by Chris Fox
The tendrils snaked around Aran’s legs, yanking him closer to the drake. He willed open the void pocket and snatched his spellblade, which flashed down, slicing cleanly through the webs.
The drake gave a frustrated cry as Aran rolled away from a tail slash. It reared its head back and Aran snapped his rifle to his shoulder, aimed it hastily with one arm, then squeezed off a level-three void bolt. It caught the drake’s mouth an instant before it could vomit more webs. The massive creature shrieked, choking like a cat on a hairball.
Aran zipped closer and poured a large chunk of water magic into his rifle. It fired a cloud of blue motes that clung to the drake’s right wing. The motes began to crystalize, and ice raced across the surface of the drake’s wing. The ice thickened rapidly, and the suddenly lopsided drake fell from the sky. It slammed into the lake below, sending up a huge geyser of water.
Aran sped down to join the others. “Let’s get the depths out of here before that thing gets out.”
Crewes had donned his armor, and carried Pickus’s unconscious body.
“Is he okay?” Aran asked.
“Hypothermia,” Voria said, teeth chattering. “I think. Crewes is keeping him warm for now, but he hasn’t woken back up. Let’s find shelter, quickly. We need to get out of sight before those things figure out where we’ve gone. We can regroup, then press on to the temple.”
32
DEADLY MESSENGER
“It’s time,” Nebiat purred. She enjoyed the way Dirk flinched when she spoke. “You know, I rather like you, little war mage. If not for your daughter, I’d keep you in my service forever. You’d certainly make a valuable asset.”
“Why do you hate Voria so much?” Dirk asked quietly.
He’d done nothing to resist her, and she admired his restraint. It was the only stratagem left to him—appear weak and docile, so when the opportunity came to strike your captor would never suspect the blow—and he’d executed it masterfully.
“You value family, do you not?” Nebiat asked sweetly, though the rage boiled inside. She leaned closer, nose to nose with Dirk. “Your daughter killed my eldest brother, and many of my younger siblings. She foiled my plans on Marid, and she even managed to salvage the Confederate lines at Starn, slaughtering our enforcers. Tell me, Dirk: What would you do to someone who did such things to your family?”
“I would kill them.” Dirk shrugged. “You have Erika under your thumb, and now you have me. We’re both excellent assassins, and together we could probably cut down the Tender herself. So why not just send us? Why go through all the elaborate showmanship? I’ll tell you why. Because my daughter embarrassed you in front of your father, and now you have something to prove. You don’t just want revenge. You need it.”
Nebiat recoiled a step. Her natural impulse was to lash out, to punish him. Yet he was right. “You are very perceptive. I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone who could read me quite so accurately.”
Dirk simply stared at her.
“You thought I’d be unnerved by your outburst? Angry perhaps? You are quite right about my motives.” Nebiat smiled predatorily. “That doesn’t anger me. It pleases me. You are arguably the most skilled war mage in the Shayan Confederacy—perhaps even in the the sector, though there are a few on Virkon who might best you. And now, you work for me.” She ran a finger along the collar of his uniform.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why not kill Voria?”
“I’ve already tended to that particular detail.” She patted him on the cheek. “She won’t be returning from the Umbral Depths. No, I am after much larger game, Dirk—much larger. You’re going to drop this vial into Aurelia’s wine when you see her this evening. After you’re certain that she’s consumed it, you will tell her guards the Krox have been sighted at the second burl, and you believe they’re working with Ducius. You and Erika will personally lead a team to stop them.”
Dirk gritted his teeth, eyeing her defiantly. It was nice to see him beginning to crack. He wanted to appear docile, but his emotions had gotten the better of him. His daughter appeared to be the lever.
Nebiat waved dismissively, and Dirk left the chamber. She had one more stop to make before she visited Aurelia, and it was an important one. Eros was no mere war mage. He was a true mage with decades of experience, and she needed to treat him with the respect that deserved.
Taking him down would not be easy, but if she succeeded then she guaranteed the remainder of her plan. The Tender would die, the drifters would go to war with the Shayans, and Ternus would cede from the Confederacy.
33
TOO EASY
Nara sketched the final sigil to the simplest illusion she knew. She envisioned a rock face where the cave mouth stood, and the opening vanished behind an illusionary wall of granite. “That should keep them out, I think. As long as we don’t make any noise.”
“Nice work,” Aran said. His voice was hoarse, and she could hear the exhaustion, though she couldn’t see him under the helmet. He turned to face Voria. “Sir, I didn’t get a great look at the terrain. How far do you figure to the target?”
“Fifteen clicks? We could fly it in minutes, provided we can avoid detection.” She tapped her lips with a finger. “I don’t want to risk simple invisibility. There’s too great a chance their Wyrms, if that’s what those things are, can pierce it. Speaking of—Aran, you seemed to recognize that thing. Aurelia called it an arachnidrake?”
“Yeah, that’s the name.” Aran removed his helmet and sat on a nearby rock. He focused his gaze on the helmet cradled in his hands. “I don’t know what it means, or how I know it. But I’ve fought one of those things before, and it scares the ever-living shit out of me.”
“Out of all of us, I believe,” Voria said. She looked to Nara. “You performed admirably back there. I felt your use of spells. The illusion in particular was both inventive and effective. Well done.”
Nara stared at the major like she’d grown a third eye. “Thank you,” she finally managed. She cleared her throat. “So, what’s the plan then? How do we get from here to the temple without being overrun?”
“Those things got real pissed off when we hurt one of them,” Crewes said. “If they can feel anger, all we gotta do is piss ’em off.” He slammed his armored fists together. “We just need a distraction. We send a team—me—to go bust some of their heads. They all come to see what the ruckus is, and you head for the mountain so you can pray or whatever.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Nara countered. “If we do that, you end up dead. Aran, Voria, I know we’re here unofficially, but one of you needs to pull rank.” She frowned at them both.
“Do you have a better idea?” Voria asked, her voice barely above a whisper. It still felt too loud.
“Not yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t come up with one.” She set her helmet down, and sat next to it. “We need to recover our spells anyway. Why don’t we sleep on it. If we don’t have a better idea by morning, then we’ll—”
A huge roar echoed off the canyon walls outside and into their sheltered cave. They all looked at each other.
Nara stated the obvious. “That wasn’t an arachnidrake.”
Aran put his helmet on. “Nara, why don’t we go investigate? You can use an invisibility sphere. We’ll go up a hundred meters or so and see if we can figure out what’s going on, then come right back before anyone sees us.”
“Okay, let’s go.” She slid her helmet into place, and her HUD sprang to life.
Crewes did the same. “Remember, kids—no petting the animals. Get up, get back. I’ll wait here, but if you get into trouble I’ll come running.”
“We’ll be fast. Nara?”
She reached into her reserves for dream and air, sketching sigils quickly and easily, more naturally than she had a few weeks ago. She needed more practice, but at least she no longer reached for her missing spellpistol whenever she cast.
The spell completed, and the invisibility sphere rippled outward around her an
d Aran. He zipped through the cave mouth, and she followed. She enjoyed chasing him like this, following closely as they whipped through canyons and over ridges.
Aran stopped against an outcrop at the base on a small peak, high enough to see for kilometers in all directions. She followed, pausing next to him as she surveyed the direction they’d heard the roar.
“I think it’s coming from the first crash site.” She floated a bit higher. “Oh, gods, its the Air Wyrm. It’s tearing apart the remains of the ship.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Another streak of lightning split the darkness, but this one was directed at a knot of the spider creatures. “It looks like he’s getting the locals’ attention. If we wanted a distraction, I don’t think we’ll ever have a better one.”
“If we head back down, I can add the rest of the company to the invisibility sphere.”
“Perfect.”
He shot down into a dive, and she followed. It only took a few moments to rejoin the others. Crewes carried Pickus, who’d yet to wake. At least his breathing was smooth and even.
Voria climbed onto Nara’s back and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Let’s make this quick. We fly low and fast, and get there as quickly as possible—hopefully before these things figure out we’re there.”
“All right, just get within five meters of me and I’ll recast the spell,” Nara instructed. She waited for the others to gather, then cast the spell again. The invisibility rippled outward and included Voria, Crewes, and Pickus. “Okay, we’re good. Stick close.”
They rose slowly, leaving the cave and flying toward the mountain in the distance. Aran flew a few meters ahead with his rifle cradled in both hands. Voria perched on her shoulders like a toddler, and Nara wasn’t sure she’d be able to cast if it came to combat. So she needed to make sure it didn’t.
Their little caravan crossed two more valleys, quickly narrowing the distance to their target. The rough-hewn temple loomed in front of them, a towering mountain that rose high above the surrounding valleys.
They zoomed toward an opening on the east side. Thus far, they hadn’t seen any more spider creatures. Now that they were closer, Nara had her first real look at the place. The angular slopes were too symmetrical to be natural, but so worn they appeared to be. This planet hadn’t seen much weather, but unless there was some source of storms Nara hadn’t yet seen, this rock was incredibly ancient.
She glanced over her shoulder, and saw another blue-white flash. Thunder boomed a moment later. The Wyrm was still tearing apart spiders. Perfect.
Aran dropped elevation and Nara followed. They came to a smooth landing just outside a yawning tunnel mouth on the pyramid’s south slope. Aran turned to face her, scanning the darkness with his spellrifle. “This is way too easy.”
“Why,” whispered a discordant voice from the shadows in the temple, “do you assume it will be easy?” A many-legged creature scurried forward, its eyes glinting in the darkness.
34
CUSTODIAN
Voria sketched a fire sigil, and light flared over them, but only for half an instant. Then it was snuffed out, countered by some sort of intense magical field.
“Your spells will not work here,” the sibilant voice whispered. “Come, enter quickly. The distraction that allowed your passage will not keep my more primitive brethren at bay for long.”
A pair of double doors opened inward; a blinding glow washed out from the temple. Voria’s hands shot to her eyes, and she grunted in pain as the sudden light blinded her. After so much darkness, it wasn’t merely discomfort. It struck her like a blow.
“The discomfort will pass in a moment or two. This is the first true light your eyes has seen in some time.” The soft voice’s accent was strange. Clipped. The words were too short, the cadence slightly off…as if the mouth had trouble making sounds like a human mouth.
Aran’s confident voice came from behind her. “You okay, Major?” Metal clanked on stone as his armored form drew even with her.
“I just need a moment.” She blinked rapidly, and shapes finally began to appear. Spots still ate at her vision, but it was beginning to pass. “You can lower your rifle, Lieutenant. If our host wanted to hurt us, I expect he wouldn’t have spoken first.”
She peered at the creature, which resembled the smaller ones they’d fought outside. It had no wings, and where the spiders outside had white carapaces, this thing had scales.
A more evolved form perhaps?
“I understand that my appearance must trouble you,” the spider said, its chelicerae quivering. “I ask you to look beyond your instincts.” The jaws were covered in thick black spines, with sharp, spear-like fangs in between.
Voria shuddered. “Please forgive my, ah, weakness. We’ve come a very long way to find you, and have sacrificed much. Have we found sanctuary where we can rest, and regroup?”
“Indeed.” The spider clasped two of its legs before it in a sort of bow, while a third leg pointed deeper into the structure they’d entered. “You have found the Library of Neith, the greatest repository of knowledge in the omniverse.”
Omniverse? That sparked a great many questions, but Voria forced them down in favor of the more pressing ones.
“Do you have a name?” Voria asked as she peered deeper into the library. She didn’t trust their host—not yet, anyway. Yet they desperately needed help.
“Names are complicated things, and we do not share ours. You may call me…custodian. It is a term you are familiar with, and captures the essence of my purpose.”
The custodian scuttled deeper into the library, and Voria eagerly followed. They passed into a vaulted room with a black marble ceiling, the backdrop for a night sky. Glowing magical runes made up the stars, mystical constellations of immense power. The vastness unnerved her, and seemed to encompass not just their galaxy, but many, many galaxies. They moved slowly, orbiting in a chaotic pattern her mind couldn’t quite grasp.
She recognized that she was seeing an ocean of magical power she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what it might be used for, so she focused on the more familiar. As far as she was concerned, the library under the domed ceiling represented the real power in this room.
Row upon row of floating shelves lined the room, each holding hundreds of faintly glowing dragon scales. “Are those knowledge scales?”
“Indeed,” the custodian confirmed. “Each contains a specific discipline or historical epoch. Together, they represent the sum of all remembered knowledge.”
“How far back does it go?” Nara asked, removing her helmet with a hiss.
“To the beginning of all things, when Neith first drew breath,” the custodian explained, as if that should have been self-evident.
“Custodian,” Aran called. He removed his helmet, and bowed respectfully to the awful spider. “You were waiting at the entryway at the exact moment we arrived. That can’t have been a coincidence. You were expecting us, weren’t you?”
“Indeed. This day has long been foretold. We were aware of your arrival on our world, and that of the dragon Khalahk. Both events were necessary to forge this specific possibility.”
Voria stopped in her tracks as the implications hit her. “The Wyrm had to attack us, and had to follow us here. If it hadn’t, there would have been no distraction to give us the opportunity to reach the temple.”
The spider gave a jerky nod. “Yes, yes. Without the arrival of the Wyrm, you’d have been killed and devoured by my feral brethren. That particular dilemma took Neith many cycles to unravel. The dragon was the only way. If you will follow me, I will bring you to quarters where you may rest. In the morning, when you are ready, you will be brought to audience with Neith.”
“You speak of Neith as if he—or she—is still alive,” Voria ventured. “We’ve never met a living god. I’ve heard of one or two who are considered to be asleep, but no living, conscious gods.”
“Neith is very much alive,” the custodian explained,
“one of the last surviving deities from the earliest days of the godswar.” He led them through the main library and up a hallway that led off the main room.
Voria cleared her throat, drawing the spider’s attention. “I don’t really know how to respond to the idea of meeting a living god. If Neith is still alive, why hasn’t she intervened in matters directly?”
“She has. Countless times. Your arrival marks one of the more direct interventions, but hardly the first, or even the ten-thousandth.”
The spider ducked through a doorway into a jarringly ordinary chamber. Five spacious bedrooms jutted off the main dining area. A glance into the closest bedroom showed a wide, floating bed that could easily sleep three adults. The dining room itself had several comfortable couches. Crewes moved over to one and gently set Pickus down, then flopped down on another couch, which bowed alarmingly under the weight of his armor.
“We have got to take one of these back with us.” He threw his arms up on behind his head as he sank further into the couch and gave them a grin.
“If you wish refreshment, simply ask and the room will provide it,” the custodian said, scuttling back toward the door. It was leaving, just like that.
“Custodian, our friend is injured.” Voria nodded at Pickus. “Is there anything you can do?”
“There is no need for me to interfere directly. The room’s ambient magical energies will heal him, and wash away your various hurts and exhaustion.” The custodian gave a bow then scuttled off, leaving them in relative peace.
Voria waited until he was gone, then turned to the others. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I may be paranoid, but I don’t trust that spider. This all seems a little too convenient for my tastes.”
“Seriously, sir?” Crewes asked, eyeing her like he usually did his recruits. “Ain’t this the whole reason we flew out here? To meet with the locals, so they could hook us up with some Krox-slaying tools?”