by Chris Fox
She’d been trained in several languages, and sector common—as Ternus called their language—was one of her favorites. “Magibombs, huh? Not a terribly inventive name,” she mused aloud.
“But very descriptive,” Nara’s familiar voice came from behind her, and she realized the spellpistol was no longer mounted on the rack. “When did Nebiat bind you? The Frit I know would never use magical weapons like that, much less give them to Nebiat.”
“Nara?” She asked, aware of the quiver in her voice. Frit spun to find Nara’s Mark V spellarmor, its chrome mask covering her face. Both hands were wrapped around the spellpistol Nara had taken from the rack, and the barrel was aligned with Frit’s face.
“Damn it.” Nara dropped the barrel a few millimeters. “At least tell me why, Frit. Why are you working for Nebiat?”
“Nara, my sisters and I were slaves,” she growled. Frit was surprised by the sudden rage welling within her. Where had that come from? “I had to get my people out. We deserve the right to determine our own future.”
“Even if that future is serving as weapons for Nebiat, and wiping out me and Aran, and anyone else Nebiat wants dead?”
“I don’t care about Aran, you do.” Frit snorted in derision. “And I don’t care about anyone else on Shaya. Besides, if you’re still loyal to the cause, what are you even doing here? And where is the rest of your company?”
Nara lowered the pistol entirely. “Okay, good point. I’m AWOL. I’ve got some problems of my own. My memories are returning.” She bit her lip, then smiled. “It’s good to see you, Frit. I’ve missed you terribly.”
“You have no idea how badly I want to hug you right now.” Frit took a step closer to her one friend in the sector.
Nara closed the gap and seized her in a fierce hug. “Gods, I missed you.”
Frit dropped her words to a whisper as she disengaged. “I’m so scared, Nara. I needed Nebiat’s help to get away from Shaya, and she hasn’t asked us to do anything bad. Not until now. I know she’s using us, and in a way it’s even worse than Eros, because at least he was honest about it.”
A metal rod rolled across the floor behind her, and Frit spun to face the door. Fritara stood there, watching them with an accusing frown. “How dare you, Frit? Nebiat has been nothing but kind to us, and you think she’s worse than Eros? Worse than Shaya? I wonder what Nebiat will have to say about this, and about you aiding an enemy. That’s Nara, right? The friend you went on so many binder hunting adventures with?” Her mouth twisted like she’d eaten something sour. “You make me sick. I can’t believe you’d repay Nebiat’s kindness with…with lies!”
Fritara’s right hand tightened around the hilt of her spellblade, and Frit tensed. Fritara was one of the most gifted war mages among their ranks, and the thing she was most fabled for was speed. A true mage’s worst enemy.
Frit spoke without thought. “Nara, run!”
Nara probably assumed she had the advantage because she was wearing spellarmor. She hadn’t seen the fight with Ree when they’d fled Shaya. She had no idea what she was dealing with, and Frit had no way to intervene. No way to warn her.
Nara’s spellpistol snapped up and the barrel began to glow a menacing purple-black, but Fritara was faster. Her smoldering leg whipped around in a high kick that caught Nara’s wrist and sent the spellpistol spinning away, while also sending cracks spiderwebbing across the armored gauntlet.
Fritara lunged, and seized the back of Nara’s helmet. She slammed Nara’s face down into the pedestal that had held the spellpistol. Once, twice, and then a third time in quick succession. Each blow sent an audible crack through the room, and after the third, Nara’s helmet shattered. Her gaze was unfocused, and her movements listless.
“That’s enough.” Frit took a threatening step forward, though there wasn’t much she could do to intervene. “It isn’t up to you, or to me, what happens to her. That’s up to Nebiat. She’ll want Nara alive, and you know it. Besides, I found the weapon Nebiat was after.” She nodded at the canisters along the wall.
Fritara relaxed a hair, but her grip on Nara’s helmet didn’t slacken. “I still think you’re a traitor, and I bet Nebiat will too.”
Frit only hoped that there was some way to save Nara. She wouldn’t put it past Nebiat to disintegrate her on the spot, but try as she might, she couldn’t think of a way to intervene that wouldn’t still end up getting her best friend killed. There was no choice but to play this out and hope for the best.
“Well?” Frit gestured at the corridor. “Let’s go fetch Nebiat.”
23
I Don't Understand
Nebiat inhaled a long, slow breath. She didn’t need to breathe, but she enjoyed the momentary relaxation it provided. Waiting was the most difficult part of delegation, especially when you weren’t at all certain that the delegate was interested in accomplishing the mission.
Frit had proven more resilient and more astute than Nebiat had bargained for. She’s been the perfect tool to free the Ifrit, but now those same Ifrit looked up to their sister. They idolized Frit, and while they might be grateful to Nebiat, that only extended so far. If Frit rejected her, they would too.
Nebiat tapped her lips with a finger. She’d need to arrange for Frit to die heroically during the assault on Colony 3. That shouldn’t be too difficult, as the resistance there was likely to be fierce.
The air near Nebiat began to warp and shift, gradually resolving into a missive showing her father’s scaled visage. His scales glittered in the weak light of an unfamiliar star, absent the purple hue of the Erkadi Rift. Where was he?
“Daughter,” Teodros rumbled, his eyes fixed on her. “I have been studying possibilities, and we near a confluence. These next moments are vital. Everything I have worked for is about to come to pass.”
Nebiat schooled her features into a dutiful expression. “Of course, Father. What is it you wish me to do?” She hated that he could order her about, and she hated even more that she rarely understood his motives when forcing her to execute his will.
“You are about to be presented with one of your enemies,” Teodros explained. His illusionary self loomed over her, just as his real-life counterpart would have. “Suppress your instincts. Do not kill her. Momentary satisfaction, in this instance, carries a very high cost.”
She cocked her head, genuinely intrigued. Which enemy? And why were they here? “Of course. I will stay my hand.”
“This prisoner possesses a vessel.” Teodros paused, and bared his teeth in a way that had terrified her since she’d first hatched. “This vessel is not for you, and you will not claim it. Instead, you will give it to the Ifrit girl. You will give her command of the vessel, and you will entrust her with the weapon. She will destroy Colony 3.”
Nebiat’s hands curled into fists. “Father, we can’t trust her. I’m not certain that she will even agree to destroy the world when asked to do so, and even if she will, do you really want to leave this to chance? I can ensure victory myself, and it will only cost a few days of my time.”
“No!” Teodros snarled. His eyes flared with potent spirit magic, hinting at his near-divine power. “You will do as I order, and only as I order. You will place the Ifrit girl in charge of this mission, and you must send my treacherous grandson with her.”
Nebiat closed her eyes, and took another deep breath. It didn’t help. “Kaho will look out for his best interests, which introduces yet another point of failure in this plan.” She opened her eyes. “I do not doubt your abilities, Father, but what you’re proposing is the height of foolishness. Why would you remove your most potent pieces, and entrust critical tasks to those who you absolutely cannot trust?”
Teodros continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You will do one final thing. Allow the Ifrit girl to determine the fate of your prisoner. She will choose to keep this prisoner with her. This must be allowed to transpire. Do you understand me, daughter?”
Those last words had been delivered in his ‘do not fail me’ vo
ice, and Nebiat gritted her teeth. “And what of me, Father? What will I be doing?”
“You will bring the rest of the Ifrit back to the Rift.” Teodros’s eyes glittered. “By the time you arrive, the pieces will all be in place.”
The missive ended, leaving Nebiat with nothing but questions. Where was her father, and why had he finally left the Rift? Why entrust the fate of Colony 3, and potentially the entire Confederacy, to someone like Frit?
The possible answer terrified her. The only reason she could think of to ignore Colony 3 was if Teodros didn’t care about the fate of the Confederacy. That made no sense. Why launch this entire war, why systematically dismantle the Confederacy, if you didn’t really care about the outcome?
She shivered, and prayed that when she reached the Rift, her father finally made his plans clear.
24
So it Begins
A high-pitched ringing overlay everything around Nara, and she blinked several times to clear her vision. Fritara stood over her with her spellblade extended, the tip very nearly touching Nara’s throat. The blade crackled with voidflame, close enough that she could feel the heat through the space where her faceplate had been.
“Remove the spellarmor,” Fritara ordered. “Now. Or I’ll risk upsetting Nebiat.”
“Okay,” Nara managed. She sketched a void sigil with her index finger, and she slid out the back of the armor. She began shivering violently as she landed behind it. “I won’t survive long like this. I have another suit I can put on, if you’re okay with it.”
“Walk.” Fritara pointed down the corridor with her blade.
“No.” Frit stepped protectively in front of Nara. “She’s no threat without her armor, and we need her alive. Let her get changed.”
Fritara eyed Nara dubiously for a long moment. “Fine, but make it quick.”
Nara opened her void pocket and fished out the X-3 uniform she’d taken. She put it on over her flight suit, and her teeth stopped chattering as the suit drew from her reserves of fire. She left the goggles in the void pocket. If she chanced them, there was a good chance that Fritara would confiscate them.
Frit nodded at the canisters along the wall. “We need to prove you can be useful. Can you use your gravity magic to bring those with us back to meet Nebiat?”
“Sure.” Nara sketched a void sigil, then a second to reinforce the spell. Seven canisters rose into the air, and she guided them into a cloud near Frit. “Lead the way.”
Frit took point, but her suspicious friend fell in behind her. “Don’t think I’m falling for your act, Shayan. You may have Frit fooled because you gave her a pat on the head once, but I’m on to you. Resist again, and it ends with you dead.” She prodded Nara in the back with the tip of her spellblade. “Move.”
Nara didn’t reply, and did her best to play the terrified prisoner. That was the surest way to get them to underestimate her, and if not, then to perhaps take pity on her. Nebiat was no fool. If Frit and others thought her a benevolent leader, she would need to act the part. If Nara were a repentant servant offering no resistance, then killing her would jeopardize her relationship with Frit and her people. Nara needed to use that to stay alive.
“And already it begins,” Talifax whispered, his breath hot on her ear, despite being inside spellarmor.
Nara obediently guided the canisters up the corridor. The walk back to the airlock was short and tense and Frit did not glance back once. Finally they reached the airlock door, and all stepped inside. The doors cycled, and they were exposed to the void. Frit appeared untroubled, as did her companion.
They glided slowly across the gap from the docking arm to a large grey cruiser of unknown design. Whatever it was hadn’t been made in this sector, of if so it had, then it had been constructed centuries past. The time to examine the ship passed quickly as they reached the cargo bay and passed through the blue membrane.
Frit landed first and gestured at the corner. “Set the canisters over there.”
Fritara landed a moment later and watched eagerly. She probably hoped Nara would resist, so she could kill her. Not today. Not if Nara had anything to say about it.
“Of course.” Nara deposited the canisters in an empty corner of the room, and then waited for her fate to be decided.
Nebiat ambled into the cargo bay, taking her time as she approached. A wide, friendly smile bloomed as she neared Nara. “Ah, I see you’ve succeeded. Well done, Frit. I knew my faith in you was well placed. And a prisoner, no less?” She stopped next to Frit, and nudged her playfully in the ribs. “Tell me.”
“This is her friend, Nara,” Fritara burst in, unable to contain the information apparently. “Frit was going to betray us. She said that you’re using us, but the rest of us can’t see it.” It all came out in a rush, and Nara winced. Not just because of Fritara’s utter lack of social skill, but also because the information could damn her friend.
Nebiat began a musical laugh. She walked gently over to Fritara and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Fritara. I may have some specific questions later. For now, I’d like to speak to Nara and Frit alone if you don’t mind.”
Fritara gave a crestfallen nod, and shot Frit a venomous look as she stalked off. Nara wasn’t sure Frit caught it, but it hardly mattered. Fritara wasn’t exactly hiding her dislike.
“Nara, Nara, Nara,” Nebiat purred. She leaned closer, and delivered a predatory smile. “You are going to sing me a pretty song, or I am going to devour you one limb at a time. I want to know how and why you came to be here. Now. Your vessel. Where is it? Are you alone?”
Nara burst into tears. They were real, though the loss of control wasn’t. “I’m alone. I came in the Talon. It’s berthed in bay six.”
“You stole the Talon?” Nebiat seemed impressed. “For what purpose?”
Frit folded her arms, but said nothing. It wasn’t lost on Nara that she hadn’t said a word when Nebiat had suggested killing her. Was their friendship that far gone, or was Frit protecting herself?
“I needed answers.” Nara took a deep breath, and channeled the intellect Neith had given her. What was the absolute minimum of the truth she could safely reveal? “My memories have started to return. Not all of them, but enough for me to have questions about who I was before. Apparently, this is a Ternus research facility and I was one of the test subjects.” She shuddered as visibly as she could. “We were used as assassins. Tech mages, though the scientists here didn’t know enough to call us that.”
“I see.” Nebiat tapped her lip with a finger, then cocked her head. “And you left with the Talon? Just like that?”
Nara’s shoulders slumped from very real guilt. “Just like that. I was going to bring it back once I found answers. I mean, I was terrified, and…it was a mistake. But I’ve already made it.”
Nebiat folded her arms, mirroring Frit’s stance. “Tell me, little sister. She’s your friend. How would you handle the situation?”
“Collar her, just like we were collared back on Shaya,” Frit delivered instantly. “And put her to work. She’s a talented illusionist, and we’re going to need that to deliver the magibombs to Colony 3.”
“So you’ve decided to work with me then?” Nebiat’s face split into a pleasant smile. “Splendid! I’m so glad you can see reason, Frit.” She leaned in close and pecked Frit on the cheek. Her next words were a bare whisper, but they were loud enough for Nara to overhear. “Because if it turns out you are playing me, then I will make good on my threat. I will devour her whole, right in front of you. And then I will do the same to you. Do you think any of your sisters would stop me?”
“No,” Frit whispered back, returning Nebiat’s embrace. She breathed into the dreadlord’s ear, also loud enough for Nara to overhear. “They worship you now. But remember this, creature. I will protect them, whether they want it or not. As long as I’m still breathing you’d better believe I will stop you from using them like Kem’Hedj pieces.” She released Nebiat, and jerked a thumb at Nara. “As for her?
I’m going to do exactly what I said. She won’t be mistreated, but she’s a weapon, a weapon we can use. But if you really worry that I’m just keeping her alive to betray you, then kill her. Depths, kill me. I won’t stop you.”
Nebiat’s brow furrowed. “If you think I seek your death, then you’ve very much mistaken my intentions. Very well, child. I will remand Nara into your custody. I will even allow you to take the Talon for the mission on Colony 3. Succeed there, and you will have my trust. You may take Rita, Fritara, and Kaho with you. The rest of your sisters will remain with me, under my…guidance.”
Nara could only gawk. Nebiat was their most canny opponent. She didn’t make rookie villain mistakes. Somehow, though, she was not only agreeing to let Nara live, but also to let an underling take care of something as important as Colony 3? What was Nara missing?
Then she remembered Talifax’s awful words and realized that even Wyrms of Nebiat’s age could be manipulated.
25
Inevitable Outcome
Jolene stared down at the data feed scrolling across her desk’s scry-screen. It provided her, theoretically, access to all accumulated knowledge. Unlike the Shayans, who relied on their own libraries, or Ternus, who relied on their sectornet, Jolene drew from both. She used everything offered by technology or magic, as her entire family had been bred to do going back dozens of generations. Maybe hundreds.
Yet none of that data shed even the slightest illumination on her current problem.
She’d been corrupted by a goddess, and could already feel it changing her. Terrible fire raced through her veins, the lingering after effects of the blood she’d accepted from Skare. Yet as terrible as the fire was, she’d have given anything for more. Anything to bring back that painful clarity, the ability to perceive countless realities at once.