know how to—”
Coraolis’s dragon manifested behind him. It was much smaller than the massive one, but it held its head high. We bear grim news, Ancient One. The Wyrms are escaping, even now, and reunite with their long-lost servants. They bond. They will cover this galaxy in darkness if we do not stand with the mortals against them.
The large dragon emanated something alien, a feeling more than words, and Coraolis’s dragon replied in kind. They spoke, but in a higher form of communication. Back and forth it went, lunges and surges, not a physical fight, but point and counterpoint, a magnificent debate on a galactic scale.
Cor and Nada stood mesmerized as the dragons discussed the fate of humanity.
The massive dragon drew his head back, and a tidal wave of sorrow washed over Coraolis’s mind. Tears sprung to his eyes as the dragon bowed its head.
Very well. If our timeless enemy has returned, we cannot stand aside. I will speak to the young ones. Those who wish to bond will follow you to your homeworld to seek partners among your Mystics, though I will not command anyone to bond if they do not wish it.
“You have our eternal thanks, Ancient One. I couldn’t ask for anything else.” Coraolis cleared his throat, still feeling the effects of the dragon’s immense sadness. “Nada here was looking to bond with a dragon…”
It seems she already has a volunteer. Coraolis’s dragon’s chest rumbled, his amusement counteracting the other’s sorrow.
“Do I?” Nada cradled the dragon’s face in her hands, and it bumped her chest with its forehead. She staggered back, chuckling. “Would you like to bond with me?”
As if in answer, the dragon opened its mouth, and a brilliant blue flame erupted from its jaws. Nada jerked back, but before Cor could react, she was cocooned in fire. The dragon’s body dissolved into flame, feeding into the fire surrounding Nada until it had formed a small sun. Nada’s body was silhouetted in the center, white-hot against the young dragon’s fire.
Then the fire dissipated, leaving Nada alone.
“How do you feel?” Coraolis asked.
“I feel…different. Stronger.” Nada shivered. “I could have used a little warning.”
“I get the feeling that once they decide to act, that’s it.” Coraolis grinned. “Now let’s get back before Julia gets worried.”
Nada’s form flickered as she voiced a fading ‘thank-you,’ then returned to her physical body.
Coraolis peered up at the older dragons, who watched him intently. “We need to find a way to turn off the tractor beam. Any idea how that works?”
The dragon’s wings rippled in a motion that resembled a shrug. It has been a lifetime since mortals lived in the Sphere, yet their artifacts linger. I am not familiar with their workings.
“Understood. Thanks for your help.” Coraolis looked at his dragon, whose form was beginning to fade. Coraolis took the hint and returned to his body.
When he opened his eyes, Julia stood nearby accompanied by something machine-like. It had two arms and two legs but nothing favoring a head. An arrangement of lights at the top of the torso, however, resembled a face with too many eyes.
He stood, mouth dry as usual after a trip into the Astral dimension. “Julia?”
“Cor…this bot walked up while you two were out. It doesn’t seem hostile so far. I believe it can understand us.”
Coraolis ensured Nada was okay, then moved to stand beside Julia. “Hello. Can you understand me?”
The robot’s eyes blinked yellow.
“Do you know how to turn off the lock on our ship?”
The robot’s eyes flashed, and it turned to walk away on legs that stretched out to take up more ground. The Mystics had to jog to keep up. Coraolis looked back to see Julia and a fatigued Nada on his heels. He sensed it could go faster but maintained a slower pace for their benefit.
They arrived at the tower near the entrance to the garden. The door they’d found locked earlier slid open, and the chamber within took up the entire first floor. Four seats faced each other at the center of the room. Helmets rested on each seat cushion, attached via thick cords. Pedestals around the room had console-like interfaces.
Coraolis wanted to explore but resisted the urge, having already wasted too much time. He followed the robot to one pedestal. A cord slithered out of the bot and connected with a console port. A wall screen came to life, displaying a glowing white seven-fingered handprint. Coraolis pressed his hand to the screen, and one of the red lights on the console turned green.
“Is that it? Is our ship free?” he asked the robot.
The construct whistled cheerfully, then walked out of the building. Coraolis peered around, curious what the controls might do, but he decided not to test it, thinking of their mission. He activated his earpiece and hailed the ship.
“Red Star, this is Coraolis.’
“I know who it is. I’ve been listening since you left,” the ship replied stiffly. “I am free to move and would like to leave before that changes.”
“We’re on our way.” They left the tower and headed for the main lift. The robot, lights blinking, watched them go.
“Should we take it with us?” Nada asked.
“It’s been tending this place for who knows how long,” Coraolis said. “I think we should leave it here.” He looked around as they stepped aboard the lift. He was curious about this place and its history.
Julia touched him on the arm. “Maybe one day we can return, Cor.”
He smiled. “I’d like that. I want to learn about those who lived here…these beings at the center of our galaxy.”
Ten
The Wyrm within Shaia’s heart resented the time spent transiting to and from the wormholes. Star Scythe’s crew had provided little amusement. From the moment they learned Shaia’s true nature, they insisted on dropping to their knees at the slightest provocation.
It had become tedious, which was a shame. Abject worship was one of the few pleasures that felt the same no matter how long the imprisonment…or banishment, rather—a distinction hard to maintain. Shaia remembered the infinite darkness as his birthplace, while memories of his own Pirric home blurred. A small price to be the vessel of a Wyrm.
In his lucid moments, he managed conversations with the ship’s commander and crew. Sometimes they unbent enough to have an honest conversation, yet the moment the Wyrm asserted
itself, the crew shut down, and Shaia regressed to his isolation. He adjusted, spent his mornings in meditation and his afternoons exercising his body. He’d never been one for fitness, but the Wyrm insisted, so Shaia complied.
After too long, Scythe arrived at Hoi, and he shuttled to the surface. Rather than use the airfield, the pilot landed outside the Archon’s Palace. Shaia disembarked as the Palace Guardians emerged to confront him. They arrayed into a crescent formation, golden armor gleaming in the sunlight as they lowered their spears.
Shaia’s Wyrm found it amusing. Mirth rose from his belly, along with the Wyrm’s long shadow. As his laughter erupted, a coal-black silhouette rose from his shadow until it loomed over the palace and grew larger still, casting the city into darkest midnight.
He heard the rattling of spears as they hit the paved ground. He allowed a hint of sunlight through, revealing the prone guards with their faces pressed into the pavement.
“Tell the Archon I have arrived.”
All but one guard froze, their faces contorted with awe. The last bowed and ran inside. The old stories had survived long enough to teach them fear, perhaps a little too much.
He strode past the frightened guards and walked through the double doors. They, and the vaulted ceiling within, seemed designed to make a mortal feel small. It felt right to Shaia and his shadow Wyrm, which shrank only enough to fit inside the grand entry.
The Archon sat upon a stark throne in his audience chamber, his advisors flanking the dais. Other well-born Pirr were gathered, too, and watched Shaia as he approached, staring into the Archon’s eyes as no one else had dared since the great leader was a child. As he passed, the courtiers bowed, whispering their devotions.
He heard but paid no attention. More urgent matters required tending.
“Archon of Hoi, greetings from the Pit.” His Wyrm flared its wings, then merged with his shadow once more. He felt it inside his mind and spirit, making more room for itself as it basked in the awe it inspired.
“Greetings.” The Archon pursed his lips, as if unsure of how to address him. Understandable. No one like Shaia had stood upon Hoi in ten thousand years. “I understand you are the emissary for our lost ones.”
“I am, but lost no longer. We have the key to their prison. The greatness of the past is within our reach.” Shaia smiled with a nostalgia he didn’t understand. “We have awaited this day. We will reward the faithful…as this one has been.”
“I see.” The Archon glanced at his advisors, then back at Shaia. “It is an honor to welcome you to Hoi, Ancient One. Your temple awaits.”
“We are not ready for a temple. We do not deserve a temple, as you do not deserve a palace.” Shaia frowned at a woman in a golden robe; she dropped to her knees and chanted penitently. “We cannot move forward until we have locked the doors against the past. The dragons remain at large. Some have partnered with humans,” he spat. “We must eliminate them.”
“Understood, but we have a treaty with the humans. We can’t start a war without breaking the treaty and sacrificing our honor.”
“What a shame, then, to choose between your pride…and your deities. How could you ever decide?” Shaia sneered. “Cavey needs an armada. You will send it right away, and you will aid me in my quest.”
“You don’t understand. We already lost face in front of the entire galaxy. If we break this treaty…”
The Wyrm threw back its head and shrieked its displeasure from Shaia’s throat. Courtiers fell to the ground, hands to their ears. The Archon crumpled, his face in his hands as he doubled over and slipped from his throne. His mouth gaped in an answering shriek, but Shaia didn’t hear him.
When the Wyrm stopped, the silence was so complete Shaia wondered if he had gone deaf. Then he heard his own labored breathing and the moans of the nobility.
The Archon propped himself up on the arm of his throne. The blood had drained from his face, his skin seemed as thin as tissue paper. “What is your command, High One?” The Archon spoke, his voice a quiet wind through dry leaves. He cleared his throat, though it made no difference.
Shaia felt the tremor of dread go through the man. The Stone Tower’s priests ordained the Archon. He was untouchable. Infallible. He shouldn’t crumple.
“Send your armada to Cavey. Crush anyone in your path.”
The Archon nodded.
“And give me your best ship and crew. I must find the human called Dante.”
The Archon swallowed. “I believe we have someone…who can help you with that, High One.”
Khiann sank her fingers into the sun-warmed soil, breathing in the green scents of the garden and the forest beyond the temple walls. Hoi’s star baked the back of her neck. If she didn’t take care, her skin would burn; for the moment, it relaxed her.
She discovered she had an unknown talent for gardening. Plants under her care blossomed, for want of a better word. Her gardens grew lush and fruitful as any jungle might hope to be, and the priests assigned her to tend them daily.
Compared to her military career, she enjoyed the solitude. The quiet. It gave her time to contemplate, releasing, in time, her regret for shaming her family. Her choices had been for the good of her people. They came first, her honor second; yet, when she saved her people from becoming a society of monsters, they’d stripped her of rank and title, treated her as the worst criminal.
No, she didn’t regret what she’d done. She only wished she’d convinced her leaders to also act correctly.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder. She stifled the instinct to roll into a fighting pose. It would be a priest, after all.
She glanced up. It was not a priest.
“What do you want?” she asked, surprised by her own scowl.
He shouted over his shoulder. “She’s here! I’ve got her.”
The soldier hauled her up. She allowed it, then pulled from his grasp. Five more soldiers hemmed her in. She assessed their movements and weapons, formulated a plan of escape, then crossed her arms over her chest. She may as well find out what they wanted. Besides, where was there to go?
“Khiann…formerly of House Xoa?” the squad leader asked.
“My name is Khiann.”
“You will come with us.” He nodded to the others, and they surged forward. Two grabbed her arms as they boxed her in. She tried to free herself. They squeezed harder.
“Walk, or we will carry you,” the soldier grasping her right arm said.
She clenched her jaw. Recently, he would have shaken in his boots if he so much as made eye contact with her. Her pride burned. She closed her eyes, trying to stamp it out.
“Then walk, soldier,” she said, glaring at him with her jaw clenched.
He pursed his lips, seemingly wanting to say more but refrained. Khiann didn’t care. She went with them as they departed the Stone Tower’s grounds. She shouldn’t feel excited about leaving the temple—not under these conditions. Yet, somehow, the air smelled fresher outside the walls.
“Where are we going?” she asked the leader.
Instead of answering, they led her into a shuttle and strapped her in, arranging themselves around her. She’d lost interest in escaping, giving in to curiosity. What was this all about?
She thrilled at the speed it took to break atmosphere, then the giddy flip in her stomach upon leaving gravity behind and the artificial gravity switching on. Usually the switch was indistinguishable. Either this was an older shuttle, or she’d become too accustomed to natural gravity.
The flight to the ship was short, and her silent escort made it impossible to learn their destination. Despite her situation, she felt excited. She was in space again, when she’d thought herself grounded for at least the next decade.
They entered a ship’s hangar, and she recognized the markings of the Void Fang, the Archon’s own warship. She set her jaw and stared ahead, refusing to betray her nerves. If she was about to face the Archon, she needed to prepare herself.
When she walked through the doorway to th
e Archon’s chambers, the High Commander and someone in scientist’s robes confronted her. Stranger still, the High Commander stood in deference to the scientist, allowing the stranger to sit in the Archon’s throne.
“High One, we have brought the ward.” The squad leader bowed as he spoke, as if he’d just escorted a great warrior into their presence.
“Yes, very good. You are dismissed.”
The stranger waited until the guards left, then rose to meet her. Something cold crawled up her back when he got close. His ordinary face hid something otherworldly. She could feel it, a well of power that went far beyond mortal strength.
“This is Shaia. He was part of the expedition to Cavey—well, you wouldn’t know about that, would you?” The High Commander smiled at her. “He returns the vessel of a Wyrm, and he requires your assistance.”
Khiann stepped back. She sensed the power radiating off Shaia’s body. She wasn’t normally that sensitive, but he wasn’t bothering to mask his power. Perhaps he couldn’t.
She should be overjoyed, she supposed. They had anticipated the Wyrms’ return longer than the Pirr had lived on Hoi. This had been foretold. Now that the old masters were back, the Pirr could rebuild their empire. Nothing could stop them.
Once, she’d seen that empire as a chance to establish order, to put the rule of law over the galaxy. Random violence and crime would end. No creature would go hungry. The Pirr Empire would provide for all.
Perhaps she’d lost her taste for conquest. Perhaps it sickened her, the duplicitous actions against human civilians. More likely, she’d lost faith in the dogma that ruled them.
She mastered her first reactions and stood at attention, lifting her chin. She wouldn’t bow to this master, or any other, again.
“Hail the Return,” the High Commander prompted.
She ignored his hint. “Why am I here?”
“Straight to the point, I see. Khiann, I have it in my power to restore your title and your rank. I could promote you, give you command over legions.” Shaia wandered the perimeter of the room. Khiann listened to him, but refused to turn and watch him meander. “You could have your own House, if you don’t want your old one back. They seemed eager to be rid of you, didn’t they?” He chuckled. “And you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty, doing…whatever it was you’ve been doing.”
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