by Chris Fox
“I agree.” She turned her attention back to their captive. He stared up at her from the bench, watching calmly. “Before we investigate, I want to see what we can do to remove this corruption. It’s had centuries to seep in, but we’re at the site of the oldest healing college in the sector. We have access to dozens of talented archmages, and a life Catalyst. I will petition Eros, and see if he is willing to perform a full ritual.”
“He’s not going to like that,” Aran ventured. “Kheross killed a lot of Ree’s people, and she’s already petitioning to have him executed.”
“He’ll see reason.” Voria sincerely hoped that he would. “I’ll appeal to his ego. If I tell him I don’t think it can be done, he’ll have it taken care of the very same day.”
Despite her words, Voria worried. This was exactly the kind of distraction they could not afford. They needed to deal with Krox, not be looking over their shoulder for some new threat. Yet she couldn’t afford to ignore it. She didn’t know what concessions Eros would demand, but she was positive she wouldn’t much like them.
5
Pawns
Nebiat waited patiently as the Fissure completed, then clasped her hands behind her back as the vessel passed through. Kaho piloted silently from the command matrix, his scaly visage fixed on the scry-screen. He’d been much quieter since his return from the possibility where his brother had been slain by the Outrider. He’d not questioned her once, about anything.
She eyed him sidelong as they passed back into normal space, in the shadow of a world that, in theory, was a holy shrine built in her honor. In practice it was a training world, where her children vied against each other to secure her notice.
“Shall I take us home, Mother?” Kaho rumbled. He glanced disinterestedly in her direction, then down at his wrist.
“You must cease this petulance,” she snapped, then immediately regretted the loss of control. Nebiat smoothed her dress, and focused on her breathing. Kaho wasn’t the cause of her unease. “The Outrider bested you. The fight is over, and your limbs have regenerated.”
Kaho met her gaze then, and his eyes narrowed to slits. It was the most emotion he’d demonstrated in weeks. “My brother died at the hands of a mortal. I very nearly died, and if I face him again, I am positive I will.”
“Have you so little faith in your abilities?” She eyed her offspring contemptuously. “I thought you were made from sterner stuff. Tobek would be disappointed, and if your grandfather knew of your cowardice he would devour you on the spot.”
“Cowardice?” Kaho barked a bitter laugh. He rested both scaly hands on the stabilizing ring and glared hard at her. “No, Mother. This is pragmatism. I finally understand my role in all this. No, not my role.” He gestured expansively at the bridge around him. “Our role. All of this.”
Nebiat waited for him to continue, but he did not. Instead he turned back to piloting.
“No, I do not wish to go home,” she corrected, answering his earlier question. “Take us to Teodros.” She didn’t want to dignify his outburst with a response, but she had to know. “What is this grand revelation of yours, Kaho?”
Kaho didn’t answer immediately. He tapped a series of sigils on all rings, and the vessel began curving around her world. It revealed the system’s bloody star, which bathed the lava world her father had claimed. There was no sign of him, at the moment at least. He was probably buried under one of the world’s magma seas, quietly plotting the return of their progenitor.
Finally, Kaho turned to look at her. The animosity had been replaced with resignation. “We are pawns of gods, all of us. Grandfather doesn’t care about any of us. He doesn’t care about Ternus. All of this is a means to an end.”
Nebiat gave an amused chuckle. “And what is it you think he gains from all of this then, hmm? My father’s motives are clear. He wishes to bring back Krox, and thus our control over the sector.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” His words were thick with sarcasm, and Nebiat instinctively curled her hands into fists at the tone. “What I doubt is his need or desire for any of us to survive to see this resurrection. We are resources, Mother. Even you. And we will be expended to achieve grandfather’s goals, whatever you think.”
Nebiat barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, Kaho. You may not believe it, but you have always been my favorite for a reason. You always see to the heart of the matter. Don’t you think I know that? My father will expend me, or you, or anyone else without a second thought.”
“Then why aren’t you worried?” His grip tightened on the matrix’s stabilizing ring. “What’s to stop him from putting us in a situation where we are killed, just as you did to me when I faced the Outrider?”
She shook her head sadly. “Do you know why I am still alive while nearly all of my older siblings are dead, little one?”
“No, Mother.” He turned his attention back to piloting. The unnamed lava world where her father resided grew larger on the scry-screen.
She moved to stand before the scry-screen, shuddering as they approached her father’s lair. It grew larger, an angry molten ball concealing the deadliest predator in the sector. “Because when I realized that I was expendable, I found other expendable servants to be expended in my place. And when that wasn’t an option, I quietly deferred to my louder, and more bold, brethren. Note that they are dead, and I am not.”
Nebiat folded her arms and walked to the scry-screen. She studied her father’s world, and waited patiently until a dark spot grew on one of the seas. Teodros emerged in a geyser of lava, rocketing into the sky and approaching her vessel.
He hovered in the space before her vessel, and his words echoed through her mind. I have a task for your daughter. I need you to deliver me Ternus. Burn their worlds. Scourge their fleets. Our father’s rebirth approaches.
Nebiat shivered, and wondered if Kaho were right. “Of course, Father.” She knew he could hear the words, though she hadn’t bothered with a missive. “My plans are already in motion. Ternus will fall, very soon.”
6
Always a Price
Aran tugged at the collar of the Confederate uniform, and wished he were wearing anything else. Almost everyone scattered throughout the holy chamber wore white or gold, depending on whether they were a true mage or a war mage.
He’d never been allowed into the Chamber of the First before, and gazed up at the ceiling in wonder. It vaulted several hundred meters above, and every bit of it glowed with potent life magic. They were close to the goddess herself. Very close.
A pool of golden energy lay near the center of the room, and Aran recognized it instantly. This must be where the potion of Shaya’s Grace that had saved him back on Marid had originally come from.
A number of stiff-necked Shayans clustered around Ducius near the edge of the pool, all wearing versions of the same arrogance. All possessed the same ethereal beauty. All wore the same calm expressions, though hostility crept into a few as they glanced in Aran’s direction. Others were thoughtful.
Voria was the only other person in the room wearing the blue and gold, and drew the lion’s share of these people’s animosity. Aran was just an outsider, but the way they eyed her spoke volumes. They considered her one of their own, and that meant her loyalty to the Confederacy represented a betrayal of Shaya. In their minds anyway.
A hush descended as a tall man in white robes strode into the chamber. His dark beard had been combed to a neat point, and his hair artfully styled. Power pulsed from him, a song that the pool echoed. They were one and the same, the song said, the same divine power.
Aran reached instinctively for Narlifex’s hilt, a raw fight or flight response in the presence of something that dwarfed his own power. Eros had become something far greater than any mere mortal, and unlike his predecessor he didn’t seem interested in hiding that fact. He wore his power openly. Flaunted it, even.
“Let’s get this over with,” Eros groused as he approached the pool. He was flanked by several war mages, Ree among them. Her
armor had been lovingly repaired, with no hint of the damage she’d suffered from Kheross.
Ree glared at Aran as she strode by, snarling the word mongrel under her breath, infusing that word with all the fury no doubt inspired by the death of her brothers in arms. Because somehow that was his fault.
The Aran that had left for Virkon would probably have taunted her back. He’d seen too much since then to care about petty bullshit, though. He offered Ree a respectful nod, just as he’d do for Voria, or for Eros. Nothing more and nothing less.
Ree eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but then followed Eros toward the ritual circle. Two other war mages flanked her, and both glared at him as they passed. The trio knelt outside a wide circle that covered the entire center of the cavernous chamber.
Eros moved to stand before that pool, and knelt next to it. He cupped his hands, scooped a handful of golden blood, and drank it reverently. A line of white-clad mages formed behind him, and one by one, each stepped forward and drank as he did. Their eyes began to glow a soft gold, and Aran could feel the power pulsing from them.
“This is where it gets interesting,” Voria whispered as she paused next to him. “Can you imagine what could be accomplished in this room?”
“I hope we’re about to find out.” He nodded at the entryway.
A pair of hovercouches floated into the room, each bearing an unconscious figure. The first carried Kheross, and the second bore Rhea. He studied the Outrider, though he guessed the term wasn’t accurate. She was a Wyrm, even if she herself didn’t know it. Talk about a mindfrag.
Her golden hair had been washed and combed, and she now wore a simple white gown that was gauzy enough to leave very little to the imagination. Aran looked pointedly away. He had a responsibility to take care of her, like a sister, not a concubine.
The pair of hovercouches floated into the ritual circle, and halted not far from the golden pool. A faint odor filled the room, and Aran realized he was smelling cooked flesh. Wisps of smoke rose from Kheross’s eyes. The flesh around them blackened, and the purple light flared more brightly as if trying to push back the golden glow from the pool.
Rhea began to writhe as her eyes also smoked, and gave a pained grunt as she tried to wriggle away from the golden light.
“Why aren’t you a part of this?” Aran whispered to the major. “Shouldn’t you be one of the mages up there? You’ve got life, right?”
“Yes, and by right I should be up there.” Voria delivered a muted sigh, but the intensity never left her gaze as she studied the ritual. “Eros is making a point. I am no longer Shayan. I am a foreigner who has come asking for Shayan aid. If he included me in the casting he wouldn’t be able to exact nearly as large a price from me.”
“He wants the Spellship.” Aran’s grip tightened around Narlifex, and the hilt thrummed in his hand as the blade picked up on his mood. “Even after everything we saw on Virkon, he still believes this about protecting Shaya.”
Voria nodded sadly. “He’ll let the sector burn if it means protecting this world. In a way, I understand the fervor. He shares his mind with a goddess, so of course that goddess and the world that serves as her tomb are of paramount importance. Her blood runs in our veins. We are her children.”
The golden glow around each mage intensified, and one after another they began sketching sigils. Aran had often watched Nara put together jigsaw puzzles, and this was similar except that each mage was creating its own pieces. Life and water sigils flowed up to join the growing latticework. They swam around each other and slowly formed a dome over both couches.
That dome was nearly complete when a slow flow of golden motes rose from the pool to join the sigils. The magic infused the spell, greatly intensifying the native energy. Aran wished Nara were here to explain exactly what he was seeing. Voria could likely do it too, but she had more important concerns so Aran studied the strange ritual in silence.
It went on for long minutes, and became harder to watch as both Rhea and Kheross writhed in agony. More streamers of smoke rose, not just from their eyes. It poured forth from many different points on their body, a dense black smoke that was pulled into the dome of light.
The dark energy pooled above it in an oily sphere, both defined and imprisoned by the sigils of light. That sphere grew and grew, and as it did Kheross and Rhea began to scream. Their hoarse crises split the chamber, and Aran found himself wincing with each one. The agony must be indescribable.
The crescendo of sigils joining the dome finally slowed, and one of the mages stopped casting entirely. The woman collapsed, and was quickly helped away by one of Ree’s war mages. A second mage fell to his knees, then a third. Kheross and Rhea had stopped yelling, though both still thrashed weakly.
Finally, the dome began to crumble. The sigils along the edges hissed out of existence, and the spell began to fail. As it did, Eros disengaged from the circle and began sketching a containment spell. A swirling ball of golden energy rose from the pool, and moved to encircle the dark energy that had been siphoned from Kheross and Rhea.
The golden energy swirled around it, wrestling and thrashing as the rival energies battled for control. The golden energy slowly overpowered the dark, until the outer surface was a muted, discolored gold. The entire mass shrank down to a ball the size of his fist, then dropped into Eros’s trembling hand.
“We have done all we can do,” he muttered wearily as he turned to face Kheross and Rhea. Both were unconscious, either from pain or from the spell. Eros turned to Voria. “I do not think either is fully whole after this. There are still traces of darkness, particularly in the one you call Kheross. I would trust neither. In fact, it might be safer to eliminate that one right now.”
The major shook her head. “I am reluctant to discard a being we recovered at the behest of a goddess.” Voria turned to face him. “Aran, you’ve battled this creature and bested him. Do you think he poses a significant risk? Enough to offset any intelligence you might obtain?”
The question caught him off guard. Many of the mages, those still conscious at least, were watching him. Including Ree.
So he answered honestly. “He’s a threat, certainly. I wouldn’t trust him, and I’d want to keep him bound and under constant surveillance, assuming we let him live.” Aran stroked his beard thoughtfully as he studied their sleeping forms. “Learning about the universe they came from could be important. In that timeline, as I understand it, Nefarius took over everything. We might be able to learn more about her, and about how Krox was ultimately defeated. Maybe we can use the same tactics they did.”
Voria nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” She turned back to Eros. “We will keep the prisoners alive for the time being. They’ll be moved to the Wyrm Hunter’s brig for interrogation. I will ensure neither is allowed anywhere near the Spellship, but there is simply too great a chance they know its inner workings. They spent centuries aboard her. We need that knowledge.”
“You haven’t yet asked the price of the ritual,” Eros pointed out. He approached Voria and stared down at her with a smug smile. “And there is a price, of course.”
“Out with it.” The corners of Voria’s mouth turned down into the beginnings of a scowl.
“The girl stays here.” He nodded at Rhea. “I believe she can be rehabilitated, but only if separated from the other one. Given time, she could become a powerful force to help defend this world. She is a Wyrm, after all.”
Aran cursed under his breath, which drew an annoyed glance from Eros. “What? I’m going to be the one who has to explain it when Kheross wakes up.”
7
Doubts
Aran was mildly surprised to realize Nara was already there when he strode into the Hunter’s brig. He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d subdued Kheross, though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised she also had questions. She probably had the best questions, in fact.
He made no move to disguise his presence as he approached. The two were speaking in low tones, and Nara wore a look
of genuine distress. She looked up at him and instantly stopped speaking.
“Did I miss anything interesting?” Aran asked as he stopped outside Kheross’s cell. The man looked more or less the same, though the darkness that had clung to him was more muted now. His eyes burned with familiar intensity, and Aran recognized the void energy. He shared that connection, through Xal.
“No,” Nara said. Not hurriedly, but her tone was carefully neutral. “You came to question him too? I was just getting started.”
He overlooked that. She’s clearly been here long enough to establish a rapport, but for whatever reason didn’t want to share what she’d learned.
“Why don’t we start with introductions.” Aran inclined his head to Kheross, who sat on the cell’s bench with a bored expression. “I’m Aran—”
“Aranthar of the last dragonflight, Outrider of the First Order.” Kheross waved dismissively. “Yes, yes, I’m quite familiar with all your various titles. It didn’t save us in the end, any more than it will save us this time.”
“Cheerful guy, huh?” Nara asked. She gave him a weak smile.
“Seems that way.” He turned to Kheross. “We’re keeping you alive because it’s possible you might know something that can help us survive, both against Krox, and against Nefarius.” Aran wrapped a hand around one of the bars. “I can see about getting you out of here, if you can help us. We need intel. We need to know what the timeline you lived in was like. Right now we’re facing Krox. Nefarius hasn’t resurfaced yet.”
“Hasn’t she?” Kheross taunted. He nodded at Nara. “She’s been touched, just as I have. She’s a vessel, Outrider, but not for any god you serve. You’ve had a spy in your midst the entire time.”