Ghosts of Lyarra

by Damian Shishkin

  Like a mighty bear he roared and swung the hammer hard; it struck the initial five Forgotten with horrific results. The first to be struck didn’t feel a thing; his body just exploded from the massive pressure and force and offered little resistance as it struck the next. Like a brutal bludgeon, it cut the second assassin in half and then folded the third and fourth ones in a broken mess. The fifth one was sent flying by the mess and struck a wall twenty feet away and splattered green blood where he hit. A thunderous roar of approval came from the J’Karin Elite for this opening salvo and rushed to join the fray.

  For a brief moment, the pride of the Guild showed hesitation and fear. In one swipe this monster had obliterated five Forgotten; in one swipe he spread the seeds of doubt through their ranks. The shot had sent a ripple that was felt all the way up to the peak of the temple roof amongst the clouds; the J’Karin were here for a war and they were possibly in over their heads. With a nervous cry, the assassins leapt into the fight. The battle for Ryas had begun, and even the Gods could not promise victory to either side at this point.

  —

  Havyiin Orbit, Lyarran Flagship Lyarra’s Fire

  “It has begun.” Bryx said, staring at the clock which had read zeros for the last little bit.

  Ops Con had been all but deserted during the countdown as the Queen of Heaven prepared for her return from the dead and Lyxia readied herself to mingle with the treacherous elite of the new Empire. Bryx however, only had to change armor to a more ceremonial set, and it took mere minutes for him to adorn himself of the shiny silver armored suit. So as the women fussed about their outfits; or he assumed they were doing such; he waited back at the helm of the Lyarra’s Fire which was closing in on orbit of Havyiin with his eyes transfixed on the clock. He only thought he had muttered to himself, but a shuffle of feet on the floor behind him let him know that was not so.

  “And how fares our brave warriors?” Lyxia inquired in response to his announcement of sorts.

  “I am afraid we have reached the limits of our dear AI’s limits.” Bryx replied woefully. “Between commanding the Dark Light, shutting down the comms network and infiltrating the entire Imperial database, I am afraid any inquiries of mine have been unanswered.”

  “So we won’t know if we won until we make our move?” she asked.

  “Quite possibly. We are waging a war with shadows, and to do so we must wade in to their dark waters. If it means we get separated, then we do our jobs and win our fight.” He began. “Our focus cannot be on that which we cannot be a part of, only that we have faith and trust our allies will do what is entrusted with them and we will meet again victorious in celebration.”

  “Not an easy task.” She muttered; her copper armor glowing wildly in the lights of the control room as she moved inside.

  “But a necessary one.” The J’Karin added. “And one we will do because it has been asked of us. You are about to step into the nest of the enemy, and you are charged with disarming their security net so we can land our shuttle without being properly scanned. If you fail, then Myril will be crowned and once she has that mantle nothing we do will matter.”

  “And you want to know if I am up to this?” she growled at him.

  “I do.” He grumbled. “For the past five years you have doted on the loss of Aen; a fledgling relationship crumbled your heart and made you barely able to do your sworn duty. Had your ship not been so heavily damaged and been docked for years, Fleet Command would have asked you to be replaced despite Iana hiding your emotional trauma as best she could. You became a liability; and I am concerned you may become one, once again.”

  “Doubting me is one thing.” She hissed. “But insult me by calling me a liability again, and I will test those vaunted fighting skills of yours myself.”

  “Ah, there is that fire I am so used to seeing.” Bryx cooed. “Take all the pain, all the frustration and channel it for what needs to be done. If we don’t fight with everything we have, then we risk losing everything we cherish.”

  “Save your sermons for your Elite; I don’t need any more motivation.”

  Bryx smiled; and a J’Karin smiling was only slightly more frightening than one snarling. His two tusks on his lower jaw glistened in the lights of the control room, and his jagged shark-like teeth in between reminded her of how truly dangerous these giants were. Even seated, he loomed taller than her and was just as menacing as ever.

  “What do the long range scanners tell us?” Lyxia asked; desperate to break the temporary silence.

  “They too are down; the construct is very thorough.” He grumbled. “But even though we are blind to what is happening around us, we can have faith that we are in control of the situations; unlike our enemies who will be completely caught off guard.”

  “But it wouldn’t hurt knowing what is happening.” Lyxia added.

  “Our legions have been let loose on Thsin,” a familiar voice answered triumphantly behind them both. “And have begun the long and treacherous march to Fleet Command. The Elite have struck first and hard on Ryas, and are joyous at the blood they get to spill at long last. Both battles have begun well, but hang on the edge of a blade; able to teeter either way in the winds of chance.”

  Iana stood tall before them, and like her voice, her stature had once again been restored to its former glory. Dressed in silver and crystal armor - stored on her ship in the case of war - she looked the part of the resurrected queen returning home to claim her throne. Lyxia had never seen such perfect craftsmanship in battle armor, but looking over her Empress she could now say that she had. Her boots were polished perfection, and rose to peak past her knees. From thigh to waist, it had been crafted to look like diamond skin rather than armor, and followed the contours exactly while her backside and front pelvis were covered by linked silver flaps that fell to just above knee level. Her chest and back plates were crafted perfection with both form and function working hand in hand. They were smooth and linked plates; like a dragon scale covering her entire torso. Gauntlets of silver capped arms and shoulders of diamond that linked into the neck piece. Lastly, Iana’s helmet - which she held in her right hand - had not the tusk and horn design of the Ifierin, but a pair of wings running from chin to the back of her skull and stretching out past.

  “I thought it was fitting to return in this.” She said in response to the opened mouth shock of her companions. “I can’t let Aen show me up after all.”

  “A joke from the Queen of Heaven at a time like this.” Bryx quipped. “Finally things are starting to get back to normal.”

  “Nothing will ever be back to the way it was, old friend.” She whispered. “Everything that has transpired has changed us all, and not all for the better. And there is still the chance of failure; the Prophets have shown me both endings to all this and either way I feel we have seen only the beginning of it all.”

  “What did you see?” Lyxia leaned in and inquired.

  “I see an Empire of ash, and upon its throne sits one filled with pain and sorrow.” Iana looked distant as she remembered the visions. “I see the fractured remains of what we know now, and a new menace looming or fading away as the ash rains down upon the Throne of Light. I see Havyiin, Pax, Terra Sol, J’Karra, and thousands of other worlds burning in the dark night of space; all looking deep within themselves for the strength to carry on. I see victory looking like defeat, and defeat looking much worse.”

  “How can this be?” Bryx asked gruffly. “When we have the upper hand on all accounts, how is it, all can end so bad?”

  “I can only see the possibilities, and they may not be from the immediate future.” She answered, running her metal clad hand across Lyxia’s cheek to calm her. “Like everything they show me, there is no timeline to when it will come to be; only that it shall eventually come to pass. It’s like getting flashes of the future; knowing the ending to a grand tale but not seeing how all comes to be. It could be a year, ten, or ten thousand, but it will come to pass.”

  “And on the thro
ne?” Lyxia choked on the question. “Is it you who sits in pain and sorrow?”

  The look in Iana’s eyes told her the answer without words; she had been shown a future without her and seemed to be handling it better than they were.

  “Let us not dwell on what may come, but let us concentrate on the here and now.” Iana skillfully changed the subject. “Our plan has its first wrinkle I am afraid; Sara is unable to leave the Dark Light due to the fighting on Thsin so we become a man short on Havyiin. I only hope she stays safe, though I think her part in all this is far from finished.”

  —

  Imperial Docks of Thsin; Lyarran Vessel Dark Light

  Sara watched the monitors carefully as she tracked the Ifierin advance. Almost an hour had passed since they flooded the docking station, and yet they had only progressed half a kilometer into their fifteen kilometer journey to the central juncture of Fleet Command. Though they had taken the Guild by surprise, every inch of ground they had gained and been fiercely contested.

  She sat in the center of the holo-conference room and watched the battle through the linked images from the Ifierin helmets. Ten thousand separate pictures surrounded her and gave her a more compete view of what was happening then had she been standing in the next room in the center of Ops Con. Here she could see everything and learn; here Sara hoped that she could be of help seeing as she wouldn’t be departing for the ceremonies on Havyiin as originally planned.

  Shortly after they had docked, Axyn had noticed an increase in armed escort craft activity; the Guild was on high alert and was focusing in on the Dark Light to air on the side of caution. Despite her arguments, the Captain of the Guard would not allow her to leave in the shuttle to speed off to Havyiin. Maybe he feared for her safety, but maybe he also feared Aen’s wrath more if anything bad should happen. It made her chuckle that despite being nothing like the man that raised her, he was still a father figure in her life.

  She turned her attentions back to the images and began to pay close attention as she matched them with the 3D layout of the station Caretaker had provided her before he had gone silent. All his vast intellect and abilities had now been taxed as he stretched himself throughout the entire Imperial network to give them a blackout in which to work. The only thought she held in the back of her head was, how long he could keep it up.

  A huge flash of light drew her back to the display; the Forgotten had set up a few plasma turrets at the next junction and stalled the advance. Huge flares of energy struck the Ifierin shields as they began to flicker and fail. But before the next volley of rounds hit, the front lines were changed and fresh shields presented to bear the brunt. Sara was amazed at the efficiency of the warriors; they moved as one with ease while protecting each other with ferocious intensity.

  At the one kilometer mark, they had reached the turrets and overran the gunners behind them. A steady advance had paid dividends as the interchanging of shields outlasted the weapons that assaulted them; barrels overheated and jammed to leave the positions vulnerable. She watched as plasma rifles extended from behind the shields of the approaching Ifierin and fired to mow down the now defenseless enemy with an endless rain of fire.

  Sara had never felt more scared in her life, but here in the simulated heart of the battle she had never felt more alive either. She only hoped her heart that was racing, could hold up over the duration; after all, there was one kilometer down and fourteen to go.

  —

  Guild World Ryas; Temple of Divine Light

  Narig waded deep into the throngs of warring bodies; careful not to be drawn into the temple itself in chase of the fight. Despite his growing bloodlust, the J’Karin commander knew that in the confines of the halls of the ancient structure he would lose the advantage of his great size and strength. The close quarters would play into the skill set of the master assassins and draw a premature end to the battle. Sticking to the plan, his entire battalion was aware the fight must remain in the courtyard lest they want for defeat more than glory.

  He swung the massive war hammer again; its base cutting a closing enemy in half with its blade as he wound up for a mighty strike. A quick spin over his head and he brought the weapon’s arc down to waist level where it struck home on multiple bodies. Narig felt each strike of his weapon with a near erotic exuberance; swinging the great hammer back and forth to beat back the endless swarm of tiny Forgotten which threatened to overwhelm him.

  Beneath his helmet he panted in delight; it had been much too long since they were let loose on an enemy, never mind the fact that they had orders to leave no survivors! At three thousand, four hundred and ten years old, Narig was the youngest ever commander of an Elite battalion and throughout his years of life he could not remember any other commander being given such a gift as he and his men had now. Not only had Bryx chosen them for this glory, he had been given free rein to finish his task by any means possible. He smiled again; he was having such fun!

  The hammer struck another Forgotten and obliterated its skull upon impact before continuing on to cut another in half as it buried itself from the force of the swing into the staircase wall of ancient stone. His look of joy turned to frustration as a few tugs told him that removing the weapon from this predicament would take more time and effort than he could afford at the moment. A stabbing pain in his side seconded that opinion as he glanced over to see a plasma blade buried to the hilt in his left flank from a screaming assassin. Narig reached over and grabbed the attacker by the head - the head disappearing within his massive paw - and squeezed until he felt a pop before hurtling the body at more attackers rushing in.

  A quick glance over his left shoulder told him that his soldiers were faring well before he was engaged by a half dozen more Forgotten. Narig reached behind his back and withdrew a pair of swords shaped like upside down ‘p’s; the handle being on the outward side of the loop and the blade was nearly six feet long. In a swift motion, he swung out with the left and followed with the right as he cut a swath through his attackers. Two were felled by the first swipe and another pair by the second. The remaining two slowed their advance and approached more cautiously with blades drawn. Narig had begun to breathe a bit heavier as the sword still buried in his left flank had weakened him some. The blackish goo J’Karin called blood began to ooze from the wound and the Elite grimaced from the discomfort.

  More attackers encircled him as they realized he was wounded and a bit more vulnerable. Randomly they lurched towards him with a parry or a hard strike, but no definitive attack was ever made. A spear was thrown and struck the J’Karin in his right shoulder; the barbed tip made sure it not only pierced the thick hide but left the long metal shaft bobbing about. After a few quick turns, Narig realized it threw off his sense of balance. He would have to focus and rethink each movement instead of relying on instinct alone.

  A loud roar and bellow echoed in the air and drew not only his attacker’s attention but his own. A mob of assassins had dropped a J’Karin, and began to stab the fallen giant’s body with endless sword strikes. This immediately changed the mood on the battlefield, and a few seconds after the first Elite was slain, another roar of pain shook the battlefield as another fell. His tormentors turned back, and those without helmets grinned wildly.

  “It is only a matter of time, tunnel digger.” One of them spat. “We are better trained than even the mighty Elite. Your turn is coming next.”

  Narig began to chuckle; then his chuckle turned to laughter. Louder and louder the commander of the Elite laughed as he pulled the spear from his shoulder and the sword from his side. The spear he snapped in his clawed hand and the sword he simply let fall to the stone walk way.

  “It will take a great many more of you to end my life.” He chuckled. “So let’s not celebrate so quickly. You have killed two of mine, but I am pretty sure there are a few thousand of your friends lying dead around us. At that rate, I don’t see a victory for you.”

  The smugness faded from those surrounding him as they poised themselv
es to attack. Narig stretched a kink from his neck muscles and flexed his left shoulder to loosen the wound for better range of motion. He dropped the blade of his right sword to touch the ground and his left curled over his head ready for strike. His eyes scanned the Forgotten surrounding him as he looked for the one to lead the attack. Feet shuffling as he circled, he began to get impatient with the assassins and grumbled his displeasure.

  “Come on now.” Narig growled. “Let’s get on with this. I’m on a schedule here, and I have so many more of you to kill before the day is out.”

  —

  Imperial Docks of Thsin; Fleet Command Level

  Step by step, the Ifierin had been met by equal and sometimes overwhelming force. Though Intel had been light, it seemed to Axyn that the entire station and most of the civilian population had been replaced by Forgotten assassins. The Guild had been more ready than they anticipated, and though they had suffered loss in numbers, the black armored killers had thinned Axyn’s ranks as well along the way.

  He had slipped back from the front lines to get an update on his forces and the progress they were making to the central hub of Fleet Command. Numbers calculated and changed each passing moment, but his losses of men now numbered over two thousand. His heart ached for each of the friends that had fallen, but they went out in pursuit of a glorious victory and in defence of the Empire itself.

  Updates also poured into his HUD from the surrounding Fleet ships. Some had been reclaimed from the hands of the Guild, but many others fates were still in dispute. Ifierin were used to fighting on open battlefields, not in hallways and corridors. That was the domain of the Guild assassins, and that expertise was what slowed not only his attack but those on the outlying ships.

  As for his progress, they had valiantly fought for hours to come within a kilometer of Fleet Command. Looking up, he could see the diamond structure towering through five levels of the stations ‘rings’. The price to get here had been steep, but Axyn knew the hardest part was literally behind the next corner. From his vantage point, he could faintly make out the junction in the distance with the opened blast doors that led the way inside the brain trust of the Imperial Fleet. Readouts told him it was heavily fortified; lined with over a dozen turrets and even a plasma mortar cannon, along with thousands of troops. It was about to be the make or break moment, and neither side was showing any sign of breaking first.