Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda
Page 12
There was an indescribable shriek of pain. This time he was certain. It was a female cry. He bore down and pulled harder. “Give up. Even if you run, I have a hold of your threads. I’ll just yank you back here.”
With a snort, the creature finally stopped struggling, and relaxed. Its body became a glassy shape that took on darker and darker color, revealing a gold-skinned Kriar woman with green glowing eyes, and a rainbow of jewels encrusting the left side of her angular face. She wore a smooth metallic armor that hugged the contours of her body, the black material rippling like the surface of water. Strapped to her arms and legs were several objects that Bannor’s nola senses told him were weapons. These he yanked out of their holsters in rapid succession. This female possessed frightening potential that in many ways exceeded the pantheon lords. She didn’t have the massive magicks of a god, but she could slip through time and space the way he did through air. He’d been incredibly lucky to snare her before she realized the threat he posed.
Quasar scowled and yanked her arm away from Wren.
Bannor frowned and tightened his grip.
The Kriar’s body quivered and she glared at him, glowing green eyes narrowed to slits. “Stop—doing—that,” she snarled in a breathy voice.
“Stop fighting us,” Bannor said. “Daena, let go of her please.”
The young savant let go of Quasar’s long ebony hair.
The Kriar straightened and pulled her hair away from where Daena could reach it. Her attention focused on Dulcere. “What cradle have you robbed now, Belkirin?” She looked around at the group with an appraising expression.
“They caught you didn’t they?” Aarlen said with a grin. “How many eons has it been since that happened?”
“Several dozen I would think,” Quasar said with a sour expression. Her eyes focused on him. “And what is he?”
“The person who’ll hurt you if you misbehave.”
The Kriar frowned. She pushed against the threads confining her again. He sucked a breath. Her willpower was massive. He was hairs from losing his grip on this creature.
“Are you okay, Bannor?” Wren asked.
“Fine,” he gritted. “For now. Lady Dulcere, I am barely keeping her powers in check. If we could reach some settlement—quickly.”
The other Kriar only stared at her.
Bannor sighed. “It’s obvious. She wants what the Baronians are after. That Genemar thing. Just hoping we’ll lead her to it.”
“I remember Cassin and Annawen mentioning this lady,” Corim said. “They were scared to death of her.”
“You—kill me?” She snorted. “Little girl, you wouldn’t have the stomach for it.”
Aarlen frowned and brought her Shaladen to Quasar’s throat. “She might not, but you know I do.”
The Kriar swallowed. “I am much more useful alive.”
“You are not worth dren if we can’t trust you.”
“Settlement, soon—please…” Bannor growled, he grunted and winced, his head already ached and the pounding was getting worse. This creature was inexorably wriggling out of his threads, even with her attention focused on them. He’d never experienced something with such strength of spirit.
Aarlen pushed the Shaladen up under Quasar’s chin, pressing hard enough that a clear white fluid began to trickle down her throat. “I will not warn you again. Stop resisting.”
Quasar sighed and the set of her shoulders slumped. The pressure slamming away at Bannor relented. He staggered. Daena caught his shoulder.
Aarlen looked back at him then returned her attention to Quasar. “Answer Dulcere’s question.”
“The Genemar,” Quasar answered simply.
“Why?”
“Because it is the one thing the Jyril fear.”
“I am not,” Quasar answered. “The Jyril tribe we left behind us have no interest in us. The tribe that made her—” She nodded to Senalloy. “And the ones that attacked here. They are already down on us. If you forget, they attacked the Karanganoi, not the other way around. What will the Fabrista do if they come here? Mew them to death? Our strength is nothing.” She gestured to the room. “Look! This is our strength.”
“It was a hundred-to-one odds,” Bannor said.
“As it will be if they attack Fabrista home-world,” Quasar growled. “A million Baronians; that is just the vanguard. Homeworld has, at best, twenty thousand warriors. The odds are already fifty-to-one and this is just the first wave. Whether the sheep in the counsel wish to acknowledge it or not, we need a deterrent.”
“The fact that I am not a frightened lamb gives me the authority. I will not allow inaction to doom our people again.” She raised her chin. “I would have thought you had learned your lesson.”
Dulcere flinched as though the words had struck her a physical blow.
“Ladies,” Bannor interrupted. “I came here to do a job, not listen to two very old people argue over things that I sense are long moot. I promised to try to and find these Baronians and that Genemar thing. If you’ll kindly take your fight out of earshot, perhaps I can focus to track.”
Quasar straightened. “You can find the Genemar?”
He frowned at her. “Possibly. Providing there’s no more interference or headaches.” He rubbed his forehead.
The Kriar’s brow furrowed. She raised her chin and looked at Dulcere sidelong. “Do you believe this youngster?”
The other Kriar stared at her.
Quasar leaned back, brow furrowing. She tilted her head and looked at Bannor, the jewels down her face gleaming. After a moment, she smiled. “Good point.”
“Quasar, I would prefer you not be here,” Aarlen growled. “But since it would take more energy than it’s worth to make you leave, you can stay as long as there is no further interference.” She looked to Wren and Daena. “If she causes trouble again—you two just smash her flat.”
Wren and Daena both nodded, their faces serious. He remembered what they had done in the battlefield against Tyr. The same effect in this enclosed metal chamber would be devastating.
Quasar shook her head. “Aarlen you’re funny.”
The white-haired woman shrugged. “It’s your life.”
The Kriar eyed Daena. “That one does hit very hard.”
The girl blinked glowing green eyes at her and smiled. “If there’s a next time, don’t expect me to hold still for you.”
The girl raised an eyebrow. “If there’s a next time, don’t expect me to pull my punch.”
Bannor shook his head. “I thought only men said things like that.”
Both Daena and the Kriar glanced at him. He turned away to focus on the area. Trying to put the encounter from his mind, he walked around the devastation to the far side. Hunkering down, he concentrated on the debris. Perhaps one of the attackers still lived, leaving behind a broken weapon.
Weapons. His attention flicked back to Quasar. She was a weapon. Dulcere knew her. They spoke to each other with addresses of rank. They were soldiers of the Kriar. That one creature possessed amazing power, yet she was afraid. If a creature like that was scared, the threat posed by these Baronians must be truly massive. Did it really affect him though?
Aarlen�
�s words from at Falconhall rang in the back of his head.
What if they decide to stay?
He centered himself on the task before him. He couldn’t face the prospect of another war. Especially when this one made even a god-war seem trivial…
* * *
Chapter Seven
Precursor
« ^ »
He’s my One, so young, so dear and melodramatic. His passion warms me when my mood darkens, and his devotion is a balm so soothing that I would forgive him nearly anything. It’s a good thing because despite my age, I am not a patient woman and there are times Bannor could test the forbearance of a saint …
—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran,
Third Princess of Malan
His head ached. He had a nagging suspicion that these Baronians knew about aura tracking, because in four separate encounter locations he had yet to find a single article of material that belonged to a combatant who wasn’t dead. It wouldn’t take much, a strip of cloth, a lock of hair, anything that had been in contact with the person for a significant amount of time. Every location was a scene of extraordinary violence and devastation with all kinds of debris yet lacking the smallest traceable remnant. Either these people were extraordinarily tidy, or they were deliberately covering their tracks.
Bannor tossed down the broken dagger fragment with a clunk and rose, running a hand through his hair. He sighed and shook his head. He looked around the heavily buttressed chamber laced with girder-reinforced pipes a pace across rising up to the ceiling like the legs of some monstrous insect. Dulcere had said this was a place where energy was regulated through the way-point station.
The others were spread out through the room each gleaning what they could from the scene. The dark-haired girl, Ziedra, had actually ascertained more about the attackers than himself. She had ‘tasted’ enough of the residual magic to sketch something about four elite war-mages that had apparently coordinated and led the assault. One they had taken to calling ‘Ice’ was a cold character who preferred elemental magick and had a frosty driven resolve, seemed to be the leader. Another they nicknamed ‘Bolt’, he used some kind of crossbow and powerful explosive shafts that they’d found the remains of. The irritating thing was that he had yet to find anything with enough of an aura to track. The other mage Wren dubbed ‘Speed’ because they found his (Her? He had his suspicions from the weight and distribution of the tracks) foot prints in unlikely places, high up the walls and on the ceiling in a couple places. Bannor initially thought it was a mage who could fly until he got a boost and was able to see the unmistakable pressure pattern of a person on the run. The last Baronian Bannor dubbed ‘Stone’, because he seemed to walk to a part of battle and not move. He left deep impressions in the metal flooring as though he weighed tons.
Bannor scrubbed his face and massaged his eyes. He was ready to go home. He wasn’t accomplishing anything here. It was a terrible tragedy, and he wanted to help, but these Baronians were good. They knew their business and had gone about it with ruthless precision. Nowhere did he sense anger or any negative emotion. They obviously expected resistance, and to an extent that he could determine, respected their foes.
“Still nothing?” Aarlen asked.
He let out a weary sigh. “I can’t believe how thorough these people are, they scrubbed every location clean. I’m doing good to sense the personalities of these characters and figure out what they’ve been doing.” He shook his head. “These are some hard people. My guess is they use the one I call ‘Stone’ to take away the Kriar space-jumping power. Everywhere I’ve found his tracks, it’s like he takes root in the metal. He’s binding space somehow. The threads in the floor plates are all kinked as a result of it. Daena mentioned there were strange traces of attractive energy still lingering in the debris.”
Aarlen looked to Senalloy. “Is this new? Were they able to etherlock the Kriar before?”
“Not with one mage,” Senalloy said hands on hips. The silver-haired woman frowned. She took a step and leaned against Corim. “In the assault on Karanganoi Homeworld they had covens of mages whose only purpose was to muck-up teleportation, dimension and time shifting. Doing that takes a lot more power than one person can channel, even a Baronian. So, if there’s someone who can do it solo, it’s new.”
Quasar who’d been silent through majority of his examinations gestured to Bannor. “He did it quite well on his own. Maybe they have someone like him.”
Wren shook her head. “That’s a nightmare I’d prefer not to contemplate.”
“I’m a nightmare now, am I?” he asked with a trace of irritation.
“Lady Senalloy no offense to you,” Wren said holding up a hand to the Baronian lady. “Bannor, these people are killing machines. I’d hate to think of your power under the control of someone that doesn’t feel pain or fear. We’ve already seen that they fight their guts out even when they’re outmatched.”
“I can attest to that,” Corim said.
Radian walked over to Senalloy. “Lady Senalloy, I understand you are Luthice’s sister?”
The Baronian nodded. “I have sister named Luthice who works for Isis.”
“My family has some truck with her,” Radian said. “I have seen her with an object that I believe that she took with her from Karanganoi home-world. A metallic crystalline black staff. The head of the device is a twelve-sided dodecahedron. The material itself looks much like shimmering black metal that lady Quasar is wearing.”
Dulcere interjected with wide eyes.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she had such a thing,” Senalloy responded. “She and I learned a lot about Kriar science from an Engineer we kept hidden from our brothers.” She tilted her head. “So, what of it?”
“Well, one thing I’ve overheard is that lady Luthice can use this device to perform ether-locks like we are discussing. Might these phenomena be the same? There are gate systems here in the way-point that could power such a device, are there not?”
“Can someone translate all that?” Daena asked. “Is that good or bad?”
“One surmises if one Baronian can do it,” Quasar said. “So can another. It also would explain the scrubbing of the chronology that has so vexed all the time scanners. They are using our own equipment against us.”
Bannor frowned. That sounded in keeping with dedicated warriors—know the enemy, their ways and means. “Lady Dulcere, I apologize for not being able to do more. Is there some place else I can examine?”
He blew out his cheeks. “Let’s go. I’ll try. I’m disappointed I couldn’t do more, but if they don’t leave something attached to somebody living… there’s not much I can do.”
Dulcere led them out of the area and down a passage with heavily reinforced walls. She tapped out a sequence at a massive double door which hissed and split apart revealing a huge fairway angled down like a ramp. Fifty men could easily stand shoulder to shoulder in the cavern of metal that was no less than equal to that distance high. Narrow railed walkways raised a pace above the ramp floor hugged the passage walls.
Their footsteps echoed in the vast chamber as they filed down the walkway. Metallic chugging sounds, hissing, and whirring thrummed through the area. A strange mélange of natural and chemical smells hung in the stuffy air. Bannor saw that sections of the ramp were designed to shift like the moving floor they rode o
n earlier. Looking up he saw hoist arms and gantries positioned at various locations along the ramp. He guessed it must be all one huge freight depot, probably for moving goods on and off the vessels they had seen in the metal canyon. He saw everyone looking around, impressed but no longer in awe as they had been before. After a bell of walking around, they were growing accustomed to the wonders and scale of the Kriar artifices.
Dulcere stopped at another giant double valve and tapped them through. This became a much tighter passage with pace-wide metal columns reinforcing the ceiling and walls. It went perhaps a dozen paces before ending in another door. She waited until the other door closed behind the last person that happened to be Quasar, before keying the door. This time the room shuddered and Bannor felt a vibration and a kind of swelling in his ears. There was the thrum of metal bolts unlatching, and the doors split with a hiss of air. Beyond, was another short passage that looked identical to the one they’d just left. Dulcere repeated the same process that resulted in the same strange sounds.
The doors opened and when they stepped through they were greeted by a truly staggering vista. The location where they first arrived at the way-point was a niche half way up the canyon wall. Here they were on the floor at the further end of the canyon with half-league high metal walls seeming to lean over them. A flat plane of metal a dozen furlongs long occupied by the huge void ships stretched out before them.
From above it appeared huge, from here on the floor it sucked the breath out of his chest. It was as if they were at the bottom of an empty ocean, the ships like horrendous beached kraken lying dormant in their cradles. He heard the others drawing breaths, eyes wide at the spectacle. Near where they came out of the wall were the fifty pace-high valves for the freight tunnel. As he looked down the canyon wall toward the area that looked into the void, he saw four other tunnel portals. It was hard to accept the scale this place. As he looked along the wall, he noticed low railed half-pace high platforms jutting out from the wall every fifty paces. What were those for?